As I drive Monica to my place, which is close to the base, the air feels light and fun. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so carefree, so excited.
To make the mood even better, a David Bowie song starts up on my random MP3 player shuffle.
“Oh, I love this song,” I say, turning it up. “Heroes.”
I start singing, under my breath, about how I can be a king and Monica can be a queen.
“I love it too!” she exclaims.
I look at her, skeptical, until she joins me in singing the refrain, about how we can spend twenty-four hours together, as heroes.
“What?” I exclaim.
“What what?” she says, able to tell from the look on my face that I was initially dubious, and feigning upset at that fact.
“There aren’t many girls who like Bowie,” I say. “May he rest in peace.”
“Oh, come on. Labyrinth? Every young girl liked that movie.”
“All right. Well, that’s not exactly the same.”
“I’ll admit I only initially heard of a lot of his music from Moulin Rouge,” Monica says, with a laugh. “Including this song. But I liked them so much I went and looked him up, back in the Napster days, and downloaded a bunch of his music. I really do like this song.”
“That’s awesome,” I tell her, reaching across the center console of my Jeep to hold her hand. “I love to play the refrain on my bass.”
“You play the guitar?”
She looks as surprised as I must have when I found out she likes Bowie.
“Just a little.” I underplay it, feeling shy.
“You’ll have to play something for me! That’s amazing.”
“I’m not very good yet,” I tell her, embarrassed. “I played at Jensen and Riley’s wedding, but it was simple, cheesy stuff.”
“Wow. I bet they loved that.”
“I’m not good like real musicians. I’ll let this song play itself, much better than I can. George Murray plays the bass on this, and it’s great.”
I blast the music, with the windows down.
“This song could be my theme song when it comes to love,” she says, loudly, trying to be heard over the music. “I mean, it even describes tonight.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Oh, you know. In real life, we’d never work out. We’d do things to drive each other crazy and drive each other away. We wouldn’t stay together. But hey, we have a day, right? That’s more than enough.”
I laugh, amazed to find someone who feels the exact same way as I do about relationships. Still, it makes me a bit sad to hear her being so cynical.
“Well, yeah that’s true. We definitely do have tonight, right?” I ask.
“Yes,” she agrees. “Let’s change the lyrics to ‘Just for one night!’ To be each other’s heroes. Although no one else in the world knows about it, or they’d be discouraging it. So, we’d best enjoy it.”
The chorus comes back on and we both shout out about how we’re each other’s heroes “just for one night!”
It’s refreshing to call it like it is with someone, without the games and the manipulation tactics that usually necessarily go along with getting a girl into bed. We have one night, it’s great, we’re each other’s heroes in the sack, and then it’s over.
And it’s a reminder, too. A pact among ourselves, that better hold up stronger than the no-commitment pact my brothers and I entered into so long ago, and that the two of them recently broke. Monica may look awesome at first sight, but we both know we can’t get too involved.
We’re still exuberant, like two giddy kids, as we head up my front walkway and I open the door to my house.
It’s not until I hear the sharp, confused voice calling out, “Ramsey? Is that you?” that I realize there’s something— or someone— who could put a crinkle in our nicely laid-out plans.
“Mom?” I ask, squinting to see her sitting on the couch in the living room, in the darkness. “You’re still awake?”
Oh great. Just what I need, to ruin my game. I’m sure Monica’s going to stay hot for me when she thinks I’m a guy who still lives with his mom. Kind of. It’s the other way around, but she doesn’t know that.
And all I know is that I need to fuck her now and I don’t need my mother messing up yet another thing in my life.