Of Tears and Raindrops

The moon shines down on me as I make my way across the empty parking lot.  Despite the warmth of the summer night, I shiver.  I feel hot and cold all at once.  My hands are cold and clammy, but my face is hot.  To say I was a bit nervous would be an understatement.  I can’t believe I’m doing this, I think.  He’s going to think I’m such a creeper.  I should turn around and go home before I make a complete idiot out of myself.  Before I have a chance to move, an older woman and a young man emerge out of the dimly-lit grocery store.  I duck down behind a dumpster and watch the duo.  The older woman bids the young man “good night” as she walks to her car.

           

            “Are you sure you don’t want a ride home, Micah?” the older woman asks anxiously.  “I don’t like to see you walking home alone at night.” 

I can tell that she’s a very sweet woman who probably worries too much.  I smile to myself as I realize that she sounds just like my grandma.  There would be pretty much no danger of walking home alone at night in this tiny town.  It’s so different from the big city I used to live in.  It was a lot to get used to at first.  I wasn’t acquainted to how close the people in a small town could be. 

I was born and raised in a little apartment with my mom in New York City, where I barely knew any of my neighbors.  When we moved into Owlton, however, we found out that everyone knew every person and every thing in the town.  If someone got a new lawn mower or got a new job, pretty much the whole town knew about it.  I guess that’s what happens when you live in a town with a population of 4,000.  So, it’s safe to say that when my mother and I moved in a few months ago, the whole town was informed about it.  We’d barely gotten one box into our house before the neighbors started coming over and welcoming us with cookies and casseroles.  Small town life has been both a blessing and a curse, but mostly a blessing.  I don’t think I was ever cut out for city life.  I felt so small, insignificant, and unnoticed.  Owlton has been a totally different story.

When it was my first day at school, everyone knew my name already and where I’d come from.  The very second I walked through the front doors, I was surrounded by an excited fan club.  They all wanted to get to know the “exotic” city girl, which I most definitely claim not to be.  I’m kind of shy and plain, not the “flashy” city girl type that I’m sure they were expecting, but yet they still seemed intrigued by me.  So, for the first few days I had a posse that surrounded me everywhere I went, even into the bathrooms (though not all the way into the stalls, thank goodness)!  After a couple of weeks, my “intrigue” wore off (which I was quite glad of, to be honest) until I was left with two girls who are now my best friends and the first true friends I’d ever really had: Amber and Stephanie.  Life couldn’t be better, right?  Think again.

The very instant I walked through the front doors of my new school, surrounded by my fans, was when I first saw him.  Micah Mordel.  I know it’s probably corny to be saying this, but it truly was love at first sight.  I couldn’t take my eyes off him.  His wavy blonde hair, his sweet face, his ocean eyes, and his awkward bearing instantly drew me in.  Later on it was more than just those things that attracted me; it was also his beautiful sadness.  Micah seemed to always be lonely and sad; I wanted to get to know Micah, to ease his pain, to be a part of his life.  Even through his depression, I occasionally caught glimpses of his personality, and I relished these brief glimpses of his true character.  I can count on one hand the amount of times I’d seen Micah smile, so the few I’d seen were greatly treasured.  When he smiled, the world seemed to glow and I felt curiously light-headed; it was the happiest sensation I’d ever felt.  From a distance, I’d fallen in love with Micah Mordel, and now I am going to possibly close that distance……maybe…..if I finally get up the courage to speak to him, which I’d had no luck with in the past. 

The sound of Micah’s low, gentle voice breaks me out of my brain stew.  “Yeah, I’m sure.  It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” Micah assures the older woman.  “I live pretty near the store, so it’ll be no problem walking.”  The woman seems to be placated by his answer, so she tosses him one last wave, heads to her car, and drives away. 

Now there’s only me and Micah.  My heart starts pumping faster and faster, and I involuntarily begin to shake, which in turn causes the dumpster that I’m leaning up against to rattle.  Micah turns around, searching for the source of the sound, while I duck down and hold my breath.  Thankfully he dismisses the idea that he heard anything, turns, and begins walking away.  Wait, I think.  I don’t really want him to get away, do I?  Come on, Melody, you can do this!  So, before I can stop myself, I jump out from behind the dumpster and yell, “Wait!”  It’s difficult to tell who’s more surprised: me or Micah.  He jumps, very startled, and just stops and stares at me.  To my horror, I begin to blush, and I am unable to find the ability to form any words.  We stand there gawking at each other awkwardly for a tortuous moment that seems to last a lifetime.  Say something, the voice in my head screams at me, anything!   “Umm, hi,” I say.  “Sorry that I scared you.  I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.  I just…”  I trail off, not knowing what to say and feeling like a crazy stalker.

“It’s okay,” Micah assures.  “I just wasn’t expecting to find someone…hiding behind a dumpster…”  He looks at me with curiosity and a bit of fear.  “If you don’t mind me asking you this, um, who are you, and what were you doing back there?” 

I feel a bit disheartened that he doesn’t recognize me.  At first I tell myself that it’s probably just because it’s hard to tell who I am at night and the fact that I’m out of the usual environment that he’s seen me in, but then the reality hits me: he doesn’t know me at all.  I’ve fallen in love with him from a distance, so we’ve never spoken to each other before.  We’ve had classes together, but I’d never introduced myself to him.  So of course Micah is freaked out.  I would be too if a complete stranger yelled at me in a dark, deserted parking lot.  Nice, Melody.  Nice.

“M-my name’s Melody.  I’m sort of new to your school…I just moved in a few months ago.”

There’s a little glimmer of recognition after I say that.  “Oh, yeah, I think I remember you now,” Micah says.  “You moved from New York, right?”

“Yep, that’s me,” I chirp nervously.  There’s another awkward silence before Micah speaks again.

            “Well, I guess I’ll be going.  It’s getting late.”  He waves and half-smiles.  “Good night.”  Micah then begins to walk away. 

I’m frozen for a few moments, confused by his abruptness.  “Wait!” I say, running to catch up with him.  I search frantically for something to say to him.  “Don’t…don’t you want to know why I was behind the dumpster?’

Micah turns around and a rare smile flashes across his face.  “Well, yeah, actually,” he says.  “I am a bit curious, to be honest.”

I’m quite flustered now, entranced by his beautiful smile.  “Um…well….I was…waiting for you to get done with work so I could…ask you a question.”  I blush deep red and look at my feet.

“Okaaaaay…what was the question?” Micah asked.

Still looking at my feet I respond, “I was just going to ask you if…if you’d like to, um, hang out.”

“Oh,” he says.  His voice now sounds emotionless and dead.  “Well, that would be fun and all, but I really should be getting home.  It’s getting really late.”

I narrow my eyes and put my hands on my hips in irritation.  “It’s really late?” I say, “but it’s only nine o’clock, and it’s a Friday night.”

Micah turns away from me, looking very uncomfortable, so I decide to just let it go.  I don’t want to make things uncomfortable for him.  I just wanted to make him happy, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be.  So, discouraged and heartbroken, I start to quietly walk away.  I barely go a few feet, however, before Micah calls out to me.

“Wait!” he says.  I jerk my head back to face him with curiosity, and he suddenly becomes flustered.  “Um, I...I’d like to hang out.  If you still wanted to.”

Inside my heart is squealing like a little girl, but I try to remain calm and cool on the outside.  “Oh, awesome! Great!” I say, my smile probably just about blinding him.  “Did you want to…go see a movie or something?” 

“Well, I don’t really have any money with me,” Micah says, embarrassed.

“Oh, that’s completely fine,” I reassure him.  “We can just go for a walk around town or something.”

Micah looks very relieved and a smile floats onto his face.  It’s the start of a magical evening, I can just feel it.

----

Our conversation is slow and awkward at first, but surprisingly quickly our words stream out in an effortless flow.  It’s as if we’ve known each other our whole lives.  We talk and laugh blissfully.  Micah smiles tonight more than I’d ever seen him smile.  I treasure each and every one that flits across his face, stowing it away in my memory.  This is so much more fun than going to the movies, I think to myself. Walking around town has never been more fun.  We run through people’s sprinklers, dash away from mean dogs, and eventually end up at the beach.  As we dip our toes in the water and skip rocks across the lake’s glassy surface, we start to feel raindrops on our foreheads.  Before we know it, it’s raining buckets.  We’re completely soaked in a matter of seconds, but we don’t care.  We just laugh and dance around joyfully.  The cool drops feel like heaven on this warm summer evening…or should I say “morning”, for morning it now is.   Looking across the water, my breath catches in my throat at the sight I behold.  I tap Micah and gesture excitedly.  Across the lake the sun is starting to rise, and right above the rising sun is a gorgeous rainbow.  We both stand in awe for quite some time.  This is the perfect end to a perfect night, I dreamily think to myself, when suddenly I’m surprised to feel an arm beginning to wrap itself around me.  I freeze in place, wanting to let this moment last forever.

“It’s been a wonderful night,” I say, leaning my head on Micah’s shoulder.  When I do this, however, he stiffens and pulls away.  Micah walks a bit away and sits on the dock, gazing morosely at the water.  I tentatively walk over and sit beside him, with plenty of space between us.

“Is everything alright?” I ask.  This is answered with silence, so I add, “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.” 

Micah sighs, hesitantly looks over at me, and then opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally deciding to speak.  He then spills the reason for his sadness, the sadness that I’d wondered about ever since I’d met him. 

“Melody, do you remember when I said that I didn’t have any money with me tonight?” Micah asks.

“Yes, I do,” I say, a bit perplexed.

“Well, the reason why I don’t have much money in general is because I used up all of my money to help my girlfriend pay for her chemo treatments.  You see…she had cancer, and she was from a pretty poor family, so I did everything that I could to help her…”  Micah pauses.  I patiently wait for him to continue.  He takes a deep, shaky breath and continues, “But it wasn’t enough.  My girlfriend died two years ago today.”  I sit, transfixed, as Micah begins to crumble before my eyes.  When I try to comfort him, wrapping my arms around him, he lets me.  I hold him close, my cheek resting close to his, until his racking sobs subside.  As I release my hold on him, I notice one last tear coursing down his cheek, and before I can stop myself, I delicately kiss it away. 

