by Nella Tyler
She had a point, I had thought that myself. But I would be just using her because she looked like Summer and that wasn’t only mean, it was kind of sick, too. I finally said, “I don’t think I’m in the mood tonight, darlin’, but thanks anyways.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You’re missing out,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked away. I was still looking at her when Lance and Kobe walked in off the street. I saw Lance checking out her backside before he raised an eyebrow in my direction. I ignored him. He’s probably never going to approve of the way I feel about Summer, and I really don’t care. Kobe was, of course, oblivious. Lance stopped at the bar, and Kobe came over to where I was racking my next shot.
“Hey, dude, how long you been here?” I gave Kobe our standard handshake.
“Not long, we finished the shoot up early, so I just came straight up from the beach.”
Lance came over with two beers and handed one to Kobe. “Thanks, man. Hey, that girl at the bar, she looks kinda like Summer,” he said, oblivious to everything except what I wanted him to be. Lance looked at me again. I ignored him and took my shot. After I’d knocked the balls where I wanted them, I asked Kobe,
“Where’s Phoebe tonight?”
“It’s Bennie’s birthday. She’s having a party for him at the house.”
“So why aren’t you there?”
“Bennie doesn’t like me.”
I laughed. “Does Bennie really like anyone?”
“He likes my girl,” Kobe said, “And yours.”
I rolled my eyes and turned back towards the table. I heard Lance chuckle as he told Kobe, “We’re not supposed to talk about her, didn’t he tell you?”
“He told me,” Kobe said with a laugh. “But he’s not my fucking boss.”
“You two girls want to play some pool or not?” I asked them.
“I’d rather keep giving you shit,” Lance said. “Or I could go over there to the bar and see if I could scrape up some of your leftovers.”
I glanced back over at the girl. She was talking to the bartender and from the side and in the dim light, she looked so much like Summer that it gave me a chill. “Leave her alone,” I told him.
“Why is that? Would it be too much like I was fucking your girl?” He laughed and so did Kobe as they high-fived each other. The fuckers were having way too much fun at my expense.
“Alright, if nobody wants to shoot some pool, maybe it’s time to say goodnight.”
“Aw, come on, don’t be a pussy,” Lance said. “We’re just having fun.”
“At my expense.”
He pulled two striped balls out of one pocket and sat them up on the felt table. Kobe took a sip of his beer. He at least had the decency to look a little sorry for giving me a ration of shit. “Yeah,” Lance said as he gathered the rest of the pool balls and racked them. “But you want to know something funny?”
“Will you keep it to yourself if I say no?”
He laughed and chalked the stick he’d grabbed off the wall. “Nope. See, I was thinking that as much as you want to deny you’re still hung up on Summer, you’re awfully sensitive about her.”
“Can we please talk about something else? If I admit to you that I’m still fucking hung up on her will you let it go? What the fuck is it with you lately, anyways? You were the first one to tell me to leave her alone to begin with.” Kobe still had his face in his beer. Lance leaned over and broke, sending one of the striped balls into the corner pocket. He stood back up and said,
“Admitting it is the first step.”
“I’m serious, man. Why the fuck are you suddenly so interested in my feelings for Summer?”
“When I went to Oregon and found her in that little diner, she asked me the same thing, sort of.”
“Maybe you could share the answer with me.”
“After she left, I was actually relieved at first. I never thought she was any good for you. Since we were kids, I just always assumed you and I would fuck our way through early adulthood and when it was finally time to settle down, we’d both marry someone from our circle and we’d hang out and raise our kids together. That surfing school you’ve always talked about opening, I pictured us working there together.”
“You’d leave your father’s company?”
He shrugged. “My dad is not like yours.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ve always envied you that.”
“He would be disappointed if I left, but it wouldn’t break our relationship. I guess I like my job okay, but compared to getting paid to surf all day every day – no fucking comparison. But anyways, I digress…”
“You also need to take another shot,” Kobe said.
Lance picked up his beer instead and took a long drink. He handed the stick to Kobe and said, “Take it for me. Our friend needs to hear this.” Turning back towards me, he said, “When Summer came along and you were so infatuated with her, I was jealous.”
“Jealous? Are you telling me you’re in love with me?”
“Fuck you. I’m telling you that I was jealous that you had someone in your bed that you weren’t only fucking, but you were actually falling in love with. You were talking about chucking all the dreams you’ve had for so long and taking that job with your father. You had that look in your eye that men get when they’ve decided to settle for less than they ever wanted in order to get the girl they didn’t want to live without, and you were still happy.” He paused as if waiting for me to say something.
When I didn’t he continued, “I was jealous of that. I’ve never had that. I’ve never felt so much for someone that I was willing to give up everything else I wanted for them. I acted like an ass. I bullied that poor girl. I treated my best friend like shit, and then she went away and you were miserable and I was happy. The fact that your misery would make me happy bothered me, but you left for Bali not long after that, and I didn’t have to deal with it right off the bat.”
“And then I came back.”
