The cassette was a TDK brand. I similarly used blank tapes to record my records so I could listen to them on my Walkman. This cassette was framed by black plastic with a clear middle, a window to the two spools of audio tape. There were no stickers, and nothing was written on the cassette to identify the band or albums contained therein.

As I inspected the tape, flipping it over and back, and after I shut the passenger door with a hip, which meant I shouldn’t have heard her as clearly as I did (I’m not sure if my memory can be fully trusted here), she said, “You’re gonna like it. Trust me,” and it sounded as loud and as right behind me as her “I can give you a lift,” from the funeral home.

No shit.

From inside my house, I watched Mercy drive away (me hiding behind a curtain) before I re-inspected the tape’s inscrutableness. I forced myself to wait before jamming it into my Walkman and the music into my earholes, as though to prove to Mercy I was not in any rush to listen to the recording more closely. After giving my parents a one- or two-sentence report on how the service went and somewhat successfully deflecting questions on who gave me a ride home, I prepared my typical lunch of champions: a stack of cracker and peanut butter mini-sandwiches and a glass of Coke. The tape was in the Walkman and puffy orange headphones pillowed my ears before I finished eating. I rewound Side A to the beginning and pressed Play. The opening drums of Hüsker Dü’s record New Day Rising kicked in. Forty-one minutes later I rewound to the start and pressed Play again.

Lost in my third listen, Mom tapped me on the shoulder. Phone call. It was Mercy, though she never identified herself.

“I told you you’d like it.”

Click.

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening listening to the tape.

Never had I previously been the stereotypical late-sleeping teen, but the next morning I remained in bed until 1 P.M. Easily a new personal record for sleeping in. Dad came into my room and yelled at me to get up and not sleep the whole day away. Despite the extra rest I was not refreshed. I was so crushingly exhausted, I asked for his help to take off the bulky back brace I wore overnight. Then I was late for my four-hour bagboy shift at Star Market, and when I got home, I was luggage and spent the rest of the night on the TV-room couch. Mom worried I was sick, but I was back to my disappointing self the next morning.

“I’m not sure if my memory can be fully trusted here.”