When Summer Ends

by Jessica Pennington

  Mom brings the metal baking pan into the dining room, her hands wrapped in rolled-up towels. This chicken is my favorite. Second only to last week’s dinner. Ever since my appointment with Dr. Shah, Wednesday night meals have been a medley of my favorites. She’s setting the pan down on the table when the doorbell rings.

  “John,” she yells into the kitchen, where my dad is holding a bowl of green beans.

  “On it.” He turns for the door and my mom takes her seat across from me. When it was all five of us at the table, Mom and Dad sat on opposite ends, like a king and queen, but now that it’s just the three of us, we all sit at one end.

  Dad is saying something I can’t understand, then there’s a slam of the door and he’s back in the dining room with his bowl of beans … and Olivia.

  “Look who I found,” he says cheerfully before setting the bowl on the table.

  Before I can even process what’s happening, my mom is out of her seat and Olivia is approaching her. There’s an exchange of names, an offered handshake that’s turned down for a hug, and before Olivia has even sat down Mom has retrieved an extra plate and silverware. “What a nice surprise.” Mom smiles at me, like I’m the one who popped in for dinner. She turns to Olivia, who’s sitting next to her. “Aiden didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  I’m about to tell her I didn’t know when Olivia beats me to it. “He didn’t know. I had a last-minute change of plans.” Olivia looks right at me. “I wanted to be sure to make it to dinner before I left.”

  “I’m so glad you made it.” Mom says before holding a giant spoonful of rice out to Olivia. “Where are you headed?”

  Olivia holds her plate out to be filled. She pokes the pile of rice and mushrooms and chicken with her fork. “Arizona.” Her voice sounds sad but also resigned. “My aunt got a job, so I’ll be there senior year.”

  “Oh.” Mom sounds deflated. Something we have in common. “Well, that’s too bad.” She sticks a forkful of green beans in her mouth.

  “Yeah.” Olivia jabs at her beans. “I was hoping to snag Aiden before I left, maybe I can steal him after dinner?”

  “We don’t need him for anything,” my mother says, a little too eager.

  “You’re sure you don’t need me to do dishes or take out the trash, or something?” My mom laughs, but Olivia’s smile slips for just a second.

  My mother dismisses my sarcasm with a wave of her fork.

  OLIVIA

  When we’re done eating, Aiden’s mom hugs me, and he walks to the door with me following behind.

  I close the door behind us and join Aiden on the little porch that wraps around his house.

  He shoves his hands down into his pockets. “What are you doing here, Olivia?”

  “Eating chicken?” I say, with a smile that’s taking a lot of effort because of the way Aiden is looking at me right now. He doesn’t want me here. “Really good chicken.”

  “Why are you here?” Aiden repeats it, like maybe I didn’t hear him the first time.

  I push through, smiling. Fake it ’til you make it, that’s what they say. And until Aiden forgives me, I’m just going to pretend that he isn’t looking at me like he wishes it were anyone else on his porch right now. “I suck. I know I do.” I can feel my smile wavering. “But I think maybe I deserve one more chance. Maybe we deserve it?”

  I don’t wait for him to respond. I push forward, my voice nervous and fast. “Meet me at River Depot in an hour?”

  “You want me to go to work?” He’s trying to be tough but I can tell he’s curious.

  “Meet me at the docks.” I start down the steps and pause at the bottom. “Wear something comfortable.” I throw the instruction over my shoulder. “And be prepared to get wet.”

  I probably don’t deserve another chance, so there’s a definite possibility that Aiden doesn’t show up. But I have nothing to lose, so I’m going to give this a try. I’m going to chase him for as long as he lets me—right up until I get on a plane to Arizona.

