No such luck.
I end up staring at the television until it’s time to get moving. I never told Laura what time I’d pick her up and I’m assuming she doesn’t have class today or she would’ve told me so, and I never thought to ask. Although, knowing Laura, she would skip class just to go to the Watermelon Festival. It used to be our favorite thing to do, and always on opening day. That’s when the funnel cakes are the biggest and the watermelon is the freshest.
Now that I’m awake, I transfer my wash into the dryer, get dressed and send Laura a text while I make myself some breakfast and a pot of coffee.
Hello, Laura. It’s Jude. I wanted to check and see if you still wanted to go to the festival today, and if so, what time? I forgot to ask if you had classes today.
Every second I wait increases my anxiety and I don’t know why. She said she wants to go, and I told her I’d pick her up, which reminds me, I’ll need her address as well. I have to set my phone down because it’s like a watched pot and I know if I sit here and wait for it to ring, it never will.
I’m away from the table for a couple seconds when my phone chimes. I rush back, like a teenage boy getting that first call from his crush and gouge my thigh on the corner of my kitchen table.
“Son of a southern fried chicken biscuit,” I say aloud. My censorship game is usually reserved for the classroom.
Laura Parrish: Hey, Jude… No classes today, pick me up whenever you’re ready. I live in the apartments across from the main entrance, 5b!
I’m on my way. I text back, even though I’m not anywhere near being ready. I should comb my unruly hair or at least stop for a haircut at one of those drop-in places, but truthfully, I’m eager to see her, to have her next to me. It’s been a long time since we’ve been together like this.
The drive down the mountain happens in record time. I think I only came off four wheels once or twice, maybe three times when I took a curve a bit too sharply and at a high rate of speed, but no one was around to witness my atrocious and highly dangerous driving. When I reach solid pavement, I breathe a sigh of relief. I can’t recall a single time I ever drove like a maniac down that road.
“Not too bright,” I mutter as I pull up to the stop light. I glance to my right and notice a student of mine. I turn away before she has a chance to make eye contact. The last thing I want is for her or anyone for that matter to start some rumor about my crazy driving techniques.
Once the signal changes, I turn and head toward Laura’s apartment. I’m thankful she lives so close to the school and to me for that matter. As soon as I pull into the parking lot, I find a spot and park. I’m about to shut off the engine when I see her emerge. This is the moment when I can watch her without looking like a stalker or a creepy professor eyeing his way too hot student. Laura’s wearing blue shorts, probably denim if I had to guess. They don’t look like the shorty short shorts she used to wear back in the day, but they’re similar and they show off her long legs. She descends the stairs and I catch the slight sway of her hips. I swallow hard as she approaches. I think I like this older Laura.
As soon as her T-shirt comes into view, I laugh and shake my head. There’s a slice of watermelon on her shirt and it reads, “Y’all gonna make me lose my rind.” I’m so enthralled with her shirt that I completely forget to get out and open her door for her.
“I’m sorry,” she says just as I blurt out, “Shit.”
“Sorry, I should’ve opened the door for you.”
Laura laughs and hops into the Jeep. “I’m fully capable of opening the door. Besides, I saw you checking out my melons… I mean melon.” She looks down at her shirt, blushing. She’s right, I was.
We make small talk as I drive us to the fairgrounds. Laura catches me up on her parents and I tell her about mine. Both sets seem to be fairing the same: living the retired life. We avoid her divorce and my ex, which is for the best. They’re both sore subjects. Mostly with me.
By the time we reach the parking lot, we have to park toward the back. “I had no idea it would be this packed.”
“Liar,” Laura says. “It’s always this busy on day one or have you forgotten?”
Nope, just not sure what to say around you. “Must’ve spaced it,” I say.
We get out and Laura comes around the front to meet me, as we walk toward the pay booth. I have my wallet out and am handing the attendant cash before Laura can pay for herself.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.
“I invited you, remember?” I wink and take her hand to lead her toward the funnel cake stand. We are five or six people deep in line when she suggests the most asinine thing to me.
“Hey, Jude,” she says in her sing song voice. It’s a clear indication that I’m about to say yes to whatever she’s about to say.
“Laura.”
“What do you think about entering the watermelon eating contest?”
“I think you’re about to get a funnel cake.”
She grips my arm and bounces up and down on her toes. “Let’s do it. We have nothing to lose.”
“Dignity.” I point out. “I’m a professor at the college. What if my students film me and put me on Tik Tak and I go viral?”
“First, it’s Tok not tak and if you do, all your students will think you’re a bad ass.”
Laura makes me laugh. It’s the deep bellowing, come from the bottom of your gut, make your sides hurt laugh. I haven’t laughed like this in years. I look at her. Big mistake. Her lower lip is jutted out and she’s batting those emerald green eyes of hers.
I nod even though she already knows she won. I can’t believe in a matter of hours, the Laura I knew and loved is back and I’m right there lapping up every bit of attention.
Laura orders her funnel cake and shares it with me as we walk toward the watermelon eating contest. Of course, when we enter the staging area, Tracy Byrd’s “Watermelon Crawl” is playing over the loudspeaker.
“Well if this song doesn’t bring back memories.” I bump Laura’s hip with mine and smile.
“Personally, I always preferred Kid Rock’s “All Summer Long.””
“That’s because you had a crush on him, which I will never ever understand.” I shake my head. “Do you still prefer guys with long hair?”
We come to a stop and wait our turn to fill out the registration form. I use this time to look at her. She has some powdered sugar on her cheek, so I wipe it off. Her breath catches and I stay as stoic as possible.
“I think I prefer guys with crazy, just got out of bed hair,” she says quietly.
My hand pauses. Would that be me?
“Next.”
The nasally voice calling for us pulls my attention away from Laura. I fill out the form and pay the fee. We’re told the rules. There are many rounds, we get free admission if we win, final contest is on Sunday. Got it.
Laura and I take our seats. There are ten of us at the table with heaping slices of watermelon. There is no way we’re going to win, but I don’t care. We’re doing this together. At the sound of the horn, we start eating.
The best thing about watermelon, it’s water. And it takes a lot to fill someone up. I manage to chomp down a slice with two, sometimes three bites. I always keep a full rind in my free hand, so I don’t lose focus.