Mark

She agreed. I can’t believe she did. It’s going to be funny when you show her the state of your vehicle, Mark. You’ve got a shit heap for a car, and what, you think Melody won’t notice?

It’s the morning after, and I’ve got the majority of my stuff packed in the car. Most of it fits in my duffel bags, no suitcases, and I’ve left as much room as I can, not knowing if Melody’s going to take over with all her girly-girl stuff.

I’m not sure if my blue beast’s gonna make it all the way to Dulver Springs, but Melody and I are gonna have to deal because there’s no way in hell I’m calling Parker Lennon to help.

I can see his eyes burning with judgment now. “You should’ve had this car fixed months ago.” A lecture is the last thing I need.

Returning through the rooms of my two-bedroom apartment, a little bit of dejection sets in. Just a little. If only I gave a damn about law, but I don’t.

Sighing loudly, I do some final checks on the car. The tires are okay, I’ve got a full tank of gas, my oil is topped up, and that’s about as good as it gets. I don’t want to think about my car’s latest feature of overheating. That’s a story for another time.

I lock the place up, making the fifteen-minute drive to Melody’s apartment. Who knew we lived so close to one another.

When I arrive, Melody greets me wearing a lavender sweater, a golden scarf, blue jeans, and a fresh face. Damn, she looks cute. I beep the horn to let her know I’m here but chuckle sheepishly at my internal comment. Don’t even think about looking at your best friend's kid sister like that. This engagement is a temporary solution, Mark.

As she opens her apartment door with a plastic container, I get out of the car to greet her.

“Hey, morning. You’re looking fresh! You ready for this six-hour road trip to Dulver?”

Melody rolls her eyes dramatically, but it’s so cute, I don’t even notice too much. “Ah, if we must. But I’ve got sustenance in the form of apple spice cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.”

My mouth waters as I peek in the plastic container. “Wow, those look great! We can stop off and get a coffee and some breakfast so we can get this party started.”

“Sounds good.” She doesn’t seem to have many bags, but my mouth drops open when I stand to be corrected. Melody plops her plastic container down, emerging with bag after bag. I’m willing them to stop coming, but by the eighth bag, I’m not sure my car will hold up the weight.

“Woman! Where did all this stuff come from? How? I thought you told me you didn’t have much stuff?” I remark as we shove her bags in, and she double checks her apartment. Everything fits perfectly. She locks the door behind her, putting a hand on it before she leaves.

She sends a perfect scowl my way. “This is not bad. It looks that way because I don’t have a suitcase.”

“Noooo, that’s not it, Melody. It looks like what it is,” I tell her sarcastically.

“Mark, please.” She shifts her hands to her hips. “Don’t start. Honestly, I’m not in the mood this morning. I just had to end my lease, and I’ve got enough stress with the bakery,” she huffs, but I’m still stuck in the land of disbelief at the mountain of bags she’s got stacked not only in my trunk, but in the back of the car.

A shadow of melancholy crosses Melody’s cute face, but I can’t help but inhale the scent of roses, which I think is coming from her long chocolate brown tresses.

I stare a little too long, and our eyes connect, but we both pull them away quick enough. I never remembered her mane being so shiny and perfect. I swear she smells like roses, and it’s incredibly distracting because this bag fiasco is out of order.

Man, this road trip is about to be awkward as hell.

Coughing, I look elsewhere, spotting a wicker basket sticking out, and notice a plastic cupcake hanging from her keychain. It brings me to the realization that maybe I don’t know the new Boston Melody, but she sure reminds me of home.

She represents everything nostalgic, mixed with wholesome goodness, about Dulver Springs, whether she’s aware of it or not. “I get it. That must have been hard, but at least your family’s supportive of you,” I mutter, regretting whining so early in the morning.

She sighs, tucking her magnificent hair behind her ear. “It’s not that. I can’t let them down.”

She slides into the front seat, and I freeze up for a minute, my shoulders hunched, hoping my blue bomb of a beast is going to start.

She has a bad habit of spluttering and false starting, especially on uber-cold Boston mornings.

“This is your car?” she says, and I swear there’s judgment in her tone. “We don’t have much room, do we?” She turns to look into the back where the duffel bags are stacked, and I shake my head.

“I wonder why…” My blue bomb decides to whine a little and not start, much to a wide-eyed Melody’s delight.