  AIDEN

  When I’m back in the house I decide I’m not going to River Depot. Olivia managed to string me along all summer, and now here she is, weaseling her way into my house with a smile and a hug. For what? So my mom can get attached to her and I can spend my senior year hearing about “the one who got away”? My mom is in the kitchen, piling dishes into the sink. You can always tell when my dad is doing dishes, because the plates are still coated in food. The only fun part of dishes for my dad is grinding things into oblivion in the garbage disposal. Even though my mom swears up and down that all that crap isn’t supposed to be going down our pipes. If it were up to Dad, he would feed corncobs down it like a meat grinder, just to see if he could.

  Mom looks up when I come in. “I thought you were going with Olivia.”

  The only reason I leave the house is to avoid having to talk to my mother about this. She just sat through her first dinner with a girl I brought home (not that I brought her home, or even invited her) and I know the night will hold nothing for me but questions and commentary on all things Olivia. So I’m on my bike, pedaling in the muggy evening air, and before I know it, I’m a block from River Depot. I shouldn’t go. Somewhere deep inside me I know that, but also, I can’t help but be curious about what Olivia wants. Any hope I have is pushed down remembering that Olivia said, not even an hour ago, that she was still moving. This is just her mending fences before she leaves, and all it’s going to do is hurt more.

  But even as I think it, I’m pulling in to River Depot, dumping my bike at the rack and skipping the lock. It’s seven o’clock, and Beth is checking in the equipment for the night, stacking paddles inside the garage and pulling the door closed behind her as I come down the last set of stairs. She smiles and looks surprised when she sees me.

  “Have you seen Olivia?” I don’t know why I sound irritated, it’s not like it’s Beth’s fault that I didn’t just say no to Olivia and then stick to it.

  Beth shakes her head. “Nope. I don’t think she was on the schedule today.”

  “She asked me to meet her.” I look at my phone—it’s been fifty-five minutes.

  Beth puts a hand on my shoulder and pats it as she walks past me toward the stairs.

  “Okay. Well I’m sure she’ll be here soon.” She smiles and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have any idea what’s going on. “Have a good night.” I wonder if Olivia has told anyone we broke up. Or if she even had to, since no one knew we were together to begin with. The thought of it pokes me in a raw place.

  I sit on the little bench next to the docks, where little kids sit while their parents strap them into life jackets. That’s what I need right now; something to save me from being pulled under by hope again. I’m looking at my phone, swearing that the second it hits seven o’clock I’m out of here, when I hear my name. My first thought is to look toward the deck, where people are still milling around with their ice cream cones, but I realize it’s coming from the river. And the second time I hear it, it’s louder. I look toward the river just as a canoe comes into view. Olivia is in the back, her paddle cutting through one side and then the other, until she’s in front of the docks, dragging the paddle through the water to bring the boat to a stop. She reaches for the dock but can’t quite grab it, and the boat is tipping as she struggles to get closer. Her eyes dart between me and the dock, and I run out and put my hand out to pull her in. She grabs hold and uses me as leverage to bring the canoe alongside me. As soon as the boat clinks along the wooden planks, I release her and put a hand on the boat itself, squatting down to hold it.

  “What are you doing?” I say.

  “Get in.”

  “Where did you put the canoe in?” I ask, looking downstream.

  “Ellis helped me put it in at the public ramp.”

  No wonder she looks like she’s been through the wringer. The public docks are a trek on your own, especially for someone like Olivia who isn’t used to canoeing. I bet she was a sight to see zigzagging down the river fro
m bank to bank. “Get in,” she repeats.

  “Olivia—”

  “Let me take you for a ride.” She slaps a hand against the canoe, as if I didn’t know what she was referring to. “I owe you.”

  I look back at the boat garage and then upstream, as if there may be another canoe coming, a better option. Someone to rescue me from making the horrible mistake of getting into this one. But no one’s coming, so I do it. We’re heading down the river, and there’s no turning back.

