The Summer of Me & You

by Rae Hachton

  “I didn't have to follow you,” she said. “I knew where to find you.”

  “Yeah, well—the last time you were here, you ended up running off and never speaking to me again. Maybe we should just keep it that way. I don't want a repeat.”

  “I'm here because I want to talk to you.”

  “What could you possibly have to say to me after almost two years?”

  “A lot?”

  “I'm not up for listening.”

  “Are you going to be mad at me forever because of that one day?”

  “You stopped talking to me,” I reminded her. “That one day lasted forever.”

  She said something that day that'd haunted me ever since.

  “You know—if you lay there like that and a train does kill you, you're never going to get what you really want. What you've been counting on.”

  “Oh yeah, and what's that? Enlighten me.”

  “To see yourself fail. It's what you expect. But dying isn't failing—it's forfeiting. You're gonna give up that fast, while it's still so early in the game?”

  “Whatever. You can't show up here out of the blue and pretend like you know me.” I didn't let her know how she'd affected me. “Where did you read that anyway? In some book?”

  She didn't have a comeback that time, so I tried to prompt her. “You don't know me.”

  “Never said I wanted to.”

  If only she knew how much I'd suffered after the day she quit talking to me. But she probably wouldn't even care. I mean, how much could she possibly care? I hadn't been the same since. I'd done crazy things because of her. Wrecked my car, temporarily done drugs—it was like I was losing my mind. And she shows up here like this, like nothing happened, a few weeks before my graduation.

  I was in a bad fucking mood.

  “Go away, Kayleigh.” On the inside I boiled. No one was supposed to see me like this. Especially not her.

  I heard the train coming. If she didn't leave, I was going to do something stupid again. She just stood there, asking for it.

  I couldn't control the impulse. I just lay there as the train inched closer and closer. Kayleigh must've been really tripping balls watching me and how fearless I was. But right before the train plowed into me, her small hands jerked me up and away and we went tumbling backward. She'd seen the side of me I never wanted her to see. I hovered over her, nearly breathless. She trembled, her knees shaking, her heartbeat racing. For a minute, I thought I'd get to see her cry.

  “Wow,” I said. “That was thrilling. Bet I scared the shit out of you.”

  She just pushed me off her. “You're an asshole.” She stood up, dusted herself, and left.

  I'd seen her in the hallways at school, but never face to face like I had that day at the train tracks. I ended up avoiding her for the rest of the school year. Until graduation night. Kayleigh was still a junior. I was a senior. What was she doing at my graduation?

  She approached me in the hallway just moments before I needed to line up to walk across stage to receive that paper diploma. Something I'd slaved for.

  “Why are you here, Kayleigh?”

  “I'm here to tell you how I really feel and why I disappeared that day.”

  I didn't want to hear it. Deep down, I already knew why. But it was too late for that. I had problems. I was graduating, and soon I'd be leaving for college. Now wasn't the ideal time to strike up a summer romance, just to see what it'd be like to be with me.

  “Look—if you're falling for the guy who you know is completely broken, then you have deeper issues to worry about other than the reason why he won't return your affections.”

  I would've gladly been with her had this occurred two years ago and not today of all days.

  One of the many things I really loved about Kayleigh was her retort. “No, actually I'm concerned with the fact that he's talking about himself in third person.”

  “Point proven.”

  “I want to know what's wrong with me? Why do you act this way towards me?”

  I smirked. “Whats wrong with you?—Nothing. You just don't fascinate me, Kayleigh. Not even in the slightest.”

  “That's such a mean thing to say.” A part of me wanted to hurt her in some way because I was so hurt.

  “Of course it is. You have such a high ego. What did you expect? It's called honesty, by the way. One day you're going to wish people could be as honest as I am.”

  “Does that policy work with yourself or only with other people? I'm thinking it's neither.”

  I spun around sharply. “Rule one: You can't chase after the guy who's this blatantly fucked up then wonder what went wrong when he breaks your heart.”

