A Song for Julia

in the car, and I cranked it up to let the heater run. “We’ve got a couple of options,” I said.
    “Take me home.”
    I just kept talking. “We got Bill Ash’s, which is my number one choice. It’s all Revere locals, not a tourist spot. You’ll like it.”
    “I said, take me home.”
    “Or we could head back to Roxbury, and play some piano together.”
    “Last chance: Take. Me. Home.” Her voice was firm and angry.
    “Home, it is,” I answered, as smooth as I could.
    I’d crashed and burned. Hard. I put the car in gear and banged a u-ey headed south on Revere Beach Boulevard. It would take almost half an hour to get to Harvard. And it looked like that was going to be one uncomfortable as hell half-hour. I was finding that I felt sad … disappointed. I’m not used to rejection. But even if I was, usually it just didn’t matter. This was different. It was very different. Everything I’d seen of Julia fascinated me. She was kind, and compassionate, and smart as hell, and she was also one moody bitch. Call me crazy, but that combination was one hell of a turn-on. I wanted to break her out of that shell and find out what she was like underneath. I think I got a glimpse of it when we were playing piano together, when she had that secret half-smile.
    I wanted to see her smile again.
    I sighed. Route 1 was coming up and not long after that we’d be in Cambridge.
    “I’ve made you angry,” I said, trying to sound very reasonable.
    “You piss me the fuck off!” she shouted, her voice high and strained.
    I actually flinched. The snow was coming down harder now, and I had to slow down, which meant this was going to be an even longer drive. I was as tense and self-conscious as I’ve ever been. Talking to her right now was like walking through a minefield.
    “Why can’t you just leave well enough alone?” she asked. In a mocking tone, she said, “Hi, I’m Crank, and I’m irresistible. Let me take you to the beach and see if we can get sexy.”
    I spoke before I thought. Which is normal. “Maybe I took you to the beach so I could find out why you’re such a bitch.”
    I’m glad it was dark, and I was watching the road closely, because I couldn’t see her expression. Her voice alone nearly took my skin off.
    “I’m a bitch because love doesn’t mean anything. Attraction and lust don’t mean anything. All they do is screw up your life.”
    “You don’t really believe that,” I said.
    “You don’t know me,” she replied. “Besides, look at your own parents. I’ve never seen such a screwed up couple in my life.”
    “Lay off my parents, college girl. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
    “I know that I will never get involved with someone over lust and attraction. I will never lose control of myself that way again.”
    I squeezed the steering wheel hard. “If you’re so damn sure, why the hell won’t you go out with me, then?”
    “Because I want you! So bad I can taste it! Because you remind me of him!”
    Silence fell in the car. That’s not what I wanted to hear. Seriously, who does? I reminded her of the guy who molested her when she was fourteen? What the hell? That didn’t even make any sense. Okay, I’ll admit, I can be an asshole. I’ve spent most of the last few years avoiding relationships and screwing anything in a skirt. But one thing I never did was force anything, or play stupid power games. You don’t want me? Fine. There are plenty other girls in the crowd.
    So what made Julia different?
    Part of it was me. I was tired. Tired of waking up with strange girls in my bed. Tired of tense and uncomfortable scenes in the morning. Tired of living like I was still a bug, smoking pot in the Pit at Harvard Square, not giving a shit what came tomorrow. I wanted to have a life that meant something. Call me crazy, but I wanted to be like my dad. I wanted to make a difference. No, I wasn’t a cop. I didn’t protect people, or put my life on the line for others. But I felt like I could make a difference with my music. Like I could say something real about the world. And maybe lately, I’d been feeling like I wanted to share that with someone.
    Julia struck me the same way. She cared about people; she cared about making a difference. She went out of her way to be kind to my brother, to be a friend to him, when she didn’t have to. She didn’t need me … she didn’t need anyone. She was going to make her own choices in life. And that was damn