Face the Music, Melody

2

"Clyde Harry, pleasure to meet you." The man who opens he door in response to Clarence's knocking says immediately. He's got the looks of Clarence: Gary hair with streaks of what was once blonde, soft freckles degraded by age lines, delicate dimples, smile lines and twinkling green-blue eyes, definitive features. Unlike Clarence, who stuck out his hand calmly, however, Clyde goes in for a bear hug. I hug back, startled by the gesture. I guess he was just a very affectionate person, even when it came to complete strangers hanging on his doorstep.

"Hi?" I squeak.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear. Didn't realise you were shy. A friend of Clarence is a friend of mine's, and I assumed a young adult girl who somehow managed to show up on my doorstep with a man a billion times her age wouldn't be."

"You're older than me, Clyde, so every whizcrack you make doubles itself when applied to you," Clarence cuts in.

"Good thing they're being applied to you, not me, then? What brings you here, Clarence?"

"Marry and Jasper, wanted a lift home. The nervous travellers didn't want to leave their car at the airport and chance it being stolen, so I gave them a ride here and there. It's not me you should be inquiring about when it comes to that, miss Melody Sparks should be the object of your queries."

"Sparks, eh? Not that common a name, Clarence." Was all Clyde replied whilst stepping away from the door, providing both Clarence and I entry. The look he gave Clarence was strange, and some flash of recognition met his eyes when he said that.

"I want today's gossip, not last decade's, Clyde." Was all Clarence had to reply to wipe the look that may have been of deviation off Clyde's face.

"Nothing new."

"That's a lie: what're people saying?"

"Nothing that doesn't refer to either her or that crazy boy who's still out there living off your land. That's not what I want to talk about, either way, Clarence. So, therefore I ask, what brings you here, Melody?"

"A plane?" I ask, shocked by the sudden confrontation.

"C'mon, give this old man something to talk to his cousin about."

"From the looks you were exchanging earlier, I'd say you already do, Clyde." I retorted sharply, and then immediately quieted down, ashamed at my treatment of the two elder men who were hosting me.

"Sharp as a tack, snippy as a bottle of whiskey: yet polite as a pin. She's a keeper, Clarence. I'm thinking she should stay in Idaho."

"I'm thinking your mouth should stay closed." I say, recognising finally that this was a battle of wits through words, and that Clyde only found my shame at fighting back funny.

"When you're named after a criminal, those words only egg you on to say more." Clyde grins.

"When you're named after a love story, that's not true." I smile in return.

"She's got you matched, Clyde. As many years as you have and she'd get you beat, too. Sadly, we won't be around to see that." Clarence pipes in, amused.

"I'm right, though. She belongs in this town. Especially if a drunken plane ride was what got her here. Chance and fate should be synonymous when it comes to free spirits." Clyde announced proudly.