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Damsel of Distress
by: Me
Melanie shoved the file cabinet drawer closed with her knee. It slammed shut with a crash as if from a door to a castle dungeon. She locked up the drawers to her desk after putting his picture in the drawer. He smiled at her, with his hands shoved in a windbreaker leaning up against a fence that enclosed that bobsled ride at that park. He had gained some weight since that picture, but that infectious smile was always there. I could reprint the photo, Melanie thought, but I wouldn't want it stolen just the same. The hospital green paint in her cubicle turned from a mint to a grey as she shut the lights off in the shared office space.
She removed a black smudge from an indented design on her steering wheel as she sat in traffic. The car hadn't moved in quite some time. The car reminded her ad nauseum to inch forward, so she really didn't need to pay attention much, not that she ever did.
When she was a child, she didn't picture herself preparing people's taxes for a living. It's not the life one dreams about, but it was steady. And her prince in shining armor wasn't supposed to be a manager at an art supplies store, but he tries.
Melanie thought back to the fight they had last night. A bounced check is hardly anything to throw in the towel for. Hardly. She had no idea how much an easel sold for. She was good with accounting, but at that point in time, that easel was all the money in the world.
Looking up at the next road sign, she realized it was an unfamiliar one. She had missed her exit. How do you miss an exit going 2 miles per hour? She wondered. She tensed up and a tear leaped from her eye. Silly, Mel. It's just L.A., people do this all the time. Your routine is just a little off, don't fret.
Melanie shoved her hand under the seat to look for the Thomas Guide. If only he'd put it back where it was supposed to go, in the slot in the door. She began to cry. The world was cavng in again. Don't panic, her doctor said last week and the week before.
No, she found it. She grabbed the book from under the seat and rested it on her lap. She looked down at the book. It wasn't the Thomas Guide. It was a beaten up old book that was dogearred and housed three book marks. She read the cover, "Helping the One You Love Through Depression".
She didn't buy the book. He did. It was his book about her.
Melanie had the urge to thumb through it, but didn't. She hugged the book tight as a horn blared behind her. A smile creased her face. She put the book back and couldn't wait to get home.
Melanie ran from the garage to the front door. She walked in the house to the smell of burning chicken.
"Gadfree!" He said. It was his word of choice. She had no idea what it meant.
She stood in the kitchen doorway and watched him scoop three pieces of black from a sputtering pan. The counters were cluttered with egg shells, chopped vegetables and for some reason a leaky carton of ice cream.
He turned to her. A smear of white flour went from his chin to his ear down his arms and all over his hands. He smiled at her. His tummy peeked out from under his UC Irvine t-shirt.
"I made dinner." He said laughing. "The really bad stuff is in the trash can. I'll clean this-"
"I love you." Melanie said.
"Don't worry, don't panic, I'll-"
"I love you." She said again.
"Huh?"
"I love you." She said once more.
She pulled her knight in shining chicken grease towards her. And kissed him until they were both covered in flour.
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