Cold Summer

by Gwen Cole

  What would they think if they knew I shot someone in the back who was trying to run away? I almost tell them, just to see. It’s hard to be hopeful when I have to go back to that.

  I scrape my chair back and stand. I say, “I’m going home.”

  “I’ll drive you.” Miles tells me, grabbing his keys and not giving me a chance to decline.

  “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Harper looks like she wants to get up and walk to me or something, but she stays seated. Just nods.

  Outside, the sun is going down and the grass is becoming wet with dew. His old Camry sits behind the truck, and I take my usual seat, brushing away some old gum wrappers to the floor. It smells like him. Mint gum and the laundry detergent his mom uses. The car wheezes to life, brakes squeaking as he turns around.

  He looks at me and says, “Not a word.”

  Because I always have some about this car.

  Honestly, I’m just surprised it’s still running.

  In no time at all, he’s pulling into my driveway and parks behind Dad’s truck. It feels odd being glad he’s home.

  “You wanna throw some ball tomorrow?” Miles asks, knowing the right words and knowing I need to do something normal.

  “Nine?”

  “I’ll meet you there.” I’m about to get out when he stops me and asks, “What is it?”

  I look at him for two seconds, then say, “I shot someone trying to run away.”

  His mouth presses into a thin line, for once not smiling.

  Miles nods.

  I nod back.

  That’s all I needed.

  That night, I can’t sleep. I don’t even try. Dad leaves me watching TV to go to bed around midnight. I can’t really remember the last time I did nothing but stare at the television. It feels good to shut off my thoughts. To think about nothing and worry about nothing.

  I must doze off in the early hours because I wake to Dad making his coffee in the morning and there’s a blanket over me. The television is still on, showing an early morning news show. Dad comes into the living room, and I sit up so he takes a seat.

  “Didn’t know you were a fan of the Today Show,” he says, nudging me in the shoulder.

  “Is that what it’s called?”

  Dad’s dressed for work and his shoes are already on. He would already be out the door by now, but instead he’s sitting here with me. I almost wish he would call in sick but he loves working too much to do that. So I don’t ask.

  After a few moments of silence, he says, “I’m glad you’re home. It’s too quiet around here when you’re gone.”

  When I’m gone.

  And what about when I don’t come back at all. What will he do then? What will happen to my body once I die—will it stay there forever or will it go back to be the proof of what happened? I’m not sure which is worse.

  I have to come back. I’ll make sure I do.

  Screw history.

  So I tell him, “I always come back, you know that.”

  40.

  Harper

  Kale goes and comes back again within the next week. He appears in the field like last time but not early, and he doesn’t feel like talking at all. He mutters something about going home, his face streaked with blood and his hands dirty with brown and red. So we let him disappear into the woods without a fight.

  I give him the night and then go to his house in the morning, the sky overcast with a coming storm. Kale must hear me pull up because he opens the door before I get there. His hair is that type of messy when you sleep with it wet, but Kale doesn’t look like he’s slept at all.

  “Hey.”

  Thunder rumbles overhead and he looks up, like he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing or maybe he expected something else.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nods and steps aside. “You wanna come in?”

  I take him up on the offer as the first drops of rain fall on my shoulders. The living room is dim with the television on, and there’s a blanket and pillow on the couch.

  “Have you been sleeping in here?”

  “Sleeping is a relative term. I stay up late watching TV, and I’m lucky if I doze off sometime in the morning.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, because I don’t know what else to say.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  But it is; he just doesn’t want to admit it. We sit down on the couch, a good foot between us, and stare at the screen showing a muted rerun of The Price is Right.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday,” Kale says, turning around an apology of his own. “I just didn’t feel like talking or seeing anyone.”

  I peek a glance at him. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

  He looks down to the carpet, and I’m ready for him to shut me out like he does every other time when we try to talk about his foretold death. But instead, he smiles and looks defiant, like not even history can get in his way.

  “I promised I always would be, right?” This is the side of him I’ve been waiting for—the Kale who doesn’t give up. “I’ll be back next time, too.” Even though he’s staying strong, his voice cracks—just enough for me to hear it. “You’ve shown me I can control it—I’ll be able to when the time comes.”

  “You don’t leave for another few days, right?” I say. “So let’s make the best of it. Come have lunch with me and Uncle Jasper. There’s no food in the house, so you know we’ll go somewhere good.”

  At that he smiles.

  The whole rest of the day goes by in a happy blur despite the weather spitting rain at us every other hour. We have lunch and then go see a movie, where Kale holds my hand in the dark so that’s all I could think about. He’s closed off more than usual, but I take what I can get.

  I don’t want to see him go again, but I don’t mention it. I try not to think about it all, like I know he’s trying to do. But it’s there—like the clouds overhead—and not letting us forget.

  Kale comes through the back door while I’m making breakfast the next day. Uncle Jasper is already in the barn. I’m about to offer him some food before I stop short. He stands barely inside the door, hands deep in his pockets, unable to look at me.

  “What is it?”

