Letter to Me
Violet Bukowski
When Tom Franklin asks you out make sure he checks the gas....on second thought don't.
Tom's old truck buckled and coughed, I looked over to him eyebrows raised watching as his dark curls bounced on his head to the rumbling of the truck.
“Shit.” He whispered faintly looking over at me with his worried dark chocolate eyes.
“What?” I ask nervously pulling at the cuffs of my large grey sweater that had Viking High written across it in big black bold letters.
“I ran out of gas.” He states sheepishly.
“You ran out of gas?” I ask deadpan.
“Yep.”
“Where in the middle of fucking nowhere!”
“Good observation Bukowski.”
“What are we going to do?”
He grins over at me suggestively,
“Nasty.” I remark.
He sighs overly dramatically, “Gas can in the back and I'm pretty sure we passed a gas station awhile back.”
“Sounds like plan.” I say opening up the passenger door.
“Big city or small town?” Tom inquires glancing over at me.
“Small town.” I answered with out a beat.
“Really?” Tom looks surprised his sun kissed skin wrinkled across his forehead.
“Yeah why?”
He shrugs and looks away over the fields of wheat, “you seem like one of the girls who wants to get out of here as fast as possible.”
“You didn't specify which small town.” I told him watching as the sun sank down over the swaying wheat. For a second I thought about how it would look with the small ripples of the ocean, but I found myself not being able to picture anything but the wheat.
“Does it matter?”
I think about this for a second, “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know it just does.”
“Miss. Bukowski?”
“Yes Jenny?”
“I don't have anything to write about.” Her voice is quite and insecure.
I turn to the girl with light blue eyes and black hair her light skin shows the blue veins running through her body. She holds her paper in her hands her face has a light red to the cheeks that are no longer chubby but defined, she's a women and doesn't even know it yet.
“What did you do this summer?”
“That's the thing I didn't do anything.” her voice is barely a whisper as a few of her classmates look over from their own papers eyebrows raised.
Jenny Scott, is the girl who would blush and say sorry if you tripped her. A complete push over, but a kind nice girl who seems to have no idea that John Danton sits in the corner of my classroom every day and stares at her for the whole hour and fifteen minutes.
“Your writing a letter to yourself about what you would have done differently well still adding bits of what you did into it.” I tell her hoping this will help, her slight nod tells me it does.
“What about you, Big city, small town?” I ask him glancing over at him as we walk in the middle of the paved road, him on the right side of the yellow line me on the other.
“Big city.”
“Why?” I can't help it the word comes out of my mouth before I realize how un fair it is since I didn't give him a clear answer.
“I'd like to swear and not have my parents know about it in a matter of minutes.” Is his explanation.
I nod I can understand that, “But what about this?”
He looks over at me confused, “What?”
“This is so stupid just give me my letter back.” Sarah Carpenter states glaring at Emily Dogus.
“Why something in there you don't want anyone to read?” Emily shots back glaring at her also, two cheerleader in a shot off with Brad Davis sitting back smiling knowing his the cause of it.
“Emily give her back the letter, Sarah more across the room.” I tell them not looking away from computer screen. When I do look up to make sure my words are being taken seriously I see Emily smiling cuddling up to Brad.
“Brad, you can take a seat in the front.”
“Listen.” I tell him.
And so he does, all you can here is the crickets, the slight sway of the wind, and our shoes on the pavement. I loved the sounds of a small town, I loved how at night when everyones in bed I can hear the faint rumble of the cars that race on the deserted Baker's field all the way across town.
The simple silence, listening to the music from one house over, able to hear all the words and knowing them. Instead of traffic, police sirens, construction, big building with fax machines, phones that never stop ringing. All that noise when it could just be peaceful, easy, breathing and not having to worry about what your breathing.
“I'm changing my answer.” Tom says softly.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Again out of all the W's What, Where, When, I once again ask Why. I had a teacher who said the most important question to ask is why, at the time I just thought it was teacher non sense but now it seems to fit.
