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Debbie still thinks about her from time to time, her shadow haunting her mind. Typically during the later hours in the summertime, when the air is balmy and time seems to drag. That July feeling overwhelms her. It sends a shock right through her.
It was fun above everything. New, exciting, and it got her blood pumping. She remembers hiding behind stage equipment, disappearing into dressing rooms and hotel rooms, fumbling with keys. All for her. She would have done anything for Siouxsie that summer, and vice versa.
It’s the end of July, somewhere on the East Coast. Taking the crazy humidity into consideration, they’re probably closer to Florida. It’s almost midnight, the morning sun still sleeping somewhere in the starry sky. The night isn’t over yet. It almost feels as if it has just begun.
Debbie doesn’t remember how they got these bikes. They’re riding down a nameless street of some suburban town, a quiet one. There’s no one around. Not a soul. Streetlights illuminate their ride through the night, a gentle breeze drifting through their hairspray filled hair.
Siouxsie looks so happy. Debbie can’t help but feel happy too. She’s in a ripped purple tee shirt, while Debbie’s in her yellow ‘Vultures’ tee, the one that has surely seen better days. Their makeup is well over twelve hours old, their eyeliner smudged beneath their eyes.
There’s dew on the lawns they pass, on the cars and the leaves of the trees. Debbie peddles faster to catch up to Siouxsie, careful not to crash into her. She wishes this moment could last forever, or longer, if possible. She wishes there was a shooting star to wish on so she could at least have a chance.
They come to a playground. Siouxsie hops off her bike and leans it against a tree. Debbie follows, her legs feeling like jelly. She has no idea how far they’ve gone. It’s been hours.
Debbie makes her way to a swing. It’s been years since she was on one of these. She’s reminded that she’s not a kid anymore, that those days in Jersey are far gone. She tries not to think about how much it hurts as Siouxsie gets behind her, her hands on her back. She gives her a hard push, sending her up high.
She laughs. “Fly me to the moon,” she sings a song from her youth.
“And let me play among the stars,” Siouxsie joins in, smooth voice crooning.
“Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars!”
They both giggle, like schoolgirls having the time of their lives at recess. Siouxsie gives Debbie another strong push before drawing back. She moves to stand in front of Debbie’s swing, watching her as she slows down. She closes in on her.
Debbie’s heartbeat is hammering in her chest. Siouxsie’s bare legs brush her own as she leans down, connecting their lips. Her hands come up to cup her cheeks. She tastes like cigarettes and lipstick, Debbie takes note. She doesn’t want to forget.
She reaches out to run a hand up Siouxsie’s thigh. This feels so dangerous, doing this at a children’s playground, but it’s midnight. They’re alone and the world may as well be theirs and theirs alone. Debbie sighs against her mouth, drinking her in as much as she can.
Siouxsie’s smiling when they pull away. Debbie briefly wonders if she’s dreaming this up, every moment even better than the last. She stays still, enraptured by the woman in front of her. Her beauty is striking. Her voice is magic. Everything about her has Debbie in a tizzy. Though she’s well into adulthood, she feels like a teenager again tonight.
“Stay forever.” The words tumble out of Debbie’s mouth, unfiltered. She can’t help it.
“Forever,” Siouxsie says, as if confirming. Her eyes sparkle in the moonlight; this hour always looks good on her. “And ever.”
Except it wasn’t forever, they weren’t forever like Debbie had been hoping for at the time. She looks back at the memory with great fondness, her heart swelling. That summer never ended, but it also never began, in a very strange way she cannot explain.
Debbie sits back, enjoying a cup of tea. It’s midnight, late July. The sky is slightly starry. She thinks she hears the tinny, happy sound of bicycle bells in the distance. But it could just be the memory, echoing in her mind. The air is balmy and she still remembers the smell of her hairspray, the unmistakeable taste of her lips.