Summer's End

by Sally Henson

  “Feel better?”

  I roll on my back, reaching my arms and legs out in opposite directions, stretching as long and tall as possible, reflexively shutting my eyes, and I murmur, “Mm-hm.” Looking up, following the branches and leaves where they meet the sky, I search the horizon. The sunlight is softer. “How long did I sleep?”

  “A couple hours.” He plays with my hair. I close my eyes again; it feels nice. We continue like this for a while. A feathery touch traces the outline of my face. It’s so light I’m not sure it’s real. The delicate tickle moves from my hairline, across my brow, down my jaw, returns, and begins again. My body is weak; unable to move or speak, only be. I want to roll over and have him skim back, run trails down my arms, and … The feather traces my lips, and Lane whispers, “Your skin … is so soft.”

  My euphoria is ruined the moment the words left his mouth. A bolt of lightning shoots through me, stiffening my body. I’m afraid to open my eyes, embarrassed by my thoughts and afraid of what he might be thinking. Warning sirens go off in my head. My eyes pop open. “I need to pee,” blurts out of my mouth. I scurry to my feet and dash toward the woods to find a big wide tree to hide behind.

  Reality has knocked the wind out of me. I do need to pee, but—I think Lane crossed some kind of unspoken line. Maybe my mind has entangled dreamscape and reality. He messes with my hair all the time. That was nothing new. He’s never touched me like that. He’s never said my skin is soft. I’ve never heard him speak like that. Not in that tone. Not in a beguiling whisper in my ear. My heart’s beating as if I just finished a sprint. Find a tree. I look around to make sure there's no one in sight and shuck enough clothing to squat down. As I'm walking back, my heart rate returns to normal. It must have been the combination of my dream, the pressure on my bladder, and getting to my feet too fast. The warning alarm going off inside me must’ve been my imagination.

  Lane's standing at the creek with his bare back to me when I return. I pick up the water bottle on the quilt and watch him. Everything seems normal.

  “Did you catch any fish?”

  He turns and walks toward the cooler now beside the quilt. “Nah. They weren't biting.” He takes off his sunglasses and picks up his gray T-shirt. His arms pass through, lifting the shirt up over his head, tightening his skin over his upper body. The T-shirt slides down his torso, and I follow it down, ending my gaze on my shoes. “The moon isn't right for good fishing anyway.” He sits on the quilt where he was before, the cooler at his side.

  “Why did you even bother if you knew they wouldn't be biting today?” I sit next to him on the quilt. Ignoring my words, he focuses on something in the distance. I turn to see what he's looking at. There’s nothing out of the ordinary—just Indian grass, weeds, a few saplings, and cottonwood trees. He’s lost in his own thoughts. “Hey.” I lean forward and wave my hand in front of his face.

  “Hm?” He glances at me and opens the lid of the cooler. “You want a soda?”

  Delving through the partially melted ice, he pulls out one cream and one cherry soda and offers them to me. I slide the cream soda from between his fingers. We open the lids and take a drink. I keep my eyes on him.

  “You know, I used to think we'd go to college together.” He glances at me, making sure we connect, then back into the distance again as if he could see that future in front of him. “The plan was, I'd come home on the weekends until you graduate from high school. Our dorms would be next to each other. We could hang out and study together all the time. After I graduate, I'd go to work at Shawnee or somewhere in Colorado.” Shifting, he leans back on his palm, free hand dangling over his bent knee, rolling the neck of the bottle between his thumb and index finger. “Then it would be your turn to visit me on the weekends...” He smiles shyly at the idea. It's cute. “Until you get your degree.” I start to interrupt him but hold my tongue. “Then you’d work at the same place as me, or at least somewhere nearby. I thought we'd be inseparable.”

  I watch the bottle rolling back and forth, considering his whole plan, wondering how long ago he came up with it.

  He clears his throat and asks, “Tell me, when does volleyball start?”

