Summer Sunsets

by Maria Rachel Hooley

  “Will do,” I reply, and wait until they both head out of sight, pretending I have more interest in my cereal than talking, but once we’re alone, I lean back in my seat and level a stare at her I know she feels through and through.

  “What are you looking at?” she asks, pushing the bowl away.

  “You, pretending nothing’s wrong, that nothing bothers you when I know better. I just wish you’d be honest and let me know what’s going on now.” I wait, hoping that will prompt her into talking. No go. Skye is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, hands down.

  “I wish everyone would stop walking on eggshells around me. I’m not going to break!” She starts to rise and walk, but her ankle, still tender, collapses under her, and my hands are the only things that keep her from falling.

  “Skye, it doesn’t take much to know you’re under stress. We just want to help.”

  For once, she looks me straight in the eye. “You can’t help, Devin. Sometimes no one can help.”

  I know that should make me back off, but it doesn’t. “Then I guess you’re going to have to settle for us hovering because even if we can’t help, according to you, it doesn’t mean we’re going to back off and let you flounder.”

  With that, I pick her up and carry her to the sofa. “Maybe you should just stay while I go and get a pair of crutches for you.”

  “No, I want to go.” She tries to get around me, but I block her at every turn.

  “You can’t even walk, Skye. The last thing you need to do is hobble into a Walgreens and damage your ankle even worse than it already is.”

  She grits her teeth. “Look, Devin, there’s something I need to get.”

  “Just tell me and I’ll pick it up for you.” I rake my fingers through my hair.

  “I want to get it myself,” she says, looking beyond me. She always does that when she and I don’t see eye-to-eye on something.

  “Fine, whatever.” I glance towards the front door, where a pair of Skye’s shoes wait. “I’ll get your shoes.”

  “Thank you.”

  I get the brown flip flops and hand them to her. She slides into the first one easily, but when it comes to her injured foot, she’s slower and more careful. Once she’s set, I turn and bend. “Let’s go.”

  She wraps her arms around my neck and eases herself onto my back so I can carry her out to the car. The whole way to Walgreens we’re quiet, and she stares out the window absently.

  “I’m glad your mom and Warren made it back,” I say, more to try to draw conversation out of her than anything.

  “Me, too,” she agrees, and silence resumes, telling me she really doesn’t want to talk.

  The Walgreen’s lot is half-empty, which makes it easy to get Skye inside without running into anybody. Now, if we had gone to Wal-mart, that would definitely be a different story. I take her to the crutches and find a pair that’s appropriate for Skye’s height.

  Skye nods towards the pain reliever aisle. Could you go find some Tylenol, please?” When I look in that direction, I see about fifteen people—probably pretty much every customer in the store—which makes me wonder if Skye really wants drugs for pain relief or just wants me out of the way for some reason. She’s acting funny.

  “Of course.” I’m guessing it doesn’t matter either way so I walk down the aisle, knowing whenever Skye is ready to talk about this, we will. There’s no point in trying to force her hand. It will only backfire and push her that much farther away.

  With all the people in my way, it seems to take forever to find the Tylenol, and more than once I glance at Skye. At first, she’s grabbed the crutches and then, before I can even get back to her, she’s hobbled toward a register to pay, which makes no sense.

  I scrabble to grab the pain reliever and get back to her, but I see her give the clerk money and get change as he hands her a bag.

  “Didn’t you want these?” I ask, waving the bottle at her. “Perhaps your Oldtimers is acting up again?” I suggest.

  “Sorry.” She watches me hand the bottle to the clerk to pay and starts to offer money, but I shake my head.

  “I think I’ve got this. You focus on driving your crutches.”

  “Thanks.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  A few seconds later, we leave the store. She’s already adapting to the crutches, and she seems to like the independence they offer better than climbing on my back. Typical Skye.

  The only thing that even seems difficult for her is clutching the small bag in her hand while trying to grip the crutches. I start to take it from her, but she jerks both the crutch and her hand back, almost causing her to fall.

  “Skye, you can’t exactly walk and carry that. Just let me take it.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m fine, Devin. Really.”

  “No, you’re stubborn as hell, and you know it.” I correct and hover closer so if she does fall, I’m within catching distance.

  We finally make it to the Jeep, and I unlock the door for her, still pondering why her actions have been so secretive. This is one of the many times I wish I had the ability to read Skye like I used to. After all, while I might be able to guess her emotions any day of the week, I damned sure can’t figure out what her thoughts are most of the time.

  The whole drive back to the house is quiet, yet another sign Skye is thinking about something, and I don’t have any landmarks to guide me. Back at her house, I get out of the Jeep, ready to help her, but she’s already getting herself out, that small bag clenched tightly in one hand in spite of the crutch. So I walk beside her up to the door.

  Inside, she hustles up to her room and then the bathroom. I wait on the bed, still not sure what’s going on. Her behavior makes no sense, and yet I feel like if I draw attention to it, it’s only going to make it worse somehow, so I figure I’ll give her a little bit to work through it.

  She’s gone for a few minutes, and I’m wondering if she’s feeling sick again. When she returns to her room, her face is pasty and she won’t look me in the eye.

