Unforgettable Summer

by Catherine Clark

  I sank down a little in my seat, rolled down my window, and half-listened to her as I breathed in the not-quite-close-enough-to-the-ocean-yet salt air.

  Maybe Hayden couldn’t leave, like Miss Crossley said, I thought. Maybe it wasn’t flat-out rejection.

  But that didn’t explain why he hadn’t called me once while I was gone, or returned any of my calls.

  What had I done?

  Wasn’t our good-bye as romantic as I’d thought it was?

  Or had he just been taking pity on me because I was so upset?

  CHAPTER 16

  I found Hayden in his room later that night. His roommate, Richard, was there, which made things a little awkward. They were watching a DVD, which they didn’t even pause when I walked in.

  “Hey, you’re back.” Hayden glanced over at me. He was lying on his side, on his bed, and he didn’t make a move to get up. I was expecting a big hug, not the cold shoulder. What was going on with him?

  I went to sit next to him, pushing him over a little to make room. “Yeah, I got back on the train.”

  “So everything’s okay?”

  I nodded. “I called you to let you know.” I didn’t add “several times,” because Richard was sitting there and I was feeling dumb enough already.

  “My phone went swimming. Okay, so I went swimming, and it was in my back pocket,” Hayden explained. “Anyway, it’s history.”

  “Oh, really?” I said. That seemed like kind of a convenient excuse, but what could I do, disagree with him? I might tease him about it in private, but not in front of his roommate. “So then I asked Caroline to tell you I was coming back, and asked if you could pick me up.”

  “Oh, yeah? She didn’t tell me,” Hayden said.

  I nodded. “I should have known. She was using her fake voice when I talked to her.”

  “Which fake voice? She has a few,” Richard commented.

  “Good point.” I smiled at him. Then I looked back at Hayden. “My grandfather’s doing really well. It was great to see him and spend some time talking.”

  “Good,” Richard said. “I’m glad he’s okay.”

  Was it me, or was Richard more interested in what had happened than Hayden? What was going on? “Hey,” I said, jiggling his leg. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh yeah.” He shifted on the bed. “So did you see what’s-his-name while you were home?”

  Was that hurt in his voice? Jealousy? Or just plain annoyance? “I did see him. But not like you might be thinking. We split up, completely. For good,” I said. I spoke softly in case there was any chance of privacy.

  “Really.” Hayden raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes, really.” In fact, I wanted to say, I told him I might be seeing someone else. But from the way things look right now, I’d say that I got the wrong impression.

  “Oh yeah? Well, cool. Glad you worked things out.” His voice betrayed no emotion at all—not relief, or excitement. Did he really not care at all, or was this just a show in front of his roommate?

  “Okay, so . . . you guys enjoy the movie,” I said as I got to my feet.

  “You want to stick around?” Richard offered. “I could run down to the Hull, make us some popcorn or something.”

  I looked at Hayden for my cue. The way things were going a few days ago, I’d have thought: Yes, let’s send Richard out on an errand. That’ll give us time to be alone. But now? The one who needed to leave was me.

  “No, that’s okay. I have to unpack and things like that. See you, guys,” I said as I walked to the door. I turned around as I closed it and made eye contact with Hayden, who was watching me leave. He made no move to get up. He didn’t even smile at me.

  What did I do? I wanted to scream.

  But at the same time, I knew I hadn’t done anything. I knew this was all about him.

  Upstairs, I stopped in the hallway outside Room 203. The door was open, and inside, Caroline was sitting at her desk, writing in what looked like a journal.

  “What are you writing?” I asked.

  She slammed the black book closed with a thud. “Nothing.”

  “Relax, I wasn’t going to read it.” I couldn’t imagine a more boring journal than Caroline’s—unless of course she had a secret life. “I have a question to ask you.”

  “What’s that?” She picked up a brush and started to nonchalantly brush her hair.

  “Why didn’t you give Hayden my message?” I asked.

  “Message?” she repeated. She glanced at me in the mirror. “What message?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I called you from home—we spoke on the phone. I asked you to tell Hayden to come pick me up at the train. Next thing I know, Miss Crossley is there,” I said.

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Caroline said.

  “You don’t.” Somehow I found that hard to believe.

  “No. Honestly, Liza. I did give him the message. Miss Crossley must have decided she wanted to pick you up herself.”

  I stared at her for a minute, trying to remember what little tic she had for when she was lying. When we’d gotten into trouble as kids, she was the smooth talker, the one who got us out of things.

  “But you know, maybe seeing less of Hayden isn’t such a bad idea, if you think about it,” she mused.

  Did I really want Caroline’s opinion on this? But somehow I couldn’t resist asking, “Why’s that?”

  “Because. How well do you know Hayden—really?” she asked.

  Better than I know you now, I thought. “Is there something I should know? Besides what you already told me?”

  She shook her head. “No, never mind. Look, I’m just—you won’t believe me, but I’m trying to look out for you,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong in being a little cautious when it comes to . . . you know.”

  “What?” I asked.

  She cleared her throat. “Getting . . . involved.”

  “You mean, being ‘really really really close’?” I asked, using her euphemism.

