“She learned that from you?” I ask.
“Really? Unoriginal insults?” she asks, taking a sip of tea. “That’s what I get for bringing you something to drink?”
“You sure you didn’t just do it so you could prance around like that?” I say, raking my gaze down her body, deliberately condescending.
Jenny rolls her eyes. “Did you go to an all-boys school or something? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a girl in a bikini before.”
She’s right, and it pisses me off not only to be acting like a horny schoolboy but also to be called out on it.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask, bending down to pick up my hammer.
Her shoulders slump just the slightest bit, and I feel like an ass. But then her shoulders go back and her chin lifts before she turns on her heel and marches back into the house without so much as a goodbye.
A minute later I’m back at work, and I hear the now familiar strum of her guitar from the balcony above me, but it’s an angrier melody this time, fast and a little discordant.
And then she starts to sing, her voice pitch-perfect. “There once was a guy named Noah, he was as appealing as a boa. Whatever happened, whoa-oh-oh, whatever happened, whoa-oh-oh, to rot his soul?”
I shake my head. There’s more strumming on the guitar, and her Noah-hate song continues.
“His face was average, his eyes were cold. His body flubby, whoa-oh-oh. His kiss was filthy, his flavor bad. He tried to woo me, and it was sad, whoa-oh-oh.”
The song is ri
diculous. A little childish.
And yet as it continues on with a list of all my flaws, I can’t help but smile a little. Not only at her spunk…but at the very satisfying realization that I sure as hell am not the only one haunted by that kiss.
Jenny
Would you believe me if I said I’m not bored?
I’m really, really not, which is incredible, even to me.
Did it take me a little while to detox from my Instagram addiction? Yah. Does it feel weird to talk to my parents and Amber on a phone that’s connected to the wall with a cord? Absolutely.
But apparently even I didn’t realize how desperately I need a reprieve, because I’m feeling more whole, more Jenny out here in the middle of nowhere, with nobody but Dolly and Ranger to keep me regular company, than I did in L.A. Heck, I even feel more me here than I did in Nashville. I love that city to death, but after All of Me hit the lists, I couldn’t even get a Frappuccino without someone wanting to get a selfie with me.
But here in Glory, Louisiana, my mind’s never felt clearer, my music’s never been better.
I was right to come here.
Whether this place triggers some emotional response to that first song I wrote all those years ago or whether there’s something magical about it, it’s working for me.
This spontaneous, get-away-from-it-all isolation is working, except for one teeny-tiny detail.
The damn handyman.
I hope he liked my little song earlier today, because I meant every word.
Except for the part about his face being average.
Oh, and the part where I said his body was flubby.
His.
Body.
Is.