“Sorry,” I mumble, as I blush and turn away, but Micah then turns me back around and gazes earnestly into my eyes.  Taking my face into his hands, he gently kisses my lips.  I feel a spark of electricity run down my spine and a wave of desire rushes through me.  My hands, which have been hanging limply at my side, now begin to impulsively wrap themselves around Micah’s neck, as my body presses as close to him as possible.  I can tell that Micah must be feeling a spark of connection between us too because he sighs in the back of his throat and kisses me again but urgently this time.  Before he gives me a third kiss, however, he pulls away hastily.  We both stand up, breathing hard, as the rain continues to fall from the sky.  I look at Micah and see that his cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are misty.   When our breathing eventually slows down Micah, gazing into my eyes with what I see as a mixture of sadness and guilt, softly trails his hand down my cheek, and walks away. 

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Days pass by, eventually turning into weeks, without me seeing Micah.  Not that I try that hard to see him again.  I miss him like crazy, but I’m afraid to approach him.  Afraid of the hurt that I know I’d cause him if I did.  By the time three weeks pass, I decide I can’t take it anymore: I need to see him.  Everything around me reminds me of Micah, so naturally he is all I can think about.  My heart yearns for him so much that my stomach twists in knots and my heart burns with desire to see him, to feel his hand in mine.  It’s like I’m a drug addict who is in withdrawal, and Micah is the drug that I need to have, or I just might explode. 

So that evening I drive my car (a Pacer) down to the grocery store, but this time I don’t hide.  I park in the deserted parking lot and walk into the store.  As I step through the automatic doors, I scan the aisles, hoping to catch a glimpse of Micah while at the same time I feel guilty with the knowledge that seeing me will severely hurt him.  I’ll probably always be associated with his dead girlfriend now.  I don’t have to worry about seeing him though because he’s not there.  I search the whole store, earning some curious glances from a few customers and a few “May I help you?”s from the employees.  After about 15 minutes of searching that seems like an eternity, I give up and reluctantly slump to the front of the store.  At the front of the store, however, I find a surprise: Micah.  He must have been on break or something when I first came in because now he’s working the registers.  I stand and watch him from a distance as he works, scanning items and politely smiling at his customers.  Even though I can easily tell that these smiles aren’t truly authentic, they still make me melt a little.  I’m so caught up in watching him that I forget that I’m standing in the middle of an aisle.

“Umm, excuse me,” a kindly young woman says as she attempts to push her cart full of groceries and children down the aisle.

“Oh!  Sorry!” I say, snapping back into reality. 

The woman just gives me a knowing smile as she winks and walks away.  Okay, note to self: be a bit more discrete whilst openly gaping at Micah.  I snort, amused by my thinking, and then my amusement turns to a mixture of fear and anticipation as I make my way over to Micah.  I hastily grab a candy bar and walk up to his register.  Micah tells the man in front of me to “have a nice day” and then he turns toward me.  As he turns toward me, for a fraction of a second his smile flickers and a blush reddens his face, but then he regains his composure.

“Hello,” Micah says.  His voice is too cheery.  Too fake.  But I’m still just so happy to hear his voice.

“Hi,” I say, suddenly breathless.

Micah looks unseeingly back at me with his fake smile as he grabs my candy bar and scans it.  “That’ll be 94 cents, please.”

I stare at him in disbelief.  He’s acting as if nothing ever happened between us.  Wait, not even just that.  He’s acting as if we are complete strangers.  I feel really stupid and hurt, but I try not to let it show.  I hand him a dollar, and Micah is careful not to let his fingers touch mine as he grabs the money and gives me my change.

“Thanks for coming in, and have a nice day,” Micah says as he hands me my pathetic bag with a mere candy bar in it.  I grab the bag, but I don’t leave.  I just stand there, still staring at Micah.

“ ‘Have a nice day’, huh?” I say in a dead, cold voice. “How can I ‘have a nice day’ when you pretend…when you pretend…you…d-don’t even know me?” Angry tears now threaten to fall from my eyes, and I notice that a line of curious patrons has started to form at Micah’s register.  Don’t cry, Melody, don’t show how weak and desperate you truly are!

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I have customers waiting,” Micah says.

I feel as if I’ve been smacked in the face.  Stunned, I stand there a few seconds before I turn and dash out the door.  Ironic, I think to myself, it's me who’s running away this time.  Away  from nothing and everything.

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Tears blur my vision as I speed out of the parking lot in my Pacer, but I don’t feel sad.  I feel nothing but emptiness.  When I make it home, I lie down on my bed and unseeingly stare at the ceiling.  I don’t know how long I end up sitting that way, feeling and thinking nothing, until I eventually notice the time that’s projected on the ceiling from my alarm clock and realize that it’s time for me to leave for work.  I quickly change clothes and drive to McDonald’s.  I dread going in, feeling like I won’t be able to handle working today, but as I begin taking and filling orders, I actually start to feel better.  The busyness and constant chaos keeps my mind from straying onto thoughts of Micah. 

“Ah, man,” Peter, a fellow employee says to me as we both walk out to our cars later that night.  “That was an especially crazy day today.  I can’t wait to go home and go to sleep.  What about you?”  He throws me a lazily imploring look with his tired green eyes and ruffles his black hair as he waits for me to respond. 

“Ummm…I don’t know, but I’ll definitely not be going to sleep right away.  I’m actually feeling…really energized for some reason,” I say.  “Weird, right?”

Peter looks at my hands, notices them shaking, and then laughs.  “Not really,” he says.  “I think those two cappuccinos you had during break completely explain why you’re feeling that way.”

“Oh, that’s right!” I say.  I laugh too, but it comes out creepily high-pitched.  I clasp my hand to my mouth in embarrassment, and Peter gives me a look of amusement, which gets me laughing hysterically for some reason.  My whole body is shaking now: arms, legs, the whole caboodle.  I’m laughing so hard that I lose my balance and almost fall down, if it isn’t for Peter catching my arm and steadying me.

“Woah.  Careful there,” he says, grinning.  “I don’t know if I feel comfortable letting you drive while intoxicated,” he adds teasingly but also with a hint of concern in his voice.

I roll my eyes.  “I’m fine, Peter.  See you tomorrow.”  I wave, get into my car, and begin backing up the car before I notice that Peter is still standing where I left him, watching me.  I roll down my window and call out the window, “Why are you still standing there?  Are you okay?  If you’re worried about me, I really am fine.”

“I was just thinking…and now, way to go, you’ve made me lose my train of thought!” Peter says.  His words are thick with sarcasm, but even through the darkness I can tell that he is blushing.  This confuses me, but I humor him and pretend to not notice.

“Well, you better go catch it then.  See ya.”

----

As soon as I turn the car around and head down the road alone, thoughts of Micah completely cloud my mind.  I can’t believe that I didn’t think of him all day long!  Instead of feeling hurt or feeling nothing at all about him, however, I feel uncharacteristically brave and optimistic.  It’s amazing what a couple of cappuccinos can do, I think to myself, but at around the same time that I’m thinking this, Peter pops into my mind.  I’d never really talked to Peter much before.  We’d worked together ever since I came to Owlton and started working at McDonald’s, but I’d never really taken much notice of him and vice versa.  We were just co-workers.  End of story.  …But why does Peter seem to all of a sudden be taking an interest in me?  I can’t deny that it flatters me, but I’ve got enough to think about right now.  I need to focus on what to do about Micah.  The more I think about him, the more restless I become, and with the assistance of my caffeine high, I don’t even hesitate before I call my friend Amber.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Amber!  This is Melody.”

“Oh, hi, Melody!  How’s your summer going?  We so need to hang out!  It feels like forever since I’ve seen you!”

I laugh.  “It’s barely been a month, but I do agree.  Want to come over to my house and go on a little, uh, adventure with me?”

“Sure, I love adventures! When do you want to do that?”

“Well, how about right now?”

There’s a slight pause of surprise before Amber recovers.  “Oh.  Sure!  I’m super curious now...does this have anything to do with a guy perchance?”

“You’ll just have to come over and find out for yourself,” I say and hang up the phone.  I’m starting to think maybe Peter laced my cappuccinos with something, I bemusedly think to myself.  That would explain why he was so concerned about me driving intoxicated.   Five minutes later, the door bell rings and there’s Amber.  I sure have to give her credit.  She’s quick.

“So, what’s up?” Amber says, while she tries to read my expression.  “Wait.  Is something wrong?”

I had been completely composed before, but at the sight of my friend, I start to fall apart.  Before I can stop myself tears begin to fill my eyes, and as Amber embraces me, they fall down like rain.  I try to wipe them away, but the effort is in vain; another batch of tears immediately takes their place.

“S-sorry ab-about this,” I say.  “I don’t know why I’m suddenly falling apart.”

“It’s okay.  That’s what friends are for, right?” Amber says.

Eventually I settle down and spill my guts about everything that had been happening.  I hadn’t talked to Amber or Stephanie since school was let out, and I hadn’t told anyone else about what happened between Micah and me, so it was a great weight off my shoulders to let Amber into my mind. 

“Wow.  A lot sure has happened since I’ve last spoken to you.  Figures, I guess.  I mean, you are the happenin’ city chick and all, right?”

            “Yep, that’s me!” We both laugh, and I smile as all of the tension seems to be released from my body.  It’s a relief, but then I start to think about what I need to do next.  Thankfully, Amber interrupts my thoughts.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Um, well…I don’t really have one,” I say.

Amber’s eyes widen a bit in surprise.  “Wow.  That’s a first!”

“Yeah,” I say, “I guess I’m learning that love can’t be planned.”  Right after I say this, I instantly regret it because now Amber is giving me an excited look.  Oh no.

“So you really are in love with him, aren’t you?” Amber gushes.  I slap my palm to my face and groan, trying to hide my mixture of embarrassment and elation.  It suddenly hits me that what she says is true.  I am in love with Micah Mordel.  Amber just laughs and grabs my hand.  “Come on.  Let’s go find your prince.”

----

           

            Fifteen minutes later I’m sitting in Amber’s car, nervously looking out the window at Micah’s house. 

           

                        “I don’t think I can do this,” I say.

                        Amber gives me a disapproving look.  “I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” she says.  “I know you can do this.”

                        “But…what should I say?”

                        “Just tell him how you feel, and let him know that it’s okay for him to feel afraid, but that there’s no need to feel that way.  You don’t want to break his heart; you just want to help him.”  I stare at her in amazement, speechless.  “What?” Amber says, looking around.

                        “That was perfect,” I sigh.  “If only I had the social skills you have.”

                        “Right.  I’m just the ultimate social butterfly,” she says, rolling her eyes.  “I didn’t lie when I said that I knew you could do this, so just go out there and follow your heart!”  Amber then abruptly gets out of the car, wrenches my car door open, and brusquely pulls me out. 

