by Chase Connor
“Can I be honest with you?” I sighed as I sat back, mimicking Cooper’s posture. “I mean, about boyfriends and stuff?”
“Of course, man.” Cooper turned his body in his seat to give me his undivided attention. “What are best friends for if not to talk shit about the guys we’re in love with?”
I laughed. “Sometimes I wonder if A.J. is just with me because I’m good enough…for now. He’s never said or done anything to make me feel that way, it’s just…I mean…how many high school sweethearts actually end up together forever?”
Cooper shrugged.
“This isn’t exactly common, Logan,” Cooper said. “Four LGBTQ-plus guys finding someone they love in high school, even when they couldn’t exactly be super open about it? That’s unusual. I don’t really have statistics on how often that works out, ya’ know?”
I snorted with laughter.
“Maybe we are but summer to each other’s hearts,” Cooper sighed, “but we won’t know until summer ends.”
“You think A.J. will dump me after summer is up?” I sighed, feeling defeated that Cooper agreed with my assessment.
Cooper punched me lightly on my arm with a laugh.
“When you get home, look up Sonnet 27 by Edna St. Vincent Millay.” He said.
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t agreeing with you.” Cooper opened his door. “Just commenting on the possibility that maybe we’re all fucked as far as love goes. Maybe we’re summer in each other’s hearts but not the full four seasons.”
“Huh?”
“Sonnet 27 by Edna St. Vincent Millay.” Cooper winked at me and then slid out of the car.
Cooper gave me a quick hug—and I reminded him to ask his dad about the beach house—before he headed into his house, leaving me alone in his driveway. With a sigh, I walked over to my car, which was parked at the curb, and slid into the driver’s seat. My phone dinged in my pocket as I reached for the “Start” button on my car. I pulled my phone out and looked at the screen.
Shaking my head, I ignored the text and stuffed my phone back into my pocket. I’d tell Cooper what I thought of his comment when he texted to confirm that Mr. Weissman was on board with the beach house idea. Instead of worrying about whether or not Mr. Weissman would agree, however, I pulled away from Cooper’s house and headed home. A few minutes later, I was pulling into the driveway outside of my house. Mom’s Tahoe was in the garage on one side, and Dad’s Volvo was in the stall next to it. There wasn’t a third spot in the garage for my car, so I parked at the end of the driveway next to the house like I always did and shut off the car. A.J.’s car was out at the curb in front of the house, so I knew he had already shown up and was waiting for me inside. However, before I got out of the car, I pulled my phone out and pulled up Safari. A few keystrokes later and I was pulling up the poem Cooper had told me to look up:
I know I am but summer to your heart,
And not the full four seasons of the year;
And you must welcome from another part
Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear.
No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell
Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing;
And I have loved you all too long and well
To carry still the high sweet breast of Spring.
Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes,
I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums,
That you may hail anew the bird and rose
When I come back to you, as summer comes.
Else will you seek, at some not distant time,
Even your summer in another clime.
Well, I thought to myself, that’s not depressing or anything.
Right?
Or had I not understood the intent of the poem? Rolling my eyes, I contemplated calling Cooper so that he could tell me exactly what the poem, and his referencing of it, really meant. However, I knew that Cooper was probably already bugging Mr. Weissman about the beach house, so interrupting that discussion would probably make things worse. Additionally, Cooper rarely meant anything when he referenced a piece of poetry or literature. It was merely food for thought for whomever he gave the reference. More or less, he was probably just telling me that sometimes love is fleeting and lasts only as long as it is supposed to last.
That didn’t make me feel any better as I slid out of my car and stuffed my phone back into my pocket, my mood suddenly dour. I couldn’t help but wonder why Cooper would plant such a negative thought and poem in my head so early into the summer. The fact that the end of the season would mean all of us scattering with the winds was not lost on me. I knew that Cooper would be going to California with Alex. I had no idea what I was going to do, and A.J. hadn’t made it entirely clear what he had planned for his future. There were so many uncertainties and anxiety-inducing certainties in our futures that waiting until later in the summer to think about them was my idea of what was best.
As I pushed open the kitchen door, it was obvious that Katie had already planned her attack pattern for my arrival. She was leaping at me before I even had a chance to close the door behind myself. Laughing as she wrapped her arms and legs around me, I caught her and kicked the door shut with the heel of my shoe. Mom was putting up groceries—which she always seemed to be doing—and A.J. was sitting at the kitchen table, smiling widely at Katie’s assault of my person. I gave Katie a squeeze and a sloppy kiss on the forehead, which made her giggle, before I pulled back to really look at her.
“You saw me just two hours ago, Katie-bug.” I winked at her.
“I missed you!” She screamed in my face.
My sister has a problem with volume control at times. All you can do is try not to cringe as your eardrums are assaulted, though it’s impossible to not feel joy at her affection. Katie is never afraid to let someone know how much she loves them.
“I missed you, too.” I gave her another sloppy kiss, which made her giggle more and squirm out of my arms as mom smiled over at us, a bag of frozen tater tots in her hand.