“Because I don't think I'd be able to go to sleep without hearing the silence.” Tom had a thoughtful expression on his face.
Tom's old truck buckled and coughed, I looked over to him eyebrows raised watching as his dark curls bounced on his head to the rumbling of the truck.
“Shit.” He whispered faintly looking over at me with his worried dark chocolate eyes.
“What?” I ask nervously pulling at the cuffs of my large grey sweater that had Viking High written across it in big black bold letters.
“I ran out of gas.” He states sheepishly.
“You ran out of gas?” I ask deadpan.
“Yep.”
“Where in the middle of fucking nowhere!”
“Good observation Bukowski.”
“What are we going to do?”
He grins over at me suggestively,
“Nasty.” I remark.
He sighs overly dramatically, “Gas can in the back and I'm pretty sure we passed a gas station awhile back.”
“Sounds like plan.” I say opening up the passenger door.
“Big city or small town?” Tom inquires glancing over at me.
“Small town.” I answered with out a beat.
“Really?” Tom looks surprised his sun kissed skin wrinkled across his forehead.
“Yeah why?”
He shrugs and looks away over the fields of wheat, “you seem like one of the girls who wants to get out of here as fast as possible.”
“You didn't specify which small town.” I told him watching as the sun sank down over the swaying wheat. For a second I thought about how it would look with the small ripples of the ocean, but I found myself not being able to picture anything but the wheat.
“Does it matter?”
I think about this for a second, “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know it just does.”
“Miss. Bukowski?”
“Yes Jenny?”
“I don't have anything to write about.” Her voice is quite and insecure.
I turn to the girl with light blue eyes and black hair her light skin shows the blue veins running through her body. She holds her paper in her hands her face has a light red to the cheeks that are no longer chubby but defined, she's a women and doesn't even know it yet.
“What did you do this summer?”
“That's the thing I didn't do anything.” her voice is barely a whisper as a few of her classmates look over from their own papers eyebrows raised.
Jenny Scott, is the girl who would blush and say sorry if you tripped her. A complete push over, but a kind nice girl who seems to have no idea that John Danton sits in the corner of my classroom every day and stares at her for the whole hour and fifteen minutes.
“Your writing a letter to yourself about what you would have done differently well still adding bits of what you did into it.” I tell her hoping this will help, her slight nod tells me it does.
“What about you, Big city, small town?” I ask him glancing over at him as we walk in the middle of the paved road, him on the right side of the yellow line me on the other.
“Big city.”
“Why?” I can't help it the word comes out of my mouth before I realize how un fair it is since I didn't give him a clear answer.
“I'd like to swear and not have my parents know about it in a matter of minutes.” Is his explanation.
I nod I can understand that, “But what about this?”
He looks over at me confused, “What?”
“This is so stupid just give me my letter back.” Sarah Carpenter states glaring at Emily Dogus.
“Why something in there you don't want anyone to read?” Emily shots back glaring at her also, two cheerleader in a shot off with Brad Davis sitting back smiling knowing his the cause of it.
“Emily give her back the letter, Sarah more across the room.” I tell them not looking away from computer screen. When I do look up to make sure my words are being taken seriously I see Emily smiling cuddling up to Brad.
“Brad, you can take a seat in the front.”
“Listen.” I tell him.
And so he does, all you can here is the crickets, the slight sway of the wind, and our shoes on the pavement. I loved the sounds of a small town, I loved how at night when everyones in bed I can hear the faint rumble of the cars that race on the deserted Baker's field all the way across town.
The simple silence, listening to the music from one house over, able to hear all the words and knowing them. Instead of traffic, police sirens, construction, big building with fax machines, phones that never stop ringing. All that noise when it could just be peaceful, easy, breathing and not having to worry about what your breathing.
“I'm changing my answer.” Tom says softly.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Again out of all the W's What, Where, When, I once again ask Why. I had a teacher who said the most important question to ask is why, at the time I just thought it was teacher non sense but now it seems to fit.
“Because I don't think I'd be able to go to sleep without hearing the silence.” Tom had a thoughtful expression on his face.