Melody

“Mark, why didn’t you tell me your car was shit? I could have caught the Greyhound bus or flown home like I planned to do!”

He pulls his dump of a car over to the side and my anger starts to rise. Why does this shit have to happen to me?

“Because my car’s good. It’s not, umm, it’s not an issue. Must just be faulty or whatever with the light coming on.” Mark’s flustered face and eyes tell a completely different story, and great, he’s lying to me.

“No, it’s not Mark. I might not know a lot about cars, but a red flashing light with an engine symbol on it can’t be a good thing.”

My fingertips are back to being sweaty. The cupcake tower. Eight tiers, and this fool thinks it’s okay for me to have less time to get back home and make it.

The tower’s looming over me, and it’s bad. Incredibly bad. The laughing, pointing fingers, they’re back. Right along with a microphone in front of my face from the town’s local journalist, “What do you have to say for yourself this time? Can’t be a coincidence that you’re the worst cupcake baker out of the Cramers. Perhaps, you should take up quilting. It’s not working out, is it?”

When I emerge from my irrational, fear-based hole, I see Mark studying me in a weird way.

“What? Why are you looking at me? Don’t focus on me, focus on this bum of a car,” I say spitefully. Sure I’ll want to take it back, but then I don’t because he should have checked the car before we left.

“Hey, relax. We’re going to get everything sorted out. This little one”—he pats the dash— “just needs to come back to life. Let’s give her an hour or two, and we should be good to go. I think this might be a good time to start practicing.” Mark sits up, peering over the steering wheel, but I’m still hot under the collar about him deceiving me.

How dare he put me in this position? I squeeze my little pink cupcake with sprinkles on my keyring chain, which doubles as a stress ball sometimes. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

I should have stuck with my first decision. Why did I even think this was a good idea?

I realize that Mark was just talking to me. “Practicing for what?”

“Practicing at being a couple, silly. That way when we get back to Dulver Springs, it actually feels believable.”

My heart picks up in pace as I swallow down the newly formed lump in my throat. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze the stress ball. Do I even realize what I’ve signed up for? Do I really want to “practice” being a couple?

I rub the inside of my palm, not wanting to believe I have to do this. It’s only until Founders’ Day. Don’t worry about it. Blink, and this shitty mess will be over.

I quickly glance at Mark’s profile, wondering if he’s having any hesitant thoughts, but his face is neutral. Like we don’t have a care in the world.

Must be his lawyer poker face, I reason.

As we pull off to the side slowly, the red light flashing, I peer closely at a rickety timber plank sign, and if I’m not mistaken, it appears to be the town’s main entry sign. Gardiner. The G looks kind of off, but from what I can see that’s what it reads like.

What’s with this town? As Mark kills the already dead engine, I’m sure it’s an engine problem, not just an engine light problem. I take a good look around.

Uh-oh. I see a deer bounding to its destination behind the overgrown shrubs next to the general store, and I can see a few stores or whatever down the road.

The general store looks like it’s about to fall down, and if there’s ever a fire, it will be the first to go.

There are a few pickup trucks around us, one in particular with mangy dogs who bark loudly, making me clutch onto Mark for dear life.

He clasps my hands in his, and the warm tingle I feel when he touches them shocks me.

What is this? Why am I having tingles run through my body? Does he feel it too?

I look at Mark and he’s smiling, like really smiling.

“Hey, it’s all right, fiancée.” His eyes are full of care, and he’s not laughing at me like he used to when we were kids. I slowly slip my hands back from his grasp, wondering if he’s already playing the fiancé role. “The dog’s chained up. See.” He points to the chain, but I’m unconvinced as the dog itself looks big enough to crush me, and its hefty jaw and teeth are huge.

“Thanks,” I mumble. “I’ve been chased by a big dog before back home, so I think it’s stuck in my brain every time I see one.”

“Oh yeah? When did this happen? It’s not like most people need guard dogs. Dulver Springs is a safe town.”

“I agree. Tell that to whoever owned it on Jenkins Lane.”

“That’s crazy. Well, that dog isn’t going anywhere, that’s for sure.”

We walk together into the general store that smells like Pine O Cleen. It’s on the darker side and there’s a worker mopping the floor with the stuff. I’m surprised that it actually looks like it has stuff in it.

Mark walks over to the scruffy bearded man with a trucker cap. “Umm, hi, we’re new to your little town, and we wondered if there’re any good eats here. Like a diner or something?”

