Mark

Thumpity, thump, thump, thump. Why the hell is my head knocking its own doorbell?

Groaning, I turn over, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth, one eye peeled open and a blaring sound in my ear. Rolling over, I press the alarm on my phone off.

How about we get engaged? What do you think?

“Oh fuck,” I curse out loud, circling back to how I made that decision.

There’re so many reasons why asking Melody to get engaged to me is the worst idea on the planet. First and foremost, she’s my friend’s kid sister, and it’s not going to go over well with Carlos.

He’s gonna kick my ass all over Dulver Springs, but I also can’t face my father’s wrath. A short, stabbing memory worms to the surface.

Ain’t no way. Lifting my head feels like lifting a boulder, so I don’t even bother, and the stream of sun shifting through the window isn’t helping me sober up either.

Rolling over, I look over to my phone, my fingers stretching to get to it.

Text her right now. It’s the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, Mark. I shift my hand under the phone, pulling it up and starting the text.

Melody… delete. Melody, I think I took it too far last night and we should—

We should what, Mark? I pause with my phone in the air. It could be the best idea you’ve ever come up with. It’s so crazy that it just might work. I rethink it briefly, then gently put my phone down, wondering how I’m going to rid the fog from my brain.

My fingers miss the mark, and my phone drops on my head. “Ow fuck!” I resist the urge to throw it out the window, putting it down on the dresser drawer.

Leave it for a minute. Think about it. I get up and look around my Boston apartment. It’s spacious, I’ve got all the shit I want in it. The lease is paid for. It’s got a stainless-steel refrigerator, a kickass view, a built-in washer and dryer, but it’s too clean. No character like the homes in Dulver Springs.

Dragging my feet forward, I shuffle over to the counter to make some toast and coffee. Once the toast pops up and I’ve consumed my first coffee, I feel more human. My brain starts to tick away.

You can pull off an engagement for the next few weeks, right? It’s Melody. You’re comfortable with her, and your family knows her family. It’s nothing. It’s a little game to play for a few weeks.

By the time I finish eating my toast, I want to back out of everything I’ve said, but I don’t.

I call my boys to pass the time, knowing I’m fucking around, and pretty much fucking up my life because I don’t know what to do. I’ve always been told what to do.

“It’s going to be fantastic to have you in the law firm. You’re going to do a summer internship, and that’s going to put you on the map,” I recall my father’s high hopes for my future, and every time I think about what he wants for me, a sick feeling fills my stomach.

“Hey, Alan! What’s up man? You free, wanna head to see a movie next week?”

“I wish. I’ve got a case assignment, and that shit’s due in three days. What’re you up to?”

“Ah, you know, just hanging out,” I say, a pressure building inside. I don’t want to talk about what I’m not doing. I want out.

“Man, you’re lucky. You get to just hang out in Boston living your life. What a dream?”

I cross my feet while I stand with my back to the kitchen counter. “Yeah, I mean, you guys are good, too. You know what you wanna do with your life.” I shrug my shoulders, downing an energy drink to recover from last night.

Probably not the best thing, but I do it anyway.

“Hey, you’ll figure it out. We’re young right?” Alan groans, sounding like me only a couple of hours ago.

“Yeah, we will I guess… eventually.” I stick a finger in my side part, avoiding the whole Melody thing.

“All right man, good to hear from you. Talk to you soon.” Alan signs off, and the well of emptiness building inside me grows bigger.

I run right into the next call and ring Clarke. “Hey, hey Clarke! Mannn, what’s going on? You free tonight for a beer?” Meanwhile, my stomach is on a continuous spin cycle and mentally I’m tossing between throwing up or watching Netflix for the rest of the day.

“You should’ve rang me last night. We already went out, and my ass is in couch recovery.”

I spark up, thinking it might be night number two before I head back into the Dulver Springs lion’s den, but I’m fresh outta luck.

Frustrated, I look around knowing I need to pack and call things off with Melody.

“Come on man, back it up. Hair of the dog,” I urge.

“Hair of the what? Man, you’re crazy, I’m not doing that shit. I can’t even move my lower half right now.”

“Clarke, you’re too soft,” I tell him hypocritically while my head proceeds to pound like a sledgehammer.

