The engine sputters and lurches, offers up one last wheezing death rattle, and then stops completely.
"Seriously? Seriously?!?"
I sigh and steer the coasting truck onto the side of the road, the ancient pickup bouncing roughly over the grass and uneven ground.
"This was not how I really wanted our big anniversary night to start," I say when we're finally stopped.
Twisting in the seat, I look over at my boyfriend, David, his full mouth pulling down into a small, tight frown. In the warm, deep golden light of the setting sun, I can see the flecks of brown in his bright green eyes and count the faint scatter of freckles across his cheeks and nose.
I want to kiss each one.
"It's fine," he says, softly, lifting the picnic basket from the floorboard, his tan forearm bunching beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. "We'll just picnic here while we wait for the tow truck."
I look out the windshield - it is actually a pretty spot for a picnic. We broke down beside a large grassy field dotted with wild flowers, the ground gently sloping toward the setting sun on the horizon.
David hops out and darts around to open the door for me, helping me down with a steady hand on the small of my back. The spring Texas wind is warm and whips my skirt around my knees as we wander out into the field covered with blue bonnets.
He helps me spread a red checkered blanket over the ground and starts unpacking the basket. I'm not much of a cook and I don't have a lot of money, but I managed to put together a pretty decent meal of sandwiches, salad, chips, fruit, and cookies.
(Snickerdoodles, his favorite.)
I set the food out around us and we settle in, my bare legs draped across David's, the faded denim of his old Levi's soft on the back of my knees. He smiles at me - one of his great smiles, big enough to make his eyes crinkle at the corners and show a row of perfect white teeth. I can't help myself; I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth softly, a tiny perfect moment.
He tucks a stray strand of my blond hair behind my ear, and then we reach for sandwiches, content just to munch and chat about our day as the sky turns pink and then deep purple as the sun sinks out of sight.
Tiny flashes of light begin to twinkle in the air around us, lightning bugs flickering as they make their way out into the night. They seem to merge with the night sky overhead, like the stars have come down to earth to dance with us, sparkling and glittering and close enough to touch.
I lean forward as if to get up and twirl among them, and that's when I notice it.
Our blanket has been invaded. It is covered.
Ants are suddenly everywhere, marching in swift, organized lines across the checkered blanket and claiming every bit of food for themselves. It's like a precise military operation planned by General Washington himself.
Screeching, I jump up and swat at my skirt, knocking the bugs from my legs as I run in crazy circles and zigzags across the field. David's laugh as he watches echoes around me and I wheel around, getting glimpses of his long, lean silhouette in the last bit of fading sunlight as he methodically shakes off the ants and cleans up the picnic for me.
"Thanks," I say when I've finally calmed down enough to be still and lean into him, my arms wrapped around the hard line of his waist. "You always know how to take care of me." He kisses the top of my head and slides a hand along my jaw, his calloused thumb brushing at my bottom lip.
I stretch onto my toes to kiss him, my boots sinking a bit in the long grass-
-And then bright flashing lights of a tow truck appear, pulling up beside my broken-down pickup.
The moment ruined, I sigh and step back from David.
Ten minutes later, squished into the cab between him and Bud, the sweaty tow truck driver, I'm trying not to think about the suspicious stain on the seat beneath me or the way the air reeks of French fries and body odor.
I also don't want to think about how none of this is going the way I had planned. I wanted a perfect little anniversary picnic in the park, and then to go to the free, outdoor showing of Casablanca they were holding in the town square tonight. It was going to be so romantic and sweet - and definitely didn't involve a guy named Bud with bad hygiene dropping us off at the truck stop on the edge of town.
"I can't get it fixed 'til Monday at the earliest," the mechanic tells me, spitting into an empty Coke can. "And it's gonna cost ya."
"Perfect," I mutter, stomping across the broken pavement.
David is waiting for me outside the truck stop's greasy diner, humming along to an old Journey song playing from one of the cars idling in the parking lot.
David grins and reaches for me, tangling the fingers of my right hand with his left and looping his other hand around my waist, drawing me into an impromptu slow dance.
"I'm sorry," I whisper in his ear as we sway together under the harsh neon lights of the diner's sign. "I wanted tonight to be perfect. Romantic and wonderful... and instead we broke down and got swarmed by ants and wound up stranded at a truck stop."
But David just twirls and dips me, his lips brushing my cheek when he pulls me upright and holds me even closer.
"Don't you see, sweetheart?" he says, his voice like dark smoke blowing across gravel. "It was perfect. Because I was with you."
