Streetlights Like Fireworks by Pandolfe David

Author:Pandolfe, David [Pandolfe, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-03-03T04:30:00+00:00

12

Streetlights Like Fireworks

Here’s the thing about bands: Most of the time, if they’re good enough to be remembered, they were more than just a bunch of musicians who decided to make some noise together. They were a tribe. They dreamt the same dreams, lived the same hope, imagined the same future. At one point in their history, they were an organism sharing the same emotional blood. And even in the worst case blowouts, after the smoke has cleared and all the anger is put into perspective, they get back in touch with each other. Family is family, after all. Sure, they might say they have no idea what happened to the lead singer they recorded and toured with once upon a time, but come on. At least one of them had to know. That said, if any of the old members of Purge know the whereabouts of Jessica Malcom, they haven’t given away her location for all these years. So, why would they now? It doesn’t seem likely. Unless, somehow, we can convince them we have something Jessica Malcom really wants. Maybe that’s possible?

We hope so, since that’s all we have to go on as we exchange hugs and goodbyes with Tohru and Shakeesha in the parking lot next to their apartment building. They start crying and Lauren does too as they say how great it’s been to have us there. I feel kind of like crying too since they’re totally cool and I guess I’ll never see them again. But we tell ourselves we’ll see each other again someday, because that’s what people do in these situations to either stop crying or not start. And you never know, right? Maybe we will.

~~~

Four hours later, we’re crossing through Saint Louis and as the Gateway Arch comes into view it’s like Lauren is thinking the same thing. “We have to see that,” she says. “Jessica Malcom’s guitar will just have to stop being so demanding.”

I laugh since it seems so true, like this piece of wood has been bossing us around since I first spotted it. “Yeah, I’m totally in,” I say.

We pull off the highway and make our way through the downtown streets of Saint Louis. Soon, we ride the tram up alongside other tourists and stare down through angled windows from six-hundred feet in the air. Below, there’s the Mississippi River on one side and the city on the other.

“Is that a river boat down there?” Lauren says.

I see it too now and she’s right. It’s an old river boat. Or maybe it’s a new river boat made to look like an old one but it still seems like it just floated out of a Mark Twain story. “Very cool,” I say. “I wonder if we can take one of those tours.”

Lauren laughs. There are plenty of people around us and maybe that’s why she stands so close to me, her shoulder pressed to mine. I hope that’s not the reason.

“I’m glad we did this,” she says.

I don’t know if she means coming up in the arch or all of it.

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