Summer's Song

by Lindi Peterson

  Levi hands me the Frisbee. “You first.” He starts to walk away from me.

  “You probably shouldn’t start walking until I toss this thing. I have no idea what direction it’s going to go.”

  My words ring true as I flick my wrist. The Frisbee heads in the opposite direction of Levi.

  “Whoa!” Levi runs across the grass to retrieve the green disc. “You weren’t kidding.”

  “Told you.”

  He approaches me. “Here. Let me show you how to do this.”

  Standing behind me, way too close I might add, he wraps his hand around my fingers. His grasp is gentle, his fingers calloused from all his guitar playing.

  “If you hold it like this,” he places my fingers on the Frisbee, “when you flick your wrist and let go, it’ll go where you want it to.”

  My brain hears what he’s saying, but I’m in no way paying him any sort of attention. I can’t think with him so close. This is different than anything I’ve experienced.

  Men have stood by me before. They’ve touched my body in dance routines, ran their hands all over me. With cameras recording and music thumping in the background, it was all supposed to be very seductive. Being given Frisbee instructions isn’t supposed to be seductive. But Levi is pulling it off.

  “You know,” he starts. “Learning to throw this Frisbee is a little like life.”

  “Life?”

  “Yes. You direct this Frisbee by how you hold it, then how you let it go.”

  “Life is like a Frisbee. Maybe that could be a song.”

  His tone grounds me. “I’m not being funny. I’m serious. You can set your own direction in life.”

  He steps back, letting go of my hand. Memories of Todd showing up this morning checking on me flood my thoughts. If he knew Levi, Todd would be ashamed of what he had said. But then, no, Todd wouldn’t be ashamed of anything. He simply wouldn’t believe it. Because he lives in that crazy world that my brain still lives in most of the time. “It doesn’t seem real.”

  “It can be.”

  “I don’t know. I never was good at sports.” Or life, apparently.

  Levi laughs. “You should practice. You have a son.”

  I smile thinking of Sam. “He’s still too young for Frisbee.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that. He’s four?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then he can play. Just toss it to me. Try.”

  I’m not sure if I’ve agreed to simply throw the Frisbee or try to direct my life.

  Levi quickly walks backwards, his gaze never leaving me. I hold the Frisbee like he showed me and give it a quick toss. We both laugh as it doesn’t go very far. I retrieve it and set up to try again.

  “You can do it.”

  Levi’s voice encourages me. I step forward, flicking my wrist. Sure enough, the Frisbee soars through the air. Levi has to make a diving catch, but he does and comes up with the Frisbee.

  “There you go. See? Not so bad, huh?”

  My toes curl around the soft grass. My arms warm with the sun’s rays. It’s as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Being here with Levi I can almost forget my nasty ex-husband, the looming record contract and the upcoming custody hearing.

  Oh, and my sister I left sleeping off her wine on my couch.

  Levi tosses the Frisbee. “Catch.”

  I only have to take a couple of steps to the left to catch the Frisbee.

  He doesn’t have to make such a dramatic diving catch this time as I toss the Frisbee back.

  “See, you’re getting the hang of it.”

  “You’re just being nice.”

  “I’m being honest.” Levi walks over to me. “I think with a little practice you could be a Frisbee champ.”

  “You think so?” I ask, his closeness making me decidedly nervous.

  “I know so. I guess we’ve had enough fresh air and sunshine. We only have a week to make significant progress on your CD. Are you ready to work the rest of the afternoon away?”

  “I guess so.”

  We walk toward the car. I realize I miss his closeness. And I’m missing something else. “Forgot my shoes.”

  “I’ll get them.” He jaunts off before I can stop him.

  I could get very used to this, I think as I watch Levi jog back to pick up what I had left behind.

  Which is why I need to keep as far away emotionally from Levi as possible.

  As we pull into the driveway, I’m hoping Levi momentarily forgets how to be a gentleman. I don’t want him walking me up to the door. I don’t want him to meet Valentine yet.

  But Levi doesn’t forget.

  “Ah. I’ll come around.” He points his finger to the door handle which my hand is about to use to open the door.

  I grab my purse. Levi opens the door then holds out his hand for me. With as much excitement as reluctance I place my hand in his and let his gentle grasp help me to my feet. I try not to stare at how handsome he is. How he looks at me with genuine concern.

  “You don’t have to walk me.” His fingers rub the tops of my mine. This man causes me to tingle with the slightest of touches. The way he makes me feel scares me. Troubles me.

  Makes me wonder what I’ve been missing all my life.

  Reality slams me back to my current situation. Valentine can’t see me with Levi. I tug my hand away from his grasp.

  Of course, this action doesn’t faze Levi. He simply places his fingertips on the small of my back. “I’m walking you. Let’s go.”

  I’ve never had a guy walk me to the door who didn’t want to go through said door in an attempt to go through the bedroom door. Levi doesn’t even appear to want to go through the front door. He just wants to walk me to it then leave.

  Which is a good thing right now. Maybe Valentine won’t see us. I’m not ready to explain Levi to Valentine.

  I can’t explain Levi to myself let alone someone else.

