“SO,” I SAY to Marco, holding on to him and not wanting to let go.
It’s late, it’s hot, it’s muggy, and the two of us are standing in the hotel parking lot. Vicks and Jesse have gone up to the room to pack our stuff so we can visit the castle of heartbreak. Or maybe it’s the castle of love. Or both.
“So,” Marco says. He untangles himself from me, takes my hand, and leans against the driver’s side of Robbie’s navy blue two-door Civic. “I had a great night.”
“But was it Exceptional?”
“No, it was Fine. But Fine is better than Exceptional.”
My cheeks hurt from so much smiling. We smiled while screaming on rides, we smiled while holding hands. We smiled while kissing.
After dinner, I gave Marco a special tour of Canada. I even sang the national anthem for him.
“Sure,” he said. “You can sing as well as act. But can you dance?”
I contemplated busting out my old Britney moves, but decided that that could wait for another day. Instead, I found us a place to sit for the fireworks, while Marco went to get cotton candy.
When I felt an arm around my shoulder, I assumed it was him, but instead it was a seven-foot blue and orange Goofy. He tapped his heart with his giant white glove and made a swooning motion.
I burst out laughing.
“What’s going on here?” Marco said, joining us, a huge pink cotton candy in hand. “Goofy, are you trying to steal my girl?”
Goofy nodded vigorously.
Marco thumped his chest. “Then it’s only fair to warn you that I have an orange belt in tae kwon do.”
I giggled and tore off a chunk of the cotton candy. “Um, isn’t that the lowest belt you can have?”
“It most certainly is not,” he scoffed. “It’s the second lowest.”
We laughed and watched the fireworks explode into stars and triangles.
When he took my hand, I warned him that my fingers were sticky.
“Good,” he said. “Then this time you won’t let go.”
Now we’re saying good-bye. Not good-bye forever, just good-bye for tonight.
“I’ll speak to you…soon,” I say hesitantly. I rub the back of his hand with my thumb. It’s soft, the back of his hand.
“Yes, soon,” he says, and nuzzles me back into him. I breathe in deeply and try to commit his minty scent to memory. “Do you guys have to drive tonight?” he asks. “Why not sleep in the pirate hotel and leave in the morning?”
“The castle is four hours south of here, and then we still have to drive nine hours home tomorrow.” I shrug. “What can I say? It’s a road trip. We’re wired. We want to move.”
“Okay. Are you driving?”
“Me? No. I hate driving. But don’t worry about us. Honestly. We’ll be fine. We had a nap. And Jesse’s a good driver.”
“I’m not worried about the driving. I’m worried about you stumbling upon another keg party.”
“Ha-ha.”
He wags his index finger. “And stay clear of hitchhikers.”
I giggle. “I hear they’re bad news. You’re sure you don’t want to use the hotel?” I ask. “It’s already paid for. You can crash there and drive home tomorrow.”
“Thanks, but if I don’t get this car back tonight, Robbie’s going to kick my ass.”
“I bet you and your orange belt could take him.”
He poses his arms to look like a karate chop. “I’ll call you when I get to Robbie’s. Let me give you my number though in case you need anything.”
He rattles off the numbers and I program them in. “And that’s Marco…Exceptional?”
He laughs. “Stone.”
“That’s not a last name, it’s a noun,” I say, smiling as I type. “Want my number, Mr. Noun?”
“I already got it, Ms. Adjective. I called my phone with yours to get it in my call display.”
Aw. “You did?”
“I had to. In case you pulled another Houdini on me.”
I kiss him hard on the lips before it’s his turn to disappear.
After an hour of driving, we realize we are about to run out of gas. Jesse follows a rest-stop sign off the highway into what looks like the middle of nowhere. Seriously, there are no houses anywhere. There are no streetlights either. There is only swampland. I’m amazed when she pulls up to an ancient Exxon with one sixty-watt bulb blinking above the sign. I swipe my credit card and Jesse pumps while Vicks cleans the windshield. I find the washroom. The smelly, lockless washroom. I somehow manage to squat, pinch my nose, and hold the door closed simultaneously.
When I get back, Jesse’s in the driver’s seat, Vicks takes shotgun, and I climb in the rear. We are a well-oiled machine. I reach for my iPod, scroll through “songs” until I find the one I’m looking for, then punch the “select” button. “Spirit in the Sky” rocks the Opel.
Jesse catches my eye in the rearview mirror and grins, knowing I picked it for her. I grin back.
“I hope you know how to get back to the I-95,” I say as we speed down the dark road. “Because I sure don’t.”
“You’re gonna have to stop calling it that,” Jesse tells me. “No the. Just I-95. Better yet, just ninety-five.”
I laugh. “I can’t help it! Maybe it’s a Canadian thing?”
“A Canadian thing, eh?”
I kick my shoes off, adjust my pillow, and let my mind wander back to Marco. Adorable Marco. Sweetheart Marco. Sexy Marco.
“I think you’re going the wrong way,” Vicks says.
“Don’t worry,” Jesse says. “I know where I’m going.”
Vicks looks out the window. “I think you should turn around.”
“I think you should chill.” She glances at Vicks. “Now who’s being the tightbottom?”
“Tightbottom? Did you just call me a tightbottom?”
I don’t really care about directions and tight bottoms. Well, except maybe Marco’s tight bottom, tee hee. Who cares which way we’re going when Marco likes me?
Vicks leans way over in the front seat. When she sits back up, she’s got the map. She unfolds it and says, “Dude, I seriously think we’re going west instead of south. We should have seen a sign to get back on the highway by now.”
