Summer Hearts

by Chase Connor

  When we got to the restaurant, there wasn’t exactly a line waiting for tables, but it did take the hostess a few minutes to figure out where to seat us. Apparently, the waitstaff and busboys were clearing tables as quickly as they could, coordinating their efforts to get people seated, fed, and out of the door as quickly as possible to accommodate the influx of locals and tourists looking for a seafood dinner on a Sunday night. Because of all of the diners and the waitstaff rushing about and the sounds of tables getting cleared, the restaurant was much louder than it had been on our previous visit. Luckily, after a few minutes, the four of us were led out to the patio by our waitress and seated. The patio had a calmer, quieter ambiance to it was far removed from the echoey interior of the restaurant.

  Everyone on the patio seemed to be enjoying their evenings immensely, most of the diners were much older than the four of us, so spirited libations had amplified their happiness. However, no one was acting inappropriately, the atmosphere was just jubilant. It was actually nice to see so many happy, spirited people in one place, enjoying meals with their friends and family. It made it easier to forget about the tension of the last two weeks. Looking at Alex across the table didn’t make me want to throw something in his face. It’s hard to be a sourpuss when everyone around you is laughing and carrying on with their happy conversations.

  The spirit of the evening and the ambiance of the restaurant made me make a decision. I had five hundred bucks in my pocket. I could throw a little bit of it around. Mrs. Robinson told me to do whatever I wanted with the money she had collected from the lunch staff at Dextrus, so I was going to do just that. I reached towards my pocket to check for my wallet as I addressed the table.

  “I’ll pay for dinner tonight, guys,” I stated happily.

  “What?” Logan looked delighted. “You’re going to treat a fella?”

  A.J. laughed. “Lobster time!”

  “Get whatever you want.” I shrugged, though I knew both Logan and A.J. would get the all-you-can-eat fried shrimp, just like the time before.

  “We all know what I’m getting.” Logan laughed, reading my mind.

  “Same.” A.J. shrugged.

  Neither of them had bothered to look at their menus.

  “You’re going to pay for dinner?” Alex finally joined the conversation.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Let me pay.” He stated evenly. “I can take care of it.”

  “So can I.”

  A.J. and Logan both tensed, though they did everything they could to pretend that they weren’t listening.

  “You don’t need to spend the money you have,” Alex stated.

  In my heart of hearts, I knew that Alex was trying to do me a solid. Keep me from spending money that I really couldn’t afford to spend, but it made my hackles start to rise. I didn’t need him telling me what I could or could not afford, and I certainly didn’t need him coming to my rescue after I had made a promise to buy dinner.

  “I have enough money.”

  “You should save it for college.”

  “My tuition is paid.”

  “You’re too poor to throw money around,” Alex said.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Logan cringe.

  Instead of saying what was on mine mind—actually, instead of stabbing Alex with my steak knife while Gangsta Rap from the 90s played in my head—I calmly removed my napkin from my lap and laid it on the table. My eyes stayed on Alex’s, staring him down as I stood from my seat.

  “Coop…” A.J. said.

  “I’m going to go to the bar for a minute.”

  “They won’t serve you alcohol.” Alex was confused.

  “It’s to get out of your sight, you fucking asshole.” I leaned down to whisper-hiss at him, trying to keep the other diners on the patio from hearing our conversation.

  Logan and A.J. cringed, and Alex looked as though I had punched him right in his nose.

  “Oh,” I added, “you’re poor, too. Your daddy is rich. Don’t forget that. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Then I stood up, turned on my heels, and strolled away, equally proud of myself and embarrassed at losing my cool so easily. As I walked through the restaurant, I realized that I had taken Alex’s bait the first chance I had gotten. He hadn’t been trying to bait me, actually, but the fact that he so easily acted like an entitled dick was infuriating. Of course, A.J. and Logan hadn’t deserved to have their evening ruined, but I was too upset to care about that. Instead of just saying “thanks” or making a joke about how much he was going to eat, like Logan and A.J. had done, he had thrown my family’s economic situation out like it was an insult. He had made me feel lesser. Without even trying.

  Luckily for me, when I got back into the restaurant, the bar barely had anyone sitting on the stools that surrounded it. Merely a long, wooden, raised counter that ran the length of the restaurant, bottles of hooch and a plethora of glasses lining the wall behind it, the bar was pretty standard. Some white Christmas lights were strung overhead, for ambiance I guessed, and the stools were nothing fancy. But it looked like a perfect respite from sitting across the table from the biggest jackass I knew. I traversed the room and hopped up onto the closest stool, immediately attracting the bartender’s attention.

  “There’s no way you’re getting a drink without an ID.” He laughed, though he was serious.

  “I just wanted a water.” I smiled. “I’m waiting on my friends to take their good sweet time figuring out what they want to eat.”

  He eyed me warily for a moment, then smiled and gave me a nod.

  “All right.” He agreed. “But don’t ask for anything stronger than a soda.”

  “Got it.” I agreed.

  The bartender grabbed a large glass from the shelf behind him and filled it up with what I could only think of as a spigot with a hose attached, then set it in front of me.