  “You know what? Forget it,” she said. “Forget I said anything. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when it doesn’t work out.”

  “Caroline? Don’t worry. For one thing, we’re not an item. And for another, if anything did happen? The last person I’d come to for sympathy would be you.” I walked out of her room without giving her a chance to reply, and into ours next door, slamming both doors behind me.

  “Let me guess. You talked to Caroline?” Claire asked, looking up from her book.

  “Did I mention I hate dorms?” I said. “There’s no privacy anywhere—”

  “You want me to leave? I can leave for a while,” Claire said. “No problem. If you and Hayden want to talk or whatever—”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Hayden and I just talked. Or actually I talked, and he just sat there like a lump, as if he didn’t even know me or care. I’m done talking to him,” I said.

  “Let’s go out for ice cream.” Claire slid her feet into a pair of sandals.

  “Really? You think?”

  “Let’s find Josh and get out of here for a while.” Claire pointed to the wall we shared with Caroline and Zoe.

  “Good idea,” I said. “I know just where we should go—Sally’s.”

  “Who’s Sally?” Claire asked.

  “She runs a little coffee place. Come on.”

  “What are you doing here?” I looked up from the croquet wickets that I was placing in the lawn. “Children are drowning. And don’t you have some zinc oxide to apply?”

  “Ha. Very funny.” Hayden dropped a long duffel that made a clattering wood sound. “I’ve been replaced.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “What?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been replaced. Go figure,” he said. We were standing on the grassy lawn overlooking the ocean, and he pointed at the lifeguard stand, where another figure was perched.

  “Like, permanently?” I asked. I could have yelled at myself for having even an ounce of empathy for him. He
didn’t deserve it. He didn’t even deserve me talking to him.

  “No, just for this morning,” he said. “They hired someone new, from town, so they can have more of a pool to draw from, in case one of us—or me—gets sick and can’t work, or if there’s an emergency, like with Lindsay yesterday.”

  “A pool. Did they actually say that? A pool of lifeguards?” I laughed, despite the fact I felt more like killing him than joking around with him.

  “Anyway, that’s why I was in such a bad mood last night. Miss Crossley told me about some big event she wants me to help with. The Inn-lympics or something like that?”

  “And you brought the mallets?” I asked. “Thanks. So where are all the competitors?”

  “Miss Crossley’s in the lobby, going over the rules. Quite extensive, from what I gather,” Hayden said. “I think she took the actual international Olympics handbook and just modified it a little.”

  “So. Should we practice?”

  Hayden eyed the wickets I’d set up. “Sure.”

  The air smelled incredible that morning—like flowers and ocean and sunshine. Hayden and I were standing there in our sunglasses and Inn uniforms. We looked like something out of an Inn brochure. This could be such a nice scene.

  “What color do you want to be?” Hayden asked.

  “Red,” I said. The color of anger.

  “This is going to be wicket fun,” Hayden said in a Boston accent.

  It was funny, but I willed myself not to smile. I knocked the ball through the first wicket with one rocket shot.

  “Wow. Wicket impressed,” he commented.

  “I can’t believe you,” I said as I walked over to it.

  “What?” Hayden chose blue and followed behind me. His shot went farther.

  “You’re such a phony.” I whacked the ball again when it was my turn.

  “I am? Me?” He knocked through another wicket.

  “Yeah. You pretend to be all nice to me, and sweet and romantic, and then when other people are around, it’s like you don’t even know me. Why?” I asked, sending his croquet ball flying off the grassy lawn and into the sand.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. “And what are you talking about?”

  We were approaching each other, croquet mallets in hand, and looking vaguely threatening, when Miss Crossley came running out of the Inn. “Liza, stop that!” she cried.

  What did she think I was going to do? And why was she only yelling at me, and not both of us? Hayden looked equally murderous.

  “We’ve had an emergency. Roberta’s got her hands full because of an especially needy room,” Miss Crossley said. “Especially needy” meant “completely trashed” in Tides Inn language. “We need you to help out. Rooms Three-eleven and Three-twelve still need cleaning, and a family’s checking into both at noon, they requested early check-in. Could you be a team player and get those two rooms presentable ASAP?”

  I’m definitely a team player, but on Uptight Knight’s clean team? I wondered. “Are you sure this is okay with Mr. Knight?” I asked.

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? Anyway, I call the shots around here,” she said. “Follow me—Hayden, I’ll be right back with the contestants!”

  I glared at him as I thrust the red-striped mallet into his arms. “Have a good time.”

  About an hour later, I was cleaning when there was a knock on the door. I looked up from the coffee table I was dusting, expecting it to be either Roberta or Mr. Knight checking on me. I started dusting more vigorously and sprayed an extra layer of cleaner onto the table. Then I answered, “Yes?”

  “Liza? I thought I’d find you here.” Hayden stepped into the room.

  “Brilliant,” I muttered. As if he had figured out something difficult. Miss Crossley had only announced in front of him that I’d be in either Room 311 or 312.

  “What’s that?” Hayden asked.

  “I’m busy,” I said.