The scruffy man chuckles as the girl mopping the floor looks up. “The best place, and the only place, is Suzanne’s, and it's about a five-minute walk on foot or a two-minute drive. Great coffee and waffles. Knock yourself out.” The man nods.

Mark and I look at one another, but we don’t let go of each other’s hands. Mark’s not looking at me, but I can’t understand why my hand has these sparkly tingles running through it.

Desperately, I want to unlatch from him, but a weird guilty feeling is plaguing me about doing so. “Should we walk there?”

“Sure.” A different voice I’ve never heard comes out of my mouth. “Sounds like a good plan, except he didn’t tell us which way to walk.”

“I think we should walk in the direction of those strip of shops up ahead. How about that?”

“Great,” I say softly, but cringing. “You can let go of my hand now. I don’t think we need to practice too much.”

Mark’s face changes color as he drops my hand. “Was it sweaty or something?”

“Ah no, it’s fine. I just, I don’t know,” I reply hastily, not trying to make him feel bad, but at the same time not wanting to feel butterflies. “It’s going to be a little bit of an adjustment.”

“I hear you. So far, I’m not minding.” Mark’s eyes meet mine and an intense, giddy feeling hits me. Oh boy. This is complicated already.

We reach the diner, and it gives me enough time to avoid his cheek-blushing compliment and point to the venue. “Oh look! That’s the place they were talking about.”

Mark’s eyes close in relief. “Sure is. Phew. Cos, this place, umm, is questionable. I wouldn’t want to be staying here at night. Potential for a horror movie.”

I giggle as we walk in, and it’s like going back in time to one of those old-time diners. I touch the red leather seats in awe. They might be cracked, but wow.

A hostess with a pad and pen that she keeps click-clacking stands in front of us.

“Hey folks, welcome to Susie’s Diner. Are you here for breakfast or lunch, or both?” She grins and I see that one of her teeth is gone from the front. There’re a few people in the booths, and there’s a radio playing in the background. “We got unlimited coffee refills as well, and you can take it to go.”

It doesn’t feel like too bad a place and when I look up at the clock, I see it’s already lunchtime.

“Let’s get some lunch, you’ve sold me already.”

“Great, follow me.” We slide into the booth and Mark’s phone rings.

“Hey Carlos, what’s up man!” he says to my brother as I stare at Mark wide-eyed as I make a cut-off symbol under my throat.

We haven’t even discussed how we’re going to tell everybody back home. He can’t tell Carlos. There’s no way. He won’t stand for it. The waitress comes with the coffee, pouring it into our cups, and I swing my head around her distracting body.

“No!” I hiss at him with another cut-off symbol at my throat, to which the waitress replies:

“Trouble in paradise? You juggling two?” She purses her lips together as I stare at her in horror.

“No, no, that’s not who’s on the phone. It’s not like that,” I protest. The waitress gives me a funny look.

“Surrree it’s not. Secret’s safe with me, honey.”

“Yeah, Melody’s with me, but we’re stopping off to get something to eat. She’s in good hands, don’t worry about it.”

I take in a deep breath, glad he didn’t reveal much at all. Thank god, but my head turns to a few loud male voices bursting through the door.

Who are they? They’re all good looking, and I’m pretty sure they’re our age. I turn back to Mark, thinking it’s unusual for them to be in this small Hicksville town.

The color, meanwhile, has drained completely from his face.

“What is it? You know them?” I ask.

“Ah yeah, college buddies. Be cool. We’re engaged, remember?”

One of them spots Mark straightaway and heads over, and I feel about as small as a mouse.

“Hey Marky boy, what are you doing here?”

“Pit stop on the way to Dulver Springs. What the hell are you doing here, Clarke?”

“On a boys’ weekend. Who’s this you got with you?”

“This is umm…” Please no, don’t say it. You don’t have to tell them. “It’s my fiancée.”

Another guy steps forward, staring at me. “What? Fiancée? You’ve been holding out on us. Since when? How’d you meet? Get the fuck out of here it’s your fiancée!”

Mark’s face is changing color so quickly I want to save him, but mortified, I sip my coffee instead as his inquisitive college buddies stand in front of him.

“We’ve known each other a long time. Since childhood. Anyway, don’t talk about her in the third person. She’s right here.”

“Oh sorry, sorry, I don’t believe either of you. Must be one of your pranks you like to play. If you’re being serious, you should kiss.”

Fuck no. We should not. That’s not what we’re going to do.