Burns
by David Melody
He picked up the dog-eared paperback after the numbers caught his eye. Marnie was the first thing that came to mind. One. Nine. Eight. Four. That was a code word they’d started with the day after New Year’s 1984, day one, amidst the three empty champagne bottles, and spewed pink frosting from what was left of his birthday cake. Marnie, Marnie, Marnie, that was the plan, read the book together now that the big year had finally arrived.
“Two dollars and fifty cents, but I’ll give it to you for half since the back cover’s missing.“
Missing just like Marnie, Derek thought, six months into the year and nothing to show for it but a bunch of empty hangers where she’d first had her clothes. Nothing more sobering than a rack of wire hangers that used to hold so much promise. He’d located her new number from a mutual friend, just in time to find out she’d blocked him. The only option now was driving far out past Burns, where she’d taken their RV.
“Far out, man,” the cashier yelled as Derek left the store, “Love that 84 stuff.” Yeah, far out man, far fucking out yourself, said Derek, loudly inside himself. Maybe there’d be a clue in the novel. Books could be like that. Had been like that before for him. Like the time he’d landed in Tulsa and on a whim bought a copy of “Coffee Tea or Me”, which wasn’t much about flying but inspired him enough to complete his hoppy flying license, which now offered a freight train of possibilities. For sure, and like the shop owner had said, far out man. He’d be the Far Out Man, come to Marnie, car repossessed be damned. His pilot’s license was still good, his eyesight less so, but even with all the old traffic controllers fired, or furloughed, he could easily find his way down the runway, newbies to the side, and back into Marnie’s arms.
Hell, he could even bring her the book, start the year all over again, but with a happier ending this time, just like in the book he thought. Well, he’d find out reading next to her on the couch in the RV, book had to have a happy ending to have been around this long.
When Derek turned down the rutted dirt road he was starting to have a few doubts about his 1984 make up and make out plans. He recognized Marnie’s car but not the three pit bulls in separate cages near a shed. He loved dogs but preferred the poodle type.
Just then the aluminum screen door of the RV flew open, and a rather large, bearded man filled the entire frame.
“You. Derek?” he asked, politely, in a voice almost too low to hear. A voice purring with delight.
“How’d you…” Derek started, then stopped. He didn’t want to ruin his luck, and the good luck of 1984.
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Copyright 2026 by David Melody
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