Three Day Summer

by Sarvenaz Tash

  I feel ashamed.

  Now the Who are playing “My Generation” and all my dark, murky thoughts are further mucked up by Ned. I wonder if he’s here to hear his favorite song, and suddenly I feel completely exhausted. The ping-pong of today’s emotions has been almost too much to bear.

  So when the Who play one more song and then bid us good night, I know it’s time for me to go as well. I need to sleep. Maybe, as my mom is always fond of saying, everything will look better in the morning. Maybe my dad will get a miraculous bout of short-term amnesia.

  “I have to go,” I tell Rob. “I’m so sleepy.”

  “Just stay and sleep here,” he responds. “We have bags.”

  I shake my head no. “I can’t. I have to go back to work tomorrow.” As long as I’m not chained to my room when I wake up. “They need me in the medical tent.” Except they don’t really. Nobody needs a seventeen-year-old candy striper.

  God. Apparently the self-pity comes on strong when I’m beat.

  But truly, I have to go.

  “Good-bye,” I say, and this time I look directly in Michael’s face when I say it. I’m preparing myself to never see him again.

  Still, we had one really excellent day together. So I can afford to give him a smile before I get swept up by Rob, who gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

  “Thanks,” I say, before I turn around and leave, not even looking back to examine the jealousy likely scrawled on Michael’s face. That’s not how I want to remember him.

  chapter 52

  Michael

  After the Who’s epic twenty-five-song set, we all realize we need to get some sleep. It seems like they’re breaking down equipment anyway, so I’m not too upset when the girls suggest we find a place to hunker down for the night.

  We walk away from the stage until we find an unoccupied bit of land near the top of the big hill. I have my backpack again, and the sleeping bag along with it. Amanda crawls into it with me with barely a word and passes out right away.

  But I can’t sleep. Not too long ago, Cora said good-bye to me like it was for real, like it was the last time we’d ever see each other. But I won’t believe that to be true. Not in a place as magical and epic as Woodstock.

  Suddenly the sleeping bag and the girl crammed into it with me are stifling and I know I have to get out of it. As quietly as I can, I pull the zipper, move Amanda’s arm off me, and roll out. She shifts a little but doesn’t wake up.

  For good measure, I move a little farther away before I lie back down on the grass. It feels better out in the open, but still not quite right. I look up at the stars that seemed to hold so much meaning for me just a couple of nights ago. They’re inscrutable now, nothing but balls of gas burning billions of miles away. They tell me nothing about what I should do or who I should be.

  My eyelids feel heavy and I know I’m drifting in and out of sleep because the sky seems to be getting lighter each time I open my eyes. At some point, I hear a faraway voice announcing, “This is morning maniac music!”

  And then the music starts up again. It doesn’t take me long to recognize Grace Slick’s distinctive growl.

  I close my eyes and try to feel everything. The slick, dewy grass beneath my back. The morning breeze that tickles the little hairs in my nose. The distinctive smell of mud and skin. And, of course, the sound of Jefferson Airplane rocking out just down the hill from me.

  The only thing I know for sure is that it’s technically the last day of the festival. I need to make it count.

  chapter 53

  Cora

  The house is quiet and dark when I approach it again. I’m not terribly surprised. I honestly don’t expect to see my dad around now, not after what I said and my storming out.

  It’s almost six a.m. and I’m pretty tired. Still, I decide to hop into the shower before I grab a couple of hours of sleep. The lake can’t really count as bathing, can it? I try not to think about that time in the water too much as I quickly lather up and rinse off. I try not to remember Michael’s face or the way his eyes sparkled with reflected water and desire for me. I try not to feel the ghost of his hands around my waist.

  I say I try. I don’t say I succeed.

  I set my alarm for ten a.m. and go to sleep with my hair wet. I don’t sleep well. The damp pillow doesn’t help and neither do all the day’s events running through my mind. Both the sublime (riding in a helicopter with Michael) and the shameful (yelling at my dad) parts of it.

  Still, I’m dead asleep when the alarm finally buzzes, and I get out of bed red-eyed and groggy. My hair has curled messily and there’s nothing to do but braid it. I dress quickly, slipping into one of my comfortable floral summer dresses, leaving the red flying pig bandanna hanging from my chair. I don’t have time to think about looking hip today.

  I’m glad I took a shower last night so that I won’t have to take one this morning. My plan is to make it from my room to the front door in one shot and see if I can get out without seeing my dad. I’d like to get to the festival without a scene. By ten thirty in the morning, he should be out on the farm already, three hours after breakfast and two away from lunch. With any luck, my mom won’t be in the kitchen either. I’m not sure what he told her last night, but I’m in no mood to find out. I will deal with it all later. When the festival has left and I am prepared to face the consequences. I can’t miss this last day of being in the middle of the only thing the country’s talking about. It’ll probably never happen to me again.