  “Tomorrow. Morning practice and open gym at night.”

  “And school?”

  “Mm, the seventeenth, I think.”

  “And you plan to continue working at the pool?” He moves a little closer to me and leans back against the tree.

  “If they'll work with my schedule. Probably every Saturday until Labor Day. Why all the questions?” I scoot back, leaning against the tree beside him.

  He's staring off into the distance again. “Starting next week, you will either be at volleyball practice or working—six days a week. I'm working five days a week until I move into my dorm—the same week you go back to school.” He closes his eyes trying to shut out something he has yet to make me realize. “Reality is...my plan...” He slowly shakes his head, “I've been naive.”

  Trying to decipher this conversation, I sit up and face him. Using the term reality makes me think...I tilt my head and ask, “Are you talking about our fight at the cliffs last week?” I've deliberately been trying to put that behind me.

  “In part.” He finally opens his eyes and turns toward me. His expression holds a bit of pain and fear. I'm searching his intense gaze for some hint of an explanation behind this bizarre conversation. “What are your feelings toward Cameron?”

  My lips spread into a thin line and the muscles in my shoulders draw up like the hunch back of Notre Dame. I'm losing my patience. “He's our friend, isn't he? Of course, I—”

  He interrupts. “I've seen the pictures of you two at the cliffs, Regan.”

  Oh. All the air in my lungs blows past my lips with his verbal kick in the gut. I see where he's going.

  “Do you have a thing for him; do you want to date him?” Lane continues to be calm, but I can tell he's upset. My upset is all out in the open.

  I go off, nearly yelling at him. “Of course not! He's such an idiot sometimes. How could you even think that?” I'm a little hurt and insulted he thinks I would violate any of the rules.

  He drops his head back against the tree. His breath whooshes between his lips with relief. “Good.”

  “That's rule number three. How could you think I’d break any of our rules? I told you the pictures look really bad. They are so not what happened. You were there.” Exasperated at this point, I shake my head. “What’s going on with you?”

  His brows squeeze together, his lips tighten, and his face is full of concern. “Starting tomorrow, for the most part, we won't see much of each other anymore.”

  My hands lie limp in my lap as I sit here thinking about what he's just said. This isn't about the rules of friendship. My mind races through every day from today until the first day of school. Tears well up and threaten to spill over. I mash my lips together; my eyes scour every inch of his face, memorizing it. “Two weeks,” I whisper in understanding. My best friend is leaving in two weeks. “You'll be home on the weekends,” my voice cracks.

  He reaches for me. I crawl over and slide under his arm. “That has been my plan.” He leans his head against mine. “But life isn't working out the way I thought.”

  Tears now dropping one by one I ask, “What do you mean?”

  He searches for a way to explain. “I've come to realize—my dream, it's not what I get my degree in, or what my future job is.”

  I pull back to look at him. “We've talked about you becoming a conservation officer hundreds of times. How is it not your dream?”

  “Last week at the cliffs … Do you remember when I said maybe we’re okay with settling?”

  A twinge of pain stabs me in the heart. I nod my head yes, without speaking.

  He pulls away from me, his eyes follow his hand as it slides down my arm. “I'm not okay with settling. I don't want to settle.”

  Hope swells in my chest. “Then don't. You don't have to settle.” I crawl up on my knees and face him.
I squeeze his shoulders and look him straight in the eyes. “You choose your own path, Lane. You choose your future.” His words about his dream resurface. I frown and sit back on my heels. “What is your dream if it's not becoming a conservation officer?” He looks away, out in the distance again. “Lane.”

  He licks his lips and rubs them together. “It's you,” he breathes so quietly I'm not quite sure what he said. I squint with my face scrunched up. His eyes connect with mine. I can't decipher his expression. “Regan, you are my dream,” he whispers softly but audibly. The coloring in his face is reddening; he struggles to swallow.

