“You look so beautiful tonight,” said the old woman, looking over at her with a grin that Judy concluded was mischievous and untrustworthy. Old women like that have the fake grin perfected, they learned how to use it and abuse by the time they were her age and as far as Judy was concerned it was a wagging tongue ready to drip out a venemous gossip licked up from the streets. What the fuck did that comment mean anyway?

“Had a couple drinks tonight?” Judy asked, lighting up the second cigarette. The old woman kept smiling, watching Judy take a puff and a scratch to her nose. Judy was apparently the entertainment on the deck at that time, she crossed her legs and leaned towards the old lady who could not take her eyes off of her. She wondered what the woman wanted to hear. A crazy tale of her past, a loony quote for the ladies at the breakfast diner, a twitch of the eye? A song with a blaring banjo came over the loudspeakers, Judy let it sing over them and fill up some silence that Judy happily gave out.

“They say this song is about you,” said the old woman, perking her head up to the ceiling and smiling at the lyrics that came out.

“That's because it is about me,” Judy informed. The Teddy Jones song had been on repeated play through out every local station and across the nation. The bridge of the song talked about a girl who ran around naked and passed out on a lawn and woke up every morning with frost over her body and weary eyes at the dawn, some bullshit like that. He used her name constantly. Judy knew every word by heart, being an avid radio listener, and hadn't decided if she was touched by the folky ballad or annoyed that there were others songs about her that were as well circulating through out the airwaves. Hopefully no one else knew or cared. The old woman surprisingly sang along to it, mouthing the swear words and humming along to the banjo solo. Judy lit up the third cigarette. She was tired of her knuckles getting red from standing outside for only ten minutes, she was tired of the winter, she was ready to get sweaty and hot, she was ready to have humid winds and drippy air as long as it meant she could sit outside and have a cigarette and not get bleeding lips and chilly legs. She had worn a skirt, like a good girl, and wished that she had worn knee socks or pants underneath or something that stopped her legs from getting whiter than they already were. The old woman had a shawl and a hat and snow pants and a winter jacket, maybe that was the way to go on a night like this. She still had that awful smirk on her face, the song was done, maybe she would finally speak. Maybe the singing time was over; maybe she would just leave her the fuck alone. Judy wasn't ready to go back inside with John though, her legs were too white and her heart was still racing a little too fast. She needed to sit outside for just a bit longer. The old woman giggled, apparently Judy was funny.

(excerpt from Judy)