Awful Direction

A pool of drool was beginning to shape around Devon’s cheek as she dozed off during yet another meeting. Voices were screaming in her head, demanding she wake up, but her eyelids were simply too heavy. She’d spent the last weekend without any sleep—or a social life—preparing for this particular meeting.

Michelle had circled October 9th three times in red permanent marker on the calendar in the kitchen, because it was most likely the most important day of her career. One of the most popular directors in California wanted to make Michelle’s most famous novel a new five-star motion picture. Today was the day he and Devon were supposed to waste two hours criticizing each other’s ideas. She was ordered to take detailed notes—a.k.a write down his every word—and report back to Michelle so she could make the final decision. Devon had sacrificed her entire weekend to prepare for this day, running solely on Starbucks and Advil, all while her grandmother lounged in a beach chair on the coast of San Diego.

Obviously it was unfair of Michelle to be thrusting all of her work on her granddaughter like this, but Devon couldn’t think of a better way to repay her grandmother for allowing her to stay in Arizona for this long. This is what you wanted anyway, she reminded herself, You asked for a distraction. And she did; inside Devon was quite grateful for all this work. It kept her mind from wandering into dangerous territory. She would tolerate all the dismal meetings in the world if it created a distraction; even if only for a little while.

“Ms. Hennings?” Roger slapped his papers against the table, his expression unreadable.
Devon was awake in a matter of seconds, a dark blush washing over her cheeks. She was sure she looked very unprofessional, with her makeup smeared and a small smudge of drool still on her chin. The rest of the men sitting around the table—most of them worked for Michelle and were here to make sure Devon didn’t screw up—coughed and fidgeted awkwardly as Devon sputtered, “S-sorry, what were you saying?”

With a long sigh Roger took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You know, Ms. Hennings, you really haven’t shown much interest in my presentation. If you don’t like my ideas, I suggest you say so rather than wasting all of our time.”

His voice was kept monotone; not angry, not frustrated, not anything. It would’ve been so much easier to feel guilty if he wasn’t speaking at such a dull volume. From his hushed tone and the clock ticking away on the wall came an odd sort of lullaby for Devon. All the preparations she’d made this past weekend were in vain the second her eyes began slowly closing. Soon she found herself trapped in a desperately needed catnap. Even in her subconscious though, Roger’s presentation echoed in the back of Devon’s dream. Between every five minutes that passed she could make out bits and pieces of his ideas, but nothing she heard ever really clicked. Instead Devon focused on the tens of thousands of stars sparkling behind her eyelids. They were closer than she’d ever seen, and their light was almost blinding. Devon could feel herself slowly reaching out, hoping to touch one or two, but was quickly interrupted by John’s words. Everything good dies here, even the stars…

Then, ironically, Roger woke her up.

“I’m so sorry,” Devon replied hurriedly, desperately trying to save this meeting, “It’s just I spent so much time preparing for this, I didn’t get much sleep and—’’

“Hey, are you fucking done yet? My car is running.”

John nearly kicked the office door of its hinges as he made his grand entrance. Everyone stared at him with confused glares; except Devon of course. Her look was a combination of fury and pure horror. She just could never catch a break, could she? Her grandmother was depending on her to make things run smoothly today and yet the minute Devon thought her plan was foolproof, BAM.

“Oh shit, sorry,” John said when he realized he’d interrupted. He cringed when he heard himself cuss again. “I was just, uhm, seeing if you were…you know what? I’m going to go wait in the car.” With that he whipped around and sprinted into the hallway.

It was almost as if he planned ruining everything.

While suppressing the urge to smack her head against the table, Devon reluctantly turned back to Roger. His face held a lack of interest towards the entire situation as he gathered his papers and erased his notes on the dry erase board behind him. Famous as he was, this guy probably had so many better places to be; and he probably wouldn’t sympathize with her if Devon got on her knees and begged him to stay. She simply stayed silent as he declared the meeting was postponed to a later date, or as he said, “Delayed until Ms. Hennings has her head where it needs to be.”

Everyone was dismissed and Devon exited the building almost mechanically. When she spotted John hiding in his car, she slowly stalked over to the passenger side door and looked over her reflection. Her makeup was smeared—as she had feared—and thus made her wide eyes look like a raccoon’s. Her lips were pursed in a tight line, but when she looked closely Devon could see them lightly trembling. She then noticed the wave of tears clogging her throat as she slammed the door of John’s truck. Part of her wanted to kill him, with all these witnesses, but another part only blamed herself for the outcome of this afternoon. She didn’t let herself speak to the boy in the driver’s seat, awkwardly waiting to see if she would explode, until she had completely calmed down and recomposed herself.
When she let out a long, exhausted sigh, John knew it was okay to talk.

“Dev, I’m so sorry. You said you’d be done by two and I just, I didn’t know. Did I fuck everything up?”

“No, I had already screwed up before you came. All you did was add more fuel to the fire. It’s fine though, I don’t give a fuck anymore.” She relaxed against the headrest and closed her eyes, hoping to see those stars again.

“God, I’m so stupid. I’ll make it up to you, I promise! I’m so—’’

“John,” she held up her hand and silenced him, “If you say ‘I’m sorry’ one more time, I’m going to kill you in front of everyone. I’m fine, it’s fine. You did nothing wrong. The meeting was just postponed a month. Now take me to get some food and find somewhere very far away from here.”