  OLIVIA

  As we paddle down the river—and by we, I mean me, because I forgot to grab an extra oar for Aiden—I’m starting to think this was a horrible idea. Because Aiden didn’t seem even mildly thrilled to get into this canoe with me, and he looks rigid and awkward in front of me now. Meanwhile, I’m trying to focus on keeping us in a semi-straight line, with only minimal success. Olivia, what were you thinking? I’ve clearly read too many romance novels. We’re in a straight section, so I set my paddle across my lap and open the bag I have between my feet. I pull the folded papers out, and now I have to actually talk to the guy in the front of my canoe. The one who hasn’t said a word to me. I clear my throat. “Can you read this?”

  Aiden doesn’t react right away. He stays frozen in place, like maybe I’m talking to someone else on this deserted river. Maybe if the river was filled with tubers and other boats, it wouldn’t feel so awkward. I wish we had that noise to lighten the mood. Right now the air is filled with nothing but the heavy feeling that Aiden doesn’t want to be here with me. It’s engulfing me, like a heavy cloud that follows our boat down the clear blue river. Finally he shifts and turns toward me. His eyes are on the papers I’m holding in my outstretched hand. They don’t meet mine. I don’t really blame him though. After all, I did ruin our summer.

  AIDEN

  I don’t look at her, because it’s hard to stay mad when we’re out on the water and all I’m thinking about is our first few trips: our escape from the reporters, the first time she saw the sunset from the river, as we forged out into the big lake. I take the papers from her and hold them for a minute before opening them. I’m not sure what I expect. A goodbye letter of some sort, I suppose. Olivia doesn’t want to leave with me mad at her, but I don’t know if I can give her that. I don’t know if I can get over it that quickly and let go of her all over again. The white paper is folded and creased, and I open it to reveal an essay. I read it as Olivia continues to push us down a jagged line through the river: HOW TO RUIN SUMMER by Olivia Henry.

  When I’m done reading Olivia’s essay we’re close to the lake and the sky is warm, but it’s still another hour until sunset. We cut through the beach, heading into the lake, and I think about the first time we did this; the way Olivia froze up as we neared the end of the river, when I told her we’d be “sucked” out. I didn’t know her then, but I do now. She didn’t tell me everything over the last few months, but she showed me a lot. And now she’s even shown me something I never asked for—her writing. I take the papers in my hands and fold them three more times before tucking them into my pocket. The canoe shifts a little when I do, and I sneak a glance back at Olivia, to see how she’s handling this last leg before we hit the lake. The current has picked up now, and there isn’t much paddling to do, only steering. Her eyes are ahead, fixed on the horizon, but they meet mine for just a second, and she smiles.

  “Thank you,” I say, my voice soft, because I feel like I should say more but don’t know how—or what.

  “You’re welcome.” She gives me a shy smile and her eyes go back to the water. “I’m going to try not to drown us,” she says lightly, and I laugh. “I forgot a few things … including the cushions.”

  “I promise not to drown,” I say. But what I really mean is that I would never let anything happen to her. I wonder if she’s ever had that, someone who put her above everything, and I realize she hasn’t. Zander left her, and her mother is just now acting like she cares at all, and even her Aunt Sarah put her job first; or at least it feels that way to Olivia. I wish I had told her how I felt about her, before she gave up on me the way everyone else has given up on her.

  We cross into the lake without drowning, but when we’re out in the push of Lake Michigan, it’s obvious that Olivia is struggling to keep us from being washed onto the shore. It’s much rougher tonight than the first night we ventured this way, but she hasn’t given up yet. She’s shook though. I can tell by her little gasps every time a wave picks us up, tips us to the right, and then crashes us down to the left. This isn’t the kind of day you take a canoe out on Lake Michigan. Every length of the canoe, we’re getting closer and closer to land, and by the time we reach the beach that I’m guessing is our final destination, we’re running parallel to the shore, about to scrape along the rocky bottom.

  Olivia lets out a huge sigh as we begin to wash up onto the sand. I couldn’t do anything from the front of the canoe, but now I take a step out and pull the bow up onto the shore.

  “Here,” I say, holding my hand out to Olivia. She drops her paddle into the boat, slings her bag over one shoulder, and takes my hand, climbing out onto the sand.

