Dave ndash Megan rsquo s Day Off Part 2
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I STOOD IN THE DOORWAY, staring again at the little twin bed in the room I’d grown up in—Allison’s picture no longer draped. I’d been ‘home’ for more than a month and I wasn’t sure how I could bear to go into this room again. I had to talk to Mom and Dad today about going back to Seattle. And somehow I had to get Melody there with us.
Mom and Dad had come in to see the painting when I told them about the unusual night I had with Beth. Dad had given me a hug. Not just a squeeze or a man-hug, but an all-out bear hug that threatened to crack my ribs.
“It’s so much better than seeing photographs of your work,” Mom said. She walked up to it and without touching it traced the outline of the shadow figures with her finger. “You know we are always here for you, too, Tony,” she said as she left the room.
Saturday, she and Dad had a whispered conference in the kitchen and then Dad left for the rest of the day. When he came back in time for dinner, he announced that we were going camping and asked me to get the gear ready first thing Sunday morning. He and Mom were going into Omaha to pick up supplies. Damn it! I’d talk to them while we were traveling.
I spent a long time on the phone with my lovers Saturday night. Crying.
Sunday morning, I dutifully got out the tents, sleeping bags, portable grill, equipment, and water jugs. Once the sleeping bags were opened and hung on the line in the sun to air out, I went inside and showered, returning to the cave of my room. I wanted to spend some time with Mom and Dad, sure, but I really missed Melody and Lissa. Melody had had a rough weekend, too, and we’d talked much of the night with Lissa. Most of the time one or more of us was crying. Somehow, I had to get my family back together.
I heard the car pull in the drive, telling me Mom and Dad were back. I was going to have to tell them I couldn’t go on this trip. I needed to get my family back together. I’d empty my savings and fly to Boston, pick up Melody and fly to Seattle. It was the only way.
“Tony!” Dad called from downstairs. “Tony! Did you get the gear all prepared?”
“Yeah, Dad,” I said coming downstairs. “Two tents, air mattresses, sleeping bags, grill, tarps, ropes, canteens, mess kits. Everything is there and aired out. I just need to roll the sleeping bags back up and stuff them in their bags. But Dad...”
“How much equipment do you think you’ll need for a week on the road with your two ladies?” Dad cut me off. I looked at him, not quite comprehending what he was asking. “Come on, son. Let me show you something.”
We walked out the front door and there was a cherry red Ford Escape sitting in the drive. When did Dad get that? I wondered.
“This is something I’d planned for next summer to celebrate your twenty-first birthday, Tony. But it seems that the timetable has moved up. A family man needs a family car. This gets good mileage—in fact, better than the later models—has comfortable seating for five, and room for cargo. It gets thirty miles a gallon on the highway, so it shouldn’t cost too much to operate,” Dad said leading me out to the car. I could tell by the license plates that it wasn’t new, but it looked to be mint condition. He handed me the keys.
“Dad?” I said. I couldn’t believe what I thought he was telling me.
“It comes with a year’s insurance paid and a full tank of gas. There’s a prepaid fuel card in the glove box with a thousand-dollar credit on it,” Dad said. “Son, your family needs you. Your mom and I have talked to Lexi and Melody is stressed out. Lissa says even the boys want to know when you are coming home. I know you talk to them, but Melody needs you to take her home to your family. Pack up the camping gear you need. Mom’s getting food ready for the cooler. We’re not trying to get rid of you and we expect you to stop here on your way back west, but if you can get your butt in gear, you could be on the road at seven tomorrow morning.”
I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to say or how to tell my dad how much I loved him. I just wrapped him up in a big hug and danced around the yard. Next thing I knew, Mom was in the dance, too, as I thanked them and hollered out my happiness.
I knew just what I needed to do next. I pulled out my cell and called Lissa.
“Hi, baby, I miss you,” she said as soon as she got on the line. “Is Melody on, too?”
“No, Lissa,” I said. “This is just between you and me.”
“Tony?”
“Can you get away for that week of vacation you mentioned?”
“I’m pretty flexible. You know my work schedule. If I’ve got my laptop I just need to check in each day. Tony, what’s up?”
I explained what my folks had done and inside of five minutes I could hear Lissa screaming “Yes! Yes! Yes!” through the phone. When she was off the line, I thought about all the times we’d all been together, and the times that Melody had done something special for me that helped me through school and life. I knew I’d get a phone call buzzing back at me in minutes, but I tapped out a text message for Melody.
“Darling, pack everything. Will be there on Wednesday to take you home.”
When I left in my new car on Monday morning, I think I could have driven straight through to Boston without stopping. Dad made me promise not to drive more than six hundred miles or ten hours in a day, though. He said he wanted me to be with my family, not to have them gathered at my gravesite. Honestly, though, stopping in the parking lot at Walmart in Elkhart, Indiana for the night when it was only five p.m. was a pain. I didn’t bother trying to camp on the way out. I just cranked the passenger seat back and slept. Of course, the fact that the store was open 24 hours meant that people were driving in and out of the parking lot all night long, and three huge campers pulled up near me to spend the night as well.
I was out of there at six the next morning, but the day went a lot slower. I kept having to pull off to get coffee and burgers to keep me fueled. It was no farther to Syracuse, New York than I drove on Monday, but I didn’t pull in until seven that night. Half the time I was driving, I had my phone connected to the Bluetooth system in the car and was talking to my loves. They kept me awake, at least. I know that technically it took more than the ten hours of allotted drive time, but when I stopped, I knew I was within range of Boston and what would be my trickiest day.
Melody didn’t live in Boston proper, though we always referred to it that way, but rather in the historic town of Lexington. At three in the afternoon, I drove right past her little town and through the craziness of Boston to Logan International Airport. I was never so happy in my life as seeing Lissa swing a backpack over her shoulder and rush off the curb to climb into my car. She kissed me so hard and so long that the next car in line at the curb started blasting its horn to get me to hurry up and move.
Now we had a little surprise for Melody.
It doesn’t seem to make any difference what time you go through Boston; it’s rush hour. It took nearly an hour and about a dozen wrong turns to navigate the twenty-five miles to Melody’s house. She was waiting for me and came running out the door as soon as I pulled into her driveway. Lissa and I threw our carefully orchestrated surprise to the wind and just both jumped out of the car to rush our girlfriend. When Melody saw it was both of us she stopped running and began jumping in place screaming. The girl gets a little emotional.
It was five o’clock when people started arriving. Supposedly, they were just there to help Melody pack. Well, even with getting her loom broken down and packed, it only took about an hour to cart her stuff out to the car and fill it to the gills. We kept the camping gear accessible and a seat for each of us, but the rest of the car was jammed. Lexi opened the garage and I pulled in beside her Corolla so the Escape wouldn’t be on the street overnight. Then everyone headed for the backyard where a neighbor had the grill working and hot dogs and burgers on it. It turned out that Melody had invited several friends, as had Lexi, to meet her boyfriend and girlfriend. Melody was leaving town with a splash.
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