Definitely, Maybe in Love

“Thought you were in a rush to get out of dodge,” she said, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. “If I may quote you.” She cleared her throat. “‘I will go anywhere, to the world’s end, with you, Mel.’ That was two days ago. Changed your mine already? How fickle.”

She let her foot off the gas and we slowed way down. The car behind us honked.

I glanced through the rear window. “I’d just like to arrive in one piece.” The car was now tailing us. It honked again as we continued to decelerate. “Mel, have you ever heard of road rage? It’ll be bad enough if we splat into a tree, but to get shot, too?”

“Overkill?”

“Ya think?”

Mel laughed and floored it, the tires of her Jetta squealing against the concrete.

She’d been inviting me up to her grandparents’ house for years. I’d always turned her down, due to papers and projects and protests. But this time, I was more than happy to take her up on it, even though picking up and leaving for a week when I should’ve been catching up on homework was not the most industrious of decisions. But I’d done it anyway.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. When I opened them again, a mile-marker sign whizzed by. We were somewhere in the middle of our journey. Three hundred more miles to Vancouver, Washington.

Yes, this little vacation was just what the doctor ordered, if that doctor was of the philosophy of running away from your problems. I needed space, I needed to clear my head, and I needed to get back on track. Somehow, somewhere, I’d fallen off course. When I’d made the big change the last time, I’d switched majors, braided my hair, and figuratively burned my bra. I had no idea how to deal now.

I swallowed down the pukey mass bubbling up my throat. “Are we there yet?” I whined.

“We’re stopping in a sec. I’m in desperate need of sustenance—more specifically, a candy bar.”

“What happened to the one you brought with you?”

Mel’s brow furrowed. She reached back to the floor behind her seat, pulled a plastic shopping bag forward, and sat it on her lap. She sifted through it, keeping one hand on the wheel.

“Huh, I could’ve sworn…” She lifted her sunglasses so she could see into the bag more clearly. “I had two, actually,” she mumbled, bemused. “There’re only wrappers now. Didn’t… Wasn’t… Ohhh.” She let out her breath, smiled in extreme relief then went back to looking glum.

I stared at her for a moment, absolutely befuddled, until I realized how Mel’s train of thought was just plain impossible to follow sometimes. “Uh, yeah, what’s going on over there?” I asked, tracing circles in the air around her face.

“I just realized I had one of my daze-outs.”

“Daze-outs?” I echoed, wondering if I should make her pull over so I could drive.

“Yes, I’ve recently raised a new theory about me and junk food.”

“Ahhh. I’m all ears.”

“It’s quite simple, really. Someone offers me chocolate cake or donuts or something, I kind of black out, then come to and I’m covered in crumbs and feel like I want to barf, and yet I have no recollection of eating anything. It’s the strangest thing. We’ve been on the road for four hours and I’ve already scarfed two candy bars, Spring. I don’t even know what kind they were, but they were good, I think. Like I said, I don’t remember.”

“You should write this up for The New England Journal of Medicine, get that publication you’ve been after.”

“Don’t make fun of me; I’m dead serious. Have you seen how much weight I’ve gained? Six pounds since summer.”

“No!” I gasped mockingly. Mel had a fabulous body. “Don’t feel too badly. I’ve gained four.”

“Really? You don’t show it.”

“I have my own theory about that.”

“Listening,” she said, accelerating to pass an RV.

“Well, you know that I’m a huge fan of the invention of the light bulb, yes? And no one loves the second gen iPad more than me.”

“Keep talking.”

“But I am convinced that the greatest invention of our time is the lowrise, dark denim, bootcut jean. Hides absolutely everything.”

“Oh, babe, you are so right. Cheers to that.” She held up a can of Diet Coke, toasting herself.

“Look, there’s a 7-11. I have an overwhelming craving for a Milky Way.”

In lieu of pulling over to a restaurant and getting a healthy meal like two normal people, we stocked up on junky snacks. My driver opted for three chocolate bars and a Big Gulp of Diet Coke with two shots of lime, while I limited myself to a six-pack of mini powdered donuts and a frosty glass bottle of cream soda.

“How’s Julia these days?” Mel asked. There was a glob of chocolate on the tip of her nose. “I haven’t seen her in weeks. Does she really wear Dart’s underwear around the house?”

“That’s disgusting. Where did you hear that?”

“People talk.”

“They shouldn’t.”

“Stupid minds will believe anything,” she said.

I took a long drink of soda, bubbles clogging up my throat. “To answer your question… Oops, ha-ha, that wasn’t me”—my words came slurring out between two carbonated belches—“I am not going to gossip about my roommate.”

Mel snickered through her chocolate-covered teeth.

“I mean, I love Julia, but sometimes…” I hiccupped, feeling slightly intoxicated from sugar. “Well, I will say it’s been a tough three months for all of us, and just leave it at that.”

“Oh, Spring, honey, that’s so sweet,” she cooed in sarcastic pity.

“What’s sweet?”

“You”—she pushed out her bottom lip—“thinking I’ll just ‘leave it at that.’”

I hiccupped.

“You’re in my car, babe,” she added. “You must pay the piper, and you know the toll. So Julia’s finally stopped crying all the time, true?” she asked, questioning me like I was her hostile witness.

I nodded, taking another swig from my long-neck bottle.

“She’s going to her classes and not flunking out yet?”

“Yet”—I held up one finger—“being the operative word here.” I tossed the last donut in my mouth and took my time chewing. “I’m sure the worst is over.”

Truth be told, life with Julia these days was no picnic. That once sparkling and cheerful liveliness had completely vanished from her countenance. The Julia we loved was crushed and hidden somewhere beneath the frail, dejected creature who spent most of her free time moping around the house, though not wearing some guy’s boxers.

At the beginning, and in some minute way, I shared in Julia’s grieving, but the more time that passed, the more I was convinced that everything had happened for the best.

After a few more innocuous tidbits were shared, I said, “I feel pukey.”

Mel grimaced. “So do I. But I have one more question.” She looked down at her lap covered in crumbs and wrappers. “Where am I? And what happened to all the candy bars I just bought?”

“That’s two questions.”

An hour or so later, I was pecking at my phone. Three e-mails from Julia, one short note from my lab partner, and an ad wanting to fix my erectile dysfunction. Okay…?

No other messages.

My heart sank like a rock, but the next second I was absolutely livid with myself. I hated when an aftershock snuck up on me like that. After three months, I’d hoped they had stopped.

Henry was gone, hadn’t said good-bye, and never contacted me again. I bit the inside of my cheek and stared out the window at the layers of green hills and pine trees. Even in my most cynical moments, it was impossible to deny how much that hurt. We’d been going somewhere. At least I thought we had been. And then it was like a rug was yanked from under me. Bits of my life went flying into the air and