by Megan Rose
Lacey educated Mark on the origins of lemonade (Mongolian) while Mark educated Lacey on the origin of popcorn (American Indians), both when they read their Snapple caps to each other. Lana tried to join in, but, surprisingly (based on her weightlifting abilities), she couldn’t get her Snapple open.
After two snow cones, a chicken salad sandwich, a Snapple, and a chocolate protein drink, Lacey was starting not to feel so good. She held Mark’s hand and leaned on him, answering people’s questioning gazes with “Yes, we’re a couple.”
Near the end of the day, as she began to feel even sicker and Mark was just getting ready to take her home, Lana came over, a sly smile on her lips. “Not feeling well, Lacey?” she asked.
“No,” Mark said. “We’re just going home.”
“Nauseous?” she asked.
“Nauseated,” Lacey corrected.
“Well,” she crossed her fingers, “here’s to hoping you’re not pregnant.”
“What? She wouldn’t be pregnant,” Mark said as Lacey rolled her eyes.
“Really? I seem to have heard from a group of college kids that a certain redhead has been spending one night a week at your apartment."
“Lana, what are you talking about?” Mark asked, exasperated.
“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend?” she said. Mark looked at Lacey.
“Thursday nights, when you go to your sister’s, I let Connor come over and stay the night,” she said. “No big deal.”
“Yes, but his friends specifically said that he claimed to be sleeping with you.”
“What? Oh, no. That’s nuts. He’s just sleeping over because he’s having some trouble with some of the people at his school right now and it’s a nice break for him.”
“So he’s not sharing your bed?”
“Well, yeah, he is, but – “
“Wait, Lacey, why didn’t you tell me about this?” Mark let go of her hand and looked at her. She was starting to feel woozy.
“Look, it’s a long story. Can we talk about it another time? I’m really not feeling well.”
“No, I think we should talk about it now,” he said. “How can you get so mad at me when I go out to dinner with someone without telling you, meanwhile some college kid has been sleeping with you every week?”
“He’s not sleeping with me, he’s sleeping with me.” Lacey sat down on the curb and held her head. She couldn’t think; she was feeling too sick.
“And when were you going to tell me about this?” Mark asked and looked down at her.
“Mark, I’ll tell you all about it later. Now is not the time.” She stood back up. “Come on, let’s go.” She grabbed his hand and then leaned on him for support as she tried to move them forward.
“How did you even get to talk to his friends?” Lacey looked at Lana.
“His friends showed up for free snow cones and they were talking about you, so I just asked a few innocent questions,” she said and put a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Lacey, tell me what she’s talking about.”
“Mark, like I said, it’s a long story, and I’ll tell you later, okay? Just relax!” What was he getting so mad about? Lacey looked at his face and it was all red, like when he heard Connor and Lacey were going to go on a date.
“No! Lacey, I want to know why the woman I love is sharing her bed with some college kid and-“
“The woman you wha – “ Lacey gagged and ran over to the nearest trash can, where she threw up all of the food she had eaten at the event. Not so great coming back up.
I don’t believe this!” Mark had his hands on his hips and was the definition of anger.
“Mark, don’t be stupid!” She shakily made her way over to Mark, and the rest of what she was going to say was cut off as she collapsed onto him. He caught her and carefully lay her down on the ground.
“Someone call 911!” he yelled. Crouched down over her, he tried to think of something to do that would help, but he had no idea what was wrong with her. He moved her out of the street and onto the sidewalk and grabbed the phone from the person who had called 911, furiously yelling at them to send an ambulance. Lacey lay still on the pavement, eyes closed.
✽✽✽
“Mark Gamble?” a woman wearing scrubs and carrying a clipboard came out through the ER doors and looked around.
“Yes?” Mark shot up and ran over to her.
“You’re with Lacey Harris?”
“Yes. Is she okay? Can I go back there?” Behind his back, he picked at his cuticles until he felt the wetness of blood on his fingers.
“She’s fine. She has lithium toxicity. You can take her home in a few hours, but don’t give her any lithium tonight or tomorrow morning. Then go back to taking 900 milligrams, like she was doing before. And set up a blood test about a week and a half from today,” she said and put the clipboard under her arm.
“She’s fine? She’s not fine. She just threw up and passed out. Of all the things that are fine, I do not think that makes the list.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Gamble. Only family can come back, but you’ll see her when we sign her out. My advice is to go home, relax, get something to eat, and come back in about three hours when she’ll be released.”
The nurse walked back through the ER doors and Mark stood there, not knowing what to do. He wasn’t going to just leave her there all by herself. He guessed he would get some magazines or play some games on his phone and just sit out in the waiting room.
Turned out, he was too upset to do even that, and he wound up just sitting, jiggling his leg like Lacey had during their first appointment with the psychiatrist.
And then Mark realized exactly what he had to do. Maybe he would spend those three hours thinking about how to do it.
✽✽✽
A month after Lacey’s lithium toxicity, Mark was having a giant sale at his store, and his gym had become a big success. As it turns out, people in town wanted to exercise, they just hadn’t had anywhere to go.