I stumble forward and look back at Amber, but she’s already in her car, beaming and giving me a thumbs-up.  I throw her a death glare, but that just makes her smile larger, if that’s even possible.  Sighing and slightly shaking, I turn to look at Micah’s house.  It’s very small and definitely not fancy, but it’s quaint.  It has an undeniable charm to it.  I guess any run-down house that’s painted a pastel green in the middle of a fancy, white-picket-fence neighborhood would inevitably have some charm and quirkiness to it.  The house’s charm soothes me as I begin to walk up to Micah’s front door.  Ringing the bell, it takes all of the strength I have to keep my feet rooted to the spot instead of running away in fear.  I hear footsteps approaching the front door, which makes my heart start bounding and hands start sweating.  The door swings open, and there he is.  Micah looks very uncomfortable and awkward, but he also looks so gorgeous that it’s painful.  His blonde hair is ruffled, like he’d just gotten out of bed, and his blue eyes seem to glow under the light of the moon.  We just stand and stare at each other for a while before I decide to break the silence.

            “Hi,” I say.  “I’m, um, sorry that I just kind of randomly showed up at your house and all, but I need to talk to you.”  I pause and take in a deep, shaky breath before continuing.  “ 

“I just want you to know that it’s okay for you to feel afraid.  I understand.  I’ve--I’ve never told anyone about this, but my dad left my mom when I was ten, and he just never showed his face again.  I always told people that my dad divorced my mom, and that he just lives a long ways away, which I suppose is kind of the truth, but it’s more like he’s dead to me.  So, I know what it feels like to be afraid of relationships; I know how fragile they can be, but you don’t need to be afraid.  I don’t want to break your heart.  I just want to help you…because I…I…I love you.” Micah stands and stares at me with his mouth slightly agape.  I watch him as he continually opens and closes his mouth, beginning to speak and then deciding not to.   “I know.  Saying that I’m in love with a person I’ve only spent one night with probably sounds crazy, doesn’t it?  But I’d actually known you, albeit from a distance, a few months and those months feel like so much longer, and after our…um…night together, I feel as if I’ve known you my whole life…” I trail off, trying to hide my blush by looking at my feet.

The most deafening and agonizing silence proceeds my rant, so that when a little black cat sneaks up on me and almost scares me to death, I’m still very grateful for the distraction.  My gasp of surprise turns to a coo of delight as I bend down to pet the little kitty. 

“That’s my cat,” Micah says.  “His name is Sneaky.  Fitting, right?”

I laugh.  It’s a self-conscious laugh, but much better than the alternative (the silence).  “Yeah.  Very.”

            Micah bends down beside me and begins to pet Sneaky, too.  I pretend to be entranced by the cat’s shining black fur, while I glance up at Micah every once in a while.  The only thing seeming to keep him together is his cat.  His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are vacant.  He looks as if a million things are going through his mind.  Micah breaks out of his trance when he realizes that I’m studying him closely.  I have a sudden, odd urge to giggle, so I bite my lip and quickly turn my face away in embarrassment.

                        “What?” Micah asks, staring at me with a bemused smile on his face.

                       

                        “Nothing,” I say quickly. 

I know for sure I could never tell him what really had made me feel embarrassed.  The true reason was that he looked really…sexy when he was thinking so deeply.  Admitting this in my mind makes me blush beet red and a strangled giggle is reluctantly released from my mouth.  Oops. Micah laughs gently but then turns serious again.

            “Melody, I’m—I’m really sorry about how I’ve treated you, especially earlier today.  It was…horrible of me.  I feel like such a jerk,” Micah says.  His eyes sparkle with intensity as they gaze into mine, and I can feel his sincerity wrapping itself around me.

            “It’s okay,” I say.  “I forgive you.  I can’t say that I know exactly how you feel, but I do understand.”

            “Thank you.  For everything.”

            “No problem,” I say.

            We stand there with our eyes locked on each other for quite some time until Micah’s front door opens and out steps a middle-aged woman who I assume to be his mother.  Even with only the faint light of the moon to see her by, I can tell that she is very pretty.  She’s tall and thin, just like her son, and she has tousled, short chestnut -brown hair and is wearing a purple pajama dress.  Micah has a guilty look on his face, but his mom seems to not be angry at all.  On the contrary she seems overjoyed.

                        “Who is this?” she asks, giving him a wink and a smile.  Micah rolls his eyes and groans. 

“Her name’s Melody.  She’s a friend from school,” Micah says.

“A friend, huh?”  She then turns to me and introduces herself.  “Well, hello, Melody.  It’s nice to meet you.  I’m Micah’s mother.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Mordel,” I say.  “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

            “Oh, don’t worry about it.  The whole Mordel family is just a light-sleeping bunch,” she says.  “And you can call me Michelle.  It’s nice to be called something other than ‘Mrs. Mordel’ for at least 3 months out of the year.”  A flash of confusion must be crossing over my face because she then adds, “I teach fourth grade at the elementary school in Owlton.”

            “Ohhh, okay,” I respond, nodding.

I awkwardly stand on Micah’s porch, watching as his mom continues looking at him with an impatient smile.

            “Well, um, I really should be going.  Sorry if I intruded on you at all,” I say.

            “Oh, no problem!  You weren’t intruding at all!” Michelle says.  “Are you hungry?  I’ve got some cookies that I baked this afternoon.”

           

            “Oh.  No, thanks.  I’m fine,” I say, smiling.  “Umm, see you later?” I say to Micah, waving and starting to walk away.  He looks at me, blushing, as he stops me.

            “Wait,” he says, touching my arm.  I look down at where his hand has touched my skin, and I can almost see the shivers of chills gently shaking my body.  “Umm…can I give you my number?”

            Now it’s my turn to blush.  “Sure,” I say.  Micah then fishes in his pocket, pulls out a pen, and begins to write his number on my hand.  I study him as he writes, watching as a graceful script appears on my hand.  Every number he writes makes my heart skip a beat.  When he’s completed, he steps back and smiles down at me.  My heart melts a little, and I feel a little high.

            “Thanks,” I say.

            “No problem,” Micah says.  He then puts his hand in mine and gives it a gentle squeeze before he heads back to his house.

----

 

Sitting in the passenger seat of Amber’s car on the way home, I’m speechless.  Amber excitedly chatters on, which is fine with me because that way I can zone out and focus on what has just occurred.  As I gaze out the window, I see the world in a whole new light.  Everything seems so much more beautiful.  It’s really amazing how a person’s emotions are able to seemingly make the whole universe shift.  Before I know it, I’m already home and getting into the shower.  While I am taking my clothes off and am about to hop in, I suddenly remember that Micah’s number is still on my hand.  I wrap a towel around myself and dash out of the bathroom.  Hurriedly, I find a scrap of paper and carefully write down Micah’s number, taking great care in not making mistakes.  Then I scurry back to the bathroom and take my shower.  As the water washes away the ink of Micah’s number, I gently press my fingers to my hand.  I close my eyes and sigh as I recall the sensation of his hand on mine.  There’s hope for us yet, I think to myself. 

 

After I eventually get out of the shower, put my pajamas on, and hop into bed, I notice the slip of paper with Micah’s number on it.  A sudden impulse to text him “good night” pops into my head.  Should I do it?  I think to myself.  It would be harmless, wouldn’t it?  Before I get a chance to lose my resolve, I pull out my phone, type out the message, and send it.  My heart skyrockets when my phone notifies me that the message was sent, and then skips a beat when I receive a message a few minutes later.  It’s a simple “good night,” but it still means the world to me, just knowing that he is thinking of me.  I feel like he’s almost right here with me...almost.  I feel myself aching to have him right here with me, holding me like he did a few weeks ago.  Well, there’s always tomorrow, I think to myself, smiling as I drift off to sleep.

 

---

 

At work the next day, my mood is a huge contrast from what it was yesterday, but despite this the day actually goes slower than yesterday.  I’m extremely antsy.  I find myself constantly checking the time, and as soon as my break comes along, I flip out my phone to check for any new messages.  Disappointment clouds my mind every time I check and see that there isn’t any, but this displeasure doesn’t last long.  My strange mood swings don’t go unnoticed; Peter watches me suspiciously all day.  When it’s finally time to go home, Peter questions me about it as we wander out to our cars.

 

“So, uh, what’s the deal?  You’ve been acting kind of…odd today.”

 

I blush, as I consider telling him the truth, but I then decide not to.  “Nothing,” I say quickly.  This, however, does not fool Peter.

 

“Sure,” he says sarcastically, giving me a mocking smile.

 

His snide remark bothers me, so I say, “Well, you know, it might be PMS.”  Now that really shuts him up.  Peter stands there uncomfortably, mumbles something unintelligible, waves, and walks away.  I laugh hysterically all the way to my car, proud of my ingenious remark.  I check my phone once more before hitting the road, and when I see that have one new voicemail, a barely-contained squeal pops out of my mouth.  Once again, however, I find disappointment when it turns out to just be a message from my mom.

 

Hey, Melody.  I hope you had a good day at work! Umm…I’m going to be late getting home tonight, so don’t wait around for me for supper.  Just though I’d let you know.  Okay.  Love you!  Bye!

 

I sigh, my good mood dissipating quickly as I realize what that message implies.  Whenever my mom comes home late, which has been pretty much every night lately, that means she’s out on a date.  I wouldn’t be so against it if it was the same guy every night, but it’s not.  It’s always a one night stand.  I still love my mom, but I just wish she would make better decisions.  I wish she’d stop going out with random guys every night and just wait until the right guy comes along.  It’s kind of like I’m the mother, and she’s the child.  I press my face in my hand, trying to push out these unpleasant thoughts, but they still remain.  So, I decide to drive down to the beach.  There’s just something about the outdoors that makes me feel so peaceful and happy, and that’s exactly what I need right now.

 

---

 

Dipping my toes into the water, my troubles dissolve away into the water.  I smile and gaze out at the water, basking in the sensation of the evening sun and the breeze softly caressing my face.  I close my eyes but open them up quickly as I hear a familiar voice calling my name.

 

“Melody?” a boy’s uncertain voice calls out to me.

 

I turn toward the voice and find Peter standing a couple of feet away from me, smiling widely and holding a fishing pole.

 

“Oh, hey!” I say.  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

 

“Yeah, I didn't expect to see you either,” he says.  “What are you up to?”