  The silence is deafening between us until—

  “There’s no point for me to wait around a couple days. I don’t think I can bear it. So I’m gonna go.”

  “But …”

  “Bye, Harp.”

  Then he’s out the door before I can stop him, and I’m holding the spatula and am too shocked to move. Did that really just happen? He hasn’t even been here for two days yet. I throw the spatula on the counter and run after him, the screen door slamming shut behind me. He’s already at the tree line.

  “Kale!”

  He doesn’t stop, and I run after him, not caring I don’t have shoes on. The farther I go down the path, the more fear consumes me. I see the river around the bend, and I slow to a stop when he finally comes into view.

  I let myself breathe, relieved he’s still here.

  “Kale?”

  I walk up to him, but he spins around and puts his hand up to stop me, taking a step backward. “Harper, please don’t come near me.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think?” His body trembles with a shiver, telling me the answer. He’s about to leave. I can’t go near him, because he doesn’t want to risk the chance of dragging me along.

  “You don’t have to leave right now. You can fight it,” I say, trying to believe he’ll do it. “You know you can.”

  Kale can’t leave right now. I’m not ready for it, and don’t think I ever will be. I have to believe this won’t be the last time I’ll see him. Thinking about it makes my throat close up.

  “There’s no point in waiting,” he says, showing me something I’m not supposed to see—his fear. He’s held it back for so long, not letting me see it, but he can’t anymore. Of course he’s afraid, but seeing it is something totally different. “It’s either today or tomorrow, it wo
n’t change anything.”

  “What brought this on all of the sudden? You were fine yesterday.” I take another step closer and he doesn’t notice. “Kale—”

  His eyes stop wandering, settling on mine. He’s calm now, like he really needs me to understand. “I was trying to sleep this morning, knowing I would have to try again the next night and the next, and my thoughts wandered, knowing where I’m going and … I realized I’m ready to go. It doesn’t make a difference. It’s either now or two days from now, and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  I step closer. “But I’m not ready for you to go.”

  A little color returns to his face, brightening up his eyes for only a moment before it’s gone again. “But I am,” he whispers, then his voice becomes more determined. “You’re the one who made me ready. History isn’t going to get the better of me. I won’t let it.”

  I realize—I can’t argue with him. His mind is set and he really does seem ready to take on the impossible. I knew this day would come, just not so soon. So I kiss him. Not like a good-bye, but something to be continued later. He will come back, because he has to.

  Kale slips his fingers through mine when I pull away, my hand warm against his. I don’t want to forget the color of his eyes or the shape of his jaw. I don’t want to forget the way he smells.

  “You have to keep your promise,” I say. “You have to.”

  Kale tilts his head ever so slightly, not breaking my gaze. “Have I ever broken it?” He leans in, brushing his lips against my forehead.

  “No.” A tear escapes my eye and races down my cheek—I can’t hold them in.

  “Then you have to promise me you’ll be here when I come back,” he says. “Because I’m going to.”

  The breeze kicks up around our feet, bringing the smell of winter with it. I close my eyes and press into him. “I promise.”

  Kale steps away, his lips leaving my skin and his fingers slipping from mine. The smells of summer return, bringing warmth to the places of skin he touched.

  I open my eyes and Kale is gone.

  41.

  Kale

  The moment my lips brush against her forehead, I almost decide to stay.

  I’m strong enough to resist the pull to be here when Harper opens her eyes. I want to so badly. I want summer and its warm weather. I want to be with the summer girl who’s here to stay. I want a chance at a normal life.

  But the past is calling me back, and if it’s not now, it’ll be later. I can’t put it off any longer. Every day I wait is another day of torture. Knowing the truth and trying to put it off.

  I can’t stand it. I’m reminded of it when Harper looks at me. Hear it in her words when she talks to me.

  When I step away from her, going against every instinct to hang on, I have to believe this isn’t the last time I’ll see her.

  It’s all I have.

  And then I watch the world around me fade into something else.

  The full trees become bare and cold. Grass turns into snow. Day turns to night. The weight of my rifle digs into my shoulder and my feet are heavy with boots.

  I’m standing in the same place I left days ago.

  As if no time has passed at all.

  In a place where death is a constant reminder.

  More now than ever.

  42.

  Harper

  Only minutes pass before I hear Uncle Jasper behind me. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and try to remind myself Kale isn’t dead. He’s just gone, and he’ll be back in a few days’ time. Hopefully not more than two days, because that’s when January 8 will be where he is. The day after tomorrow at the earliest. I can wait that long. At least, I want to believe I can.

  “What’s going on?” He probably heard me shout for Kale from the barn.

  “He’s gone.” I turn around and Uncle Jasper wraps his arms around me. I bury my face into his chest, seeking something familiar.

  “He’ll be back.”

  I mumble into his shirt, “He promised he would.”

  Uncle Jasper pulls away and looks down at me. “And Kale has always been one to keep his promises. Come on, let’s go back to the house.” We start back down the path, his arm wrapped around my shoulders—he needs me as much as I need him right now.

