Caorann
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Danny and Casey (and Dana and Lisa) from 1973 to 2015 (but mostly 1987 to 2001): how you learn things, forget things, avoid things, and eventually, if you're lucky, grow a little.
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09 Aug 2021
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Dan Rydell drove to Los Angeles in the summer of 1988.
It might have been a questionable idea. It might even, if one were to listen to his father, be a stupid idea. If one were to listen to Jacob Rydell, affectionately known to his intimates as Jay, one might think that blowing that kind of gas money is a waste, when the plane ticket is cheaper and faster, and it’s not like you need to bring much. What do you think you’re doing, having a adventure? This is a job, Danny.
Dan did not think about that. The open road, with the sky arching beautifully above him, was a truly magnificent thing. He had his favorite tapes and a working cassette player. He mashed play without looking, and when he hit the end he’d swap it out, Simon le Bon’s voice thready against the roar of the pavement. Twelve hours a day of driving would get him there in under a week. There were parks and motels to sleep in when and if it became necessary. He chain-smoked when he started getting tired, juggling the cigarette lighter with the wheel, and kept going.
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08 Aug 2021
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Summer in Milwaukee was not about to give up the ghost. The air crackled with heat, static electricity ready at any moment to burst into lightning, and Dana and Casey were sitting outdoors at their favorite burger joint. Casey was two beers in and feeling good. Dana was talking about the Eastern conference finals, because she had never been able to let go of anything in her life, punctuating her points with aggressive jabs of French fries.
“Anyway,” she said, popping a fry into her mouth, “that’s what I said to Dan about it.”
“I’m sure he listened attentively.” Casey tried to hide the smile that was struggling through.
“He’s a good kid.” She took a drink of her soda. “Gets along with everybody. Kind of flighty, though.”
Bookmarked by Caorann
04 Aug 2021
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It wasn’t that he didn’t know. Everyone knew, he thought sometimes; depending on his mood the thought was either bitter and mean, or indulgently affectionate.
Bookmarked by Caorann
04 Aug 2021
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Dan had been so bone-deep sure that he was going to have to leave Casey that he had, in effect, mentally reconciled himself to the idea. There was something to it, he was pretty sure, and he said so to Abby: something to the idea of reconciliation, something to smoothing over all the hollow, pitted scars in his soul with warm beach sand. He’d bake in the sun until all the regrets had baked out, like alcohol from a rum cake.
“Don’t you mean rum balls?”
“No, I’m pretty sure I mean cake.”
Bookmarked by Caorann
04 Aug 2021