Lacey continued to work at Lana’s Looks part-time but was looking for another job too. Unfortunately, Lana’s Looks was the only female salon in Whindry, and Lacey wasn’t planning on working for Rufus, the bald barber down the street.
One morning Lacey woke up to find a cup of coffee and a note on her night table. She picked up the coffee and took a sip – perfect drinking temperature. Then she picked up the note and read it.
Lace,
I have a special day planned for us today. I know you don’t have work. Stay home and relax (see present next to bed) until I get home at 5:00. Then, get changed into something that Lana would approve of and come out with me for a special date night.
Mark
Lacey looked down next to her bed and saw a pair of fuzzy green slippers. She slipped her feet inside and wiggled her toes around. They were perfect for a day of relaxation. She wondered why he had decided to get her slippers, then figured he must have just seen them in the store and thought of her. They were green, after all.
A few hours into Lacey’s day of relaxation, the doorbell rang. She shuffled over to the door in her slippers and Princess yipped like the house was on fire. “It’s okay, girl,” Lacey said. “It’s just the doorbell.” She opened the door and a delivery man stood there with a clipboard.
“Lacey Harris?” He smiled.
“That’s me,” she said and moved Princess back into her apartment with her foot.
“These – or this is for you,” he said and handed her a giant jar of honey, with one of those swirly honey spoon-things and everything.
“Um…I think this might be a mistake,” she said as she took the pot from him.
“Nope.” He checked his clipboard. “One pound of honey delivered to a Miss Lacey Harris. Says so right here.” He turned the clipboard around and pointed to her name.
“Does it say who they’re from?”
“Oh! Silly me,” he said. “Here’s the card.” He handed her a small business card-sized paper that just said:
&n
bsp; To: Lacey From: Mark
“Oh…okay. Well, thanks I guess.”
“You have a nice day now.” He smiled and winked at her and then trotted away, back out to his truck, which was undoubtedly filled with fresh-smelling flowers. Fuzzy slippers and honey. Okay, so he wasn’t a very conventional gift-giver, but the jar of honey was pretty. She could use it like flowers and put it in the middle of the table.
Lacey took her (plastic) flowers and put them in the closet where the rest of the seasonal flowers were and placed the pot of honey in the middle of the table. It was a little big for the tiny round table, but she never used the table anyway, so what did it matter? She went back over to the couch and continued watching the TV, glancing up at the jar of honey every once in a while. She Googled “Winnie the Pooh” to see if it was some sort of anniversary or something, but she found nothing.
It was 5:00 and Mark walked through the door, a huge smile plastered on his face. “Hey, Lace,” he said. “Anything interesting happen today?”
“Well, now that you mention it,” she said and smiled back at him, “I did get these awfully comfy green slippers. And I got…a jar of honey.” She looked at him the slightest bit questioningly, as if he might explain himself, but all he said was “How nice.”
They both took their time getting dressed. Lacey asked Mark if what she was wearing was okay. He said yes. Then she changed and asked again. He said yes. Then she changed and asked again. He said no. Her face crumpled in dismay. “I’m kidding, Lacey. It’s perfect. You look perfect. Let’s go.”
Mark and Lacey arrived at the French restaurant at 7:00 and were seated right away. “I think this is where Connor took his date,” Lacey said. She had told Mark about Connor after she was recovered from her lithium toxicity. Not surprisingly, he was much nicer to Connor after that, and Connor appreciated having another friend.
“Good evening.” Their waiter appeared with a serving tray and two wine glasses. “Your menu has been taken care of,” he said. “Here are your drinks.” He placed a glass in front of each of them. “And your main course will be right out.”
“Wow,” she said. “Did you pre-order for us? I’m impressed.”
“I told you tonight would be special.”
After a few minutes of Lacey telling Mark all of the cute things Princess had done that day, the waiter came back and placed a bowl in front of each of them. “Bon appétit!”
“Mark…” Lacey mixed up the contents of her soup. “This is chicken soup.”
“Yup.” He ate a spoonful.
“Why are we at a French restaurant eating chicken noodle soup?”
“You didn’t know that was French?” Mark clicked his tongue. “Someone is not as cultural as she thinks she is.”
“Wait, no. Actually, yeah. Chicken noodle soup. It’s totally French. I knew that.” She nodded emphatically and ate a bite of the best chicken soup she’d ever had. Mark just smiled at her.
✽✽✽
An hour later, Mark pulled into a dusty parking lot and adjusted his seat. “Get comfortable,” he said. Lacey wasn’t even questioning anything anymore. She was just doing what he said. She adjusted her seat when suddenly a light projected up on a big screen in front of them.
“Mark, what is this?”
“It’s your favorite movie,” he said. Lacey sat upright in her seat. It was a drive-in. And they were going to watch her favorite movie! He really outdid himself for this date. But then the movie started and it was in black and white, and there was no sign of Mandy Moore.
“Mark, what is this?”
“It’s A Streetcar Named Desire,” he said. “You said that was your favorite movie, right?”
“Oh yeah…” She sat quietly for a few minutes and tried to get in the mood to see something so depressing, but she just couldn’t sit through that movie again (not that she had finished it the first time). “Mark, see, the thing is…this isn’t really my favorite movie.” She smiled guiltily at him and waited for him to start feeling bad.