 

“Oh, just enjoying the nice summer evening, you know?” I say.  “I see it looks like you’ve been fishing.  Have you caught anything good?”

 

“Nah.  Just a few small blue gills.”

 

“Well, on the bright side, at least you didn’t get skunked.”

 

“True, true,” Peter says.  He then sends me a look filled with what appears to be longing, mixed with sudden doubt and insecurity.  I’m paralyzed and hold my breath as Peter hesitantly pushes a strand of lose hair behind my ear.  His hand lingers on my face for a couple seconds that seem to freeze in time before he pulls away.  We stare at each other for a few moments until I feel someone behind me, tapping on my shoulder.  I start in surprise and, turning around, I find Micah beaming down at me.

 

“Hello,” Micah says.  He looks from me to Peter and back again.  “I hope I wasn’t, um, interrupting anything…”

 

“Oh, no, of course not!” I say.  “I was just soaking up the sun, and Peter, my friend from work here, happened to notice me while he was fishing.”  I gestured to Peter.  “Do you guys know each other at all?  Peter goes to our school, too, but he’s a couple grades ahead of us.”

 

“Yeah, I know him,” Peter says.  He looks a little bitter all of a sudden but also resigned.  “Micah, right?”

 

“Yep, that’s right.  I think I remember  you, too,” says Micah.  “You’re part of that band the Turbo Toasters, right?”

 

I look at Micah in confusion and then set my eyes on Peter.  “You’re in a band?  You never told me that!  That’s so cool!”

 

“Well, you never asked,” Peter says.  “It’s not that big of a deal.  I mean, it’s not like we’re famous or anything.  It’s just for fun really.”

 

“Speaking of things untold, I have something to show you,” says Micah.  “Follow me.”  I give Micah a questioning look, but he just beckons me to tag along.  Peter trails behind, looking unsure whether he should follow as well or not.

 

“So, what do you think?” Micah says.

 

I peer around him and see a moped.  I can tell that it’s quite old, but it has character, just like his house does.  It’s painted a bright shade of red, with rust showing through in a few spots, and has tons of bumper stickers plastered to it.

 

“I love it!” I say.

 

Micah smiles brightly, very pleased, and it makes me feel so happy.  That smile of his is so infectious.  “Would you like to go for a ride?” he asks.

 

 “That would be awesome!” I say.

 

“Great!  Go ahead and hop on then!”

 

I sidle onto the moped, and Micah sits down and takes a hold of the handlebars in front of me.

 

“Hold on tight!” he laughs. 

 

I hesitate, blushing, as I loosely wrap my arms around his warm body.  His scent is intoxicating: sweet and soothing.  I sigh and hold him tighter as relaxation pours over me and the moped revs up to life.  Speeding across the parking lot, I look and see Peter standing, forlorn and forgotten.  I give him a weak wave, feeling guilt and a mixture of feelings I can’t explain.  As we pull out of the parking lot and speed down the street, however, these complicated feelings are forgotten for now.  Now it’s just Micah, me, and the open road. 

“So, where would you like to go?” Micah asks, peeking a glance at me in his rearview mirror.

 

I feel so alive that I couldn’t care less where we go, as long as this feeling continues. “Anywhere is fine with me,” I say as I take in a deep breath of fresh air.

 

“Well, that narrows things down quite a bit,” he says sarcastically.

 

“Sorry,” I say.  “It’s just the truth is all.”

 

For a while we stop talking, and all that can be heard is the soothing sound of the moped humming.  I think I could seriously fall asleep on this thing, I’m so relaxed.

 

“How about we go get some ice cream?” Micah asks.

 

It’s official: my day is completely made.  “I’m totally down with that,” I say.  “Let’s do it!”

 

----

 

Ten minutes later we pull into the Dairy Queen parking lot.  Micah gracefully leaps from his seat, while I clumsily wobble my way off.  He laughs, steadying me.

 

“You okay there?” he asks, grinning.

 

I narrow my eyes at him in irritation, unappreciative of his teasing.  “Yeah, yeah.  I’m no ballerina, I know,” I mumble.  Instead of causing him to be serious, this only makes him grin even more.  I try to maintain my anger, but once again his laughter is infectious, and my smile can’t be contained.

 

“I’m glad you’re not a ballerina,” Micah says.  “They’re so graceful that it’s creepy.  I’m a fan of imperfection, myself.”

 

I snort.  “You think ballerinas are creepy?”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Micah says.  “Seriously,” he adds, after noticing my barely- suppressed smirk.

 

“Alright, alright,” I say.  “Let’s get some ice cream.  I can hear it calling my name.”

 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Micah says.  I give him a questioning look before he continues, “Now that’s creepy, hearing inanimate objects calling your name.”

 

“Hey!” I say, as I swat his shoulder playfully and roll my eyes.  “I take offense at that.”

Micah chuckles, and then suddenly becomes serious as he gazes at me with an intensity that heats up my whole body a few degrees.  I giggle self-consciously and look down at the ground in order to break my gaze away from his.  As I do this, a strand of my hair falls across my face.  Noticing this, Micah takes this opportunity to push the strand back behind my ear.  My body buzzes with electricity and a puzzling sense of guilt.  Why have I been feeling so guilty lately? I’m so confused.  I mean, I love him, so why do I feel like this?  Micah doesn’t notice my discomfort, thankfully.

 

“Come on, slowpoke!” he calls back at me.  I must have been in a daze because Micah is already to the door of Dairy Queen.  I run to catch up to him, and as we open the door, I come face-to-face with an unexpected person: my friend Stephanie.

 

“Melody!  It’s so nice to see you, chica!” she coos, her blonde curls bouncing daintily.  Stephanie is the girl you want to hate but you just can’t because she’s so darn nice.  She’s tall, skinny, gorgeous, athletic, and as if that wasn’t enough, she’s super smart.  Like I said, though, she is the sweetest person ever.  When I first moved to Owlton, Stephanie took  me right under her wing and helped me so much.  We’ve been great friends ever since.

 

“Hey, Stephanie!” I say.  “It’s great to see you, too.  How is your summer going?”

 

“It’s going great,” she says.  Suddenly she notices that I’m not alone.  She smirks at me and gives me a wink.  I groan and look away in embarrassment.  “Micah!  It’s so good to see you, too,” Stephanie says in a sing-song voice.  “I’ve heard such great things about you.  Melody is probably one of your biggest admirers.”  I blush beet red and slap my palm to my face.  Micah is very amused, but sensing my discomfiture, he asks me if I’d like for him to go and get our ice cream while Stephanie and I chat.

 

“You and Micah, huh?” Stephanie teases me as Micah walks up to the counter.

 

“It’s nothing serious. I mean, we’re not officially dating or anything,” I say.

 

“Sure,” she says, rolling her eyes in disbelief.  Her expression then abruptly turns to excitement, and she looks around hastily before whispering in my ear, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” I say, leaning in.  “I love secrets.  I’m so curious!”

 

“Well, there’s this guy,” Stephanie says, trailing off.

 

“Ooh, a guy, huh?” I say, raising my eyebrows.  “So, who is this mystery man?”

 

“Well, you know that adorable guy you work with at McDonald’s?  The one with the black hair and gorgeous green eyes?” she says, shyly.

 

I gape at her in confusion at first, and then the reality sinks in like a ton of bricks.  “Peter?”

 

“Yeah,” Stephanie says with a dreamy look on her face.  “Peter…”

 

“What—how—did he ask you out or something?” I stutter.

 

“No,” she says slowly, peering at me in curiosity.  “I asked him out.  Are you alright?  You seem really agitated all of a sudden.”

 

“What?  No, no, I’m fine,” I say, of course denying the truth.  What is wrong with me?  So many weird emotions.  First guilt, and now…jealousy?  Thankfully Micah returns with our ice cream, dispelling the discomfort a bit.

 

“Mmm,” I say, very grateful for the change in topic.  “That looks so good.”  I dip my spoon in and take a huge mouthful of vanilla ice cream mixed with chocolate chip cookie dough and peanut butter cups.  My very favorite combination.  “Ohf, man.  Thish ish amashing,” I say, barely able to speak over the pile of ice cream in my mouth. Stephanie and Micah both laugh.

 

"Well, I better let you guys go," Stephanie says.  "I have, um, somewhere I need to be in fifteeen minutes."  Though she tries to suppress it, a giggle pops out.  She blushes, tosses me a breezy wave, and then prances out the door.

Micah watches Stephanie leave, and then turns to me in confusion.  "What was that all about?"

 

“Nothing,” I say.

 

“Are you s—?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, brusquely.  Micah’s eyes go wide and he looks like he’s been smacked in the face, and I instantly regret how harsh I’d been.

 

“Sorry,” I mumble.

 

“It’s alright.  Don’t worry about it,” Micah reassures.

 

There’s an awkward silence for a bit, so we both take that opportunity to shovel some ice cream into our mouths.  Micah watches me closely as I eat, which makes me nervous, so the next scoop I take misses my mouth and drops onto my lap.  I just stare at it for a second, not wanting to meet Micah’s eyes.  When I hear him begin to laugh, however, I look up and throw him an irritated glare, mixed with a hint of playfulness.  He must be entranced by me because a goofy smile lights onto his face and his hands shake a bit, causing him to drop his ice cream in his lap as well.  My death glare disappears in an instant, and I burst out into a laughing fit.  I’m laughing so hard that my side feels like it’s going to explode with the joyful agony of my laughter rippling through my body.  People begin to stare, however, so I cover my mouth, trying to conceal my laughter, unsuccessfully.  Micah just shakes his head in mock annoyance and wraps his arm around me.  I lean on him, my laughter still racking my body, as we get up and exit Dairy Queen. People gawk at us as we go, but I barely notice them.  I feel a little insane, to be honest.  So much happening, physically and emotionally, in such a short period of time, has really started to get to me.  For example, at this very instant I am feeling giddy, envious, sad, and worried all at once.  If you’ve never felt all of these at once, just believe me when I say that it’s straining and bewildering, to say the least.

 

“Micah?” I ask.  “Would you mind giving me a ride back to my car?  I’ve got a headache all of a sudden, and I’m really tired.”

 

“Oh, sure,” Micah says.  Disappointment colors his voice, despite his tries to hold it back.

 

We walk to the moped and get on in silence.  Meanwhile, my head continues to rage with emotions, pounding like crazy.  My mom and her erratic love life, Peter and Stephanie and my conflicted feelings for their relationship, and Micah with the sweetest smile: all of these thoughts are thrashing through my head.  No wonder my head hurts.  Can things ever just be simple?  I guess not.