  My scowl smooths out and my body leans further back over my heels. I hold my breath, peering at his translucent blue eyes. I once thought I could see through them, to his soul. Haughty enough to think I knew what he was thinking. Obviously, I was wrong.

  6

  My stomach cringes with the beginning signs of panic welling up inside me. “What are you saying?” I manage to speak, finally exhaling.

  He swallows. His eyes are round and full of fear. He leans forward. I lean back even more. “All of my plans—you’re in them. My dreams—you're with me. Degree, career, life—all of it would be miserable without you. I don't want to settle for anyone or anything else but you.” His eyes jet all over me with flicker of panic.

  My chest feels like a fist trying to punch through my breastbone from the inside. “I—” I'm shocked. Pressing my own fist against the pressure in my chest, I stand and search across the creek for the words to speak. Tobi warned me, and I thought she was full of crap. I look all around me except at Lane. I'm freaking out here. I can't deal with this. My body is choosing flight. I need to get out of here.

  Lane spreads his fingers wide and runs both hands through his hair, clasping them behind his head, watching me. I step toward the cooler, turning my back to him, but he places his hands on my shoulders to still me. It works. I freeze at his touch.

  “This may seem all of a sudden.” His voice is a little uneven. “Obviously, you're surprised.” He turns me around to face him. Bending to meet my eyes. “Things are—changing, Regan. I'm leaving soon. We won't see each other all the time like we do now.”

  My eyes well up again, and I bite my lower lip as if that will stop the tears. My best friend is leaving. I'm not ready for him to leave. I mean, I knew he was leaving, but I chose to ignore the reality of it. He hugs me tightly, and I hug him back, holding on as if he were to disappear if I let go.

  “I'm scared, too,” he whispers roughly into my hair. “But I don't want to leave without you knowing the truth about my feelings for you.” He lets out a timid chuckle. I almost let out a sob. “I don't want to lose you because of it, either.” He clears his throat, covering up emotion that's getting away from him. “I mean, we're best friends no matter what. That won't change.”

  I pull away. Tears are streaming down my face now, not only because of my own emotion, but his too. “I don't know, Lane. What about the rules of friendship? The whole point was to keep the group together and not let something like this screw everything up.” I don't think I can see Lane as anything but a friend.

  “You and I have been friends long enough to know how to treat each other.” He starts pacing back and forth on the quilt. “I'm leaving for college. I think I've outgrown the rules.” He stops, lets out a frustrated grunt, throwing his hands in the air. “My point is.” He steps close to me. “Our relationship is much more than friendship and has been for a while.”

  I close my eyes and drop my head. This can't be happening. I look across the creek. The sun is beginning to sink into the horizon. Any other day I would love to sit here and enjoy its beauty, leaving a glow of orange and pink rays behind. And, ironically, I’d delight in doing so with my best friend. But today, right now, my body is still saying flight. So, I throw the empty bottles in the cooler. “It's getting late. We should go.” I wipe the tears away, toss his sunglasses to him without looking, and pick up the quilt and towel. Lane picks up everything else and hands me the tackle box. We each grab one end of the cooler and walk, without words, to the path leading home.

  The welcomed silence amid the activity ends once we’re on the trail a few feet.

  “You haven't dated anyone or even seemed interested in anyone else.”

  I don't want to talk about this. “I'm not interested in anyone. You know how I feel about dating. You remember what happened with my cousin, Susanna.”

  “How could I forget?” I see him roll his eyes when I glance over at his sarcasm.

  “No boyfriends until I'm ready to get married. I'm not ready.”

  “You haven't negated anything I've said, though.”

  “I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want anything more to stand in the way of my dreams. It's hard enough the way it is.”

  “I see.” His voice and shoulders drop masking the hurt. “Do your dreams include me?”

  “You're my best friend. I've always wanted to share my dreams with you and Tobi.”

  “But you don't treat us the same.”

