Chapter Text
7:28.
Mel took a deep sigh. She’d stressed the importance of punctuality in her ad. Now, with two minutes until her planned take off time, she tried not to worry. She took a beat, turning back around to her beat up Subaru’s open trunk to touch every tote and suitcase, packed as meticulously as she could with their uneven edges and scuffed lids. She’d left a sliver open for her passenger. Hopefully he would only arrive with a duffel or two.
The morning sun was a welcome warmth from the crisp air of northern Seattle. It had been two days of constant drizzle. Mel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She already knew she was going to miss the serene calmness of the Pacific Northwest, but didn’t think the heart pangs would start so early.
It was an odd time to leave campus. The student parking lot was full to the brim, the mix of maintenance vehicles and student cars snuggly fit. The middle of February wasn’t prime for a getaway. At least it was still early enough that most of her fellow peers were still sleeping off their hangovers. Mel appreciated the silence.
She checked her phone. 7:31. She squeezed her hands together, trying not to let her mind go to the worst possibilities.
“Hey,” a voice spoke out. “Are you Mel?”
Mel whipped her head to see a lanky brunette strolling over, about five parked cars away. His hair flopped lazily on his head, some strands falling close to his bright blue eyes, visible even from feet away. He carried a bulky forest green duffel bag over one shoulder and a ratty Jansport backpack in the other.
“Hi! Yes,” she smiled, sticking her arm out with a jerk. “You must be Langdon.”
Langdon looked down, took a second, and then reciprocated the shake. His hands were warm despite the chilly weather, his eyes even bluer now that he was close.
“I left you a spot for your stuff,” Mel continued, wiping her hands on her jeans awkwardly.
“Thanks,” Langdon gave her a polite, close lipped smile, dumping his luggage with a harsh push. “Wow. Your packing skills are impressive. Remind me not to play against you in Tetris,” he said.
“It was actually pretty satisfying,” Mel replied, closing the trunk with a soft click. “Are you ready to go? I was hoping to stick to the schedule as close as possible,” she said, trying not to sound too strict. You should know, considering I plastered it all over my ad.
“Let’s rock and roll.”
__________________________________
“What’s this?” Langdon looked down at the laminated sheet of paper Mel had pulled out from the center console into his lap. His knees brushed against the glove box. It was a tight fit, and Mel clearly had misjudged how much room was necessary when shoving in all her moving boxes. Then again, she wasn’t aware of how tall her passenger was going to be.
“Oh, that’s my outline for the trip. Stops and hotel information. It’s about 38 hours to get to Pittsburgh, so I figured we could split it up in 4 days. Maybe do a stop in Chicago if we have time,” Mel explained, trying to balance keeping her eyes on the road while also eyeing Langdon’s reactions. She’d been told in the past she could come across a bit too detailed. “All the hotels I booked are refundable up to twenty-four hours before, so we can always change them if you want. And I estimated around nine and a half hours of driving per day, so it gives us some wiggle room to add stops,” she added in a single breath, anxiety building at his silence while he poured over the front and back.
About four agonizing seconds later, Langdon flipped the paper back over and placed it on the dashboard. “I’m game for whatever, captain,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a road trip so organized before.”
Mel flushed, hands dutifully on ten and two as she merged onto the I-90. She could barely fathom this same stretch of highway would take her all the way home. “Thank you. This is the longest road trip I’ve ever been on,” she said. “I bought this car sophomore year, and I always fly home during break.”
“Yeah, same. Most sane people aren’t trekking across the country,” Langdon said, looking out the window. At Mel’s silence, he turned towards her. “That was a joke, by the way,” he corrected, thick eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“Oh,” Mel said, kicking herself for not picking up on it. She’d always had an issue with social cues. These past three and a half years at college she thought she’d improved at least a little bit, but clearly she still had some work to do. “Sorry,” she added, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She should’ve done a less sloppy job on her braids this morning.
Langdon clicked his tongue. “Nah, it was a bad joke. I mean, I am the one who also thought it was a good idea.” Mel could see a soft smile on his lips from her peripheral. “I will say, your ad was pretty convincing.”
