My Journal of Weekend Write-Ins

Dream On

Marcy hummed the beginning of Aerosmith's Dream on as it blasted through the radio causing the compact car to rock along to the tune. Her throat constricted before her vision blurbed and her eyes stung with the salty tears.

She took a deep breath willing her thoughts to settle.

"Just a few more hours and I'll be in Los Angeles and then I can let my world fall apart," she muttered to herself. The lump eased and the tears nearly stopped. But when she heard the lyrics, you got to lose to know how to win.

Marcy swerved off the road to the safety of the shoulder and let out a loud sob as she replayed her conversation with Shawn.

"I'm sorry MM, but I can't leave at least not now, and maybe never,"  he had grumbled the last part.

Marcy would have thought it was one of his jokes except for the fact that his shoulders drooped and his dark eyes wouldn't meet hers.

"But we've planned this all year long. We even bought this car." She stroked the mustard yellow car that stood beside them. It had seen better days, but it would take them to their destination according to Shawn.

"Your plans don't have to change," he extended the keys to her.

She shook her head and backed away from his hand.

He looked up at the clear sky and then dipped his head down. "My family needs me. My future is here on this farm."

"What about all your dreams? I know you can have a future in the movies," she swallowed the sting in her eyes, not wanting him to see her cry. "Little Players got a standing ovation. Even grouchy Mr. Edwin cried at the end."

Shawn's silence gave her hope. Maybe she could change his mind.

"Your movies move people. They give hope."

It had been working with Shawn on his movie that had gotten her through losing her dad.

"They are just words on a paper," he itched his nose. It was one of his tells for when he was lying.

"Together we give them life on the screen." His gaze fell on her for a split second. She saw a glimmer of hope before he closed his eyes.

"The food we grow here feeds people. Words are just words."

Marcy moved closer to Shawn. He couldn't mean it, not when he spent any free moment creating stories and characters.

"I've always been grateful to those that tend the land, but you aren't a farmer, you're a screenwriter," she stood next to him looking up as she did.

Shawn shook his head slowly.

"Please, I need you. We are partners in film."  She reached for his hand realizing that she wanted to be more than friends.

"We are going to lose the farm. My dad needs my help." Shawn took her hand and placed the keys in it.

"Please come with me," she whispered.

"You are the strongest person I know."

Only because you were next to me, she thought.

"I expect to see your name as the movie credits roll on the screen."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek and then whispered, "directed by Marcy Dolly Mercedes."

Shawn left her standing by their car as he vanished into the pastures on the hills.

The lyrics pulled her back. Her hands gripped the steering wheel.

"I'll become a famous director so I can make your screenwriting dreams come true."

The road ahead became clear.  As Marcy pulled out of the shoulder, she sang, "dream on, dream on, dream until your dreams come true."