  “This won’t take long.” He lifted the PRIVACY PLEASE sign off the doorknob and set it on the outside, then he closed the door.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. “You can’t do that.” Of all the times for his infamous daredevil rule-breaking side to come out. “And shouldn’t you be competing in the Inn-lympics?”

  “I was a referee. A croquet referee. Have you ever heard of anything so lame?” He laughed.

  “You can take over in housekeeping anytime,” I said under my breath.

  “Oh no. I’d never survive. Not neat enough. Let me do my Uptight Knight impersonation.” He lifted up the corner of his shirt and ran it over the top of the dresser. “Aha! I have found a speck of dust.”

  I didn’t find him all that amusing. Plus, I couldn’t help wondering what he was up to, trapping me in a hotel room. Sure, we lived and worked here, but it was still kind of loaded.

  “I can’t believe they let you clean again,” he said. “After the first time.”

  “I wasn’t that bad,” I said. “It was an accident. A runaway vacuum. It could happen to anyone.”

  He laughed, and I wondered why I was still trying to be funny, to make him laugh. He didn’t deserve it.

  “They’re checking in soon, so I have to get this done.”

  “Come on. You can have some fun. So, I was wondering.” He switched on the radio beside the bed, then he came over and took the cleaning stuff out of my hands. He ran his finger along my bare arm. “I know this isn’t wedding music, but . . . you want to dance?”

  I walked over to the radio and snapped it off. “You know, I was wondering something, too. What is your problem?”

  “My problem?” he asked.

  “With acknowledging me. With being in public together,” I said.

  He paced around the room for a second, walking over to the window and back again. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he finally said.

  I laughed. “What soap opera did you hear that on?” I scoffed. “And anyway—no kidding. It is you. We could be together. We could be great together, if you haven’t noticed. But you’ve got some weird hang-up where you only want to think that some of the time,” I said.

  He finally sighed and sat down at the desk. “Okay, fine. You want an explanation. You know what it is? I hated how last year everyone knew about me and Zoe. I hated it. They all had their opinions, like they felt like they could discuss us. I didn’t want that to happen again.”

  “Didn’t want what to happen again?” I asked. “The girlfriend part or the gossip part?”

  He swiveled back and forth in the chair. “The everyone-in-my-business part.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” I said. “I think you’re, like, embarrassed of me, for some reason. I think you just don’t want everyone to know about me.”

  Hayden shook his head. “That’s not it. I just like to keep things private.”

  “Keep me private, you mean.”

  “Keep what happens between us private,” he said. “That’s why I put the sign on the door. Privacy please. Like if I could wear one of those around my neck.”

  “That could be arranged,” I said. Very, very tightly.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  I was so angry, I couldn’t even talk to him. “I don’t know,” I said. “But not what you’ve been doing.”

  “Look, if you want to find me, I’ll be back at the beach later, from one to four,” he said, and then he stood up and left the room.

  Great. Now I couldn’t even go to the beach.

  CHAPTER 17

  So I’d go to another beach, I decided once Miss Crossley released me for the day—or “for the time being,” as she liked to say.

  No problem.

  I’d go to one in Newport. Or I’d catch the ferry to Block Island. Would that be far enough away?

  Sure. But to get all those places, I had to drive and my car still wouldn’t start. I was sitting in the scorching hot driver’s seat, turning the ignition again and again, but nothing was happening.

  Why did I have a feeling I’
d be leaving my car at the Inn at the end of the summer, along with my hopes of a big romance? Not that Miss Crossley would let me abandon my car. She’d have it towed to the nearest junkyard. In fact, I was surprised she hadn’t already done that—maybe she hadn’t noticed it yet.

  All of a sudden the passenger door opened, and Hayden stuck his head inside the car. “I didn’t realize this loud screeching sound was your car. I thought it was a flock of seagulls that’d just spied a bag of potato chips.”

  I laughed, despite the fact I’d wanted to kill him the last time I saw him. “It does sound like that, doesn’t it?”

  “Let me try something,” Hayden said.

  “Hurry up, I think my legs are melting onto the seat,” I said.

  He closed the door, then pounded the hood a few times with the heel of his hand. “That didn’t work, did it? So come on, go for a bike ride with me.”

  “It’s going to start this time,” I said as I turned the key in the ignition.

  “No, it isn’t. Your belts are shot, or one of them is, anyway.” He peered in at me through my open window. He looked really good today, in a faded brown T-shirt and baggy green army shorts. “You’re a belt killer. You know that? That’s like twelve this summer.”

  “It’s not twelve,” I said as I got out of the car, the seat making a sticky sound. “Three or four, tops.”

  “That’s not the point. The point is that biking to the beach is a lot more fun.”

  Fun with Hayden. Had I completely given up on that yet? “What kind of bike are we talking about?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  “It’s a mountain bike. Practically brand-new and totally nice,” Hayden said. “I checked out all the bikes in the shed and it’s probably the best one in there.”

  I was so tempted. It was about four thirty, and I really wanted to spend the rest of the day—and evening—away from the Inn. But the thing was, part of the reason I felt that way was because I needed to get away from Hayden. So how would spending my night off with him help?