It hadn’t been planned. When Mel first found out about her mother’s diagnosis at Christmas, it had been decided she would finish up her bachelor’s at the University of Washington, then come home and apply for medical school close by. She only had one semester left. Her sister, Becca, had taken the news as well as she could have. Her mom, all things considered, was stable, doing fine. It was just another hurdle for the King women, something they could plan and schedule.
Seven weeks could change a lot of things.
Trinity was actually the one to come up with the idea. When Mel had broken the news to her roommate, Trinity immediately sprang into action, begging Mel to stay with various ideas and defenses. When every one was shot down, the brainstorming had begun on the road trip.
“What if you put up an ad? See if anyone also is crazy enough to go across the worst states in this country in the middle of the semester,” Trinity had suggested. The study room they had rented was covered in flashcards and textbooks, their laptops illuminating the table in a technical glow.
“Trinity. I don’t want a random stranger in my car for a week. Besides, I think the pipeline of Pittsburg to Washington students is pretty low regardless,” Mel argued.
Trinity crossed her arms, angling her body to face Mel. “It wouldn’t be a random stranger. Just put it up in the biology building so they’ll at least be a student. If you run out of things to talk about, you can just quiz each other on every bone of the body.”
Mel opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She really didn’t want to do this trip alone. She wasn’t good at being alone in general. “It might be nice to have someone to talk to,” she admitted.
Trinity raised her fists up in victory. “Yes! I’ve always wanted to put something up on those corkboards. So retro to do it all manually. I already call dibs on the first tear-off.”
The two women put aside their homework to create the perfect ad. Road Trip to Pittsburgh - Passenger Needed was the basic title they agreed on. They advertised it as a four day, one-way trip for any student needing a ride cross country. Stipulations included going half on gas and hotels. Non-negotiables required they must be a pre-med student and have at least one reference to vouch for.
“Maybe med student was too specific,” Mel said as Trinity slid into the desk next to her in class. It had been a week since the ad was corked up in the main hallway of the building, the paper bright orange to stand out from the Roommate Needed and club sign up forms littering on all sides. Only three of the tear-offs were taken. “I’m leaving in four days.”
“Okay, first off; why are you even in class right now? You know you’re not going to be able to use these credits when you leave in the middle of the semester,” Trinity started, her tote bag spilling out onto the desk. “Secondly, I have news.”
“I just want to take in all the learning I can,” Mel defended. “What’s your news?”
“I may have found someone for your trip!” Trinity exclaimed with a toothy smile.
“Really? Wait, who?” Mel returned the smile, allowing the win to distract from the inevitable anxious follow up questions her brain was starting to brew.
“Parker has a roommate. Name’s Langdon. He did the med program we’re doing, says he graduated last year,” Trinity explained. “Apparently he’s meeting up with a friend in New York.”
“He graduated last year? What school is he at now?” Mel asked, her brows furrowed at the vague description.
“He’s ‘taking a year off’,” Trinity replied suspiciously, her fingers forming quotation marks. “Parker thinks he’s just bored.”
Mel raised a finger to her lips, mulling it over. She knew Parker, at least. They’d shared a few classes here and there and lived on the same floor freshman year. Mel didn’t think she would live with anyone who was sketchy, at least. “Does he have a LinkedIn?” she asked earnestly.
Trinity laughed. “I’ll do you one better. I already stalked his Instagram.”
Now, with him in such close quarters, Mel could confidently say that his Instagram paled in comparison to the real deal. Trinity’s phone screen couldn’t capture the warmth radiating off his body, a little sweaty despite the cool weather, or the way he couldn’t stop moving, fingers fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie, knees constantly shifting to find the most comfortable position. He was so dynamic, his energy kinetic.
“Thanks,” she said. “I was worried about it. I didn’t have a lot of bites.”
“And here I thought I beat out stiff competition,” Frank replied easily.
“Well, no. I just told you-,” Mel started, eyebrows furrowed in frustration until a light bulb clicked. “Oh. Another joke.”
“You’re catching on,” Langdon smiled.
They sat in silence for a bit, Mel’s carefully curated generic-but-still-seeming-cool playlist enveloping the space. Her mind ran a mile a minute, anxiety growing as she forced her brain to think of something to talk about. She could envision a tiny version of herself in her brain, racking through file cabinets of conversation starters, all coming up blank.
“Parker told me you’re visiting a friend in New York?” she finally managed.
