“About that…if you knew my mom, you’d get it. My mom’s great—I love her—but if I told her I was meeting up with a girl tonight, I’m 90% certain she’d book a flight and be waiting on the porch for us when you drop me off later. You know, as long as the porch didn’t crumble to pieces when she set her suitcase on it.”
Mel laughs. “Yeah, that place is in rough shape. Don’t some of Van’s cousins own a construction company or something?”
“Apparently,” I answer. “They’re always supposed to come over and do a few repairs, but I guess they’re booked solid while the weather’s still nice. And, uh…speaking of Van… I think he knows I was coming to meet you tonight. I didn’t say anything, but I still think he knows.”
“Yeah,” she nods, totally not shocked. “He’s like that, very intuitive. I think it comes from observing so much, you know? He just kinda hangs back, and everybody writes him off as a pretty boy, but that guy knows shit.”
“Exactly. He took one look at me, and it was like I had my plans written on my forehead. I know we agreed to keep it on the down-low, but I’m pretty confident Van won’t say anything.”
Mel shakes her head. “He won’t. That guy’s a vault. Sometimes he won’t speak up, even when it’s for his own good.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I nod like I get it. “Anyway, I knew my mom would lose her mind, so I made up a fake study partner. It wasn’t even a good lie. I’m not taking Calc.”
Mel laughs again as we pull off the highway onto a cobblestone street. I have no clue where we are, but it looks like one of those towns that’s straight out of another century. Like, if all the streetlamps were actually oil lamps, I would not be shocked. “You gonna tell me where we are yet?”
“We’re in a place called Murraystown. It’s just a dot on the map, but I like it here. There’s a used bookstore my friend Josie used to drag me to when we were freshmen. And there’s a bakery. But none of that is on our agenda tonight. We’re only twenty minutes from campus, but the chances of us running into people we know are pretty slim, so I figured it was a good spot for lesson number one.”
“Cool,” I say as we pass an old-time pharmacy. The speed limit is low, so I’m getting a good look at all the tiny town has to offer. “Are you taking me to the laundromat or the yarn store? Wait, I think they’re the same place.”
“Kind of. The yarn store is owned by a lady named Kathy. And Walt, her ex-husband, runs the laundromat. But they’re in the same building, and only a doorway separates them. To answer your question, no, of course we’re not going to either of those places tonight. They’re closed.”
“Right… Ooh, what about that diner? That’s a good date place, right?” I say hopefully.
“Dinner’s a good choice for a second date. You’ve got tons of time to talk, which is both good and bad. It’s good if you have a lot in common, of course, but if you don’t…well, you just spend an hour staring at the other person.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind her that our first date was dinner…but, yeah, I think I’ll keep my mouth shut.
“Now, movies, they’re tricky,” Mel continues. “They seem like a great date night, right? Wrong. You can’t talk at all, can’t really get to know the other person. Movies only work if you’re going out for drinks or food after, and that’s advanced stuff, like date five and on.”
I feel like I should be taking notes. “So, what’s a good first date? Or did you say it and I missed it?”
Mel takes a left down a little side street. “You want to be able to talk on a first date, but you also want a clear escape route if things are not going well. So, coffee is always a good option. Most people like it, and it’s relatively quick. You can do a coffee date in thirty minutes or less, plenty of time to decide if you want to hang out again.”
“We came all the way out here for coffee? You literally just came from a coffee shop.”
“Your point?” she smirks. “Besides, we’re playing it cool, keeping it quiet, which is why we are miles from campus. But no, we’re not getting coffee,” Mel tells me as she turns into a gravel lot. About twenty yards ahead is a big old red barn with a giant statue of a cow on top of it. The cow is wearing an enormous straw hat and a name tag that readsBessie. There are picnic tables out front, and a sign, declaring Bessie’s Barn to have “The best ice cream you’ll ever eat!”
“So, ice cream is also a good first date?”
“Definitely. There’s lots of time for talking, but it’s not a huge commitment, you know? Plus, you can tell a lot about a person based on the kind of ice cream they order.”
“Yeah?” I ask, getting out of the car. Mel and I stand in line, and there are only a handful of people in front of us, none of whom I recognize. There are posters plastered over all the windows, showing hot fudge sundaes and banana splits. And in between the two ordering stations is a blackboard with a list of flavors, and according to it, Bessie’s has a little of everything. Who knew maple bacon was an ice cream flavor? “So, what’s your favorite ice cream, Mel? Please tell me it's not peanut butter and jelly swirl. That sounds kinda gross.”
She shakes her head emphatically. “Not a chance. I come here for one flavor, and one flavor only: white chocolate raspberry chip. It’s sooooo good. It’s sweet, but the dark chocolate chips and the white chocolate swirls kind of balance each other out. It might just be my favorite thing in the whole world. And I have to get it on a waffle cone. I don’t care what anyone says, those short little cake cones taste like sawdust.”
We move up a spot in line, and Mel turns to me. “What about you? What’s your favorite? And if you tell me you don’t like ice cream, I’m not sure we can be friends.”
“Harsh,” I scold. “What if I was lactose intolerant?”
Mel waves me off. “They have dairy-free ice cream.”
“Of course, they do. Bessie thinks of everything.”
“Right?” Mel quips. “She’s a very smart cow.”
The ladies in front of us pay for their milkshakes and step to the side which means we’re up. Mel orders first, then the guy taking our orders turns to me. “And for you, sir?” he asks, even though we’re probably the same age. “Vanilla,” I answer, “in a dish.”
Mel smiles broadly, and I can’t tell if she’s holding back a laugh or not. I get out my wallet and pay, just as she’s opening her purse. “This one’s on me,” I say. “I figure I owe you one.”