  “We’re here,” she says with a smile, but her voice says that she didn’t think we’d actually make it.

  I laugh. “And no one drowned.”

  “Thankfully,” she says, the stress starting to drain out of her face as her shoulders soften. She doesn’t pause at the shoreline, just hoists her backpack onto the other shoulder, and starts toward the grass behind us. “This way,” she says.

  * * *

  The sky is shining pink through the treetops as we make our way up the steep dune. Olivia took a hit from her inhaler before we began climbing, and she’s taking slow, measured steps. She’s leading this time; in control. I follow behind, wondering how we’ll get the canoe back up the river in the dark. There’s no way I can make it without a light or Ellis to lead. We hike up the last hundred feet of the dune, Olivia charging ahead of me, traversing the trunks of fallen trees and ducking beneath sagging branches. She’s not talking to me—and I’m not talking to her—and it’s giving me too much time to think. About why she brought me here, at sunset, when clearly I’ve seen it a million times. This dune held no significance to me, it was simply the perfect platform on which to capture the scene below. A scene I never painted anyway. So why are we working so hard to get back here?

  When we reach the top, Olivia steps to the side of the narrow, sandy path, and lets me pass her. “Turn around,” she says, just as I walk into the opening.

  I do what she says, and stare back at her. Her face is red, but she looks better than the first time we climbed here. She lowers her backpack, strap by strap, and sets it at her feet. As she unzips it, she says, “Close your eyes.”

  “Olivia—” I argue, but her voice is soft and pleading.

  “Please, Aiden?”

  I do what she asks, and close my eyes. The air is still hot, even though the sun is making its final descent, but the breeze on the dunes is cool against my heated face, and sends goose bumps across my arms.

  Hands fall on my biceps, and turn me around, then they’re gone. A hand on my shoulders pushes me forward, one step, two steps, three, until I’m starting to get nervous that Olivia brought me up here just to push me off. Her hands are gone again, and I feel the sand shift next to me. Even though we’re not touching, I can tell she’s right there, her arm so close to mine that I want to move it just an inch to touch her.

  “Okay.” She takes a deep breath that seems amplified with my eyes closed. “Open your eyes.”

  I do what she says, letting the orange of the sky slide past my eyelids. The orange is almost rusty where the sun is slipping below the lake, and as my eyes sweep across the water, I wonder what exactly I’m supposed to be seeing. I look to Olivia next to me, and she pushes me forward another step with her hand on my lower back.

  “Down there.” She points to the beach below us, and when my eyes drop down, I see why she brought me here. W
hat we made the climb for, why she subjected me to her mediocre boating skills one more time.

  Below us—in the sandy gap between the grass that skirts the bottoms of the dune and the blue water that’s nipping at the shore—is a message. There are no words, but I still know what it says.

  OLIVIA

  It took me two days, with a lot of help from Ellis, to get the stones out to the beach. We bought them from a local farmer—they’re oddly shaped, dirty, and rough, not pretty enough for landscapers. But after being painted they look beautiful laid out on the beach. On the left is a mass of green rocks shaped like Arizona. And on the right—much bigger—a mitten-shaped arrangement of blue rocks. And in it, a red heart. My heart. There’s a line of black rocks that stretches from one state to the other.

  I swallow back my nerves. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Aiden turns to meet my eyes, and it’s not helping my nerves to look into his.

  “I’m moving.”

  His voice is soft. “I know.”

  “I should have told you, and I probably shouldn’t have done any of this with you, knowing I was leaving.”

  His eyes look disappointed.

  “But I did do this, and now I’m in it. Even if I’m not going to be in the same state as you … I’m in it. Because nine months without you is going to feel like forever, but not being with you at all…? That just doesn’t feel like an option.”

  Aiden isn’t saying anything, he’s just looking at me, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. More than anything though, he looks confused. He looks away from me, back to the beach, and his hand slips around mine.

  “I knew you had an eye for art,” he says with a smile.