LJ Idol Week 11: Recency Bias
Said The Joker To The Thief
“Okay this is officially my favorite album,” Tori says.
Jill snorts, “Yeah that’s what you said about Fire of Unknown Origin last week.”
“No, really this one is my absolute favorite forever,” Tori says still staring at the ceiling.
“Not forever, just until the next time you go to the record store.” Jill says.
They are lying head to head on the L shaped couch in Tori’s new studio apartment. It’s walking distance from their college campus (one of the last women’s colleges in New York) and has a decent pizza place across the street. Jill and Tori had spent every night this week listening to vinyl records from the collection Tori had started over the summer and dedicated an entire wall of shelves she’d dubbed the “The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.”
Tonight they’d been listening to Electric Ladyland on repeat for hours taking turns getting up to flip over the record. Jill decided she was in love with the soft white noise of the needle in the grooves during the few seconds before the music kicked in.
Tori passes her a joint and Jill just holds it in her hand for a minute, watches it burn, before passing it back.
“So how was your summer Jilly?” Tori asks rolling onto her side and taking the joint in her slender fingers. “Meet anyone interesting?”
Jill had spent the summer with her Aunt in the mountains of North Carolina where she had no cell phone reception and had only spoken to Tori a few times sitting on a stool in her Aunt’s sunshiney kitchen. Twisting the coiled telephone wire around her fingers she’d told Tori about the honest to goodness town bazar she’d been signed up to volunteer at and complained that her Aunt wouldn’t let her drive the car. “But it really is beautiful here, I wish you could see it.”
“Have you seen that Sydney chick again? Did you hit that yet?” Tori continues.
No. Jill emphatically did not “hit that” yet. Jill had met Sydney last year while giving tours of the campus to incoming freshman. Afterwards Sydney had invited Jill out for coffee and they’d sent each other a few postcards over the summer.
“Did you recruit her for the drama club?” Tori asks.
“You are like the worst friend ever,” Jill’s laughter gives her away.
“You love me,” Tori says with a grin handing the joint back over.
“Only on Thursdays” Jill sighs, blowing smoke into the air.
“Oh!” Tori feigns indignation and moves to grab the joint back. They play a game of keep away that ends with Tori on her knees above Jill’s head, joint in hand. She places it burning end first into her mouth motioning for Jill to lean up and they shotgun the smoke between them.
Jill closes her eyes. Thinks about the night they met, squashed into the backseat of Stacy’s car, whispering jokes to each other; trying to hold in the laughter that resonated between them where their shoulders and thighs were pressed together. Stopping and starting again when they felt the other one; stuck in an endless feedback loop of laughter.
“I can feel you laughing, stop it.”
“You stop it.”
Jill wondered if Tori had been seeing anyone over the summer. If maybe she’d gotten back with Andrea. They’d been “on again off again” all last semester and Jill had listened as Tori talked to her about it while wiping her tears away with her hoodie sleeves. She’d told Jill what a great friend she was and made her pinky promise to always be her friend.
Tori presses a tendril of her bright red hair behind one ear and Jill has the urge to wind her fingers into it. She’d actually done it once. Tori and a few of their other friends had gotten Jill drunk and late that night Jill and Tori had ended up in Stacy’s dorm room alone. Jill had reached up and pushed Tori’s hair off her forehead, let her fingers rest on Tori’s cheek . “Yeah I think you’ve had enough,” Tori had muttered taking the bottle away and making Jill lie down. Jill had woken up alone in Stacy’s room at 3am and decided to stumble back across campus to her own room. She’d loved the stillness and the quiet.
“Alright, alright, I gotta go.” Jill says sitting up and stretching her arms over her head.
Tori looks at her watch, “You should just stay the night dude.”
Jill remembers her freshman year when they lived in the same dorm and Tori’s room was only one floor above hers. On mornings they didn’t have class Tori would quietly knock sing-songing her name and Jill would let her in before grunting sleepily and crawling back under the covers.
Tori would follow without a word and they’d just lie next to each other sleeping for another hour and then get up to walk to the cafeteria. Sometimes Jill would make them scrambled eggs in the dorm kitchenette while Tori sat at the table with her chin on her knees reminding Jill she didn’t like them with any brown on them.
Jill starts plucking her things from the floor around the coffee table and stuffing them into her messenger bag. “I’m not going to be late to any of my morning classes this semester,” she declares retrieving the still burning joint from the ashtray and bringing it to her lips. One more for the road.
“Liar.”
“Stoner.”
“Get out of my house,” Tori snatches the joint back and waves her away.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jill says sliding the bag strap over her head.
“Text me when you get back your room,” Tori calls after her.
Jill rolls her eyes as she closes the door and heads down the hallway.
Outside the early September air is still warm but the leaves have already started to change.
Jill puts a CD into her player and fits the headphones over her ears. She knows Tori hates it when she listens to music when she walks alone after dark but Jill doesn’t care and the campus isn’t that far. She slides her hand into her pocket and holds her key between her knuckles anyway.
As Tori unlocks the door to her room she fishes her cell phone out of her pocket; types out ‘Good night Victoria,’ and hits send. A few seconds later she receives a message back, ‘Sweet Dreams Jilly.’