  He opens the screen, and I cringe as it makes a loud squeal. I’m bracing myself for Valentine to come rushing through the doorway any moment now.

  “Thanks for lunch and the Frisbee lesson.” I curve my hand around the door knob, careful not to turn it.

  “Anytime. I have fun with you. Working with you is fun. Hard work, but fun. I’m glad you changed your mind.”

  “It’s a woman’s prerogative, you know, changing our mind. We’re pretty good at it.”

  I’m not sure why I’m extending this conversation. He’s way too close, Valentine is on the other side of this door, and I’m trying to avoid both while being stuck literally in the middle.

  “As long as you don’t change it back.”

  “Not planning on it, but if I don’t show up …” I smile because of course I’m going to show up.

  “I look forward to it. What’s your sister’s name?”

  “Valentine.” I pray she’s not peeking out of a window somewhere.

  “I’ll be praying for you two. See you in a little while.” He backs away, not taking his gaze off me, and heads down the steps.

  “Thanks for praying.”

  He waves then jogs to his car. I watch until he’s gone. Only then do I dare open the door.

  The only sign of Valentine are her shoes still sitting in front of the couch. Leaning against the door I sigh. I also try to shake off the headiness I feel when I’m around Levi. It’s like my head retreats into some sort of a fog simply by being with him.

  My foggy mind now hears the water running in the bathroom upstairs. Valentine must be in the shower. This is the best-case scenario. Hoping I can sneak away by leaving another note I quickly run upstairs, change my clothes and make my way back downstairs. As I hit the bottom step I hear the water turn off.

  Things are still in my favor. She’ll be in there forever if the past is any indication.

  The note I left this morning stating I had gone out and would return later is still lying on the counter. So I write the word “again” on it. Feeling kind of bad I add ‘if you’re hungry there’s a fr
ozen dinner in the freezer, yogurt in the fridge, and fresh fruit on the table.’

  She certainly won’t starve.

  “You’re finally home?”

  I turn. Valentine is standing in the doorway in her underwear. A towel wraps around her head holding in her wet hair I presume.

  I’m so glad Levi’s not with me.

  “I am. And I see you’re making yourself right at home.”

  She glances down at her almost naked body. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like there’s actually anybody here in this totally remote backwoods place you’ve decided to live in.”

  “I have neighbors,” I blurt out before really thinking.

  “Really? Is that where you’ve been? At the neighbors?”

  This is my sister. The sister I’m not real thrilled with. So why does my heart tug a little at seeing her? Maybe I’m missing the closeness we once had so long ago.

  “I’ve been out.”

  “Whatever. I’m not in the mood to play games, Sis. Though I am glad you’re home, because we so need to talk.”

  I need to get to Skeet’s studio where Levi is waiting for me. Knowing Valentine and her limited capability for spending too much time on any one thing, I figure I can spare a few minutes before heading out. “I’m ready when you are.”

  “Give me five.”

  She retreats from the doorway.

  Settling on the couch I pick up a celebrity magazine Valentine must have brought with her. I hadn’t read one of these in forever. At least I’m not on the cover. I start at the back, as usual, relieved at not having to worry if I’m going to spot a photo of myself. Being stuck in this nowhere town, as Valentine calls it, has been good for me. I’m tired of being everyone’s gossip topic.

  I’m actually close to reaching the front of the magazine when I realize thirty minutes have gone by. Thirty. I set the magazine on the end table and walk to the bottom of the stairs. Valentine is standing at the top.

  “I’m coming,” she says.

  “That was a long five minutes.” I make my way back to the couch, insisting my heart not keep track of the minutes away from Levi.

  “This hair, it wouldn’t dry.”

  Valentine is wearing an extremely low-waisted denim skirt. Her shirt hugs every part of her except the top of the skirt. There’s about two inches of flatter-than-flat belly which has been spray tanned I don’t know how many times available for full view. Her belly button has dangly red jewels hanging from the ring. The red matches her shirt.

  I wonder how much of her outfit I paid for.

  “You object to my style?” Valentine asks.

  “No. Why?”

  “Because you’re staring me down like you don’t approve. And it’s a good thing you didn’t say anything. I borrowed these from your closet. I didn’t think you’d mind since you left them there.”

  I thought the skirt looked familiar. I really don’t remember the shirt.

  “You can keep them.”

  “I might as well. I’m not sure you’d be able to fit into this skirt anymore. Seems like the fresh air and solitude have added a few pounds to your middle.”

  Family love. I feel it from every side. “I feel good.”

  “Yeah, once you get back and start dancing again, you’ll take off those extra pounds in no time. Oh, Steven won’t quit texting me!”

  She plants herself on the couch, and her fingers start moving rapidly over the face of the phone she’s been holding in her hand.

  “Steven? How’s he doing?”

  “He’s aggravating. That’s how he’s doing. He won’t quit acting like a boyfriend.”

  “You were with him for five years, Valentine.”

  “And we’ve been broken up for over a year. G O space F I N D space S O M E O N E space N E W period. No, exclamation point. Three of them.” She looks at me. “Do you think he’ll get it?”