 

----

 

I wake up to the slam of a car door and the revving of an engine.  Drowsily I get up, pull aside the drapes, and peer out the window.  I see what appears to be a young man in a shiny black Mustang speeding down the street.  Standing at the curb is my mother.  Of course.  Leave it to my mom to find a young guy with a fancy car.  I sigh as there’s a knock at the front door.  This happens so frequently that I have the routine completely down.  My mom comes home around 1:00 in the morning from her hot date with a guy about 20 years younger than her, and she can never remember where she put her keys because she always comes back drunker than a skunk whenever she goes out with a guy.  Continuing, though, guess who always comes to her rescue?  Yep, that’s me.  I stumble down the stairs as her knocks continue and gain intensity.

 

“Coming, coming,” I mumble.

 

When I finally push the door open, my mom would’ve fallen over if it isn’t for me to catch her.

 

“Oh, Mom,” I sigh in exasperation.  “You need to stop doing this.”

 

“D-doing w-what?” she stammers, giggling.  My mom is a very pretty woman, but she dresses and acts like a teenager, which ironically makes her look even older than she is.  She has the same light-brown hair and brown eyes, but unlike me, she’s also tall and super skinny.

 

“You know what I’m referring to,” I reply.

 

“No, I don’t,” my mom whines.

 

Throwing up my arms in vexation, I storm out of the room.  I am just so sick of this, I think to myself.  I want a mom, not a child.  I hop into bed, slamming my bedroom door behind me, and bury my face into my pillow.  Though I squeeze my eyes as tightly closed as I can, the tears somehow find a way to flow down my cheek and onto my neck.  I wipe the tears away and sniffle quietly, not wanting to call attention to my emotional state, though I’m sure that my mom probably can’t hear me regardless.  Even so, I don’t want to take a chance.  I may be a very emotional person, but for some reason I’m afraid to publicly show how I feel, especially with my mom.  I don’t want to cause her any more pain than she already has.  That’s one of the few reasons I put up with her antics.  I need to be there for her because she doesn’t have anyone else.  When my dad left my mom, she didn’t just lose him; she lost herself as well and reverted to being a teenager again.  So, it’s kind of like we’re sisters, I guess.  I always wanted a sister, but this wasn’t what I had in mind.  I stare up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling and make a wish, just as I’ve done every night since my dad left.  I’d tell you what I always wish for, but then my wish wouldn’t come true.  I’m sure it’s not that hard to guess what it is, though.

 

----

            When I finally roll out of bed the next morning, I’m surprised to find that it’s already 10:15, and then I panic as the realization sets in: I’m supposed to be at work in fifteen minutes.  I scramble out of bed, throw on my uniform, stick my hair into a ponytail, and rush out the door, my keys and a granola bar in hand.  As I pull into the parking lot and leap out of my car, I happen to see that I’m not the only one running late.  Peter is just arriving, too.  When he gets out of his car, he looks up and notices me.  Smirking, he calls out to me.

 

            “Hey! You better hurry up.  You’re going to be late.  What were you up to last night, huh?  You and Micah out too late?”

 

            I can’t speak for a few moments.   I’m hit with anger and shock at his words at first, which then turns to hurt.  “That’s none of your business,” I say, my head haughtily held high.  “I could ask you the same question.” 

 

            Peter inexplicably blushes and smiles sheepishly at this, mumbles a “sorry,” and walks away.  I’m left standing there confused for a brief instant until I suddenly realize a major possibility for why he was late.  The realization tears at my heart and makes me feel sick.  The reason was Stephanie.

 

----

 

            For the rest of the day, I try my very best to avoid Peter whenever possible.  I make sure to take breaks at different times than him, work the counter when he’s working in the back, and convey messages to him through other people.  My avoidance is highly obvious, I guess, because Peter looks hurt and confused.  I should feel bad about this, but the only thing I can think about is my anger and jealousy.  I know I shouldn’t feel like this, but I can’t help it, and it’s so confusing.  I think about how love is portrayed in fairy tales and Disney movies, and I laugh cynically. 

 

            “What’s so funny?” a customer asks me.

 

            “Oh, nothing,” I say, embarrassed.  Oh, great.  I’m starting to laugh out loud.  I think I really am going crazy. 

 

            Peter must have noticed this exchange from a distance because he approaches me later, a worried expression on his face.  “Are you alright, Melody?” he asks.  “I’m worried about you.”

 

            “I’m fine!” I say, instantly regretting how defensive my voice came across.

           

            Peter looks taken aback by my response and hurt, like I just told him that there’s no such thing as Santa or something.  He looks like a sad, disappointed child.  It’s so darn cute, and it infuriates me even more.  I’m supposed to be mad at him, not wanting to compliment him on how cute he looks.  Besides, I’m not in love with him, and he has a girlfriend.  This is all just so wrong.  All of a sudden I feel like I’m suffocating.  I need air, but it has all seemed to slip out of my reach.  Peter’s hurt expression turns to concern once more as he notices my barely-concealed panic.

 

            “Melody?  Please tell me what’s wrong,” Peter says.  “Is it something I did, or did Micah hurt you, or--?”

 

         

            “Peter, just…just leave me alone, okay?” I snap.  This suffocating feeling has made me lose all sense of control.  “I don’t want to talk to you right now, alright?”

 

            Peter’s face flashes with anger.  “Fine,” he says, with a threatening voice as calm as the eye of a storm.  He then walks away, leaving me shivering in a room several degrees cooler than it was before.

 

----

 

            Several weeks pass without one word being spoken between Peter and me.  The tension between us continually grows tighter and tighter every day.  I just keep waiting for it to snap.  It seems like we’re never going to speak again, and it hurts.  If this wasn’t enough, Stephanie won’t talk to me either, which is ironic.  I mean, I’m the one who should be mad. Wait.  Why am I mad?  That’s the big question, and I can’t even answer it.  When I try to figure out the answer, it slips right out of my head.  I can never grasp it because my head is so jumbled with random emotions.  So, lately I’ve decided to try channeling all of those thoughts and emotions into poetry.  It works when I’m actually writing the poetry, but as soon as I put my pen down, my mind clouds up with a swarm of thoughts.  Needless to say, I’ve been kind of writing non-stop as a way to relax and escape from reality for a bit.  I look down at the journal on my lap and re-read the poem I just finished writing:

 

  Heart Burn

 

Conflicting, frightening, confusing:

My heart burns with a fire of emotions.

I try to read the signals in the smoke, but

They constantly change and contradict.

 

I thought love was supposed to be easy.

Just follow your heart,

Someday your prince will come,

But it was all a lie.

 

It’s not all sweet and beautiful.

It’s also sickening, painful, scary.

It haunts me like a ghost,

And I sometimes wish

I’d never loved at all.

 

 

 

            “Melody, are you listening to me?”

 

            Startled, I reflexively close my notebook and look up, blushing slightly.  I hope she didn’t see what I wrote, I think to myself.  I don’t want her to be worrying about me.

           

            “Sorry, Mom,” I say.  “I didn’t hear you at all.”

 

            It’s a Friday afternoon in mid-July, and my mom and I are sitting on our back porch.  I should be enjoying this quality “mother-daughter” time, but I just can’t get my mind to clear without writing my poetry, no matter how hard I try.  That’s probably my problem right there: I try too hard.

 

            My mom sighs in exasperation.  “I was asking what your plans were for tonight,” she says.

 

            I stare down at my fingers and pick at my nails.  “Micah and I are going to go to a concert in town.”

 

            “Well, that sounds fun, so why are you so down right now?” my mom asks.

 

            “I’ve just…kind of got a lot on my mind right now, I guess,” I say.  Ha. Now that’s an understatement.

 

            “Oh,” she says.  She then takes her sunglasses off and concernedly looks me in the eye.  Oh no, I think to myself.  It’s the dreaded “concerned parent” look.  “What’s on your mind?  Is there anything you want to talk to me about?”

 

            “No, I’m okay,” I say quickly.  “I’m just having an off day, I guess.”

 

            Thankfully, my mom accepts my explanation, and we start chatting about all sorts of random things: celebrities, Owlton gossip, my mom’s past boyfriends (which there surely isn’t a lack of), etc...  It feels great to spend some time with my mom again.  We hadn’t had a day like this in forever.  She’s either always busy waitressing at the restaurant she works at or out on another date, and I’m always busy with either work or school.  Eventually, I look up at the outdoor clock hanging by the garage and notice the time.  5:00.  I sigh.  Micah is going to pick me up at 6:00, so I should really take a shower and get ready, but I just don’t feel like going out tonight.  I wish I could just stay home and hang out with my mom, but that’s not even possible.  She has to work tonight, and then I’m sure she’ll have another date night afterward. So, resignedly, I get up and stretch.

            “Well, it’s been awesome talking with you, Mom,” I say.  “We really need to do this more often.”

 

            “Yes,” she says, smiling and getting up too.  “We really should.”

           

            We stand there smiling happily at each other for a few moments.  I feel like I’m a kid again, and then I start to involuntarily choke up when I realize that I’m not a kid anymore.  To hide my tears, I pull my mom into a hug, and then dash up to my room before my mom can see my face.

 

----

Ding-dong!

 

I rush down the stairs and, opening the door, a beautiful smile greets me.  The barrage of thoughts in my head is still beating down on me, but seeing Micah’s beautiful face makes those thoughts fade away, not completely, but at least to the back of my mind.

 

“Hello, Melody!  You look absolutely lovely tonight.”  I can’t help but grin and laugh.  “What’s so funny?”

 

“Is there something you’re wanting?” I ask, playfully.  “Do you need a favor or something?””

 

“No.  I’m being serious, Melody,” Micah says, a somber and intense expression on his face.  “You look like a princess.”

 

“But not like a ballerina, I hope,” I say, smirking. 

 

Micah looks confused for a second before he then suddenly understands the reference.  “Ohhhh,” he says.  “Yeah, you definitely don’t look like a ballerina.  If you did, I’d be scared.”

 

I snort, our eyes meet, and then we both burst out laughing.

 

“Oh, man,” I pant between laughs.  “It feels so good to laugh.  I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard since that day at Dairy Queen.”

 

“I love it when you laugh,” Micah says, “especially when I’m the one making you laugh.”