“Then this softie is going right back to sleep. I got class in the morning with Dan, and you know what he’s like.”

“Clarke! Get off the phone. Come back to bed.” I hear a female baby voice from the back call out, and I shake my head. My boy’s busy getting laid, and I’m in my leased apartment, lonely as hell with a fake engagement on the cards.

“Oh, now I get it, hoes before bros?” I punch out at him, hitting the couch.

“Hey man, she ain’t a ho. She’s pretty cool. I think we got something. We just met, but it feels good.”

“Are you for real?”

FoMO hits me like a Mac truck, and I realize now that I've dropped out of law school, I don’t have access to my buddies like I used to. Maybe I should have stayed in school, even if I hated it.

Now, I’m just a lost cause. Then I think of Melody.

I remember the years of us pumping the pedals of our bikes, chasing the summer sun as it hit the top of the Dulver Spring hills, picking raspberries and blackberries in open fields with our fingers turning a deep purple.

Things were simple then, and now they’re not. Face it, Mark. Your father’s always going to think you’re a loser.

I sit down, running my fingers over the red and sugar maple coffee table I designed years ago. It’s about the only material thing that both reminds me of home and matters to me.

I don’t have any tools with me, so I can’t make anything else. It’s all law books and paper. Shit I don’t even care about but can do.

A phone call jams up my depressive thinking. “Hey Dad,” I sigh, dropping right back into reality.

“Evening, son. I’m glad I caught you. You must be studying, yes?”

“Yeah.” I cringe, staring up at the ceiling as I stare at my wardrobe, and everything I need to pack up. “What’s up?”

“Er, yes, I wanted to give you a run down for the Founders’ Day itinerary. I’ve got you opening the bake-off, along with the town mayor. In fact, it’s a family affair. In mid-afternoon you’ve got a meeting with Clancy Peters—he’s the editor for Dulver Springs News, you remember him, yes?”

“Uh, yeah. Briefly.”

“And you being back is more important than ever…your grandfather’s sick.”

I sit up from my slump, my heart pounding. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place? How can you run Founders’ Day if he’s sick?”

“He’s in good hands. You just get yourself back here as soon as humanly possible.” My father, the master of emotions—NOT telling me whether my grandfather’s going to be okay is not working for me. “We need you now, son.”

You can’t let your family down. Suck it up, Mark Lennon.

Douglas Lennon, a town legend and full of wisdom. My grandfather meant the world to me and if he was sick, I would have to stand in. I had no choice.

“Okay, well, is he in the hospital?” I keep my hands on my coffee table, thinking of my grandfather approving of my woodworking.

“You’re really good at this. Foo, foo to all that law business. Your father should encourage you with this. You’ve got a gift, son.”

“No. He had to be admitted Tuesday night with heart complications. Just get back here, Mark. It might not be the best Founders’ Day, but if you’re here, it will be better.”

Nausea builds up, and my fingers sweat. That fake engagement’s looking good. I’m pretty sure the part in my hair is damp and I run a finger down it, my temples pounding hard.

The engagement’s the only way. It’s our only cover, and the stakes are mega-high.

“All right Dad. I gotta go. I gotta pack and get this—” I stop myself from telling him I’m working on a paper because at the end of the day I’m gonna have to tell him I’ve dropped out.

“Understood, excellent. We’ve got a lot to handle, so I look forward to you being home.”

“Bye Dad.”

The panic button’s been pressed and now I’ve got no choice. Staring at the phone, I fall back, thumping my head against the couch.

“Fuck it!” My fingers press the call button, and it’s probably the worst call in Lennon history, but hey Melody and I can both free fall together. “Hey Melody, about last night…you still in?”

“Are you serious?” she croaks in falsetto.

“You keep asking that.”

“I don’t know, Mark, we were pretty drunk. It’s a silly idea. We should just go back. Our families love us. It’ll be fine.”

My heart picks up in beats. “Why do you sound so hesitant then? Come onnn. It’s only until Founders’ Day. It’s not that much of a stretch. We’ve been in each other’s lives forever.”

I might have overstepped the unspoken bro code of not dating kid sisters, but hey I’m going for broke.