  “What do you mean I don't treat you the same? I'm closer to the two of you than anyone.” The canopy of the trees protects us from the light. It’s growing dim and shadowy, and we’re only halfway back to the house. I try to pick up the pace but he won't follow my lead.

  “You didn't invite me to sleep over last week when Tobi did. Why do you think that is?” He's changing tactics on me.

  “I am a girl. You are a boy.”

  “How does gender matter if we’re best friends?”

  I don't answer. He lets all that sink in before he starts again. “We need to say it out loud, Regan. My leaving has forced me to realize what we are to each other. I don't want you to be as close to anyone else as we are with each other—especially another guy.” He pauses. “We don't have to call each other boyfriend-girlfriend. We're more than that anyway. And we don't have to be touchy-feely, though we do that more than we realize already.”

  I gasp and whip my head to stare him down with my chin dragging the ground. “No, we don't!” One side of his mouth his pulled up. “We don't touch each other like that.”

  “We do. It's just been—natural.” He leans over the cooler with his head tilted to the side. “We didn't realize we were doing it.”

  “Are you on drugs?”

  He turns back and blows out a tsk. “When we go out with Tobi or the gang, who do you sit by? At the movies, the diner—me. You sit by me. When we go swimming at the cliffs, we always ride together. We always find a way to be together.”

  “I have better conversations with you and Tobi. We ride together because we live closer to each other than the rest.”

  “Have you massaged Cameron's shoulders?” His eyebrows raise, peaking above his sunglasses.

  I growl. “Of course not! He's so crude; he'd use it against me in some way.” Cameron will use anything to tease me.

  “What about Haylee or Tobi?”

  “I don't know,” I reply in a highbrowed manner.

  “Does Tobi play with your hair?”

  “She fixes and braids my hair sometimes.”

  He pulls his sunglasses off. “You know what I mean.” His eyes pierce through me. “Do you let anyone else wrap you up in their arms when you're cold, steal gazes for like we do, or knowingly, mutually assess each other’s half-naked bodies?” His body twists to face me as we walk.

  His accusations run red hot through me. My jaw tightens, and I push my words through my clenched teeth. “I don't assess people's half-naked bodies.”

  “Oh,” he sings, as if he just understood the theory of relativity. “You did mine when we were swimming last week.” Is that why he was looking at me like that?

  “No, I didn't!” I forcefully deny I would do such a thing.

  “When we were all lying on our rafts in a circle—I saw you taking me in. I know you saw me doing the same thing to you.”

  Heat colors my skin and my heart rate accelerates even more. I start
to speak, but nothing I say is going to stop him, so I close my mouth and purse my lips.

  “What about today? Surely you remember waking up and looking me over without my shirt on? You did the same thing when I put it back on.”

  I close my eyes for a few steps. Chills run up my spine. He's right, but it was only a dream. I try to keep the pace without saying a word, focusing on the end of the path that's nearing us, but he’s slowing down.

  “Don't be embarrassed. What do you think I was doing while you were sleeping? I mean you weren't half-naked, but you were laying there without a care. You looked so adorable, sleeping next to me.” I wish he would quit talking like that. “I couldn't help but move those golden-brown strands from your face, to see you better, and feel your long silky hair in my fingers.”

  “Stop it.” Though I’m looking forward, I can see the warm, radiant glow overtaking him.

  He grows silent as we finally break the plain of the forest's edge to my backyard. Quickly surveying the openness, I see his parents are gone and the wind has picked up. We walk straight to his truck to put away the cooler and gear. Lane takes the shovel but leaves the can behind. I pick it up and follow him. I'm sure he did it on purpose.

  It's dusk and seems darker than it should. Clouds are moving in quickly, covering what's left of the fading sunlight. In the shed, I fumble for the ledge to find an empty spot for the pail and find one near the corner. I take a step toward the direction I came from, but something makes a noise behind me. I turn cautiously and look down the shelf that lines the entire shed. I see nothing. That's it. Game's over.