  “Want a lemon? Or lime?” He asked with a grin.

  “This is fancy enough, thanks.” I laughed.

  “All right.” He said. “Don’t get too wild.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, even though my face was still burning with rage and embarrassment. Bringing the glass to my lips, I took a healthy gulp of the water, trying to calm myself down. People in the restaurant were carrying on with their animated conversations, laughing, joking loudly, having a grand old time with dinner. It was like they didn’t even realize that the biggest douchebag in the world was merely yards away, probably trying to explain to our friends how he had done nothing wrong. The thought made my stomach clench up angrily as I sipped more water.

  “Cooper Weissman!”

  I jumped at my name being announced right next to me.

  Turning on my stool, I was relieved to see a familiar face attached to the person on the stool next to me. My first instinct was that someone—an adult, er, older adult—was going to tell me that I didn’t belong at the bar. Which was ridiculous when I thought about it since the person addressed me by name. Obviously, this person knew who I was and wasn’t some random diner at the restaurant. After dealing with Alex acting like an entitled jerk at our table, though, my head wasn’t exactly clear enough to think logically.

  “Mr. Powell.” I gave him a genuine smile. “Um, Carter.”

  He laughed. “Are you trying to use your fake ID?”

  I held up my glass of water.

  “Just trying to rehydrate, sir.” I chuckled.

  “Carter.” He corrected me. “Not ‘Mr. Powell’ or ‘sir,’ all right?”

  I nodded.

  “Are you and your friends out for dinner?” He asked, looking around as though he might spot the guys.

  “Buying furniture.” I quipped, making him laugh. “Sorry. That was a little smart aleck-y of me.”

  He waved me off. “It was funny. And deserved.”

  I shrugged and sipped my water.

  “Are you enjoying your stay?” He asked, picking up a cocktail of some kind in a short, stubby glass. “Any other
people losing their children? It would make me feel better if so.”

  I laughed. “I find at least two a day, so you’re good.”

  He laughed with me.

  “Um, yeah,” I added with a nod. “We’ve had a good time.”

  There was no point in spilling all of the details of my life and relationship to Mr. Powell, so I just kept it simple.

  “We’re leaving tomorrow,” I added.

  “That’s too bad.” He reached over to pat my back. “Beach life is the best life.”

  “Don’t you have to get back to the office eventually?”

  “Eventually.” He winked. “But I have the benefit of being the boss and working remotely.”

  “I would say I hope that I can claim the same one day, but I’m betting most teachers don’t get to say that.”

  He chuckled. “Probably not. But I think it’s wonderful what you’re doing. I really do, Cooper.”

  “Thank you, Carter.”

  He clinked his glass against mine.

  “If I get tired of molding young minds, at least I know you.” I teased. “I can come begging you for a job.”

  “You’d have it in a heartbeat.”

  Okay, so the man was probably lubricated well with alcohol. But it was nice that he said he would hire me on the spot, even if it weren’t entirely true.

  “Thank you.”

  “What do you plan to teach?” He asked, then seemed to have a thought. “Do you need to get back to your friends?”

  Shaking my head, I turned to him. “I’d really like to teach chemistry. Or any of the sciences, really. English is my second choice, I suppose.”

  He groaned. “Chemistry. The bane of my existence.”

  “A lot of people feel that way.”

  “I bet it’s simple for you, though, right?”

  “I mean, I don’t know—”

  “Don’t be modest.”

  “It’s simple.” I relented. “Mostly.”

  He smiled at me. “Good. So, molding young minds is why you’re getting into teaching. What else?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What other aspirations do you have as a teacher, Cooper?” He asked, turning fully to me, drink in hand. “Teaching is noble. Molding young minds is admirable. But you are too smart to not have grander goals.”

  My face felt warm as I looked down to the floor between us.

  “I mean,” I began, worried that maybe I shouldn’t share my biggest dreams with a virtual stranger, “it would be nice if I could help underprivileged students get into better schools, get better educations. Maybe start scholarship funds or grants. That would really just be the cherry on top, I guess.”

  Carter Powell’s genuine smile was back.

  “I think that’s extraordinary of you, Cooper Weissman.”

  I gave him a tentative smile, then had to laugh.

  “What is it?” He asked.

  “Growing up poor—well, poor compared to the other guys at Dextrus—makes that seem like such a fantasy. Who do I think I am? Having goals like that, you know? I’ve got five-hundred bucks to my name. Period. How am I going to figure out how to do that?”

  Carter just watched me as I talked.

  “Even if I become a teacher, I’ll never make enough money to bankroll any of that myself.” I continued, taking a sip of my water. “Maybe one day I’ll learn how to effectively apply for grants and things like that or get someone to help me create a foundation. But it just seems so unlikely right now. Right here. I know it will be a lot of hard work and all…but if I could become a teacher one day and know that I helped one kid who looked like me get a superior education, I’d probably be able to die anytime and be perfectly fine with it.”

  Carter was still just staring at me with a laser focus.

  “Is that weird?”

  “It’s fucking admirable.” He said, then shook his head. “Sorry.”