  That was Kayleigh's problem. She was too afraid. She didn't want a broken heart. She'd been guarding it. She'd kept it away from me. It was written all over her.

  “You really think too far ahead. Who's to say that'd ever happen?”

  Well, you must've thought it would. Why now? Why trust me now? I thought to myself.

  “Because. That's who I am and that's all I'd do.” Or, at least this is what Kayleigh thought about me.

  Now she was smiling. “No, I mean—what in the world makes you think I would ever fall for you? I've just been trying to get your attention so I could return this.”

  Was she trying to get to me?

  She held out my class ring.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “The day at the train tracks. I was going to return it sooner, but—” she shrugged—“I didn't want to remind you. And I was afraid to approach you.”

  “Why? You didn't think I could take it—rehashing that day over again in my head? I get it Kayleigh. You saved the guy who was trying to kill himself.”

  Her brow knitted together. “For one, I wasn't here to reminisce. For two, I didn't know you were trying to do that. I really thought you were just being stupid. Now I see that you are stupid.” She reached for my hand, turned it over, and placed my class ring gently in my palm, running her fingers lightly over my scars. She took one last look at me, then swiveled around, walking away. I hated when she walked away.

  But she pivoted to say one last thing. “Oh, and congratulations on acing all your classes.”

  I yelled to her, “I cheated!”

  I was a cheater, a heart-breaker, the guy she should avoid. I couldn't believe she'd made all of these assumptions about me. And because she had, I was going to play up to them. No point in trying to prove her wrong.

  “I figured you'd say that. Don't say it too loud though, or someone might tell, and then poof—there goes your scholarship.”

  When did the cute girl I love turn into such a bitch?

  For the rest of the night, all I did was think about her. Think about all the things that could've happened between us in high school, but hadn't. I was mad at her, I wanted to go to her tonight and confess my feelings for her. I hated her. I loved her.

  And I was going to torture her for the rest of the summer.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Want that one girl so badly

  *

  Dead.

  Everything was dead after graduation. Total dead space between now and the rest of my life. Actually, it was just one silent and uneventful week I had to get through. I'd signed up for the summer filmmaking class before I'd graduated. It would give me something to do in this boring town before I packed up and headed off to college, surprisingly, because I was considered a slacker. And the people who knew I was majoring in cinematography laughed at me. Apparently, that was only a subject that stoners majored in. Like, what the hell? What was I supposed to major in? Medicine?—I'd end up self medicating. I was too screwed up to be a psychiatrist. Not smart enough to be a doctor or a scientist, and that was boring shit anyway. So the only subject left that I could indulge myself in, to keep from being a complete loser, was art and film. It's what I loved.

  Stephen wanted me to get a job to pay back the money he'd given me for this “stupid” class. I tried explaining to hi
m it was for educational purposes. He said that it was a waste of time, and that any idiot could hold a camera in their hands, put some shit on tape and screen it, and that I needed to get serious about my life. As though his life was so well put together. He was a truck driver, and legally he wasn't even considered my step-dad. He wasn't married to my mom. But it wasn't like I hated the guy. He was nice enough to give me the money and he provided for my mom, because my own father had skipped out when I was born. I never knew him. Also, Stephen's brother Brian was fucking awesome.

  Stephen had moved us out of our two story house and into a smaller one so he would have more money for his granddaughter Alison and for my college fund. I told him he didn't have to pay for me. I was supposed to have a dad for that, but Stephen had always been there for me and my mom.

  Past the railroad tracks sat a junkyard. The wire fence was torn so I pulled it back and slid beneath it, slipping into the wasteland—an alternative reality. I'd always been drawn toward rundown places. My theory was that they had stories to tell—beneath the grunge and grit, there was an untold story. The visual aspects appealed to me. Burnt orange, faded red, bent chrome, and rusted everything. How the dirt settled atop it all. In a way, I guess being in the junkyard inspired me, and if I ever did become a filmmaker, I knew I'd have to incorporate these strikingly dilapidated places into my films because beauty hid in the damage.