“Yes, you did, and you were still a miserable son of a bitch. You were fucking everything with two legs, you were making money hand over fist, you were winning surf competitions, and you were still fucking miserable. When you left again for Istanbul, I tried to forget about it again, like I did when you were in Bali, but it ate away at me. This fucking growing up bullshit is for the birds. I finally couldn’t stand the constant guilt I felt for the way I treated her and you, so I tricked Phoebe into telling me where she was. I went there and threatened her so she’d come to you. And then…the two of you fucked it up.”
In spite of myself, I chuckled. He was right. He’d gone through a lot of trouble and it had taken Summer and I less than ten minutes to establish we were both still hurting and neither of us were going to do anything about it. “So what do you think should have happened?”
“You want my advice?”
“I have a feeling I’m going to get it, whether I want it or not.”
“You should go get her, bring her back here, open that surf school, and hire my pretty ass.”
I laughed. “It just so happens that I’ve already talked to my mother’s real estate agent. She’s making an offer on the old creamery building down by the docks.”
“Well, alright, my advice wins.”
“How do you figure? I’d already done that before you gave me your valuable advice.”
“Because you were still on the fence about going to get Summer. But now you’re not.”
“I’m not?”
“Nope, you’re practically on a plane to Oregon.”
“New York.” Kobe had been silent up until then. We both turned to look at him. He went ahead and took his shot while we waited. When he stood up and saw us looking at him he said, “What?”
Lance rolled his eyes. “Man, you have got to stop smoking that shit. What the hell do you mean by New York?”
“Oh! Summer’s in New York. She went to meet with that lawyer. Phoebe said she’s going through their old house this week and pac
king and selling things. I guess they just sealed it up and left it. She won’t be back in Oregon until Sunday.”
Lance looked at me. “Today is Wednesday.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious, man. A long weekend in New York might be just what the doctor ordered for both you and the love of your life.”
Four hours later, I was on a plane. I had no idea what I would say or do when I got there, but I knew Lance was right. Summer was the one thing missing in my life and I wouldn’t ever be happy if I didn’t at least try to get her back.
Chapter Twenty-Five
SUMMER
I stood outside the house with the beach and the ocean at my back and looked up at it from the end of the walkway. It looked so much smaller to me now than it used to. It had definitely seen better days. Grandpa wasn’t ever really one for worrying about what things looked like. It was the same original blue it had been painted back in the seventies when he’d first bought it. It was peeling in places in big chunks and the smooth white primer paint underneath it was showing through. At least a fourth of the brown shingles on the roof were missing and the white window frames were cracked and peeling. The grass was nearly as tall as me in places and was mixed with weeds that twisted and choked it in places and left big empty patches of sand. The big shade tree where I used to swing still stood. I walked through the little broken gate and pushed through the deep grass until I got to it. The swing was still attached where Grandpa had hung it. He’d made it out of old rope and a piece of one of his old surfboard that he’d sawed in half. I reached up and touched the rope with tears in my eyes. I had been just about six years old when he hung it there. I remember thinking he was the coolest guy ever. He could surf, he could make swings, and sometimes, he would tell me wild stories that were probably wildly inappropriate for a little girl, but I loved them. I thought of him as bigger than life, and I’d been so alone and scared when he died, I never really grieved that loss. I wiped the tears away and headed for the house.
The porch that I used to sit on early in the morning wrapped up in a blanket while I watched Grandpa surf was tilting to one side. The first step up to it was cracked and rotted. I stepped over it and onto the next one. Once I was standing up on the porch, I turned to look out at the ocean. I could feel the cool breeze and taste the salty air, and I could almost see him out there “conquering the ocean,” as he used to put it. I wondered for not the first time how different my life would have been if he had lived.
I used the key the lawyer gave me to let myself inside. He told me that no one had been here in years. Grandpa left everything to me and because of that, there had been a lot of confusion about what to do with his assets. I slid the key into the lock that was rusted from years of exposure to the wet, salty air. It took some doing, but I finally got the door open. As soon as I stepped over the threshold, my nose and eyes were assaulted by the thick, dusty air. It was hard to breathe. A sliver of light was coming through the dirty curtain on the west side of the house and I could see particles of dust dancing in the air. I advanced further in and looked around. Someone had covered the furniture with dust covers, but long enough ago that they themselves were coated with dust. It lay over every surface in a pristine layer unsullied by foot or fingerprints anywhere.
I felt overwhelmed. I had no idea where to begin. I trudged through the dust and made my way to Grandpa’s room. I stood there on the threshold and as the tears rolled down my cheeks, a smile crossed my face. One entire wall of the bedroom was covered by the surfboards he’d stacked there years ago. Each time he retired one, he’d leave it there. The only one he ever used for anything else had been the one that made my swing out front. They used to fascinate me. We didn’t have pictures or decorations on the walls like other families. So when I tired of looking at the plain white of the rest of the house, I’d go into Grandpa’s room and stare at the colorful boards. I walked over now and ran my hand across a yellow and orange one. I remember this one used to remind me of the sun and when it was too cold or raining or snowing outside, I’d pretend it was the sun and I’d sit next to it and have a little picnic on the floor of his bedroom. When Grandpa was home, he’d sometimes join me and as usual, regale me with stories of his youth.
