“He’s seen his name on the marquee, but she will never understand.”
They’d gotten close to this subject before in early morning chats over breakfast at Kent’s Diner. They’d almost touched it once or twice hanging out in the bed of his Dad’s F150 watching the sunsets that melted into the west end of town as if calling for an end of civilization. They’d certainly hinted at the thing watching movies with friends in somebody’s basement or family room. Just about the only time they didn’t talk about it was when they’d make out, usually on her bed with the door cracked open as per the family rule about having boyfriends over.
That was the only time she didn’t mention how, you know, well, um, most of her favorite singers that were men had higher voices, smoother voices, had some amount of vibrato at least, some semblance of control over what they were doing. Making out, or right before or after, was the only time s