  I laughed. “Thank you, Carter.”

  “Cooper Weissman.” He slammed his drink, set it on the bar, and motioned for another from the bartender. “If you invested those five-hundred dollars wisely, you could get started on a foundation to help underprivileged kids who look like you.”

  “You think that’s enough?”

  “I know it is.” He said.

  “Would you help me?” I asked, somehow emboldened.

  “Maybe.” He turned business-like suddenly. “It’s possible that I could help you, Cooper Weissman.”

  “That—that would be great, Carter.”

  “I see my wife over there. She’s finally shown up.” He motioned vaguely across the room with a chuckle as he dug into the inner pocket of his blazer. “Here. Give me your number.”

  Carter held his iPhone out to me.

  I hesitated for a second, then took the phone from him and went about entering my contact information into his phone. When I was done, I slid the phone back to him. Carter pushed the phone back into his blazer pocket and grabbed his fresh drink as he hopped off of his stool.

  “Why don’t I call you in a week?” He suggested as he stood before me. “Maybe we can figure out how to make that idea work?”

  “That would be awesome, actually,” I said. “I’ll be back in Vermont then, but—”

  “Great.” He reached out and patted my shoulder. “We’ll be in touch soon, Cooper Weissman.”

  “Thank you, Carter,” I replied though I knew I was being dismissed. This wasn’t my first rodeo. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  “You, too.” He said. “And safe travels back home tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  Carter Powell walked, mostly in a steady line across the restaurant, finally stopping in front of a woman who was even too gorgeous for someone like him. I smiled to myself as he managed to sweep her back and give her a passionate kiss without spilling his drink. My smile grew as she came out of the kiss with a laugh that carried across the expanse of the restaurant like sleigh bells in a snowy field. They were obviously in love. Even if Carter Powell had dismissed me and my dream, at least he was a nice guy for the most part. And his wife was obviously thrilled to be with him. Love existed. That was a good enough lesson for the evening.

  So, I hopped off of my barstool, taking my water with me as I gave a nod to the bartender, then made my way back across the restaurant. Out on the patio, I caught sight of Carter and his wife being seated on the other side of the patio from the guys and me. The same server we had drawn was approaching his table. He saw me and gave a nod and a smile, which I returned, before returning to my seat at my table. All of the guys looked expectant, but Alex looked absolutely spooked by my return. I just glanced at him and then smiled at Logan and A.J.

  “Everybody know what they want?” I asked. “I think I’ll get lobster.”

  Logan and A.J. smiled back at me.

  “Fried shrimp.” They announced in unison.

  “Lobster,” Alex responded simply, looking chastened.

  Apparently, a conversation had happened while I had been at the bar with Carter talking about unlikely goals.

  “Good.” I gave Alex a nod as the waitress approached our table.

  “What are you gentlemen having this evening?” She asked, a brilliant smiling beaming down at us.

  We went in turn, giving our orders, all of us really going to town on the sides we wanted with our main courses. From the way A.J. and Logan ordered, I wondered if we wouldn’t be stopping every thirty minutes on the way home for one of them to puke…or do other things. However, it was our last night in Maine. It was only right that everyone had fun. I had already shown my ass when Alex had gotten under my skin, so there was no point in making things worse. Once we were done ordering and we were all handing our menus back to the waitress, she turned to me with a brilliant smile.

  “Mr. Carter Powell,” She began, “would like the smartest and kindest prep school valedictorian he’s ever met to know that he will be covering your check.”

  “Wh-what?” Logan and A.J. st
ammered in unison.

  Nervously, I glanced across the patio at Carter’s table. He and his wife looked over and raised their glasses to me. I blushed and gave them a nod. I turned back to the waitress.

  “Well,” I said, “he’s being too kind, but we appreciate it. Thank you.”

  The waitress simply beamed, gently patted my shoulder, and walked away to put in our orders. A.J. and Logan were beside themselves, amazed that Carter Powell was going to pay for our dinner. Alex was staring at me with what looked like absolute shock. I shrugged at the guys and drained my water glass.

  “To Carter,” I said.

  A.J. and Logan repeated the sentiment while Alex continued to look absolutely dumbfounded.

  Chapter 8

  Logan

  We were only halfway back home when things got really messy in the car. Not like, oh, someone didn’t sleep well messy, but full-on, oh, holy shit, someone is going to get shanked in the kidney messy. For the first half of the trip, A.J. and Alex sat in the front and chose the music and did their thing. Cooper and I sat in the back, talking, showing each other memes on our phones, and doing our own thing. Unfortunately, my appetite pushed us all into a problem that I thought would cause the aforementioned kidney shanking. I had simply asked everyone in the car if we wanted to stop at a McDonald’s or something to get lunch. Alex had immediately said: “Yeah. Maybe Cooper can find another rich guy to pay for him.” The screaming match began immediately and was intense. Nearly causing us to have an accident, Alex pulled to the side of the road violently, and then both he and Cooper were jumping out of the car. A.J. turned in the front passenger seat, a look of fear on his face as we listened in silence to our two friends screaming at each other outside of the car.