  “So, what do we do now?” I ask.

  “Hope this day doesn’t go by as slow as I think it will.”

  Around twelve o’clock, a truck comes up the driveway, towing a trailer behind it. I sit on the porch and watch Uncle Jasper back an old muscle car down the ramps—the driver using arm motions like he’s trying to land an airplane, which makes me think of Grace the first day we met. It seems so long ago, and I’m lucky to have her as a friend now.

  Once the car is backed into the barn, the driver pulls away with the trailer, kicking up dirt behind him. Uncle Jasper locks the barn and comes to sit next to me. The wind picks up, blowing a storm in from the west.

  I wrap my arms around my legs, feeling the breeze a little cold. “You aren’t going to work on it today?” I’ve never known Uncle Jasper not to work on a car the moment he got it.

  “I won’t be able to concentrate,” he says, curling the bill of his baseball cap in his hands. “Not until Kale is back.”

  “You want to find something on TV? And I think we have another frozen pizza in the freezer,” I suggest.

  Uncle Jasper smiles, granting me his approval, and goes inside, the screen door squeaking shut behind him. I’m hoping some television will keep my thoughts off Kale, because I’ll take anything at this point. He’s only been gone for two hours, and I’m already anxious for him to come back. To know what he’s going through in 1945.

  I follow Uncle Jasper into the house, wondering if I’ll be able to stomach food today.

  It hasn’t stopped raining for three hours. It pounds against the roof and the windows, a constant noise slowly making me go crazy.

  Uncle Jasper slouches in his chair beside me, his baseball cap on sideways and an empty can of soda in his hand. He stares blankly at the screen, watching golf. Golf.

  When the commercials come on, I lift myself out of the chair and go upstairs to use the bathroom. I have an urge to crawl into bed and go to sleep, but I know even if I do, sleep won’t come right now.

  I splash some cold water on my face, deliberately ignoring the mirror in front of me. Before I go back downstairs, I find my hoodie and slip it on, feeling cold for the first time this summer.

  Miles shows up at our door right as the sky is becoming dark, all smiles and perfect hair despite the rain, asking for Kale since he wasn’t at home.

  “He left early.” I stand in the doorway and realize I don’t want to go back inside yet. I nod to the porch and ask, “You wanna sit down?”

  Miles nods, still trying to look happy despite my news. He sits next to me on the porch swing that faces the field and speaks first, “It’s not easy—it’s okay to admit that even if you feel you shouldn’t.”

  That’s exactly how I feel—guilty for feeling something when Kale leaves, knowing what he goes through is harder than me waiting for him to come back. “It just feels …” I’m not sure if I know the right word. Then I test it. “Disconcerting?”

  “To put it mildly, yes,” he agrees. “We were driving into the city one weekend right after I got my license and this song came on that we both liked. We sang it together a hundred times before, trading verses and me always taking the high parts. At least trying to.” I smile at that and try not to laugh. “So we were singing along and then it was Kale’s turn, but he wasn’t singing his part. I looked over to find his seat empty.”

  I can say nothing except—“Shit.”

  Miles laughs, probably because he’s never heard me swear before.

  “It’s expecting one thing and getting another. Something you just gotta roll with. That’s why we’re friends with him, right? To be here for him when he gets back. It’s the side effects of being friends with Kale Jackson.”

  �
�Does it get easier?”

  “You get used to it.”

  The rain tapers off during the night. Uncle Jasper already went up to bed, and I’m watching an infomercial about brooms. When I can’t hold my eyes open any longer, I shut the television off and blindly make my way upstairs.

  Without turning the lights on, I change into a pair of shorts and a tank-top. I open the windows before I climb into bed, only taking comfort in the sound of the storm tonight when nothing else comes close. While lying in bed, facing the dark windows with the sound of rain coming through them, I brush my hand over the place where Kale slept all those nights ago. The warmth of him is long gone. When Kale leaves, he leaves nothing behind except the memory of him, and it’s never enough.

  There is one question I’ve been ignoring today.

  What if Kale doesn’t come back? This is what Uncle Jasper must have felt when Aunt Holly died. I don’t understand how life can continue on when someone so close to you goes away forever.

  It’s something that hurts to think about, and something I hope I don’t have to deal with anytime soon.

  43.

  Kale

  When I look up at the sky, time is irrelevant.

  The clouds look the same and the sun is just as bright.

  It’s one thing that never changes. The only thing that brings comfort. Because wherever I might end up, the sky is always there—the sun during the day and the moon at night.

  Two constant things when nothing else can be.

  With my helmet hanging from my fingers, I close my eyes and soak in whatever warmth I can get on my face. Missing summer in this cold place.

  “Jackson.”

  I look down in time to see Perkins throw me something. I catch it in my helmet and see an unopened pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes.

  “Where did you find these?” I ask. I shoulder my rifle and put my helmet back on so I can have my hands free. I haven’t had a smoke since last night and I’m dying for one.

  “The captain gave them to me,” he says.