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Podcast: Alan Lastufka Reading |
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Written by Alan Lastufka
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In our eighth podcast we have a reading from Alan Lastufka. His reading comes from a previously unpublished piece that will appear in his zine, Pressed Between The Pages #2.
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This is our first podcast in stereo, listen with headphones if you have them!
Album art features a drawing by Cristy Road.
Alan Lastufka: boy leaving town
Samantha Castillo: grrl in passenger seat
"...the hardest part is yet to come,
when you will cross the country alone."
-Death Cab for Cutie
"Can you turn off the radio?"
She handed me her diary.
It was cold from sitting in her bag on the passenger side floor. The binding used to be black, but the years had added stickers and gel pens, and, is that… yeah, housepaint. It was so hard to see in the muted streetlamp shining through the windshield.
I flipped through quickly – stapled bookmarks and envelope halves – she files quotes too; I’ve been guilty of that since forever.
"I want you to write the ending."
I got to the last page and glanced over to confirm. She nodded and moved towards me in her seat, the cushion groaned in the wintertime. I dug a pen out of my pocket, clicking it open as she grabbed my wrist.
"Not in front of me!"
The lit-up orange and teal controls from the dashboard reflected in her dark nail polish, where her nails weren't chewed down. She pulled away. Reaching for under the dashboard, she gently set her diary in my glove compartment.
"When you get in from Chicago you can give it back." her voice cracked on the last word, but she refused to clear her throat and acknowledge it. "And I want a proper ending, not one of those, 'and I realized, as I sat up in bed, it was all just a horrible nightmare' endings."
She let out a nervous giggle.
And so did I, I think. I am so bad at good-bye’s.
I looked past her for a moment, through her front porch window, to the pink, yellow and green twinkling stars on her living room Christmas tree. They were the only colors puncturing the gray winternight blanket that surrounded us outside.
She leaned over and I met her kiss. Even before our lips were done, she had her bag in one hand and the door handle in the other. With one motion the car door opened, closed, and then muffled the sounds of her shoes crunching the snow up the walk.
The twinkling stars went out some time before I had pulled away.
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