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.