  I wanted to make a film called Tatterdemalion. It'd be set in the post-grunge era with teenagers who still lived in the early 90s, even though the world around them had moved on. They'd hang out in places like this because the world out there wouldn't understand them and it'd feel like home here. And it'd be here where they'd find themselves and grow up.

  The summer sun had eaten the paint in blisters from hundreds of car tops and hoods. I crawled into the backseat of a broken down car and leaned back on the torn leather seat and stared at the ripped ceiling. The burn against my back felt amazing.

  I lit a cigarette. The smoke swirled in rings. I watched the yellow flicker to orange and back again. Minutes passed. I wanted to stay here and let this wreckage be my life. Smoking a cigarette in the back of an abandoned car in a junkyard on a summer afternoon without a care in the world. Achieving nothing. No definite plan. No goals in life. Just existing.

  I had my own car once, but not having one for a while made me long for the freedom of being able to turn the ignition and go anywhere I wanted when I needed to escape. But I'd screwed up. I'd had an attack and couldn't control it. It was like something dark had taken hold of me. I remembered the acceleration and the adrenaline that pulsed through my body right before the crash, the blood, the loss of consciousness, the bent and mangled metal, and the broken glass. The uncertainty of whether I would live or not gave me a rush. I didn't care either way, and that detachment was invigorating.

  I was in and out of control.

  After I got out of the hospital, I spent time in another one being evaluated so my mom could find out what my mental condition was, because surely I had one.

  Rumors spread that my car crash had been a suicide attempt.

  Others said it was the drugs.

  My cellphone rang. Shit. I kinda didn't want to be bothered at the moment. I had a lot of things that I was trying to sort out in my head. I fished it out of my pocket and glanced at the number. Ashley. I'd hung out with her a couple of times, and now she was gettin' all clingy. I didn't want to get involved with anyone for reasons. All the girls I'd been with so far had caused me trouble and the one girl I wanted hadn't given me the time of day. So that was that. Life's a bitch, no need to double my luck by hooking up with one.

  I answered the phone because I knew she would call right back if I didn't.

  “What?”

  “Kaleb?” she said. Yeah, no shit. You just called my phone didn't you?

  “Yep.”

  “What're you doing?”

  “Who's this?” I knew who it was, I just said that to annoy her.

  “It's Ashley?” she said it like a question. “You don't remember?” There was nothing to remember. Okay so I probably got a little drunk and bored and ended up fingering her or something that one time. It wasn't a big deal.

  “Ashley? From school?”

  She paused for a moment then said, “Yeah,” deflated. “I also went out with you a couple of nights ago?”

  I didn't say anything so she elaborated upon hearing my silence. “Well, anyway, there's a party down at the lake, I thought you might want to come.”

  I inhaled, then exhaled smoke. “Might consider it. Who's all there?” Nothing much was going on otherwise, wouldn't hurt to check it out.

  “Everyone's here.” There was a good chance Kayleigh would be there. She didn't go to other parties, but since it was a gathering at the lake, she might show up.

  “On my way now,” I said, then hung up. My house was only about a mile or two up the road from the junkyard. I'd walk back and get Stephen's car, since I didn't have my own anymore, and drive down to the lake. Stephen didn't trust me with his car, and my mom didn't want to get me another one. Walking everywhere sucked, but I took Stephen's car whenever I got a chance. He barely drove it anyway. He was on the road all the time, since he was a trucker, and he was tired by the time he got home. He was gone for weeks at a time. I was free to use the car whenever I wanted. It was my car anyway. The insurance from the wrecked car paid for the new one, but since Stephen had paid the insurance, he claimed the car that Brian had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday.

  I pulled off my jeans, decided to leave them behind in my junkyard car, along with my cigarettes. I'd get them later. My black swim trunks were underneath my jeans and since it was so hot outside, I didn't feel like wearing much. I needed a tan anyway.