The realtor told me they’d left boxes for me around back. I went out through the kitchen, almost tripping on a piece of cracked linoleum. I found the boxes outside the back door and also found another treasure – my first beachcomber. It was one of the things I missed the most after Grandpa died and they took me away. I’d even thought about coming back to get it when I first took off, but I knew this would be the first place they’d look for me. My emotions were overwhelming me once more and I decided that maybe some therapy on the water was what I needed. Maybe after catching a cold wave or two, my head would be clear enough that I could get something accomplished.
I found a pair of shorts and a bikini top in my old room that still fit me and then I took the least weathered board from Grandpa’s collection and headed for the water. The wind was blowing and churning up the waves as I paddled out to the break.
The water was icy cold, but it felt good to be numb. I lie on the board and let the motion of the water slowly calm me as I waited for the approaching wave. I watched it curl up, and as the wind took it, I watched it begin to gain speed. As the momentum built, so did its size. I popped up onto the balls of my feet and felt that amazing surge of adrenaline as it got closer. I felt it roll underneath me and I stood up. I put my arms out for balance and turned my face up to the sun and for a few seconds as I rode the wave, I felt like Grandpa was with me. As I rode it back down to the surface of the water, I was smiling and for the first time in a while, my soul felt happy. It was that deep, peaceful kind of happy that only comes from knowing that you’re loved. Grandpa loved me and for the first time in six years, I could feel his presence inside of me.
*******
After I came out of the water and took a warm shower, I finally got to work. I put the boxes together and started filling them with things from my old room. I’d taken one suitcase with me the night that social services took me away. The rest of my clothes and shoes were still in the dresser and closet. I wasn’t a snazzy dresser in those days, not that I am now, either. Most of it was t-shirts and shorts and the occasional sundress, but I was hoping I could find a youth home or some other charitable organization to give them to.
When I finished my old room, I moved to the bathroom and then to the kitchen, I was saving Grandpa’s room for last. I knew that it was going to provoke a lot of emotions and take a lot of emotional energy. After I finished the kitchen, I decided I needed food, a bath, and maybe a good night’s sleep before I was ready for that. I taped up the last box in the kitchen and picked up the keys to the house and the rental car off the coffee table where I’d dropped them earlier.
When I stepped outside, I saw a taxi coming up the small road that led to the beach. I didn’t think much of it. The beach wasn’t private, after all. I turned to lock the door and when I turned back, the taxi had stopped and the back door opened. The long, jean-clad leg was what I saw first, but even before I saw his face, something in me instinctively knew that it was Drake. He stood up and I stood there and stared at him like I was seeing a ghost. He leaned in and paid the cabbie and then turned back in my direction.
“Hi, Summer.”
“Drake. What are you doing here?”
He came towards me and I started to shake. When he got close to the porch, I could smell the scent of his cologne on the breeze, and I shook harder. “Are you cold?”
“No.” The tremor was even in my voice. “What are you doing here, Drake?”
“I came to see you. Now that I do, I can say it was well worth the three thousand miles.”
I was covered in dust. My hair was still wet from surfing and hung in wild waves around my face and down my back. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a Scooby Doo t-shirt that I bought when I was fourteen years old. “You’re insane.”
He laughed. “I seem to recall another time you called me that. Do you remember?”
“The day you asked me to the gala.” I shivered again.
“Are you sure you’re not cold?”
“I’m sure. I am hungry, though. I was going to go back to the hotel in town and shower and get something to eat. Are you hungry?”
“I can always eat,” he said with another one of his amazing smiles. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed since I’d seen him or how angry I was with him, I still wanted to walk over and shove my tongue down his throat. I’m not sure what that says about me.
We got into the rental car and as I drove us to the hotel, I said, “How did you know where to find me?”
“Kobe,” he said.
“Never tell Phoebe any of your secrets.”
He laughed. “I won’t. But you want to know one?”
“Maybe?”
“I’m glad you told her yours. I missed you, Summer.”
“Did you?” I wasn’t being flirty or facetious. I honestly didn’t believe that he had missed me. He’d been so angry with me that day I went to see him and it was obvious that he wasn’t hurting in the sex department. I wasn’t sure he ever wanted to see me again.
I pulled the car up in front of the hotel and before the valet opened the doors, he said, “I did, Summer…like an amputated limb.” He was looking at me with those ice blue eyes and telling me that he missed me, and I wanted to kick that damned valet in the balls when he opened the door and interrupted him. I got out, and we walked into the lobby together. I saw Drake look around and when his eyes fell on the little piano bar he said, “I’ll get a drink and wait for you-”
“No.”
“You don’t want me to wait for you?”
“No.” With a still shaky hand, I reached out for his. He gave it to me, and I looked up into his gorgeous face and said, “I don’t want you to wait for me. I want you to come with me. I want…you.”
He smiled and right there in that fancy lobby surrounded by fancy people he took my disheveled self into his arms and he kissed the breath out of me, and then he picked me up and carried me to the elevator. It was an eighties movie, Officer and a Gentleman moment. I reached over as the doors slid shut and pushed the number for my floor and then I kissed him again. I never wanted to stop.