Without another apology, John accelerated down the street with Death Cab For Cutie softly playing through the speakers. Once again, Devon allowed herself to fall into a deep sleep.

*~*

It didn’t occur to John that he had driven to 8123 until Devon complimented the view. They were sitting on the hood of John’s truck, eating Sonic, and for awhile just staring at the landscape in silence. Devon broke it by talking about the way the sun hit the mountains at a perfect angle; and then John snapped back to reality. What was he thinking? The last time John had set foot near 8123 had been on his second to last date with Daisy. This was always their spot. After she was gone, it didn’t feel right coming here without her. Usually he felt sick at the idea of bringing another person here, let alone another girl. Yet here he was, sitting right next to Devon in the exact same spot he’d been with Daisy. And what was even more surprising was he didn’t feel he was doing anything wrong.

For once, John just felt normal. He was just hanging out with a new friend, eating lunch, at the top of an abandoned parking lot. He allowed himself to soak up the feeling, because god knows when it would come back again. When he looked to his right, Devon caught his eye and sent him a friendly smile. He returned it sincerely, and wondered how in the world she did it.

“You’re in a band,” she stated suddenly, “Pat told me the other day.”

“Yup,” John replied, popping the p, “I sing for my quaint little band, The Maine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It never came up.” He shrugged.

“Bullshit,” Devon laughed, “I freaking asked you to tell me about yourself and you just said ‘I’m not interesting’. Being the lead singer of a basically famous band is pretty damn interesting!”

He laughed and took another bite out of his burger. “Well it didn’t come to mind then! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, okay?”

With a wide smile Devon playfully punched John in the shoulder and replied, “I thought I told you, stop apologizing. Or I’ll have to kill you.”

He chuckled quietly and continued to eat his food. The sun was just beginning to set and when John looked over he could see Devon’s eyes completely fixed on the pinks and oranges in the sky. He remembered the first day they met, and how fond she had been of the sunset then too. They stayed like that for a long time—Devon looking at the sun, John looking at her—and it was the first time in a long time John didn’t think about Daisy every five seconds. Something about this lot made it as if time no longer existed. There was no past, present, or future. It was just John and Devon at 8123; two tiny individuals lost in space.

And then Devon went and ruined the moment.

“The other day you said something to me,” she murmured. The serious look on her face made John’s stomach churn. “About the stars dying. Do you remember?”

“Yeah,” he replied uneasily.

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about what that might’ve meant to you. And maybe I jumped to conclusions but I think I know what you were talking about.”

John simply nodded, unable to swallow the lump in his throat.

Devon didn’t even bother to ask gently, she just asked him straight and fast.

“Did your girlfriend die, John?”

He almost threw up his entire lunch. There are several things that happen to a person’s brain when death is mentioned. You either think of the good times, the bad times, or consider all the ways to kill yourself. In this case, John thought of all three. He remembered almost every morning, waking up next to Daisy, brushing the hair out of her face, smiling against her kiss. He remembered when they told her she was gone, and feeling the blame punch him hard in the gut. And he stared at his legs dangling over the edge of his car, and gazed down at the land below the parking lot. The fall would definitely kill him, but John had too much to live for to thrust himself over the edge.

Devon noticed the sudden change in John’s attitude and, without taking her eyes off the sun, whispered, “You don’t have to talk about it now, your reaction already gave me an answer. We can talk about something else if you’d like. Tell me about your tattoos.”

John turned away for only a minute to wipe his eyes and, clearing his throat, muttered, “Well, I have seven of them.”

“Jesus,” Devon giggled quietly, “Okay, where are they?”

“My collar bone, inside my lip, my left arm, my side, lower stomach area, and my chest.”

“What do they say?”

“Unus amor, live, an equals sign, some people have real problems, V as in the Roman numeral, and we all have been degraded we all will be the greatest.”

“Oh, I like that one! What does it mean to you?”

With a small smile John looked from his twiddling fingers to the stars that had finally fallen around them. The moon always looked brighter from the top of 8123. Sometimes John faced the temptation to reach out and see if he could touch it, but obviously knew he’d only be making an idiot out of himself.

“I was at a bonfire a few years ago,” he said, “when one of my friends started singing. And soon we were all singing along, and it was just one of those moments where you knew—’’

“Knew what?”

He smiled. “Knew that everything was going to be okay. And I just didn’t want to forget that moment, so I got it tattooed on my chest…it actually sounds a lot more ridiculous saying it out loud.”

“Not really, I think it’s inspiring,” she smiled again, but this time it felt different for John. Devon’s devious grin widened when she suddenly stood on top of John’s truck and began screaming the lyrics at the top of her lungs. Almost as though she were trying to share John’s story with the rest of the world. Her volume grew every time she sung, and soon she motioned for John to help her out. He set down his burger and the two of them were laughing and singing without any care for their problems.

It felt like a weird mix between old times and new times. This was sort of how he felt the first time John sung with a friend, but at the same time it was a completely new experience for him. The moment felt fantastic, but at the same time everything inside of John hurt. It was like his head was declaring war on his heart. His heart wanted to enjoy the moment, but his head was overflowing with Daisy. As he sat there and screamed with Devon, John looked up and saw her face in the sky. Looking down at him with disgust for bringing another girl to their spot. And suddenly he wasn’t in the mood to sing anymore.