  I slipped underneath the fence, and left the wasteland behind, trailing my way back down the road to my house. I pulled off my shirt, too, tossed it over my shoulder.

  By the time I made it home, the sun had nearly scorched my back. Hitting into that water would be like splashing out of hell and into heaven. I burned. I hopped up onto the porch in one long stride, jerked open the screen, barreled into the backdoor, and landed in the kitchen.

  “Dammit, it's fucking scorching outside. Probably like a hundred degrees.” I lurched the refrigerator door open, looking for bottled water or Gatorade.”

  Mom sat at the table. She threw a spearmint at me. It bounced off my neck. “What the hell?” I spun around. She covered the receiver and made a face. I'm on the phone, she mouthed.

  Geez Louise. I reached over onto the table, grabbing up the keys. “I'll bring the car back before midnight.” But before I could lift that silver jingle up and away, her hand clamped down on mine and stopped me. She wrestled with me as she tried to pry them out of my grasp. “Stop,” I said, swatting her away.

  Defeated, she gave up, lifted her hand off mine. “Thank you,” I said.

  “Hey, can I call you back later? Kaleb's home,” she emphasized my name, as though that should explain everything—about why she had to get off the phone. “Yes, that's right,” she laughed. “Couldn't have said it better myself. I'll call you right back.” Guess she didn't intend on fighting with me too long today. She hung up the phone and glared at me.

  “What? What did I do this time?”

  “You busted through the backdoor using profanity while I was on the phone, young man.”

  “Look, why do you and I have to go through this every single time. I'm not four, mom. I just need the car. Who were you on the phone with anyway. Mrs. Gossip Bitch?”

  “Turn around,” she said.

  “Why?” I twisted halfway. It was my back. She noticed it was turning red.

  “Kaleb,” she said my name with a whine, the way she always did, in that wannabe parental voice that made her sound like she was disappointed in me. “I told you to wear sunscreen!”

  “Seriously? I gotta go. They're waiting on me.”

  “Who is?”

  “Friends
.”

  “You have imaginary friends now?”

  “Bye,” I said, as I passed her, headed back out the door with the keys in my hand. “P.S. You're not funny.”

  “Be careful,” she called.

  As soon as I cranked the car, I sped outta that driveway so damn fast the tires slung dirt. I bet my mom had a semi heart-attack, not that I was deliberately trying to give her one or anything. I liked driving fast. I was halfway to the lake when I realized I didn't have my phone. There was no way I was turning back now, not when I was so close. There was probably fifty girls down at the lake today, but I only wanted to see one. I didn't know what made me want that one girl so badly, but it was uncontrollable. It was like I could have or be with any girl in town, but if I never got the girl—the one I'd wanted for so damn long, I'd never be satisfied. That was a terrible way to live. If Kayleigh didn't give me what I wanted soon, I was sure I'd probably go insane. If I hadn't already.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Gravity

  *

  I needed the sun, that was for sure. I tried explaining to my mother that people could die from the kind of lifestyle she expected me to live, caged up in this house with rabbit food and no fresh air or sunshine or human interaction of any sort. It wasn't normal. I couldn't believe I was even having to state my case. It fell on deaf ears. My mom was so freaking worried about me eating a slice of pizza, lord forbid I enjoy myself while I eat it, but she didn't want me inhaling fresh air, and seemed totally indifferent about me sitting in the house watching MTV all damn day, as if that wasn't junk programming. You gotta feed the body and mind right, or else what's the point?

  I didn't know what she was so worried about. I might make a few friends for Pete’s sake? What was so bad about that? Mom was a perpetual loner and wanted me to follow in her footsteps. I was sure the only interaction she had with another human being was either medical talk while she was working at the hospital, and then bitching me out as soon as she got home. Routine, routine. Ugh, so exhausting. I was glad when three o'clock arrived and she headed out. I bolted off that couch so damn fast you would've thought someone had sat fire to my booty.