bitter basil, (hozier)

august 2nd, 1969 - morning

property of andrew hozier-byrne
dear diary,
i've been on the road with judy for two days now. after spending that much time with her, i've started to notice some little quirks about her - like the way she grips the steering wheel just a bit tighter when she makes a left turn into oncoming traffic. when she's happy, she'll fold her lips inwards to stop her from laughing - but when she lets herself laugh , it's a beautiful little song, snorts and coughs and all. she also does this little bounce thing with her heels when she's excited, and it makes her hair do a little jump - that's my favorite part.
admittedly, there's a part of me that's astounded, in a way. when i left ireland, i landed so far into the ether, with no light to guide me, and no map to navigate with - and then, by stupid chance, i met judy. she's both the beacon and the navigator.
i'd like to reiterate - it's not just a part of me that's astounded. it's every single particle of my being.

-

"where to now, miss carver?" andrew asked mischievously as he climbed into the passengers seat.

"i'm glad you asked, mr. hozier-byrne," said judy, returning his energy. she was loading up the astro van in preparation for the journey ahead. "i think, if we rally it out, we can get all the way through ohio." she grunted as she lifted andrew's heavy guitar case and loaded it into the van. "we can only stop once or twice, and we may have to sleep in the van..." she said nervously. "that's okay, right?"

"of course."

judy smiled in gratitude - knowing full well that andrew couldn't see it - and closed the back doors to the van, getting into the driver's seat and starting the engine.

their trip began in silence, as most of them do. they crossed the ohio river into the new state and before they knew it, there was only corn fields as far as the eye can see.

it was unbearable.

the van slowed down significantly. andrew turned to judy, concerned. "judy? are you alright?"

"hm? oh yeah, i'm fine," she said. "i just forgot coffee this morning," she yawned.

"i don't suppose you skipped breakfast too, did you?" judy didn't answer. "love, you're nodding off. we should pull over and get you some rest."

judy shook her head profusely. she couldn't bear to be in this stupid flyover state any longer. "we're almost in columbus."

"you're veering off the road."

before judy could respond, the jarring sound of her tires hitting the grooves on the side of the road sobered her cruelly. she spared a glance towards andrew, who was looking at her with that stupid i-told-you-so-look.
he was so cute, it was painful.

"i guess i could find a park or something," she muttered. she took the nearest exit off the highway and found an unremarkable state park. it was nothing about the view - gosh, it was pretty, but it was poorly taken care of. the empty beer cans she ran over upon entry testified for that.

she found an empty parking spot and unbuckled her seatbelt, climbing over the middle console into the back of the van.. she was grateful that andrew didn't make her admit this out loud to spare her pride, but judy was exhausted. who knew leaving your family to go on a cross-country road trip would be so tiring?

it wasn't long until she was joined by andrew, both of them sitting on the car floor. silently, judy pulled out a paperback book and opened it to a dog eared page.

"what're you reading?" andrew asked. judy revealed the cover: a portrait of emily dickinson. andrew was ecstatic. "i love her poetry!"

judy smiled, her fatigue washed away with pure giddiness. "me too! i love how everyone who knew her thought she was this aloof recluse, and yet her poems are so open and vulnerable."

andrew couldn't have said it better if he tried. instead, he said this: "do you mind reading some to me?"

judy paused, suddenly flustered. she inwardly slapped herself. you're just reading some poems to him, she thought, nothing weird about that.

but why did it seem like the most intimate gesture?

still, she scooted closer to him until their shoulders touched.

"i can wade grief,
whole pools of it, -" she began. andrew tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. he'd read most of dickinson's poems thrice over. but the way judy just said them made them sound brand new.
"i'm used to that.
but the least push of joy
breaks up my feet,
and i tip — drunken.
let no pebble smile,
t'was the new liquor—
that was all!"

"that's my favorite one," andrew breathed.

judy smiled. "mine too."

before andrew could respond, she was asleep, her head lolling around before landing on his shoulder. "poor lass," andrew chuckled lowly. he couldn't bear the feeling of her touch. it was positively electrifying.
he took the book of poems out of judy's hands and closed it gently, setting it down on the floor next to him. he took her shoulders and lowered her gently onto the floor, using a bag as her pillow. he shrugged his forest green cardigan off and draped it over her body, laughing to himself as judy immediately pulled it closer to her chin.

he placed his hand on his forehead, as if checking himself for a fever. "what you do to me," he exclaimed through a muted voice.

he climbed into the passenger seat and began driving. judy wouldn't wake up for another 8 hours.