Designer Dreams, Designer Shades

We weren’t the kids that painted up and screamed at school football games, that competed in Science Olympiad, that ran for student government, that always volunteered to do community service, that made fools of ourselves in costumes and makeup on stage, that got high to MGMT after school every day, that slept around like it was our job.

We weren’t the kids that you could easily stereotype.

And we loved that.

“Did you know goldfish have, like, a five second memory?” Drew said randomly as I parked us in the parking lot. We were going to Chick – Fil – A, and it was right next to a Petsmart.

“What do you mean?”

“I read it somewhere once,” he sighed pensively. “Goldfish have, like a five second memory…so, they forget everything every five seconds. Say, it eats a lot of food. Five seconds later, it forgets that it ate a lot of food. So, it could keep eating and eating and eating…”

My eyes widened in wonder. “So, it could eat until it explodes?!”

“One day, we’re going to have to buy a goldfish and try,” Drew laughed, opening the door for me.

Drew didn’t eat meat, but I loved this place. I could honestly drink Chick – Fil – A sauce. He compromised for me. Every time we came here, we ordered a kids chicken nugget meal. Drew and I shared the drink, but I ate the nuggets and he ate the fries.

"Let's see what we've got today...oh, look! 'Franklin the Turtle'," Chris read before ripping open the kiddie book that came with our meal. He read to us aloud as usual, eating his fries between flipping pages.

We liked these lazy days, days where we didn't have anything to do after school. We went to Starbucks or Chick-Fil-A, depending on who was driving. Then we would wind up at his place, never mine. Dad would beat the living shit out of me if I brought a boy home.

"Darce, record me, alright?" Drew asked, handing me his camera. "I'm gonna post it on myspace."

"Alright," I laughed when Drew handed me his camera and slipped on his faux wayfarers. He was wearing some crazily ripped skinny jeans, and his Joplin shirt. His feet were more often bare than anything. He always had an outrageous sense of fashion. I could appreciate it, though... to some extent. I did want to be a fashion designer when I grew up, so I kind of had to. We helped each other out in that respect. Drew was my mannequin. I was his photographer and filmer. "Ready?"

Drew crossed his legs and pulled up his guitar, clearing his throat as he hurriedly practiced a few chords. Then he smiled and nodded. I pressed record. Drew waved to the camera. "Hey, you guys! It's Chris again."

We always called each other by our middle names. I think I started that. Vivenne just seemed like such an old lady name to me. I introduced myself by my middle name to him, so he agreed to let me call him by his middle name. I liked how both our middle names started with the letter D. “This song is about a girl that I’ve been mad crushing on,” Drew sighed longingly, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

I had a feeling it was Macy, a girl on the tennis game. I got paired up with her a lot in practice, so whenever we walked by, Drew would fuck up so bad. Macy would laugh and be all like, “Why is he even on the team?” which pissed me off so much. I never said anything, though, because Drew was the epitome of nice, and I knew he’d want me to be nice to her, too. She was pretty, I guess, but I couldn’t quite see them as a couple. They were awkward in my mind’s eye.

“It’s called ‘Your Biggest Fan,’ and it goes something like this…” A lot of people thought his voice was irritating and pre-pubescent, but it was a voice I’d come to love. It was nice to listen to, especially when he sang. I couldn’t help but harmonize along with his singing, which made him smile widely as he sang. I didn’t know any words, but I harmonized along with his “Da-da-da-da”s. He wrote the catchiest songs ever, and I hated him for it sometimes, because I’d be singing them everywhere I went, and no one knew them.

“Thanks for listening, you guys,” Drew said when the song finished. “Oh, hey, wait! I want you guys to meet my friend Darcy,” Drew added, putting down his guitar down and grabbing the camera from me so he could record me, too. “Darcy, say hi,” Drew commanded.

“H-Hi,” I laughed nervously with a flustered wave. I hoped I didn’t look too bad on camera.

“She was the one singing along with me, too,” Drew continued proudly, turning the camera to himself momentarily before turning it back onto me. “She’s my best friend!” he announced, moving over to wrap his arm around my neck, the camera on the both of us now. “So, tell me what you guys think of the song, alright? Peace out!” Drew stopped recording and turned off the camera. “I hope it turns out good,” he mumbled to himself, sitting down at his Macbook on his desk.

I felt the rumbling of the garage opening under our feet, and Drew paled considerably. “Fuck, my dad’s home!” I put his guitar back in its case and we hurried about his room, cleaning it to make it look like we hadn’t been just jamming around. Once we’d accomplished that, I grabbed Drew’s decoy racket and we sat on the floor by his bed, studiously pretending to restring it.

Drew’s dad strolled in a few minutes later. “Oh, good to see you again, Darcy,” he said jovially, loosening his tie. “Wow, son, broke your strings again?”

“He needs to learn to control his backhand,” I said with a smile, indulgently shaking my head.

“Keep practicing,” Drew’s dad said with a nod before walking away.

The minute he was gone, Drew sighed and left me to shut his door and get back onto his laptop to upload the video. Drew’s dad wasn’t very supportive of his interest in music. “Hey, Darcy…whatcha doin this weekend?”

I crawled back onto his bed. “I was gonna hang out with Harley…”

Drew flopped down beside me. “Please, please, please come to my gig at The Grind!”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. The Grind was this little hole in the wall coffee shop that was super popular with college kids. Drew would get booed off stage the second they heard his voice, I just knew it. “Of course, Drew… I’ll be the one not throwing stale biscotti at you.”

Drew pouted. “Come on, Darcy, you’re supposed to be my personal cheerleader…”

I reached over and ruffled his hair. “I’m just playin’ with ya! And yes, I will also help flesh out your alibi in case your father asks.”

Drew grinned and rolled over to hug me. “Darce, you’re the best!”

I hugged back, but was mentally sighing. I don’t know why he tried so hard with music. I had to agree with his dad on this one, music wasn’t something that he should be making a career out of. Music is Drew’s dream, but dreams don’t last forever, and they certainly don’t come true. Being in the fashion industry wasn’t a dream for me. It was a goal that would become a reality once achieved. I wish Drew could’ve gotten his priorities straight, for his sake, but…


“Thank you for flying with us. We have now arrived in Joplin, Missouri...”

My eyes fluttered open and I quickly unbuckled, getting to my feet to grab my carry-on luggage. I haven't dreamed thought about Drew in a long, long time. I tried to forget all about him, but it wasn't easy - shit, it was fucking impossible. That guy and his sister were my best and only friends during my formative high school years. I wouldn't have left them like I did if I could have, but...ugh...no more dwelling on the past.

I was only here because my dad was dying from some type of cancer. I would have been perfectly content to stay at home in Switzerland with my mother, but she made me, because he was my father and all.

I hated this small town with a burning passion. I wouldn’t be here long. I’d leave just like last time – quietly, quickly, with no goodbyes... because once I was on that plane back to Switzerland, I never wanted my feet to touch US soil again.

Goodbyes are only “good” if you plan on coming back.