“What—what’s going on with your car?”

“Nothing, nothing, she just needs a little warming up before we can take off,” I reassure, unconvincingly.

“Umm, we’ve been here for three minutes already and your car’s not starting.”

Already our fake engagement is starting out on the rocks. “I can barely see out of the window, that might be a bigger problem.” I fast pedal out of her scrutiny, to quiet her, and lucky enough my blue bomb decides it’s okay to start.

Melody’s not talking for the first ten minutes as I focus on getting out of the main city center and onto the back freeway to travel out of Boston. This is when the road starts to open up and right as I put my indicator on, the sharp whine of a police siren causes me to pull to the side.

“I bet you he’s pulling us over because of all your shit in the back.”

“Mark,” she exclaims, looking as if she’s about to hit me. “Shut up! I’m not a man boy with just a funky gym bag. You’re annoying, just like you used to be.”

“Ditto kiddo.”

Splotches of red cover her face. “Don’t call me kiddo. Besides, aren’t we meant to be engaged? Is that how you’d talk to your fiancée?” she hisses with an arched eyebrow as the police officer summons me to roll the window down.

He peeks in with a smile, looking through the window. “Looks like you two are taking a road trip. Would I be right?”

Melody crosses her arms, not helping at all while I shit my pants, but I do know my rights, so if anything happens, I’m feeling confident. It will be fine. “That’s right, officer. We’re headed back home to Dulver Springs.”

I tap the wheel with a fake whistle, but I pretty much know what he’s going to say.

“You might want to adjust a few items in the back because there’s an obstruction to your view. Rectify that please. I don’t plan on writing you up. You seem like good kids, and I got family in Dulver Springs. Real cute place.” He smiles broadly, and Melody sighs loudly in relief.

“That’s great to hear! Drop into Cramers Bakery if you get a chance, that’s my family,” she states proudly. Does she need to tell the officer?

“Wow. That’s your family. Man, that’s so awesome. I sure will. Fix up those bags in the back, and y'all can be on your way.”

Melody and I rearrange the bags and find a solution that works and also manage to get some breakfast while we’re at it.

“That was a close call,” I tell her.

“No it wasn’t. You’re exaggerating. He was really cool. We just needed to change the position of the bags. Don’t be so negative.” She takes a sip of her coffee as I shake my head.

This might be one of my worst ideas.

“Now, let’s not fight, fiancée. We aren’t even married yet.”

Melody rolls her eyes but has to laugh. “Founders’ Day can’t come soon enough.”

“For you and me both,” I quip, which in effect is silly because the fake fiancé caper was mainly my suggestion.

“Hush Mark, let’s get back on the road before I smush a cupcake in your face.”

We both burst out laughing, and Melody’s smile brings me back to life. I’m not going to tell her that since she’s being a pain in the ass, but secretly, it does.

We drop in with our snacks and a back rearview mirror free from obstruction as I drive us out of Boston and onto the windy back road, taking a scenic shortcut to Dulver Springs.

It’s a secret way I found when I drove in, and now it’s the same way we are headed out. The road’s pretty clear with little traffic and evergreen lush trees, birds flying, and a low mist lining the edges of the road. We’re silent, but there doesn’t seem to be any resentment bottled up—Melody’s joke has broken the awkward ice.

I ease into the corners and Melody opens her plastic container, filling my nostrils with apple spice, and my mouth instantly waters as I dig in.

“How do you come up with these recipes? They smell so good.”

“Lots of ways. Sometimes I just play around and put food combinations together. It’s the same thing I used to do with my Easy-Bake oven.”

I scoff, and we settle into the ride, coming up on a little township to our left. “You had an Easy-Bake oven?”

“Yep. You didn’t?”

“Ah no, I had a woodshop setup. My grandfather gave it to me.”

“A woodshop set? You build stuff?”

I shrug, suddenly feeling shy. I haven’t really told anyone about my hobbies back home. “Yeah. I make stuff—sometimes. When I’ve got the time.”

“Wow. Carlos never mentioned you make stuff.”

“Well, you know, he knows, but I don’t talk about it much.”

As we hit a straight patch both on the road and in conversation, my car starts getting the shakes.

“Whoa. What’s going on, Mark? Seriously?”

A flashing red light on the dash glares at me. “Umm shit. I think my car’s broken down. Umm wow. Don’t panic.”

Says the panicker…