Langdon kept his head leaning towards the window, as big buildings became more sparse and smaller houses and drive-thrus populated the sides of the highway. “Uh, yeah,” he replied slowly, like it felt odd coming off his tongue. “Taking a gap year. Ellis told me about your insane idea. I thought, fuck it, ya know? When am I gonna be twenty three and rootless again?”
Mel didn’t know what it was like to ‘fuck it’. That possibility had evaporated the second she took her first breath. “Totally,” she lied, putting up a persona she’d seen from all the effortlessly cool girls she’d come across on campus. “A gap year is fun. What are you gonna do?”
“Well, considering it’s halfway over, not much,” Langdon scoffed, eyes still geared towards the window.
Mel waited for him to elaborate. He never did. “Well, at least you’re doing something now!” she added, a forced optimistic smile plastered to her face. Only thirty minutes into this trip and she was starting to have regret.
“Sorry. I tend to be a glass-half empty kind of guy,” he backpeddled. “You’re right. Guess I have you to thank for getting me out of my funk.”
Mel grinned, a genuine smile this time. “Exactly! And I’ve been thinking about it; it’s probably a better case scenario for our boredom that we’re strangers. We have every subject under the sun to discuss! It’ll help make the time go faster,” she explained.
Langdon slanted his head in thought. “Makes sense. So, what do you want to start with?”
Mel could work with this. She’d spent many of her last nights in Seattle thinking of safe-for-work topics to bring up with her passenger. “What made you choose to study medicine?”
Langdon heaved a big sigh before leaning his head back on his seat, face staring out the window. “I find the human body super interesting. I like knowing how things work. I always had a knack for memorizing, so it felt like the right mix of the two,” he stated plainly. “What about you?”
“My sister has special needs - autism. I want to help people on the spectrum and bring better awareness. And I find medicine challenging in the most rewarding ways. I can’t wait to actually go out and do it. There’s nothing better than knowing I can make a difference,” Mel smiled brightly, before remembering - there wasn’t going to be any practicing. She’d have to leave that behind, at least for now. The thought sobered her, and her grin faltered.
If Langdon noticed her mood shift, he didn’t comment on it. She could feel his eyes on her though, even as she concentrated on the straight road ahead. “Why’d you choose U-Dub?” he asked, using the common nickname for their university. “Seems far for a Pittsburgh girl.”
“My dad grew up here, so we’d come visit my grandparents growing up. I love the nature, and how quiet it is. And that you can see the stars if you drive just twenty minutes out of the city. I don’t think I ever took a deep breath until I came here,” Mel replied, the wistful nostalgia already flooding over her senses. “I’m gonna miss it so much.”
Langdon’s bushy brows furrowed. “You’re not going back?”
Mel looked over, insides panicking. She wasn’t sure how much to share. They’d only known each other for all of an hour and a half. “Not for now, at least. I have some, uh, personal things to deal with. At home. With my family,” she stuttered. If she shared more, she surely would start crying. She hadn’t been able to share the news with anyone without the tears flowing. That would definitely be a major misstep with someone she’s going to be spending the foreseeable future with.
“You’re right. About the PNW,” Langdon changed the subject effortlessly, like it was the most autonomous thing in the world. Mel envied him. “I visited during a Boys Scout camping trip in high school and knew I could never go back to North Carolina. There’s just something about seeing Rainier after months of rain that hits like nothing else.”
Mel understood that. The brooding mountain stood tall all year long, but looked especially grand when the clouds of winter and spring gave through to all its majesty, the snow capped top waving over to the metropolis of Seattle.
“I’ve never been to North Carolina,” she said.
“You’re not missing much,” Langdon scoffed. “Too humid. Especially if you’re from farther inland, like me. Mainly all farmland. I think if you looked up ‘stir-crazy’ in the dictionary, it’s a picture of my hometown.”
“Are you close with your family?” Mel asked, before realizing it may be an invasive question. She tended to do that a lot. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. Forget I said anything,” she shook her head, squeezing the steering wheel in frustration.
“No, it’s okay,” Langdon defended easily, eyes drifting from her white knuckles back to her face. Mel didn’t know how she was going to be able to handle all his staring for the next 96 hours. He adjusted his legs again, shifting to find a more comfortable position. “Close enough that we get together for all the major holidays, but let’s just say no one was begging me to stay when I decided to study across the country.”