“Let’s give it a few more minutes.”
I flip open my phone to see if he’s called and I missed it.
“I think you should turn around,” Vicks says.
Jesse cranes back her head. “Mel, what’s your vote?”
He hasn’t called. Not that I expected him to call so soon. But he’ll call tonight. I think. I wonder when I’ll see him again? This weekend? Is that too soon? I don’t want to seem like I have nothing else to do. Maybe he’ll drive up to see me next weekend?
“Mel?” Vicks says.
I snap to attention. “Yes, Tight Bottom?”
“Ha-ha,” Vicks says. “Don’t you think we’re lost?”
“Um…no?”
Jesse laughs. “Put that in your pipe and smoke it, baby!”
“Like she knows anything,” Vicks says. “She’s too busy daydreaming.”
“Mel and Marco sitting in a tree,” Jesse sings. “K-IS-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage—”
“Someone pass me the iPod,” Vicks grumbles. I hand it to her and she cuts off “Spirit in the Sky,” replacing it with “Bad Day.”
“Aw, man!” Jesse says. “You are such a grouch.” She sighs in a very aggrieved fashion. “Anyway, Marco and Mel are adorable together.”
Yes! Yes, we are. Marco and Mel. Like M&Ms. “Really?”
“Oh, definitely,” Jesse says. “So what happens now? Are you guys going out?” She does a one-handed air quote on the words going out while continuing to hold the steering wheel.
“Don’t do air quotes,” Vicks says to her. “They’re cheesy.”
“The word cheesy is cheesy,” Jesse retorts. This time she takes both hands fully off the wheel for her air quotes, before putting them back. “So, Mel, are you guys going to be together?”
“I guess,” I say. “I mean, we didn’t discuss it, but yeah.” I think.
Vicks twists to look at me. “You’re going to have a long-distance relationship?”
“I guess so.”
“Why would you want to go through all that with someone you just met?”
Jesse slaps her hands on the wheel. “Vicks!”
“Yeah?”
“What kind of a thing is that to say? She’s in the love bubble! Why would you try to burst her love bubble?”
“I’m not trying to burst her anything,” she spits out, facing the road again and waving her arms above her head. “She just has to be realistic about it, that’s all. What happens when he doesn’t call one Tuesday night? Is he at the library? Is he having sex with someone else? That’s what’s going to go through her mind. Her first instinct will be to call him. When he doesn’t answer, she’ll want to call him again. And again. And then she’ll become stalker calling girl. Is that what she wants?” She turns to me. “Is that what you want?”
I sink in my seat. “Um…”
“Your issues are not Mel’s issues,” Jesse says.
“You have to be tough to get through it,” Vicks says. “And Mel, you’re a sweetheart and all, but you are not tough. You’re going to get chewed up and spit out like a piece of gum.”
She’s right. My heart starts to beat a bit faster, and I finger the phone. I am not tough. I am not tough enough. I have already checked my phone three times since I got into the car to see if he’s called. That’s how I’ll spend my days—checking and rechecking my phone. I’ll sleep with the phone. Go to the washroom with the phone. If Vicks couldn’t handle dating long distance—tough, über-confident Vicks—what chance will I have?
“Mel, ignore her,” Jesse says. “You guys will do great. Bet he comes down to visit you this weekend.”
“Maybe,” I say, but the panic in my mouth tastes like vinegar. He could change his mind. He could meet someone else he likes more than he likes me.
Jesse whistles. “Wait till he sees your house.”
See my house? I try to keep my feet planted on the floor of the car. Yes, I suppose he’ll have to see my house eventually. Meet my family. Great. “Wait till he sees my sister. He’ll probably take one look at her and fall in love or something,” I half joke.
Jesse shakes her head. “Why would you say that?”
“See?” Vicks asks. “I told you. She’s too insecure.”
“I was kidding,” I say.
“I don’t think so,” Jesse says.
True. I guess I wasn’t. But I don’t say anything. I flip open my phone to see if he sent me a text.
“Mel, you are way prettier than your sister,” Jesse says.
“Whatever.”
“You are. Especially if you wear a little lip gloss like I showed you.”
“Look,” I say, my heart now racing. “If it doesn’t work out with Marco, it doesn’t work out. It doesn’t matter.” I feel myself closing up, closing in. I pull my legs into my chest. I close my phone.
“Don’t say that!” Jesse says. “If you don’t give it a chance, it’ll never work out. You have to have a positive attitude.” Her voice is suddenly squeaky high. “You have to. You have to.”
Vicks is shaking her head. “You can’t just drive forward blind, Jesse. Be realistic. Relationships end. People go away. Even when you don’t want them to. And there’s nothing you or anyone can do to stop it.”
Jesse tightens her fingers on the steering wheel. “That’s not true. That’s just not true.”
“Well, yeah, it is,” Vicks goes on. Doesn’t she realize she’s pushing Jesse’s buttons? “Sometimes the end of the road is the end of the road, and a positive attitude isn’t going to fix it. Nothing can. You can’t. I can’t. Even ‘God’”—now she makes air quotes—“can’t. Now, please turn around. We’re lost.”
Jesse jerks the steering wheel to the right, and I almost scream as the car swerves to the shoulder of the road. But I don’t. Instead, we’re all silent as she steps on the brake, grinding the car to a halt. I’m expecting her to make a U-turn, but instead, she throws the gear into park.
“What the hell?” Vicks asks.
Jesse unsnaps her seat belt, opens the door, and takes off into the dark.
I guess the truce is over.