I smile sweetly, and my eyes mist over with emotion.  “Aww.  That’s so sweet,” I say.  “I feel the same way.  I love to make you laugh.  Your laugh is perfect.”

 

“Alright.  I think we’re getting too sentimental now,” Micah laughs, with an adorable blush coloring his cheeks, “especially right before a rock concert.”  As he takes my hand and helps me onto his moped he winks and adds, “We’re not going to a ballet, you know.”

 

----

 

By the time we arrive at the concert I’m feeling even better.  My conflicting thoughts had pretty much completely drifted away into the breeze as we traipsed through the balmy summer evening.  As I hop off the moped and take off my helmet, my ears are met with a cacophony of loud music and crowds of people. 

 

“Looks like they’ve got a pretty decent turn-out,” I say, as I survey the scene before me.  The concert is being held in an open field in the countryside.  It’s quite a lovely location: a field of wildflowers radiates like a rainbow and a meandering river flows nearby.  The natural beauty and tranquility of the scene starkly contrasts with the rough and deafening concert being held there.  I sigh, wishing the band and the crowd would just disappear so I could enjoy the splendor of this place without it being defiled by the loud noise.  That obviously isn’t going to happen though, so I try to enjoy myself.  I mean, I do love to jam out to music; it’s just that sometimes I want the world to be quiet, and I’m in that sort of mood right now.  The feeling of a hand on my shoulder brings me back out of my thoughts.

 

“You okay?” Micah asks, peering at me in concern.  “You looked like you were in another world or something.”

 

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, but maybe I was in another world for a while,” I tease.

 

“Where?  La La Land?” Micah jokes.

 

“No,” I say, mock serious.  “I was in Ballerina Land.”

 

Micah shakes his head, feigning disgust.  “You are something else, aren’t you?” he says, as he takes my hand and guides us over to join the crowd.  Once we reach the middle of the group, completely surrounded by the mass of bodies, the world somehow disappears except for Micah and me.  A sudden fit of passion strikes me, and I wrap my arms around Micah’s neck, kissing him urgently.  At first he is unresponsive, still too surprised, but eventually he joins in as well and even more passionately.  Micah cups a hand under my chin, holding me there, as we continue kissing.  My arms alternately rove his body and hold him as close to my body as humanly possible.  There’s a vague thought in the back of my mind that I’ve never acted like this before and that I’ve lost control, but I push it away.  I feel like an animal, driven by desire and instinct. 

 

After a while we run out of breath and have to stop.  Panting, we relinquish each other’s grasp and look around.  I feel light-headed and dizzy as I dimly notice that the people around us are staring at us like we’re crazy.  I blush and am about to flee from the scene when I notice two familiar faces in the crowd who make my face turn from red to white in record time: Stephanie and Peter.  I stare at them in shock which then turns to guilt when I notice Peter’s hurt and appalled expression as he gazes back into my eyes.  Before I have a second to think, Peter wraps his arms around Stephanie and begins making out with her.  My eyes grow wide and a cry of disgust and anger bursts from my mouth.  Micah looks at me in confusion.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, trying to peer in the direction of where I’m looking.  “Oh,” Micah says, looking from me to the entwined couple and back.

 

Before I can change my mind and lose my resolve, I shove my way through the crowd, marching over to where Stephanie and Peter are.  Micah yells for me to wait up, but I ignore him.  My mind is suddenly clear and has only one emotion left in it: anger.  As I finally shove my way to where they’re standing, Peter looks over Stephanie’s shoulder and sees me.  Instead of stopping, he starts holding Stephanie tighter and kissing her more forcefully.  Stephanie yields willingly, and I look on in utter revulsion.  I’ve become so angry, hurt, and conflicted that I don’t even know whether to laugh or cry.  So, I do both.  I laugh like a madman and violently rub away hot tears that leak from my eyes.  My insane laughing gets Stephanie’s attention.  She breaks free and turns around.  Quickly rubbing away any remaining teardrops, I face her with a sickeningly sweet smile. 

 

“Well, hello there, Stephanie…Peter,” I say cheerfully, my voice laced with poison.  “I didn’t expect to see you two here.”

 

“I didn’t expect to see you either,” Peter says, smiling, going along with the sinister cheerfulness.  “Are you enjoying the concert?”

 

“Oh, yes,” I say.  “I can tell you and Stephanie have been enjoying yourselves as well.”

 

Stephanie, who has been following our exchange interestedly, finally can’t hold back her tongue.  “And so what if we have?” Stephanie asks impetuously.  “It’s none of your business what we do or don’t do.”  I glare at her in lieu of a response.  “Okay, why the hell are you mad at me?  I don’t understand.  Enlighten me, please.”

 

I’m still too angry to speak, so I just stare at her and her perfect hair done up in a perfect bun, her perfect make-up, and her perfect body in a short, low-necked dress that perfectly shows off her perfect cleavage.  Needless to say, her perfection suddenly nauseates me.

 

“Well, maybe you could get a room for that little business back then, huh?” I spit.  “Nobody wanted to see that, you know.  It was sickening.”

 

“Um, excuse me, Miss Hypocrite, but I could say the same thing about you and Micah.  I wouldn’t have been surprised if you two hadn’t started taking your clothes off even.  You were like animals.”

 

“Yeah, well at least I don’t dress like a stripper,” I say, pointing at Stephanie and her scantily dressed body.

 

Stephanie chokes out a spurt of disgust, and then she laughs cynically.  “Even if I was dressed like a stripper, which I’m not, by the way, what the hell does that have to do with anything?  Man, you are acting like such a bitch!”

 

“At least I’m only acting like one instead of actually being one like you are,” I say fiercely.  Almost instantly I regret what I’ve said, but there’s no turning back.  The words have been spoken.  I now finally understand that quote about the pen being mightier than the sword.  A wound caused by a sword can heal eventually, but a wound caused by words can never fully heal.  Even if Stephanie forgives me someday, our friendship will never be the same.

----

 

Hours turn to days and days turn to weeks before Stephanie and I even acknowledge each other’s existence.  Meanwhile, Micah and I are having our own problems.  He’s still angry with me about making such a scene at the concert, and I know he’s suspicious of my jealousy.  It seems like things can’t get any worse, can they?   At that very moment, the sky suddenly bursts open and lets out a torrential downpour.  I yelp in surprise as the cool, late-August rain soaks me completely through in a matter of seconds.  I spoke too soon, I guess.  Shivering, I dash into McDonald’s.  Man, this sucks.  I’m not only going to be stuck at work with Peter all day, I’m also going to be stuck there with wet clothes.  Is it so much to ask to have at least one thing go right for me these days?!  Walking through the door, however, I find that Peter isn’t there.  At first I figure that he’s probably just in the bathroom or on break, but after a few hours and still no sign of him, I realize that he’s not working today at all.  I’m slightly relieved but I also have a strange feeling of anxiety come over me.  Peter almost never misses work, so it must be something pretty important.  What could it be?  I decide to investigate.

 

“Do you know where Peter is, Lisa?” I ask, turning to a co-worker with blonde hair pulled up into pig tails.  Her eyes light up, and she pulls me aside conspiratorially.

 

“Well, right before you came in at 11:00, Peter suddenly left the building and went outside to talk to this curly-haired blonde girl.  Now, you didn’t hear this from me, but I was taking my break and overheard them talking.  Guess what I heard her say to him?” she asked, her eyes bulging in excitement, which then turns to impatience as she waits for a response from me.

 

My mind buzzes with a myriad of thoughts and questions.  The girl must have been Stephanie, I think to myself.  What would have been so important that she had to talk to Peter while he was at work, instead of just waiting until he was done or at least until he had a break? “What?” I finally ask, a little curious but mostly apprehensive.

 

Lisa looks at me in silence for a few moments with her eyebrows raised.  She revels in this dramatic pause, while it made me feel even more uneasy.

 

“She saaaaiiiid…are you ready for it?...she said… ‘I’m pregnant’!”

 

“What?” I ask blankly, thinking that she must be joking.  “Be serious.”

 

“I am being serious.  That girl (I’m assuming she’s his girlfriend) is preggers, and from Peter’s reaction, I’m fairly certain that it’s with his child.”   

 

I stand there gaping at Lisa in utter disbelief, thinking I must be dreaming.  This is not real.  But when I squeeze my eyes shut, pinch myself, and open my eyes again, nothing has changed.  Lisa is still standing in front of me, now eyeing me in concern.

 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

 

“Yeah,” I say, weakly.  “I just…I just need a glass of water...”  Dots form in my eyes, clouding my vision, and I begin to feel dizzy.  My heart races as I realize what might happen.  All of a sudden, it happens: the world turns to black. 

----

 

When I open my eyes, I find that I’m on the ground and surrounded by worried faces peering down at me.  Embarrassed, I sit up fast.  It was a little too fast, I guess, because I wobble and the dots form over my vision again.  I shake my head, trying to clear the dizziness and trying to remember what happened.  Then, it all comes back to me: Stephanie is pregnant.  Not just pregnant with any old baby, though; she’s pregnant with Peter’s baby.  Oh my God.

 

“Melody, are you okay?” Lisa asks again.

 

This time I don’t lie.  I need to get away, and I need to find out for myself if what Lisa has said is really true or not.  “No, I’m not okay,” I say.  “I feel kind of sick.  I think I’m going to go home.”  The first part is true, yes, but the last part about going home isn’t.  I’m not going home; I’m going to find Stephanie.

 

----

A half hour later I find myself on Stephanie’s front porch, ringing her doorbell.  While I wait for her to come to the door, I stand in shock, wondering how I ended up here, why I ended up here, and what I was doing here.  What am I going to say to her?  What is there to say?  I begin to hear footsteps behind the door and panic, still unsure what to say or what not to say.  Before I can chicken out and run away, however, the door opens, and Stephanie appears.  At least, I think it’s Stephanie.  She looks absolutely terrible.  Her eyes are all puffy and red, her hair is a completely tangled mess, and she’s wearing a holey old tee shirt and sweat pants.  As if this wasn’t uncharacteristic enough for her as it is, a very uncomfortable and embarrassed look is on her face.  I have never seen Stephanie look anything but beautiful and confident; it’s almost like she’s a whole other person. 

 

“Melody,” Stephanie says, blushing and self-consciously wrapping her arms around her chest.  “W-what are you doing here?”

 

I stand and stare at her in silence for a while until I can compose my thoughts.  “Well, I heard…a…um…a rumor that you’re…that you’re…pregnant,” I say.  “Is…is it true?”