“Oh,” Mel said. She wasn’t sure how to respond. He seemed flippant, and clearly carried himself with a bit of a sarcastic overlay. Mel knew she walked with her heart on her sleeve, and could be nothing but sincere. His easygoing demeanor made her nervous.
“Anyways,” Langdon started. “Mind if I play DJ for a bit?”
________________________
True to Mel’s word, nine and a half hours from Seattle, they arrived at their first pitstop.
Langdon was at the wheel as they drove past the sign welcoming them into Missoula, Montana. They’d switched off around four hours prior at their last gas and food refuel. Mel was ready to stretch her legs and get rid of the stench of their fast food scraps littering the dash.
It’d be a gorgeous ride, the rural landscapes of Idaho and Montana a welcome distraction from any boredom. After Langdon had taken over the music and proceeded to play some questionable music to Mel’s taste (“I don’t think anyone has listened to the Plain White Tees since 2010”), they’d compromised on playing an hour of music each.
“I think we might be the first people to blast Megan Thee Stallion while driving into Missoula, Montana,” Langdon said incredulously, shaking his head with a grin. He’d been shocked when Mel had first gotten comfortable enough to share her more personal playlist, full of modern female rappers. He practically begged her to sing along. Mel refused.
“Oh, I doubt that,” Mel replied seriously. “I’m sure with all the university students, someone has to have decent taste.” She looked at the scenery, small buildings and homes with the charm that only comes from a city with less than 100,000 people. The sky had darkened an hour ago, and Mel already missed the light.
“Yeah, I noticed all your fun facts on the sheet,” Langdon cocked his head towards the glove box where the itinerary sat. “I’ve never seen someone do that.” His tone was hard for Mel to read.
“I like to be thorough,” she replied plainly as they pulled into their hotel downtown.
Montana in February was bitter cold and void of tourists. Less than twenty cars populated the hotel parking lot, and Mel and Langdon were quickly checked in.
“What floor are you on?” Langdon asked as they made their way to the elevators.
“Third. You?”
“Second.”
“Cool.”
The elevator doors dinged and opened for them. Mel was exhausted of conversation, but was surprised to find she didn’t mind Langdon’s closeness. She normally scrambled to fill the empty silence, but after nine hours together, welcomed the comfortable quiet.
“So, uh. I’ll see you at seven tomorrow?” Langdon affirmed as they rose to the second floor.
“Oh. Um, yes,” Mel stuttered out. She chided herself for thinking they would be getting dinner together. She shook her head and rubbed her hands together. Of course. We’ve just spent almost ten hours straight together in a car. Obviously he wanted alone time.
The elevator doors opened again to a stretch of hallway with beige doors and a cheap, stained carpet. “Have a good night, Mel,” Langdon nodded at her as he walked out, his eyes tired but sparkling.
“You too,” Mel nodded back, biting her lip.
Her room was basic but clean, white sheets covering the queen bed. A giant landscape canvas of the Montana mountains lay above the headboard, with a small nightstand on either side and a small dresser in the corner next to a heater. The bathroom en suite was adequate, looking exactly how the online photos showed during her planning of the trip. She hoped Langdon was satisfied with the accommodations.
It felt achingly good to stand, even better to do so under the scalding steam of the shower. Mel let herself decompress, going through her shower routine twice just to bask in the familiar soapy scents of her prepackaged toiletries.
Twenty minutes later, she collapsed on top of the sheets, hair damp and straight down her back and a fresh pair of pajamas refreshingly clinging to her skin. She called her mom and Becca to let them know of her progress. She would never tell them, but she called to hear their progress as well. No news was good news.
Mel still felt restless, and the growing gnaw of hunger compelled her to shrug back on some layers and explore. After all, when would she be in Missoula again?
The winter air was crisp, but thankfully clear of any clouds. Mel walked fast out of the hotel onto the streets, her legs warming up the more she strolled. Eventually, she pulled into a small restaurant, the lights dim and covered floor to ceiling in shiny wood lacquer.
