Joyride
By Swellison
Mary strode back into Jay-Bird's Diner, diner by day and teen hangout by night. It was Lawrence's most-popular eating spot with what her hunter father had called "the younger sheep" on occasion. Now, she'd just encountered another self-proclaimed hunter, in the alley behind Jay-Bird's, of all places. Life seemed to be narrowing around her, all of a sudden. She spotted John, an oasis of normal, waiting for her in the booth by the window.
Mary took a moment to smooth down her white Western-style blouse, making sure her clothes gave no evidence of her recent tussle with that other hunter. She quickly crossed the space that separated her from John and reclaimed her seat on the opposite side of the bright turquoise booth.
John smiled briefly. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, fine." Mary began sipping her strawberry shake, mentally preparing a story to tell if John pursued the matter further. S-l-u-r-p. She noisily drained the last of her shake and then lifted her head to face John.
He grinned, gently plucked her red and white striped straw and sank it into his still half-full chocolate malt. "Wanna share?" He nudged his parfait glass into the center of the table and leaned forward to start sipping.
Mary also leaned closer, drinking from her straw, eyes flicking upward to meet his happy gaze. Suddenly, she pictured them the way an outsider would, two high school sweethearts splitting a chocolate malt and gazing lovestruck into each other's eyes. Except they'd both graduated from high school last year—and they hadn't exactly been high school sweethearts, even then. Samuel Campbell wouldn't allow his only daughter to get that involved with any young man, let alone John Winchester. But Mom had put her foot down and Mary had been allowed to date, to have that much of a normal life, at least.
Then John had gone off to fight in Viet Nam, and Mary had reluctantly accepted her father's deal: to hunt for a year, before making any decisions about college, or careers, or (she could so easily envision his eye-roll) "normal lives." Since John's safe return, Mary had done nothing but dream about the civilian life that was almost within her grasp. Any day now, John would pop the question; she just knew it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the inelegant sound of her straw sucking up the last dregs of their chocolate malt. She stopped and tilted her head to meet John's amused expression.
"I love a girl with a healthy appetite." He smiled, reaching into his wallet to leave a five dollar bill on the tabletop. "Let's go."
They left the diner and John escorted Mary over to his newly-purchased Impala, solicitously unlocking the passenger door for her. She raised an eyebrow as the door creaked open, but slid into the front seat.
"Needs a little oil for the doors," John muttered, "An easy fix." He rounded the car to the driver's side and settled behind the wheel. John turned the ignition and the big black car rumbled to life. They pulled into the street, cruising to a gentle stop at the red streetlight.
The light changed and John continued through the intersection.
"Wasn't that our turn back there?" Mary asked. "The movie theatre's on Main Street." They were planning on taking in the evening showing of "The Thief Who Came to Dinner," a romantic comedy with an all-star cast. Mary was looking forward to a little snuggling in the back row of the dark theatre, rekindling some high school memories with John.
"We can see the movie next week," John said. "You need to get acquainted with my-" he corrected himself – "our new car."
"About that," Mary cleared her throat, and turned her head to face him. "Tell me why you bought this muscle car instead of that nice, practical family van again?"
"You know me, I'm a man of few words." John spoke, patting the steering wheel. "Give me a few minutes and I'll show you."
"Okay." Mary settled back into the dark ribbed cushion and admitted to herself that this Impala had a much more comfortable interior than the VW van.
They headed out of town, John accelerating as the road became a deserted country highway. The sharp turn towards Healeyville took Mary by surprise and she slid across the bench seat, bumping gently into John's right side.
Taking his right hand off the steering wheel, John wrapped his arm around her, gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, and released it. "That's a C.O.D. turn," he said, his eyes alight with mischief.
Mary eased herself back to the passenger side of the car. "C.O.D. turn?"
John grinned. "Come Over, Dear… and you can't do that in your practical little VW."
Mary swiveled her head to glare at him, and ended up smiling at him instead. John's unpredictable sense of humor, of fun, was one thing that had attracted her to him in the first place. She lightly slapped his upper arm. "You're incorrigible!" she finally got out, between giggles. "And how'd you find out about C.O.D. turns anyway?"
"I come from a family of mechanics," John reminded her. "My father, my older brothers, my cousins-they're all mechanics. We don't just talk about cars at the garage, you know."
John turned at the next junction, onto a slightly better than dirt road. He reduced speed, seeking a turn-off in the road. Spotting what he was looking for, he turned down the dirt road. After a few minutes, he pulled off onto the shoulder, really just a widened section of flattened grass, and cut the engine.
John glanced over at her. "This is my spot. I come out here to think." He placed his arm along the seat top and Mary took the opportunity to scoot closer, knowing she'd done the right thing as he shifted to curl his arm around her.
Mary gazed through the windshield and up at the clear, star-studded night sky. "Thanks for showing me this; it's beautiful."
John indicated the sky with his left hand. "I look at all those stars and I see the future, with all its possibilities—and I know I want to spend it with you."
He coughed. "Y'know my parents are crazy about you—my dad thinks you're probably too good for me, and a fantastic cook. And I know my mom wants nothing more than a daughter, another woman in the family."
"Look, Mary, I know your dad has issues with me—"
Mary stirred, tilting her head to meet his gaze straight-on. "I told you before it's not you, John, it's just him."
"Well, I don't walk away from what I want. The Marines taught me that."
"John," Mary sighed. "Can we not talk about my dad right now? He's been this way for years and he's not gonna change overnight." She deliberately switched the topic. "And speaking of change, why did you really buy this instead of the van?"
"She's a much better car," the mechanic in John defended automatically. "I met a guy named Dean at the used car lot—well, actually I bumped into him in the diner, first." Mary stiffened a little in his arms, but relaxed as John continued. "He told me I should buy the Impala. I baited him a little, asked him if he knew about cars. He said, 'yeah, my dad taught me everything I know.' The way he said it—he was so proud of his dad, I could tell. I realized that that's what I want, someday, for my kids—our kids—to be just as proud of their dad as he was." He squirmed. "Corny, huh?"
"No, John," Mary snuggled deeper into his chest, resting her head on his broad shoulder. "I think it's sweet."
They quietly absorbed the starry vista and each other. Mary smiled contentedly, reaching to delicately stroke the dashboard. "She is a nice, big car. Plenty of room for six kids in the back seat."
John's shoulder jolted underneath her. "Six?" he almost squeaked.
"Four?" Mary offered a compromise. She was an only child and no there was no way her children were going to grow up without the support of siblings.
John eyed the empty back seat in his rear view mirror. Four? "Can we talk about this later, maybe after I propose?"
"Sure, John, first things first." Mary agreed.
John carefully extended his right arm toward the ignition switch. "But now I've got to get you home, or your dad'll be after me with a shotgun…"