Mom jiggled the bag at me mischievously. It was Sunday, so we didn’t have our family dinners where we took turns picking what to eat—Katie always picked fish sticks and tater tots—but that bag let me know that Friday would arrive soon enough.
“How was Cooper?” Mom asked. “Still gorgeous as ever?”
“Hey!” A.J. laughed.
I laughed at the insinuation my boyfriend’s interjection made.
“Not nearly as gorgeous as you, obviously.” My mother gave A.J. a wink as she stuffed the bag of tots into the freezer.
“He’s fine.” I shrugged, remembering the poem once again, my mood threatening to turn dour once more. “I think Cheryl might actually become step-mom Cheryl one day.”
“Really?” My mom gasped. “Oh! Joe and Cheryl would make such a great couple. Well, I guess they already do, right?”
A.J. was trying to get my attention as my mother spoke.
“Yeah.” I agreed quickly. “They’ll just maybe be official one day, I guess.”
My boyfriend was gesturing to me more as he rose from the table and headed towards the living room. Mom was neither an idiot nor blind. She saw A.J.’s gesture, no matter how discreet, as well as the desire in my eyes to follow him. She shook her head with a grin and motioned for me to follow him, excusing me from having to speak with her further about Cooper’s dad and his girlfriend. I gave Mom a wink and followed A.J. into the main part of the house.
In the living room, Katie was scaling the stairs towards the second floor, obviously on her way to play with her multitude of stuffed animals. Her favorite, Gerald the Giraffe, needed her attention often. She had loved the toy from the first moment she laid eyes on him, but that love had grown exponentially since Cooper had given her the book Giraffes Can’t Dance. Now, it was pretty uncommon to see Katie without the stuffed animal tucked under her arm, accompanying her anywhere she went in the house. That was why the giraffe had the name “Gerald.” It had been �
�Geoffrey,” but a change was in order after Cooper had given Katie her favorite book.
A.J. turned to see what I was looking at, his eyes landing on Katie. As soon as she was out of sight, in the hallway upstairs, and he gave a glance over my shoulder to make sure that my mom wasn’t sneaking into the living room to check in on us, he reached out and grabbed the front of my shirt. He pulled me in roughly with a smile, and his lips found mind. My hands rose automatically to his hips, holding him gently as he assaulted my mouth. I’d never get tired of A.J.’s kisses…no matter what season it was.
“I missed you, too, ya’ know.” He sighed as he pulled away.
“You just saw me last night.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He gave me another quick peck on the lips. “Weissman finally say ‘yes’ or is he still being a bitch?”
I laughed against A.J.’s lips before pulling away. Finally, I moved backward, away from his body, since being so close to A.J. made me think and do things that weren’t appropriate in such close proximity to my mother and sister. Noticing my movements, A.J. gave me a grin and reached out to grab my hand and twine his fingers through mine. I allowed my boyfriend to lead me to the sofa so that we could sit down next to each other, his shorter frame laid against mine as we came to rest on the cushions. A.J. leaned his head back so that he could look up into my eyes.
“We don’t have to ever set foot in Dismal Academy ever again.” He said.
“That’s still not your greatest joke, babe.”
“I told you to come up with a new one.”
“Words aren’t my thing.” I smiled down at him. “I’m a man of action, not words.”
A.J. waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.
“So, you asked the wrong guy.” I shrugged.
“I’ve heard you talk.” He quipped. “Sometimes you just won’t shut up no matter how much I beg.”
“Oh, you want to be like that?” I teased back.
“Will it get me any punishment?”
The evil grin on his face made lower parts of me stir, but I refused to fall into my boyfriend’s machinations right there in my family’s living room. Instead of answering A.J.’s trap-laden question, I laid a hand over his eyes, forming a tight seal with our flesh.
“Go to sleep now.” I cooed. “Surely you’re all tuckered out from being a pervert all of the damn time.”
“Only for you.” He ended up having to mumble as I laid my other hand over his mouth as well. “Mumfamuma.”
“Sorry.” I teased. “Didn’t catch a word of that.”
A.J. reached up and pulled my hands away from his face, a chuckle echoing forth as he looked up at me and shook his head at my antics. I just smiled back as I looked down at him.
“I was trying to say that Monday we are doing this.” He explained. “If Weissman and Johnson want to be douchebags, just the two of us will go, damnit.”
“You won’t be bored with just me?”
“Why would I be bored with you?” He frowned. “Coop and Alex are boring aye-eff, but you are not boring, babe. You’re my favorite thing.”
A grin nearly split my face in two.
“You’re my favorite thing, too,” I responded the same way I had every time since A.J. had started saying it a month into our relationship. “The best thing in the whole world.”
“Besides you.”
“This is gross, right?” I laughed.
“The grossest.” He nodded slowly, his head rubbing against my chest. “Are we just sticking around here today? I mean, your mom, dad, and Katie are here. My house is completely empty. Mom and dad took off this morning to go up to the Hamptons, so…”
I grinned evilly.
“Can we have lunch with my family first?” I asked softly. “We’ll need the energy anyway, right?”
“Duh.” He rolled his eyes comically.