About a third of the barstools were taken by pot bellied men and middle aged women, and the booths remained completely empty besides two. Nondescript folk music played softly while the screens adorning the corners played basketball highlights. A sign stained colorless by years of sun damage advised customers to seat themselves.
Mel walked past the bar to the booths, hoping to snag a two seater in the back corner. Her gaze remained fixed until she heard her name.
“Mel?” she turned quickly, seeing Langdon in a booth to her right. He had two bottles of High Life, one empty and one well on its way, set on the table, framing a heavy book opened a quarter of the way.
“Oh, hi!” Mel smiled earnestly.
Langdon looked her up and down. Mel tried not to cower under his gaze, pulling her hair to one shoulder. She should’ve put it up before she left her room.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he joked, a familiar cliche line that Mel was grateful to recognize as sarcasm.
“Do you want company?” Mel couldn’t help but spill out. “I mean, sorry. It’s okay if you want to be alone. We just spent the whole day together. I understand if you want to be-”
“Sit down, Mel,” Langdon cut her off firmly, and Mel couldn’t help but obey immediately, scrambling to the opposite side, shrugging off her coat and scarf.
“Champagne of beers,” Mel stated, nodding at the beers between them.
Langdon laughed softly. “I actually haven’t had one of these since, like, freshman year. No idea why I ordered it.”
Mel had never had one. She had been drunk approximately six times in her life, all taking place at the University of Washington, half of which were with Trinity. She always felt guilty, thinking about the cost of her being so far from her family, and wanting to do the best she could to graduate top of her class and use her degree to help them. Distractions were just that— distractions.
Maybe it was the fact that she was loopy with hunger, or that she was in the middle of the country backpacking with a handsome stranger, or that after this trip her life would be a continuous mountain of responsibilities and hard truths. But Mel decided that a distraction was worth it.
“Excuse me?” Mel raised her hand and spoke to the server a few feet away, a stoned out, lanky university student leaning lazily against the cashier. “Can I also get one of these? And-,” she stopped herself quickly. “What did you order?” she leaned in with elbows on the table to whisper to Langdon.
“The steak and potatoes,” he replied, a surprised lilt to his voice.
Mel nodded in affirmation. “And the steak and potatoes,” she finished with a smile as the server flopped his mop of blonde hair behind his ear and turned to fetch her her drink from behind the bar.
Langdon’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, a downturned grin sneaking onto his face. He dogtagged his book - Mel winced internally, how hard it is to use a bookmark? - and placed it next to him on the booth seat. “Wow. You don’t peg me for the spontaneous type.” He lifted his beer to take a sip.
Mel tried and failed not to look at how his jaw retracted as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple visible above his University of Washington sweatshirt. She normally hated the attention on her. Langdon’s perception made her feel like she was under a microscope, like he was digging in and under the layers of her. “When in Missoula, I guess,” she said with a shrug, as the shaggy server dropped off her icy bottle.
“When in Missoula,” Langdon echoed, raising his half full bottle to her full one. The clank of their glasses made Mel wince.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Langdon said, his glass still in the air between his hand and mouth.
“What?” Mel asked, her voice scratchy after taking a big gulp.
“You didn’t make eye contact!” Langdon exclaimed with a shock like she’d broken the most obvious rule in the world.
Mel tried not to freak out. Was this another unspoken social cue that she had somehow missed her whole twenty-two years on earth? “What do you mean?”
He shook his head and used his free hand to run his hand through his hair, greasy after the long day. Mel couldn’t fathom not showering immediately after their grueling shift in the car. “Okay, let the ex-frat boy explain this to you. Whenever you ‘cheers’ glasses with someone, you have to make eye contact. Otherwise, superstition says you’ll have seven years of bad sex,” he explained with a gentleness that left Mel feeling a warmness pool in her belly.
Mel felt herself blush. Her sex life was nonexistent. She never had much time nor desire. “Okay. Sorry. Let’s do it again,” she heard herself say, taking a deep breath and lifting her glass back up.
“To the champagne of beers,” Langdon toasted, his blue eyes boring into hers. She fought the urge to look away, the heat of his gaze intoxicating and terrifying all at once. She followed his lead, clinked their bottles, and wrapped her lips around the bottle, swinging back a swallow. His eyes fell to her lips for a millisecond as he copied her, finishing the last of his, licking his lips. He kept his stare, Mel hopeless to follow.
