Someone Willing to Stay

One Minute

     One minute. I've been in the car for one minute. For sixty seconds I've been sitting up without letting my back touch the seat. Listening to Mason's breathing and the murmur of lyrics on the radio that is turned practically all the way down.
     I haven't been alone in a car with a man except Adam in years.
It's weird. The last time I was in a car with
Mason, we were both eight years old in the backseat of his mom's van with chocolate ice cream covering our cheeks.
Now he's a teenager, with a jaw line and a deep voice, and he's driving, humming along to the radio.
And I don't know anything about him.
I don't know my best friend.
"Stop staring at me Mel," Mason says suddenly, "you're creeping me out."
I blush, "I'm not- where are we even going?"
     "You'll see when we get there." He says nonchalantly.
      "How do I know you didn't drag me out of my house to kill me?"
      "You don't." The smirk.
     He turns the radio up and smiles, "It's our song, Mel."
     "I haven't heard this in years." I grin, despite my annoyance at him for being so mysterious.
     A guitar strumming blares through the speakers. Mason rolls both of our windows down and turns the music up louder.
"You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset," he sings, glancing over at me, "she's going off about something that you said, cause she doesn't get your humor like I do."
I snort and shake my head as he winks at me and continues to sing.
"You're an idiot." I tell him, rolling my eyes, which is something I do a lot around him.
"But she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirt's, she's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers. Come on Mel, you know you want to."
      "Never."
      "You can do it."
      I pause and take a breath.
     Come on, Melanie, you're stronger than this.
      No I'm not.
      "If you can see that I'm the one who understands you!"
      And we're both screaming the words out the window. He looks at me with a full blown smile, showing his teeth and crinkling his eyes.
      It all feels right. Singing Taylor Swift with Mason like we're kids again. I forget about my bruised ribs and sore back. I'm living in the moment.
      The one moment of pure bliss while we drive through town, not a care in the world.
      But then the next minute comes, and the song is over. And I'm back to being the scared little girl I was the night Mason left. The girl I've been.
     He turns the radio back down and clears his throat.
      "It's a good song."
      I don't say anything.
       "Look Mel, we're here." He says a few seconds later.
       It's the park. We're at the park. The same one that I went to everyday for eight years. Mason and I played in the waterfall, sled down the hills, fell off the swings.
      The park is illuminated by some street lamps, it's empty.
      "The park?" I ask.
      He nods, unbuckling his seat belt, "The park."
      "I'm almost seventeen years old, Mason."
       "Don't be a buzzkill, get out of the car."
I sigh and do as he says, the night air biting my cheeks.
"It's nostalgic," he says as we begin to walk around, "being back here after so long."
      He takes off running to the playground equipment.
When he starts doing the monkey bars and I'm sitting on a swing letting my feet dangle on the ground, I look up at him in the dim light.
"Why brown? How could you think brown is the prettiest color?" I call out to him.
"Well, how could you think white is the prettiest color? It's not even a color-"
"It's a shade." I finish for him.
I can't see his face as he drops down onto the ground and sits on the steps of the equipment.
"White is simple, it's pure, untouched. White has never killed or harmed anyone." I tell him quietly.
"Brown is the color of your eyes."
"What?"
"Come on, Mel." He gets up and walks toward me, holding out his hand.
     I try to process his previous statement. Brown is the color of my eyes. My eyes are his favorite color? My eyes are dark and lifeless, how could he like that? How could anyone ever like that?
     I take his hand and let him walk me over to the grassy area on the side of the park.
     Mason drops to the ground on his back, looking up at the sky.
      I sit with my legs crossed over each other and look at him.
     "If you should have one superpower, what would it be?" He asks.
     I shrug.
     "Come on."
      "I guess I'd want to fly."
      "Basic," he snorts, "how come?"
      I want to fly away. I want to stop hurting the people I love. Driving them away. Killing them. I want them to be free of me.
      "It'd be cool."
      We sit in silence.
      "I do remember, Mel," he says suddenly, sitting up and facing me so we're staring at each other, "I remember you. I remember that your favorite candy was Reese's cups, and your favorite movie was The Wizard of Oz. And I remember you were so scared of the dark, or maybe the monsters hiding inside of it."
      "You can't do that," I say to him, "you can't just kidnap me and then try to win me over by reciting old memories. You just can't."
      I stand up and go to head back to the car but Mason grabs my wrist, scrambling up himself.
      "I never meant to hurt you."
      I scoff.
      He's standing close. I can feel his warmth, hear his breathing, smell his cologne.
       I don't feel afraid. His hands are warm, and his thumb is running over my palm, tracing every line.
      I need to push myself away but I can't. His gaze is keeping me stuck to the ground.
      "Mason."
      "Stop pushing me away, let me in. Just let me in." His voice drops down to a whisper.
     I stare at him, eyes flickering down to his lips. He's leaning in, eyes closed. I don't object. I don't think about Adam, or the fear sitting in the pit of my gut. I want to lean in to.
      I'm going in. I'm going to kiss Mason Foster.
     "Hey! Park's closed, get out of here!"
     Mason and I jerk away from each other and look over to the man with the flashlight on the other side of the park.
      "You kids always making out over here, it's a children's park!" The man screams walking toward us.
      "Run." Masons says
      And we do.
      One minute ago, I was leaning in, I was not afraid for once in my life.
      Now I'm running, holding in fits of laughter as the man chases after us.
      One minute can change everything.

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