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Authors: Stephanie Tyler
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softly
Jessa
There were dozens of tapes in several containers in the back. There were a lot of cassette tapes of groups, but also a lot of handmade tapes.
Mixed tapes , he called them. They were a big thing back in the ’80s , before CDs and shit. You liked someone , you made them a tape. You broke up with someone , you made a tape with sad songs.
“I did that on my iPod.” I marveled at how much work must’ve gone into the tapes. With iTunes, it was really easy to create playlists but with this, someone had obviously selected each tape, sat there while it played and listened.
This is better.
“I agree.” I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed my music until right then, how centered whatever he’d played had made me. When Mathias first put the music on in the van, it had calmed me. For weeks, my life had been silent, void of comfort, and there had been just rough conversation and fear. “I had some of these songs on my iPod.”
Bullshit.
“What? A girl can’t like Mötley Crüe?”
Not a girl like you.
“I’m hoping that’s some kind of compliment.”
It is.
“But honestly, I love their stuff. Especially their first album.” I used to search through iTunes to find songs I liked, lyrics that spoke to me.
Mathias put on “Home Sweet Home” and the opening piano notes gave me goose bumps. Because my home had never been that, but here, in this cold warehouse in the middle of a storm, I felt more at home than I ever had in my life. And because I didn’t know what that meant, I tried to bury any feeling.
My dad made these for my mom , he explained . He used to say that he’d courted her hard , and that she played hard to get , but in the end , she couldn’t resist.
“He chased her? She must’ve loved that. Every girl wants that.”
They do?
I stared into his dark eyes and almost lost myself again. “Yeah, they do,” I said softly and the corner of his lip quirked up a little as he typed, I’ll keep that in mind .
“So what finally made her give in?” I asked.
She was pretty reluctant. A good girl who was being chased by a wild bayou guy. In the end , she gave up a lot for him. She was a really talented artist—oils and some sculpture—and she was being courted by a lot of people in the art scene. They wanted her to study in Europe , and to live there , actually.
“Did she stop painting?”
Never. She sold a lot of art , but she didn’t do the art scene. A gallery show here and there , which added to her mystery because she didn’t show up in person. But Dad was always confident she’d be happiest in the bayou.
“So he made her these.”
Yeah. I was only able to save some of them. He made her a lot of tapes when they were dating and that’s the music Bish and I grew up on. Then he put them all together for her on her phone. But I liked the idea of a tape. I liked that you could hand someone something. It took time to make them.
I traced the plastic cassette cover, noting that the handwriting had faded a bit. “I can see that this took time.”
Every song has to mean something. Some you like , some she likes ...
“It’s so different than a playlist. I know my parents didn’t make this.” I held out the tape to him. “Can we play this?”
He popped it in. He said it was the first one his father had ever made for his mom and as I sat and listened to the words, I pictured a courtship I’d never see. But I understood a lot more about Mathias, and his sentimentality. And I knew I could love him for it.
I also knew that, before this, I’d been fooling myself thinking I knew anything about love.
The music surrounded me, warm and comfortable in some ways, out of control in so many more. With Charlie, I’d been looking for escape. I’d thought Charlie understood me when really, he’d just been playing me.
Any other favorites in here?
I looked through the boxes, pointing out some of our other shared favorites. Who would’ve thought that a biker boy from the bayou
Jessa
There were dozens of tapes in several containers in the back. There were a lot of cassette tapes of groups, but also a lot of handmade tapes.
Mixed tapes , he called them. They were a big thing back in the ’80s , before CDs and shit. You liked someone , you made them a tape. You broke up with someone , you made a tape with sad songs.
“I did that on my iPod.” I marveled at how much work must’ve gone into the tapes. With iTunes, it was really easy to create playlists but with this, someone had obviously selected each tape, sat there while it played and listened.
This is better.
“I agree.” I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed my music until right then, how centered whatever he’d played had made me. When Mathias first put the music on in the van, it had calmed me. For weeks, my life had been silent, void of comfort, and there had been just rough conversation and fear. “I had some of these songs on my iPod.”
Bullshit.
“What? A girl can’t like Mötley Crüe?”
Not a girl like you.
“I’m hoping that’s some kind of compliment.”
It is.
“But honestly, I love their stuff. Especially their first album.” I used to search through iTunes to find songs I liked, lyrics that spoke to me.
Mathias put on “Home Sweet Home” and the opening piano notes gave me goose bumps. Because my home had never been that, but here, in this cold warehouse in the middle of a storm, I felt more at home than I ever had in my life. And because I didn’t know what that meant, I tried to bury any feeling.
My dad made these for my mom , he explained . He used to say that he’d courted her hard , and that she played hard to get , but in the end , she couldn’t resist.
“He chased her? She must’ve loved that. Every girl wants that.”
They do?
I stared into his dark eyes and almost lost myself again. “Yeah, they do,” I said softly and the corner of his lip quirked up a little as he typed, I’ll keep that in mind .
“So what finally made her give in?” I asked.
She was pretty reluctant. A good girl who was being chased by a wild bayou guy. In the end , she gave up a lot for him. She was a really talented artist—oils and some sculpture—and she was being courted by a lot of people in the art scene. They wanted her to study in Europe , and to live there , actually.
“Did she stop painting?”
Never. She sold a lot of art , but she didn’t do the art scene. A gallery show here and there , which added to her mystery because she didn’t show up in person. But Dad was always confident she’d be happiest in the bayou.
“So he made her these.”
Yeah. I was only able to save some of them. He made her a lot of tapes when they were dating and that’s the music Bish and I grew up on. Then he put them all together for her on her phone. But I liked the idea of a tape. I liked that you could hand someone something. It took time to make them.
I traced the plastic cassette cover, noting that the handwriting had faded a bit. “I can see that this took time.”
Every song has to mean something. Some you like , some she likes ...
“It’s so different than a playlist. I know my parents didn’t make this.” I held out the tape to him. “Can we play this?”
He popped it in. He said it was the first one his father had ever made for his mom and as I sat and listened to the words, I pictured a courtship I’d never see. But I understood a lot more about Mathias, and his sentimentality. And I knew I could love him for it.
I also knew that, before this, I’d been fooling myself thinking I knew anything about love.
The music surrounded me, warm and comfortable in some ways, out of control in so many more. With Charlie, I’d been looking for escape. I’d thought Charlie understood me when really, he’d just been playing me.
Any other favorites in here?
I looked through the boxes, pointing out some of our other shared favorites. Who would’ve thought that a biker boy from the bayou
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