“Looks like I need another.”
___________________________________
Sixty minutes later, Mel was full, warm, and tipsy. Her hair had dried, frizzy at the root in a way she hated.
Langdon’s form was just as loose. He sprawled his long legs across the seat, his back sideways against the wall. Their table was full of their dinner scraps. Mel had meticulously stacked plates and empty bottles in the corner to keep it somewhat clean.
“I can’t believe you didn’t like Dr. Pruitt,” Langdon let his head shake like dead weight, his mouth agape. Mel liked him like this. He was more open, physically and socially, animated movements she was hypnotized to watch.
“I never said that,” Mel argued weakly, a smile begging to come out. “I said he was fine! Just…not exactly the most engaging.”
“Meh, I don’t know. You’re trying to be nice, but I can tell you have some real hater energy. It’s gotta be in there somewhere,” Langdon pointed a finger at her, a smirk on his lips. “I’m gonna tap into it.”
Mel felt herself flush, gulping and looking away. He was just so intense, and the barriers were stripped away by the beer.
“Want to go for a walk? I think if I sit for one more minute my legs are going to atrophy,” Langdon asked, and Mel knew his thighs were bouncing under the table.
“What?” Mel asked, eyes wide. Langdon gave her a coy look, eyebrows raised in waiting. “Oh. Another joke,” she realized, relaxing a bit in her seat.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Mel knew her cheeks turned bright pink the second they stepped out of the cozy restaurant and back into the street. It had gotten colder as the night dragged in, and she stuffed her gloved hands in her coat pockets.
“I haven’t gotten drunk in a long time,” Mel spoke aloud to distract herself from the biting chill. “Like, I can’t even remember the last time.”
“You can’t remember the last time you had three beers at once? That’s like…a regular Thursday for me,” Langdon said. His gait was long, faster than hers. Mel liked to keep up. “You’re a college student! This is the perfect time to be drinking three beers on a regular basis.”
“Pre-med doesn’t exactly leave a ton of wiggle room for that,” Mel said. They passed a trail sign, the Clark Fork River rushing next to them. Mel made a mental note to see it in the morning light.
“You and I both know pre-med students can party, even more than the business students,” Langdon chuckled, his hot breath visible as it met with the air.
“Not my thing. I always end up feeling guilty. My sister has special needs, and I left her and my mom behind to go to school. I just feel like I shouldn’t be jeopardizing that,” Mel couldn’t help but spill out. The night felt like a snowglobe, like anything she said wouldn’t actually leak out into the real world. She was in a place she’d probably never visit again, with a person she’d probably never see again after these next four days.
“Is that why you’re going home? To help out?” Langdon asked, unfazed.
“Kind of,” Mel took a deep inhale, sighing out. The beers made her feel bold. “My mom was diagnosed with a malignant pheochromocytoma last November. We thought it’d be fine if I finished up my last semester, but it’s, uh, not looking too good. So, I had to drop out to help take care of things.”
Mel was content to keep walking along the river, but Langdon stopped, frozen, turning to face her. “Jesus, Mel. That’s…I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, his body tall in front of her. “That’s incredibly unfair,” he turned his torso, running a hand through his hair. His nose was pink. “Fuck, Mel. That’s heavy.”
Mel wrapped her arms around herself, feeling overexposed. “I’m sorry. That was a lot to dump on you. I just thought— actually, I don’t know what I was thinking,” she felt her eyes burn with tears and embarrassment.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Langdon cooed, quickly putting his arms on her shoulders. The contact made her jump; not in disgust, but surprise. He was so warm, even in the harsh weather. He looked down at her, following her head movements. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry. I appreciate you telling me.”
Mel looked up at him, finally meeting his gaze. His eyebrows furrowed in concern. She felt overwhelmed with attention. Her lip quivered, and she knew the dam was breaking, soft sobs escaping her.
“Fuck,” Langdon muttered with a click of his tongue, bringing her into a hug, his arms practically enveloping her shoulders and upper back. Mel clung right back. He was so solid, a furnace of heat. He didn’t say anything else, just kept a consistent squeeze.