Staring down into A.J.’s eyes, I could do nothing but smile and feel so grateful that I had his love in my life. But there was still that lingering doubt in my mind, that piece of me that wondered if my boyfriend had ideas about our future. Would the final summer after high school bring the realization that maybe we were just a season in each other’s lives? The desire to just ask the question, to get it out on the table, to prepare me for whatever would come at the end of summer burned in my chest. Those eyes looking back up to me made it completely impossible.
“What is it, babe?” A.J. asked as he reached up to stroke my cheek.
“Nothing.” I forced myself to smile. “I’m just enjoying this moment.”
“One of so many to come.”
I supposed that was an answer.
Chapter 3
Cooper
Jumper was getting old. There was no way I could really deny that fact as I scratched behind his ears, and he bathed in the beam of sunlight that slashed across my bed. When I had started middle school, dad and I had gone to the local no-kill animal shelter to find a dog. He had promised all through elementary school that if I was responsible, did my homework, did my chores, and was generally a good kid, he’d let me get a dog. Other than a “bit of sass,” as he would have described it, I was a pretty good kid all during elementary school, with very few hiccups. So, after the first full week of middle school, the two of us got up early on Saturday and went to the shelter, prepared to decide on a dog that would make a good pet for me.
At the shelter, as one of the employees was leading us through the facility to the back, where all of the large dog kennels were located, my eyes had landed on the rows and stacks of little “cat jails” that lined one wall. A gray, tiger-striped tabby and I immediately locked eyes. He looked pathetic and sickly, as though he might be on his last leg. Frankly, he looked dejected, as though he had never had a friend in the whole world for his entire existence. I had tugged at Dad’s hand—I was still at an age where holding hands was not completely out of the question—and begged him to let me look at the cat.
The shelter employee had pled with us to look at the dogs—or even a different cat—because this gray, tiger-striped tabby had been at the shelter forever. He refused to eat half the time, wasn’t great at keeping himself clean, didn’t have the best disposition, and had been brought to the shelter when he wouldn’t stop biting his former owner. The cat looked at me through the bars of his cage with golden-brown eyes, pleading with me to take him away from the Hell he had found himself in at the shelter. I told Dad that the cat needed us to take him home and love him, to nurse him back to health, to show him love. Dad hadn’t been so sure, but he had asked more questions about the cat.
The employee told us that the cat had been neutered, declawed (which she hadn’t been too happy about), was up to date on shots, flea preventative, the works. He just didn’t seem to have much of his spirit left. The best they could tell, he was probably four-years-old. Maybe you’d prefer a kitten, though? We could always take your name and number and call you as soon as we have some? A kitten is such a great pet for a kid. That’s what the shelter employee had said as she nodded and smiled widely down at me.
I didn’t like her.
I had begged Dad to let me have the cat.
With a sigh, he had finally relented, and against the protests of the shelter employee, he told her to get him ready for us. So, a half-hour later, much to my father’s bemusement, we left the shelter, a brown box, with a handle and breathing holes, held securely in my hand. I couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face as my other hand held my father’s, and I smiled up at him. He was an even bigger hero to me at that moment than he had ever been before.
Back at home, after a quick stop at the pet store, Dad and I had taken the box into the laundry room and closed the door. He showed me how to set up the litter box, scoop it, fix up a food and water bowl, the basics of how to care for a cat. I got a lecture about taking care of my new pet responsibly and adequately—I held the responsibility of taking care of another life now. Tentatively after Dad’s Master Class in pet care, we had popped open the lid of the brown box
and watched as a head the size of a child’s fist slowly rose up to look out at us. I had chuckled or giggled or made some type of happy, childlike noise, which startled our new cat.
And the name “Jumper” was chosen like that.
Over the following month, anytime I was not in school, I spent every waking moment with my new cat. At first, I spent my time coaxing him closer to me so that I could gently pet him for a brief moment before he’d dash away once again. After a few days, I could pet him for several minutes before he’d hide again. Dad would just shake his head with a grin and tell me to “keep at it, he’ll come around.” So, I did just that. Within two weeks, I was able to use a damp washcloth to gently clean Jumper, though it wasn’t his favorite thing. But trust had been built. I guess that reminded him of one of his personal hygiene duties that he had been neglecting and he began cleaning himself often. By the end of the month, Jumper was a lap-kitty, a nighttime snuggler, a face nuzzler, and would get upset if he felt that I didn’t pet him long enough.
It took him a little longer to get used to Dad since they hadn’t spent every waking moment together, but he came around quickly enough. Over time, however, Jumper began splitting his nights between mine and Dad’s beds. He had finally adopted us both as his humans. It became apparent that Jumper realized the same thing I had known all along—my Dad was the best guy in the whole world. As I sat there on the edge of my bed, petting his soft fur, I was glad to know Dad and Jumper would have each other when I went to UCLA.
“How do cats always get their way?” I looked up at the sound of my dad’s voice.
He was standing in the doorway of my bedroom, a suitcase on wheels sat upright next to his legs.
“He rules this place, Dad.” I smiled. “He never has to try.”
“No, no.” Dad waved me off, pretending to be annoyed. “I’m going for a ‘Dad Joke’ here, son.”