  I stand and edge from the bed. “Skye? Is something wrong?”

  She blinks a few times like she doesn’t know what else to do. “No, there’s nothing. I just don’t feel well, that’s it.” She looks straight ahead, almost like I’m not even there, and I wait for something else to come out, something I can puzzle into the truth behind all of this.

  She hobbles past and sinks into the rolling chair by her desk before setting the crutches aside. “I think I’m going to take a nap and see if I feel better.”

  “Okay.” I shove my hands in my pockets, wondering what to do now, wishing I knew what was going on. I hang there for a moment, giving her a chance to talk to me, but nothing comes out, just this awkward distance lingering between us.

  Yet she is my everything. She always has been, always will be.

  I lick my lips and pull out my keys. “Give me a call when you get up.”

  I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t seem to help myself as I get up and walk over to her so I can bend and kiss her forehead. Although I feel her stiffen, I try to tell myself I’m imagining things. If only I believed that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Skye doesn’t call me that afternoon, and she doesn’t take my calls. They go straight to her voicemail, and even though I leave five messages, she doesn’t call me back. It’s close to nine p.m. I’m just about to go over there when my phone rings. I flip open my phone and look at the display. It’s Warren.

  What is going on now?

  “Hello?” I force myself to smile, knowing Warren will be able to tell there’s something wrong if I’m not careful.

  “Hey, Devin. Is Skye with you, by chance?”

  Okay, the smile’s gone. “Uh, no. She was tired and wanted to take a nap earlier, so I left. Isn’t she at the house?” I start pacing the room, suddenly more worried than ever. I wasn’t sure that was possible.

  “No, she isn’t.” He pauses, and I sense more coming--more that I’m s
o not going to like. “She must have left while Helen and I were trying to get rested up. She left a note propped on the kitchen table, telling us she was going to be gone for a few days.”

  I stop walking in mid-stride. “Did you try calling her?”

  “I’ve tried. Helen has tried. More than once. Every call goes to voicemail.”

  Okay, this is far worse. What the hell is going on with Skye, and why didn’t she at least tell someone where she was going? It makes no sense. I walk to the bed, trying to wrap my head around this one.

  “Devin?” Warren prompts. “Are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” I shake my head, wondering where she would go, especially for a few days. “How long has she been gone? Do you know?”

  “A few hours at least.”

  I grit my teeth. I shouldn’t be so tense because it’s not as bad as it could be. I just have to figure things out. “Give me a little while to think it over, and I’ll see if I can come up with some ideas where she might have gone.”

  “I’m worried, Devin.” Warren’s tone tells me just how worried he is.

  “I’ll find her,” I promise. Right now, I’m not sure how I’m going to keep my word, but I will. Skye is far too important to lose, and somehow I sense that whatever is bothering her is the ultimate test to getting behind her defenses. Failure isn’t an option.

  “All right,” he finally agrees. “Call me when you figure things out. I’ll do my best to keep Helen calm while she’s gone.”

  I snap the phone shut and start pacing again. Now to figure out the possibilities. She didn’t talk about any close friends she made in college, and Skye’s pretty much a loner, so I don’t see that as a place she’d go back to. There’s no place around here she liked that well. The only spot she ever seemed to enjoy was the beach.

  The beach….

  I nod, suddenly getting it. That’s why she’s going to be gone so long. She’s driving back to the beach, probably the same one where we stayed at.

  That in mind, I consider calling Skye. I even flip open the phone before the thought dawns on me that if I warn her I’m coming, she might actually run again and try to hide better. No, she doesn’t get to know I’m coming.

  With that thought, I go to my dresser and throw some clothes into my duffle, not really caring how I cram things in, and I look at my watch. I know what time it is, so it’s more just something to distract me from the nervous feeling bottoming out my stomach.

  Once I get things packed, I start heading through the house. My mom is in the kitchen and she spots me at the front door.

  “Devin, where are you going?” She wipes her hands on a dishtowel and walks towards me, frowning.

  Here’s where I have two options. First, I can tell the truth and watch my mom freak out—her natural response, unfortunately—or I can lie and make her think nothing is wrong. In the end, I’m probably stupid, but I decide on the truth.

  “Warren just called and he doesn’t know where Skye is. She just left a note saying she’d be back in a few days, so I’m going to find her.”

  Mom folds her arms across her stomach. “Devin, maybe this time you should just let Warren and Helen handle this.” She licks her lips nervously, knowing that no matter how much she wants me to agree, I’m not going to. She’s still got to try.

  “I know you think Skye is more than I can handle, but you’re wrong. I have to find her.” I pull my cell out of my pocket. “I’ve got my phone, and if you call, I’ll answer, but you have to understand, Mom. She needs me, and I love her. I’m always going to love her no matter what happens.”

  For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, and I know she wants to interfere. Sometimes it’s difficult to change reactions, and she senses danger, kind of like the last time Skye fell apart. This time is going to be different. This time Skye’s going to talk to me.

  Finally, she senses the futility of objecting. Regardless of who feels what, I’m going to find Skye, and she knows it. “All right. Just be careful and let us know where you are.”

