The Mixtape

I gave her my address and she took off.

I tapped my fingers against my legs as I listened to the music still playing through the stereo. Every time I’d hear Alex’s guitar riffs come through the speakers, my chest would tighten more and more.

“Can we not do the music thing? I don’t really like listening to my own stuff. Or, well, any of my music since . . .” My words faded, and her brown eyes softened in the rearview mirror as guilt filled her stare.

She quickly shut off the music and muttered something under her breath, but I couldn’t hear her. If it was her condolences, I didn’t want to hear them. I’d received enough of those from people, to the point that they seemed ungenuine.

We drove a few blocks not speaking a word, until her soft voice filled the space again. I wondered if silence drove her mad too. I wondered if other people lived inside their heads as much as I did.

“You’re a whole different person today,” she said, starting up a conversation that she hadn’t even known I needed to have. “Last night you were the complete opposite of who I’d imagined you to be. I always thought you were more reserved.”

The nerves in my gut tightened as I tried my best to gather flashbacks of the night prior. I must’ve made a complete ass of myself and humiliated myself in front of that poor woman.

“I wasn’t myself last night.” I didn’t know the last time I’d been myself. “If I did anything to offend you—”

“Don’t apologize,” she cut in. “Honestly, I get it. I’ve been there before. Once, I got so wasted that I passed out at some random person’s house and woke up with a puke bucket next to me and a Taco Bell Crunchwrap smushed against my cheek. So, we all have those days.”

For some odd reason, that gave me a moment of comfort. I didn’t know Emery, but there was something about her that made me feel less self-aware.

“Did you pee in someone’s houseplant?” I asked.

“No, but you know what they say—there’s always tomorrow.”

I chuckled slightly, and she looked back, appearing almost surprised by the sound that came from me. Every time she glanced back toward me, I felt a heat rush against my skin.

Strange.

“You’re much quieter today,” she said.

“I’m a quiet person. I’m not myself when I drink.”

“Then why do you drink?”

“Because I’m not myself when I drink.”

She swooned, seemingly moved by my comment. “I don’t know if you meant to do that or if it’s just natural for you, but sometimes you speak, and it feels like you’re creating lyrics to my next favorite song.”

If only it were that easy to create someone’s favorite song. My record label would’ve been thrilled.

“Oh! Oh!” Emery gasped, pointing out of her window as we drove. “If you were wondering, which I doubt you were, that’s the best Mexican food you’ll ever have. It’s called Mi Amor Burritos, and your life will be forever changed when you get their food.” She nodded her head in pleasure as she thought about it. She was the opposite of me—more like Alex. Conversation came easy to her mind, while I struggled to gather my thoughts. “It’s such a hole-in-the-wall place. I only knew about it because my sister, Sammie, stumbled across it years ago when she came to stay with me for a little bit. She has a gift of finding the best things in random places.”

“Are you and your sister close?”

There was a hesitation in her before she swallowed hard and stared forward. “We were.”

For fuck’s sake. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries. She didn’t pass away or anything. She’s just . . . I haven’t seen her in a few years, since she went off to find herself. We still talk every now and again, but it’s not the same as it used to be. She’s on an adventure across the States, trying to find where she belongs.”

“You think that’s a thing? Having a place where someone belongs?”

“Belonging comes in different forms, I think. It can come from a place, a person, an object, an occupation.”

“What makes you belong?”

“My daughter,” she said without hesitation. “She’s my safe place. What about you?”

I stayed quiet. I noticed the small frown that landed against Emery’s lips as I stared in the rearview mirror. She didn’t push on to force me to give her an answer, and I was thankful for that.

About twenty minutes later, we rounded the corner of the street I lived on and pulled up to a gated community. Steven, the guard, walked up to the car with a clipboard in his hands and a walkie-talkie on his hip.

Emery rolled down her car window and smiled at Steven. Steven didn’t smile back, probably because he dealt with hordes of fanatics and paparazzi trying to crash through those metal gates.