  Her look is extremely serious. Like a text message will get through to someone who won’t listen to what you’ve been telling them for over a year verbally. “I can’t say. He seems a little persistent.”

  She glares at the phone. “If I wasn’t waiting for a message from George I’d turn the thing off. I can’t believe I actually get reception here. I was totally amazed to say the least.”

  Meanwhile, Levi is waiting for me. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “Oh. Yeah. That.”

  Yes. That. That is keeping me from Levi.

  “Did you notice how long my hair is?” She kind of swings her head to the side. Her hair hangs over halfway down her back.

  “It’s pretty long. Are you thinking of cutting it?” I hope her hair isn’t the reason I’ve sat here for close to an hour now.

  “Cutting it? No. I’ve spent years growing this out. Years and years. But of course you wouldn’t notice. You’re too busy being a star.”

  I settle back against the couch, close my eyes and try to conjure up thoughts to keep me from strangling my sister. How can her selfishness be focused on my selfishness? I suddenly wish my therapy sessions hadn’t ended last month. This I could talk about.

  Regaining my composure, I look at Valentine. “I’ve been having a rough year, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  She’s staring at her phone, moving her index finger up and down like she’s scrolling for something. “I can’t help but notice. It’s all about you. Nothing’s changed.”

  Everything’s changed. She’s too busy being her to care. I reach out and grab her phone. “Valentine. Is there something specific you want to talk about?”

  Her expression goes from confusion to anger. But only for a moment. Now she seems scared. Hesitant. Could her phone give her that much confidence?

  “Are you going to give me my phone back?”

  “Answer the question.” I don’t quit staring at her.

  “I need my phone. I’m expecting an important text.”

  I glance down. Her screensaver is a picture of her. “From George?”

  She leans back acting shocked. “Do you know George?”

  I shake my head. “No. But you just said a minute ago you were waiting to hear from him.”

  Her shoulders slump as if relaxing. “Oh, I did, didn’t I?”

  “So who’s George?” I figure he must be important.

  “My agent.”

  I know my expression screams surprise. “Agent? What kind of agent?”

  “My literary agent.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. Covering my hand with my mouth I try to conceal the huge grin behind it. “What?”

  Valentine stands. “I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be supportive. I don’t know why I even try!”

  She crosses her arms and turns around like a small child.

  I lay her phone on the couch then quickly make my way to her. I place my hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

  She sniffles, and I know it’s a fake cry. But I pretend that’s it’s not. “So you have a literary agent. That’s great.”

  A couple more sniffles are the answer I receive. Then the sniffles are replaced with the sound of a message coming through her phone.

  “George,” she whispers.

  Valentine walks to the couch and picks up the phone. She immediately steps into the kitchen as she’s pushing the phone face again.

  I sit back on the couch. Valentine has a literary agent? She barely, and I mean barely, made it through high school. And there was talk she only made it through school because she had made it with the son of the teacher who taught the Senior English class. He wasn’t attractive and was more than a geek, but rumor had it his dad valued his opinion. Valentine never talked about it, and I never asked.

  Some things you don’t want to know.

  Could she be writing a book? Could she have written a book? A play, maybe? What media exactly does a literary agent represent?

  Baffled, I pick up the magazine and found where I had left off. Oh, yes, Who Looks Best In The Dress. I never lost that competition. I think
they featured me over twenty times, and I always looked the best. I usually wasn’t wearing much, but apparently I wore less better than anyone else.

  I flip another page to the newest music releases. I’m sure my release will be featured there when it’s ready. All of my other releases were. And I always got decent reviews, although I think they liked my dresses better.

  Turning back another page are the book reviews. I always skipped this part. I don’t read. Never have.

  Oh, well, maybe I’ll have to start if my little sister has written a book. I shake my head, the thought still spinning through my mind.

  Valentine?

  An author?

  Two and two don’t equal five.

  But they equal something. There’s her name. In the book section.

  Valentine Sinclair. Debut author.

  Growing Up With Summer-What Didn’t Make The Headlines.

  Gulping, I try to replenish the air that is being sucked out as I read that title. I close my eyes and count to ten. I do it again before I feel any sort of recovery. I open my eyes.

  I’m not imagining this. Preview Publishing announces their new release by Valentine Sinclair.

  I shut the magazine as Valentine breezes back into the living room.

  “I finally got that text I’ve been waiting on.”

  When I don’t respond she cocks her head sideways. “Are you all right?”

  After she asks her question she notices the magazine in my lap.

  She bites her lower lip and takes a step back. “I can explain.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m waiting.” Everything inside me pulses like crazy while my demeanor remains calm. How this is happening I have no idea.

  She takes a deep breath. Her right palm is tapping her chest over her heart area. Like she has one.

  Betrayed by my own sister.

  No wonder Todd left. He didn’t want to be around for the fall out.

  “It’s really not a big deal,” she states in a matter of fact kind of voice she must have developed while trying to figure out how to approach me with this news.

  “Really? Not a big deal? How big of a deal is it for you? How much were you promised to spill all my secrets? I’m assuming, since I haven’t been told otherwise, that this is what you have done.”