Stephanie’s face crumples before my eyes, and soon tears are cascading down her cheeks.  “Y-yes,” she chokes out.  “It’s t-t-true.”

 

In shock, I stand limply for a few moments, unsure what to do now.  I’d never seen Stephanie cry before.  She has always been so confident.  I unrealistically believed that nothing could bring her down.  I guess I was wrong.  Suddenly our fight and all of the jealousy doesn’t mean anything to me.  Compared to what Stephanie is going through now, all of that was nothing.  So, I do what any true friend would do: I hold her shaking, sobbing body and tell her that I’m here for her and that everything is going to be okay.  After a long while, her sobs stop racking her body, and her tears begin to slow.  When we pull apart, Stephanie gives me a weak but genuine smile.

 

“Thank you, Melody,” she says, taking my hand and squeezing it.  “You’re a great friend.”

 

“You’re welcome, Stephanie,” I say, “though I don’t know if I’m really such a great friend...”

 

“Why do you say that?” Stephanie asks.

 

“Well, I pretty much called you a slut and a bitch at the concert a few weeks ago.  I don’t think a ‘friend’ normally does something like that,” I say.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” she reassures me.  “I know you didn’t really mean it.”

 

“Still, I’m really sorry,” I say.  “It was completely insensitive and terribly mean.  I’ve just always been jealous of you, I guess.”

 

“Well, there’s no need to be jealous now, unless you want to be pregnant,” Stephanie says, sighing.

 

I don’t know how to respond to that, so an awkward silence ensues.  I look down at my hands, nervously picking at the skin around my nails.  Then a sudden, insane idea pops into my mind.  A way for Stephanie and Peter to stay together and for me to still have a close connection with Peter, too.  Something that would strengthen the bond between Micah and I.  Something absolutely crazy. I have no idea where it came from, but it’s so wrong that it just might be right, so to speak.  Stephanie looks at me in confusion, noticing my conflicted face.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Stephanie asks.

 

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

 

This doesn’t fool Stephanie one bit.  “Come on,” she says.  “Tell me!  You can tell me anything.”

 

“I don’t know,” I say.  “You might not like what I have to say…”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Stephanie says.  “We shouldn’t hide things from each other. You’re one of my best friends and always will be.”

 

“Thanks,” I say.  “You’ll always be one of my best friends too.”  There’s a terribly deafening silence as Stephanie waits for me to speak.  I gulp and take a deep breath, preparing myself for the big reveal.  “Well, I had this really insane idea that…well…if you didn’t want your baby when it was born and needed someone to adopt it, then….maybe Micah and I could adopt it…?”

 

I watch Stephanie’s face change from utter shock to contemplation.  Her reaction surprises me.  I expected the shock but not the fact that she’d actually consider the idea.  Though maybe she just appears to be considering the idea…

 

“You know, your idea is so crazy that I find myself…liking it,” Stephanie says.

 

“Really?” I ask, unable to believe my own ears.

 

“Yeah…yeah, I mean it,” she says, nodding her head fervently to confirm the decision of her opinion.  “It’d be the perfect solution to our whole boy issue.  I know you’re jealous of Peter and me because you love Peter.  You love Peter, but you love Micah more.  He’s your true love; I can definitely see that.  Letting you guys have our baby will strengthen the bond between all of us, too.”

 

My brain buzzes pleasantly with the knowledge that the great mystery has finally been solved.  I’d been confused for so long about how I really felt about Micah and Peter, and here Stephanie knew how I felt all along; she knows me better than I know myself.  I am also still very surprised (but also very glad) that Stephanie likes my strange idea.

 

“Well, awesome!” I say.  “Are you sure you don’t think it’s a little…unrealistic or strange though?”

 

“To be honest, I do have one major concern with the idea,” Stephanie says, biting her lip.  “What is your mom going to think about all of this?  She probably won’t be too happy about having another mouth to feed…or two, if Micah moved in with you…”

 

My stomach twists in knots and my heart races at the thought of telling my mom about all of this.  I’m sure it would all go over very well…not.  I think about it a little harder though and consider the fact that she actually might like the idea.  She’s been so lonely since my dad left.  Having two more people in the family would give her more company, plus there would finally be a man to help around the house, to fill the hole that my dad left behind.      

 

“You know, I think my mom would like the idea,” I say.  “It would be a shock at first, I’m sure, but I think having more people around the house would fill the void in her heart that she’s been trying to fill with all those guys she’s dated.”

 

“What about the extra money it would cost though?” Stephanie asks.

 

“Well, Micah makes a decent amount of money, and I might be promoted to manager pretty soon…” I say, a little less certain than before. 

 

Stephanie gives me a weak smile and then sighs.  “I don’t know if this is very realistic after all,” she says.  “Could this really work?  I mean, I haven’t asked Peter what he thinks about this yet; he might want to keep the baby.  You haven’t asked Micah what he thinks about it yet either.  What if Micah wants to go to college?  I’m sure he does, and that wouldn’t work very well with a baby…”

 

I look away, embarrassed and disappointed by my idea, trying to figure out how to respond to that. What she says is true.  “We could make it work,” I say.  “I know we could.  I’m sure Peter and Micah would both get used to the idea pretty fast.”

 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Stephanie says, giving me a nervous look as she takes my hand.  “Let’s go tell them.”
 

----

I put the car in park and stare in silence at the steering wheel.  I can’t believe we’re actually doing this, I think to myself.  We’ve just arrived at McDonald’s to tell Peter our plan. 

 

Stephanie leans over and waves her hand in front of my face.  “Earth to Melody, are you there?  You ready for this?” 

 

I suddenly find irony in the situation.  I’m not the one who should be nervous; it’s Stephanie who should be.  Instead of her being concerned about how I’m doing, I should be concerned about how she’s doing.  I chuckle.

 

“What’s so funny?” Stephanie asks, confused.

 

“Nothing,” I say.  With a shake of my head and a quick, deep exhale I steel up my courage and get out of the car.  Stephanie follows close behind.  Of course, when I walk in the doors, who do you think is the first person who sees me?  Peter.  I was hoping I’d get a little bit of time to compose myself first before I approach him but no such luck.  He has a look of guilt on his face at first, which then turns to panic when he sees that Stephanie is with me.

 

“M-Melody?  Stephanie?  What are you two doing here?” Peter asks, looking frantically from one of us to the other.

 

“Well, I for one work here,” I say, mischievously feigning irritation to try and lighten the troubled atmosphere.  It works; Peter snorts and rolls his eyes, a relieved and playfully exasperated look on his face.  I can tell that he’s happy to know that I’m not angry with him, but now he’s warily eyeing Stephanie.

 

“That’s true, but what are you doing here, Stephanie?” he asks, concern etched across his face.  “Is something wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong, Peter,” she reassures him.  “Melody just had an idea that she wanted to share with you.”

 

“An idea?” Peter asks, his brows furrowing in confusion.  “About what?”

 

“About…well…,” Stephanie begins.  “…I’ll just let Melody tell you.”

 

I turn pale as Peter’s eyes rest on mine.  I can almost see the question marks in his eyes.  The anticipation is so bad that it makes me feel sick.  I know that I need to just get it over with and tell him before I explode from keeping it bottled up inside of me.  “Okay, this idea is going to sound crazy, but hear me out.  It’s so crazy that it just might work.” 

 

“Okaaaayyy,” Peter drawls out,  raising one of his eyebrows and darting his eyes back and forth in suspicion.

 

I take a deep breath and then dive in.  “I thought that if you and Stephanie didn’t want your baby when it was born, then maybe Micah and I could adopt it.”  There.  I said it.  It’s such a relief to just have it out there in the open, but my relief doesn’t last long.  Peter is now gaping at me, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

 

“Wait…what?” Peter asks.  “Are you serious, or is this some kind of joke?”

 

“I…I’m serious,” I say, biting my lip and looking down at my feet.  I should’ve known this wouldn’t go well.

 

“Well, did you ever stop and think about the fact that maybe Stephanie and I want to keep our baby?  I mean, it is our baby after all,” he says.  “What does Micah think about all this?  I’m sure he just absolutely loves the idea, right?  Such a suck-up as he is.”

 

I let out a sharp gasp of anger, but I don’t know how to respond.  If I tell Peter that I haven’t even shared the idea with Micah yet, then it will make me look even worse.  So, I just stand and glare at him with my mouth gaping in incredulity.  Thankfully, Stephanie comes to the rescue and calms the tense atmosphere.

 

“Melody already told me about her plan, and I like the idea,” Stephanie says.  “I know it’s a bit…well…odd, but I think it could work.”

 

Now it’s time for the tense atmosphere to form between Peter and Stephanie, but this atmosphere has more of an injured, awkward texture. I can almost feel the hurt that Peter is radiating.

 

“You…you don’t want our baby?” Peter asks.  “I mean, I understand that this was all completely unexpected, but I thought…I thought maybe we could make it work.  I…I really care about you.  I mean, I…well…”  He trails off, suddenly noticing that there is a whole audience of people, customers and workers, who are all surreptitiously eavesdropping.  Peter lowers his head a moment.  He then raises his head once more, looks intensely into Stephanie’s eyes, and blushes beet red before quietly and hurriedly sputtering out, “I love you.”  In unison, a chorus of “aww”s and a scattered applause   fills the room. 

 

Stephanie beams back at him with tears in her eyes.  “I love you, too,” she says.  “I’m not ready to be a parent yet, but I’ll always love you.”

 

More “aww”s ensue and claps ensue.  Peter is terribly embarrassed by being the center of attention, I can tell, but it all slips away with Stephanie’s words.   He suddenly leaps over the counter and wraps Stephanie up in his arms.  She giggles in surprise as he holds her tight and plants a kiss on her cheek. 

 

“You know,” Peter says to me over Stephanie’s shoulder, “Your plan is starting to grow on me.  I mean, you’d make a great mom.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if that’s what you and Micah really want, then I’m all for it.”

 

“Thanks, Peter,” I say, a feeling of relief washing over me like a cool breeze on a hot day.  Everyone is agreeing to my plan!  …Well, almost everyone.  A layer of guilt rises in my stomach at this realization.  My mom and Micah still don’t know about it.  How am I going to break the news to my mom that she might become a grandma and to Micah that he might become a father in nine months?  This should be interesting.  There’s never a dull moment in my life, that’s for sure.

