I didn’t have a seventh-grade sweetheart, nor did I ever receive or send a circle-yes-or-no love note. “Dark Blue” wasn’t the song I said I’d remember--it was “Hide and Seek” by Imogen Heap. I don’t know what type of cigarettes Bethany was smoking, and besides, she didn’t light up inside the car.
The sky wasn’t dark blue, it was black. We’re all too old to be innocent.
Last night I went to bed clothed and woke up naked, and I remember nothing in between (except for half-waking around 6:00 and suspecting that my clothes were gone.)
Well. I wasn’t completed undressed... I was wearing underwear and socks.
But I felt naked. The majority of my body was naked. The memory is naked and the term “naked” is general enough to allow for a couple little inconsistencies, a couple little socks.
Truth: The moon made a halo in the clouds.
We did listen to Dark Blue at some point that night, and Bethany did smoke--just not in the car. But... my memory was in the car. The frozen moment of youth was in the car. The sudden, unexpected nakedness was in the car.
Our memories always wear underwear and socks.
Truth: I went to bed clothed, woke up naked, and I can’t find my sweatpants anywhere.