  “I will.” I reach out and wrap my arms around her. Then I slip out the door and head for the highway, so not looking forward to the long drive but just as glad to be doing something as sitting around, waiting for a call that may or may not come. Speaking of calls, I keep looking at my cell, waiting for it to light up in the darkness, but it doesn’t.

  I rake my hand through my hair and peer out into the blackness, knowing the road I’m driving is the same one Skye has taken to flee. I just wish I knew from what.

  Hours later, I see the ocean, the slow waves shimmering towards the shore beneath the moonlight. I roll my window down and inhale the salty tang. While I’ve been having doubts since I started the drive that perhaps I was wrong, the minute I smell the ocean, I know I’m on the right track. Both Skye and I find peace here when everywhere else seems out of kilter and messed up.

  I’ve been here enough to know my way to the beachfront location where we also stay without blinking. As I start scanning the rentals, I start to get nervous because I don’t see her car right away. In fact, it’s only when I’m at the last parking spot I see it cached deep behind a huge black SUV that my shoulders sag as the tension drifts from me.

  `This whole trip I’ve been trying to tell myself there’s nothing to worry about, but when it comes to Skye, I can’t help but worry. It’s kind of like breathing.

  I scan the lot for an empty space. That’s when I discover I’m going to have to turn around and go back a few yards. After that, I get out of the Jeep and look at the beachfront cabins, any one of which Skye could be sleeping in. There’s no guarantee she was able to rent the one we typically use, not considering how ill-planned this whole trip was. Yesterday she didn’t know she would need a reservation. No, she would have to take whatever she could get, and I’m not sure which one it would be. Unless I want to wake up every resident until I stumbled upon her, I’m going to have to wait for morning.

  I flip open my cell just on the off chance she might’ve called. No such luck. Both my mother and Warren have. No surprises there.

  I closed the phone, get out, and shove the keys into my pocket. I head to the beach so I can watch the moonlight shimmer off the water and listen to the roll and return of the waves. Although the air is slightly cooler than the last time we came here, it still brings back memories of the two of us playing on the beach, fishing or doing many of the other things we’d done right after graduation.

  I reach into my pocket and feel the ring waiting there, patient as ever. One of these days, I’ll be able to find a good moment to propose, and some part of me has to believe that during that moment, Skye will finally understand just how much I adore her, and she won’t say no no matter how frightened she might be.

  Finding a place where the tide reaches the shore, I sit in the sand and ease off my sneakers and socks before setting my feet directly into the water’s path. The first wave is chilling as it washes over my skin, but I don’t move. I just take a deep breath and brace for the next wave. That one doesn’t feel as cold, and I love the feel of it coursing over my skin. My mom used to joke I must have been Ariel’s brother or something because I loved the water so much. She had trouble believing it.

  I wrap my arms around my legs and look at a full, luminous moon, the light sparkles off the water, dancing upon the crest of each wave, and tumbling with the roll of water heading to shore. A slight breeze picks up, the wind’s fingers tousling my hair unpredictably.

  So what was going on with Skye? This is really the first moment I’ve given much thought to it because, up until now, I’ve been so completely focused just on finding her. That was so much more important. Now that I’ve discovered her whereabouts, I can afford to worry about the much bigger picture—what had driven her so far away, and what was going to happen when we finally speak to one another? Did I in some strange, unknown way, have something to do with her need to run away?

  So many questions, and yet she was the only one who had ans
wers.

  The more I think back to making love to Skye and her strange behavior the next day, the more lost I feel. Had I unwittingly done something wrong? I pull my arms from around my legs and brace them behind me so I can lean back and stretch my legs. Yeah, that definitely feels so much better.

  Now about Skye. I replayed things again, looking for some small detail I might have missed. The answer had to be there. I just couldn’t see her running from her mom and Warren. Whatever she was running from, it had to do with either her father, the asshole, or me, the clueless one.

  And I sure as hell wasn’t comforted by the realization that I could’ve been the one to hurt Skye when I never would have done that intentionally.

  And what was she buying from Walgreens? That was another mystery to add to things.

  I look back at the cabins. All of them are dark. Closing my eyes, I think of my body merging with hers, our heartbeats matching so perfectly it was hard to believe they’re in two bodies. We belong together, so what had happened.

  Suddenly a thought dawns on me, something I should have taken into consideration before but didn’t. I have been so obtuse, when I should have been paying attention and focusing on the important things.

  We made love a few weeks ago. Skye was now vomiting. She’d gone to a drugstore to get something she didn’t want me to know about--her first secret from me in a long time. Now she was panicking. I close my eyes and hang my head as the pieces fall into place.

  Skye is pregnant.

  “I am so damned stupid,” I mutter, suddenly wondering how I could ever have missed that. All the clues had been there, and I had consistently missed them. Shaking my head, I mentally got through the list of options, trying to think about them in the same way I knew Skye would be looking at them. She was unmarried and probably convinced I deserved more than she could ever be—her perspective, not mine. Even if she thought that, she wouldn’t ever consider having an abortion; the first one had been too much for her to handle. Even now, years after the event, she’s still reeling at times from her decision. It didn’t take a genius to see she isn’t up for another go-round like that.