----

As my shift comes to a close, dread clouds my mind.  For probably the first time ever, I don’t want to leave work.   I hang around talking to a few of my co-workers who are on break, but eventually their breaks end, and I have to accept the fact that I have to leave.  Well, technically I don’t have to leave; I could stay here until McDonald’s closes at midnight, but I know I need to leave.  I need to face my problems, instead of hiding away from them.  So, dragging my feet, I slowly make my way to my car and drive away.  Being a coward and dreading what I need to do, however, I make multiple pit stops along the way.  I stop at Starbucks for a cappuccino.  In my defense, they are having a special, “$1 mocha” day.  How can I resist, right?  Besides, I’ll need to be good and awake when I break the news…hopefully not literally breaking the news… 

Sipping on my mocha, I leisurely make my way to Micah’s house.  When I reach his street, I slow to a stop and park the car on the opposite side of the street, not wanting to bring attention to myself.  With no blaring music or my Pacer’s purring engine, I am now enveloped in a silence laced with dread, uncertainty, and fear.  “I don’t want to do this,” I say aloud to myself.  “I don’t even know if I physically can do this.  What if he hates me for this and breaks up with me?  I can’t fathom the thought of losing him.”   I sigh and press my hands to my face in emotional stress, feeling the tears begin to build up.  “No, Melody,” I tell myself, taking a deep but ragged breath.  “Crying isn’t going to help anything.”  I finally build my resolve, take a long swig of my mocha for added strength, and force myself out of my car.  Crossing the street and walking up the path to Micah’s house, I feel my determination wane.  “Shit, shit, shit,” I whisper, vaguely surprising myself by my uncharacteristic swearing.  “I can’t do this.”  I stand at the front door of his house, my hand shakily hovering over his doorbell.  I can’t seem to garner up the courage to ring the bell, and the tension is killing me.  I’m sweating buckets, hot and cold all at once.  Just when I think I’m going to blow and considering running away, I see a pair of eyes peering out the window: Micah.  Shit, I curse, inwardly this time.   I’ve been caught.  There’s no turning back now.  The eyes disappear, and the front door opens.  Micah now peers down, his blue eyes bright with concern upon seeing me.

 

“Melody?  Are you okay?” he asks.  “Why didn’t you ring the door bell or knock?”

 

I don’t answer for a moment, suddenly distracted by his beauty.  It’s hard to believe that someone as perfect as Micah is actually mine.  …And then I begin to panic again at the thought of potentially losing him after he hears what I have to tell him.

 

“Melody?” Micah asks again.  This time his tone is very serious, and his eyes blaze with concern.

 

“I-I’m fine,” I stutter out quickly, trying to regain my composure.  “I just…needed to talk to you.”

 

Micah’s demeanor completely changes with those words.  He hunches over, his eyes go dull, and his face looks dead.  He thinks I’m breaking up with him, doesn’t he? I think to myself, in shock.

 

“It’s about Peter and Stephanie,” I clarify.  “They’re, well, they’re having a baby.”

Micah looks at me in confusion for about half a minute before he responds.  “Having a baby?  You mean, adopting, right?”

 

“No,” I say.  “Stephanie’s pregnant.”

 

Micah’s eyes go wide.  “Wow.”

 

“I know,” I say.  We both awkwardly stand and stare at the ground, both not knowing what to say. 

 

“How long has she been pregnant?” Micah asks finally.

 

“She just found out today,” I say, and then I take a deep breath and plunge into the sea of uncertainty.  Here goes nothing.  “I have something else I want to tell you, too.  It’s kind of crazy, but please try to keep an open mind about it.”

 

“Okay,” he says, curious now.  “I’m sure it can’t be any more unbelievable than what you just got done telling me.”

You have no idea, I think to myself.  Slightly amused and somewhat insane, I laugh.  Micah looks concerned again, so I take a deep breath and continue in order to prevent the questions that I can tell are forming in his mind.  “Well, I don’t know about that.  It’s pretty crazy, but please don’t freak out, okay?”

 

“Alright, alright,” Micah says impatiently.  “Just tell me already, would you?”

 

“Okay, as you wish,” I say, sighing before continuing.  “Stephanie and Peter don’t think they’re ready to have a baby and were thinking of adoption as an option, and well, I had this idea that maybe…maybe you and I could possibly…”  I trail off and pause a moment, too scared to continue, but Micah urges me to keep on going, and I know I must.  So, I look down at the ground, unable to meet his eye, as I continue, “...we could possibly…adopt their baby.”  Cheeks flushing with humiliation and fear, I continue to stare at the ground, too afraid to meet his gaze.  Finally I find the courage to look up.  Micah is standing with his hands limp at his side and his mouth gaping in shock.

 

“You think we should adopt their baby?” Micah asks.

 

“Um, yeah,” I squeak out.

 

Micah just stares at me, wide-eyed, for a few excruciating seconds that seem to last a lifetime.  “You’re serious?”

 

“Yeah, I am,” I say.

 

“This is unbelievable.  You actually think I would willingly want to tie myself down with a baby before I’ve even finished high school?  It’s just crazy talk!  I mean, how would we support it, and what about college?  All of our hopes and dreams, down the tube.  Stephanie and Peter aren’t ready for a baby; what makes you think we are?  That’s a huge commitment.”  Micah stops, sucks in a deep breath of air, and then exhales loudly.  “Well?” he asks, impatience and anger hardening his voice.

 

“I-I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears shimmering in my eyes.  I can feel it coming.  I’m suddenly reminded of a Taylor Swift lyric: “I brace myself for the ‘goodbye’ ‘cause it’s all I’ve ever known.”  That lyric really rings true for me right now; all I’ve ever known is loss: first, I completely lose my dad, and then my mom drifts away from me with her busy sex life, and now it looks like Micah will probably leave me, too.  Unable to hold back the tears any longer, they start cascading down my cheeks.  Before I know it, I’m shuddering with sobs and, trying to hold them in, I begin hiccupping.

 

“Oh, Melody,” he says.  “I didn’t mean to make you cry.  Please...please d-don’t cry.”  Through the blur of my tears, I can see him standing awkwardly a few feet away from me, biting his lip.  Seeing him and hearing his voice only makes my tears increase in intensity.  All of a sudden, Micah takes me by surprise and wraps his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest.  I begin bawling like a baby.  The loss, hurt, and stress of my whole life seemingly suddenly bursts to the surface.  As Micah holds me, I feel it slowly ease away and disappear into the night.  I wish I could stay here in his arms forever, where I feel so safe and loved, but eventually he lets me go, though still holding me at arm’s length

 

“I’m so sorry, Melody,” Micah whispers.  “I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly with you.”

 

“It’s okay,” I say, putting on a brave, emotionless face.  “I understand if you want to break up with me.  I deserve it.”

 

If I thought Micah was surprised before, he is even more so now.  “Oh my gosh, no, no, no.  Is this what you were crying about?  You thought I was going to break up with you?”

 

“Yeah,” I murmur.  “I completely understand though, and I’m used to it.  It’s not the first time I’ve lost somebody.”  As soon as I say that, I instantly regret it, knowing that what I said was probably a painful reminder of Micah’s own loss, of his girlfriend to cancer.  Now he’s really going to be mad at me, I think to myself as I wince and look away, ready for the blow-up.  Instead, however, Micah takes me by surprise again and gently lifts my chin in his hand so that I’m peering into his eyes.

 

“Melody, I’ll never leave you alone,” he says.  “I promise.  I love you.” 

 

Micah kisses me tenderly, and I’m filled again with the same passion that I’d felt that night at the concert, except this time it’s even more intense.  It’s as if Micah’s confession of his love has some magic power over me.  It’s more than just wanting him as close to me as possible.  I want to be even closer; I want to share a deep connection, the most intimate connection possible.  I’d never even considered sex before, but now I find myself imagining Micah’s naked body…Oh my God.  I blush even just thinking about it. 

 

Micah eyes me curiously, noticing my sudden change in emotion and colored cheeks.  “What are you thinking about?” he murmurs.

 

“Nothing,” I say.

 

Micah raises his eyebrows, skeptical.

 

“I mean, I was…um…thinking about what a beautiful night it is tonight?  Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” I fluster out.

 

“Suuuurrre,” Micah says, “and pigs can fly.”

 

I blush beet red and look at my feet.

 

“Come on, Melody,” Micah coaxes.  “You can tell me anything.  I won’t laugh at you.  I promise.”

 

I continue to stare at my feet, too afraid to meet his gaze.  “If you’re sure you want to hear it…,” I begin.

 

“Of course I want to hear what you have to say! Please tell me.”

 

“Alright,” I whisper.  “I was just thinking about...well…this is so embarrassing…”

 

“Go on,” Micah urges.  “It can’t be that bad.”

 

“To me it is,” I say, taking a deep breath before continuing.  “I was thinking about…sex.”

 

“Oh,” Micah says, surprised at first but then a gleam comes into his eyes that I’d never seen before, and it’s super sexy.  I feel a pleasant tingling in my lower stomach. “Do tell,” he purrs. 

 

My stomach does a back flip with those words and saliva builds up in my throat.  I gulp, as Micah attentively watches my every move.  “I...well…I kind of want to do the whole, you know, sex thing with you…” I stutter out.  So awkward. 

 

“I do, too,” Micah says, “and it’s not just because I want sex.  There’s no one else I’d rather have this experience with than you.”

 

Tears of emotion fill my eyes.  “That’s exactly how I feel, too.  I want to be as close to you as I can.  I want that connection.”

 

Micah gives me a stunning, sweet smile, and then abruptly shifts mood on me.  That gleam returns to his eyes and a mischievous smile replaces the sweet one.  All of a sudden he snatches me up in his arms and carries me into his house.  I shriek in delight, and then quickly cover my mouth, not wanting to wake his family.

 

“You don’t need to worry about waking anyone,” Micah says.  “My parents are gone on vacation, and my brother is sleeping over at his friend’s house.  We’ve got the place all to ourselves.”

 

Micah continues to carry me through the house and we eventually end up in his bedroom.  He sets me down on his bed and sits down beside me.  We both stare in silence at the opposite wall for a few moments.  My mind buzzes with anxiety, pleasure, and excitement as I consider what quite possibly will happen next.  I have no idea what I’m doing.  Will it hurt?  What if I do it wrong, or I make a complete idiot of myself?  All of these thoughts bombard through my mind, but when Micah taps my shoulder and I turn to look at him, my doubt and fears disappear.

“Are you ready?” he whispers.

 

“Yes,” I whisper back.