Mel was no stranger to tears. As a child, she viewed her sensitivity as something to overcome. She knew that doctors couldn’t cry. She wanted to heal tears, not create more. She was able to hold it pretty well during the day, busy with classes and errands. But at least twice a week, she’d lay in bed, feeling the guilt of being so far, of missing her family, of the fear of failure.
The sobbing sessions had increased significantly since her mother’s diagnosis. This, however, was the first time she’d been held through it.
“I just wanted to do better for them. It’s not fair,” Mel murmured into Langdon’s chest. Her glasses pushed uncomfortably against her temples. The zipper of his coat cooled down her hot cheeks. Selfishly, she wished he’d put his head on top of hers.
Langdon tightened his grip. “Your family is lucky to have you,” he whispered. “You’re going to be a great doctor.”
Mel opened her mouth to argue—actually, she wasn’t, because her life was getting derailed, and would have to be a full time care taker, and even if she could go back and finish school, she’d have no time and no money and—
“Don’t even think about arguing. It’ll happen,” Langdon stated firmly, like he was stating facts of the human body. Mel let herself believe him.
Mel didn’t know how long they stood like that, in the middle of the riverwalk, silent except for the occasional person also stupid enough to be out in the weather. Her cries slowed, and she untangled herself from him.
“‘M sorry,” she mumbled, wiping a gloved hand over her nose. “This is why I don’t usually drink,” she mumbled with a sad smile, biting her tongue so fresh tears wouldn’t fall.
“Noted,” he smiled, tight but warm. “Hey, didn’t your itinerary say something about a carousel around here?”
Mel perked up. He remembered my fun facts! She wiped her eyes and pushed her hair behind her ears. She really needed to tie it back. “Yes! It’s so interesting. It’s one of only 11 brass ring carousels left in the US. Basically, you pull the rings from this dragon’s mouth while you’re moving. I went down a whole rabbit hole about it, actually,” Mel rambled, happy to have a new topic.
“A dragon? Please lead the way,” Langdon said, dramatically waving out his arm to let her lead.
A short five minute walk later, they arrived at the kitschy carousel. If the lights weren’t glaringly bright, Mel would’ve thought it was closed. The classic carnival music rang through, leaking out onto the sidewalk. “Oh my gosh, we have it all to ourselves!” Mel exclaimed excitedly, grabbing onto Langdon’s bicep with a jump.
Langdon laughed as they approached the lonely carousel employee, who happily took their $10 with minimal fanfare.
“See the dragon?” Mel gestured to their top right, where the aforementioned statue lay, a slot of brass rings waiting to be plucked by awaiting riders. “The rings are all different colors. The goal is to pick the golden one.”
“What do I get when I win?” Langdon joked as they mounted the wooden horses.
“Another free ride! And bragging rights, I guess. If you care about that kind of thing,” Mel answered, neck craning to look behind her at Langdon.
Langdon scoffed and shook his head. “No, we need bigger stakes. How about, loser gets first shift tomorrow?”
Mel was confused with the offer. She would honestly prefer to drive first. It helped get it off her to-do list; plus, driving in the dark made her nervous and jumpy.
Somehow, Langdon seemed to notice her aversion, and quickly changed course. “Or, winner gets first dibs on shift preference.” Mel nodded assuredly, her lips forming a small line of satisfaction.
They were the only two riders as the carousel started to move, much quicker than Mel anticipated. Every time they looped, right hands raised to catch rings of all different colors.
The rush of the speed felt refreshingly cool, like it was stripping away the uncomfortable heat of Mel’s earlier tears. Every so often, she’d look back at Langdon in reassurance, a wide grin plastered on her face as she collected a rainbow of brass rings.
“Damn, how many blue ones do they have in there? Feels unfair!” Langdon shouted over the noise.
Mel thought about responding with some sort of probability statistic, but her eyes zeroed in on the shiny ring next in queue in the dragon’s mouth, waiting for her fingers to clutch it.
“I got it!” she exclaimed in excitement, letting her left hand unclasp the golden pole in the middle of her horse, whipping her hair behind her while she looked back at Langdon.
His expression startled her. His body was lax, leaning back on the horse, and a goofy grin plastered on his lips. His eyes were sparkling under the carousel’s artifice. The competitive stance he held just three minutes ago was gone, replaced by warm contentness. “That you did.”
That night, Mel dreamed of horses.