“I know,” he said and stared at her. “Your favorite movie is the one with the girl who’s dying and the only thing that can save her is that guy’s love or whatever.”
“Well, not exactly. But pretty much, yeah.” She paused. “Well, if you knew then why are we watching this movie?”
“Lacey,” Mark glanced at the screen, “this is a drive-in.” She nodded. Lacey understood the concept. She wasn’t stupid. “So you’re not supposed to watch the movie at a drive-in anyway.”
“What are you supposed to – “ And then Mark pulled her close and kissed her and she remembered every TV show and movie she’d ever seen where there was a drive-in. Of course you don’t watch the movie. Although that didn’t explain why he had popcorn and lemonade in the cup holders.
✽✽✽
The next morning, Mark and Lacey walked to work together. Lacey bought a croissant for breakfast and Mark bought a green apple when they stopped at the grocery store. “I had a great time last night,” Lacey said for the zillionth time. She had never had such a bizarre date before, but she had never had so much fun either.
“Me too.” Mark smiled at her and they approached the salon. “I’ll see you a little later,” he said and started to cross the street. “Oh, hey, Lace!” he called. “Try eating something healthy for once!" He tossed her the apple and somehow she miraculously caught it. (She had never been very good in gym class.) Mark turned back around and continued to his store, and Lacey went into the salon and looked at the schedule for the day.
But something didn’t feel right. She had felt weird since waking up, like she was forgetting something. She had fed Princess, taken her for her walk, given her a bunch of kisses…there wasn’t much else she had to do before coming to the salon. She had turned her lights off, locked the door, stopped at the store for her croissant –
And then her stomach churned and it was on the tip of her tongue. Mark bought her an apple. Mark tossed her an apple. Why was that familiar?
The Snapple cap from their first lunch together. “In ancient Greece throwing an apple to a person was considered a marriage proposal.” No. That couldn’t be right. He just threw her the apple because all she ate was crap, and he wanted her to be healthy…which was pretty romantic too.
She looked around for Mayra to discuss her strange date, but she wasn’t in yet. That’s okay. She would just go to her station and get all ready for the day. She could talk to her later. Mayra was smart, she’d figure out what was going on.
And then Lacey remembered all of the weird things that happened last night: the chicken soup at the French restaurant, the pound of honey, the furry slippers, the drive-in…she was clearly missing something. Maybe she’d just nip over to Mark’s store and ask if she was supposed to have figured out some sort of theme from their date. Like there was a code she had to crack or something.
Lacey stepped outside and was about to cross the street when she glanced to her right. There was Mark, down on one knee, with a purple cardboard box in his outstretched hand. Lacey was speechless for a moment, and then somehow the word, “Apple,” slipped out of her mouth. And then it was Mark’s turn.
“The original Cinderella was Egyptian and wore fur slippers. To make one pound of honey, a honeybee must tap about two million flowers.”
“You got me two million flowers,” Lacey whispered, realization dawning. The tears were starting already and he hadn’t even gotten to the good part.
“There are more French restaurants in New York City than in Paris. Chicken soup is an aphrodisiac. New Jersey is home to the world’s first drive-in movie theatre. Popcorn was invented by the American Indians. Mongolians invented lemonade around 1299 AD.” He paused. Lacey dropped the apple and it went rolling over to the crack in the sidewalk she had tripped over the day she met Mark.
“Lacey Jane Harris,” he said, “I love you more than anything or anyone in the world. I would be honored if you would open this box.” He stretched out his hand and Lacey looked at
the box and read “Wonder Ball.” He found one? How did he find one? And why did he want her to eat a Wonder Ball now?
“Okay…” she said and reached for the box. She opened it up and stared at the chocolate ball.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Bite into it.” Then he added, “Don’t choke.”
Lacey bit into the Wonder Ball and inside was the most beautiful diamond ring she had ever seen. It was a princess-cut white diamond with a diamond band. “Mark,” a piece of chocolate stuck to her lip fell to the pavement. She licked her dry lips and tossed the chocolate ball and the box aside. A squirrel ran over to it and started breaking it into little pieces.
“Lacey,” he said, looking happy and petrified at the same. “I love you,” he said again.
“I love you too,” she whispered, her eyes welling up with more tears.
“Will you marry me?”
She choked on a sob and a giggle and started nodding her head feverishly. “Yes. Yes, of course.” Mark jumped up and pulled her close to him. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. And then something hard hit her on the head.
“Ow!” she said and broke apart from him. She looked up. It was raining Skittles.
“How did you…?” She looked up as the Skittles stopped pouring.
“Lacey!!!” Mayra was up on the roof with a red bag in her hand and her mom was next to her, stuffing her face with Skittles from her own bag. Mayra screamed and held up her left hand. Mark put the ring on Lacey’s finger and she held her hand up and screamed too. Both started jumping up and down and Mayra said, “I’ll be right down!” Lacey wiped a tear away and looked up at Mark, not knowing what to say.
“I guess people still do romantic things,” she said, commenting on what she had said at the beach house after they watched A Walk to Remember.