  My luck holds out and I make it out of the house without seeing anyone. I haven’t eaten anything, but it doesn’t matter. As I told Michael, we can survive without food for a long time, and I now know where to get water. I wonder if the army’s going to drop off sandwiches again too.

  I make it to my medical tent at around five to eleven. From a few feet outside it, I hear some screaming and quicken my pace.

  I walk in and search for the distressed patient. She’s easy to find. She’s in a corner with Anna and she’s in labor.

  Anna quickly looks over at me and says, “Could you get some towels?” by way of greeting. I do so right away, happy to be busy.

  When I walk over to the patient, I suddenly recognize her and the bearded man sitting with her. They were the couple with the oranges on Friday. I smile at them warmly, remembering their kindness. Despite her pain, the mother-to-be smiles back at me.

  For the next hour, I spend a lot of time trying to soothe her with cool towels, tea, and—more often—by allowing her to squeeze my hand as tightly as she wants. I can tell by her husband’s face across her stomach that both of our fingers might be useless after today.

  One of the doctors in the tent keeps glancing nervously at me. I don’t recognize him—he must be from another hospital—but I hear him ask Anna if she’s sure it’s a good idea to have “the girl” dealing with the pregnant woman.

  “I think you’ll find us girls know a lot on the subject,” Anna says to him coldly. “Now, I think there are some bloodied feet you can tend to in that corner over there. Doctor.” I smile into my hair.

  Twenty minutes later, Anna comes over and takes a peek at my patient’s dilation status.

  “Okay.” She nods to the mother. “There’s a helicopter here to take you to the hospital and I think you’re good to get on it.”

  “We can’t have the baby here?” the husband asks.

  “It’s going to be safer at the hospital,” Anna says as they help the mother up.

  I walk out with them and watch them get on the helicopter, all the time trying not to think too hard about helicopters. Or oranges. I find I’m swallowing a lot.

  After they’ve safely taken off, Anna walks back to the tent with me. “How was your day yesterday?” she asks.

  “It was fine,” I say.

  “Did you have fun?” she asks.

  “Yes. It was great,
” I say. And then, thankfully, we are hit with another influx of patients, and neither of us has any time for more questions.

  chapter 54

  Michael

  I drift in and out as Jefferson Airplane plays on, and by the time I fully wake up, there’s no music at all. I walk over to look at Amanda’s watch. It’s noon.

  The sky is overcast and cloudy. It looks like it’s going to rain again.

  “I feel so disgusting,” Amanda says as she gets up and looks down at her muddy arms. Then she looks over at my clothes, which are still caked with the stuff from yesterday and again today, and looks even more bewildered. “So are you,” she says matter-of-factly.

  I guess now that I have my backpack, I can switch into the change of clothing I brought. I slowly bring the bag over and swap my shirt for the Monterey Pop T-shirt that’s balled up at the bottom.

  For a second, I think about suggesting the lake to Amanda, but then I decide against it. I don’t want to taint that memory. I want it to stay as perfect and pristine as it is.

  It doesn’t matter because Evan suggests it anyway. So after rolling up our sleeping bags and gathering our meager belongings, we head on over to the water.

  The lake is even more crowded than it was yesterday because I guess even some of the holdouts can’t spend three muddy days without a bath.

  Amanda, Catherine, Suzie, Evan, and Rob all strip down to their birthday suits and wade in. I linger back.

  When she’s only in up to her thighs, Amanda turns around and yells at me to come join them.

  I’m still fully clothed and I don’t want to. I look at her stunning naked body and feel sick to my stomach. Her skin is porcelain pale, glowing in the weak sun. I have been begging her to let me see her like this for months. And now I just want to turn away.

  But what excuse can I give her? Slowly, I strip down completely too and leave my clothes in a pile next to the others’. When I get in the lake, I stay closer to Evan and Suzie than I do Amanda. I don’t want to touch her in that water. It became sacred to me yesterday and I’m already ruining that.

  I can see Amanda’s thinking about swimming over, though, so I dunk myself in, rub my arms a little bit, and then start to wade back out again.

  “Hey . . . ,” Amanda calls.

  “I’m worried about our clothes,” I lie. “I’ll go stand guard.”

  I change quickly, putting on the clean jeans I brought and the Monterey shirt. Then I wait, purposely not looking out at my friends but keeping my eyes on the horizon.

  Eventually, they splash out too. Amanda takes her time rummaging through my backpack for the clean dress she brought, bending over so that her ass is a hairline away from me. I look away.

  Everyone gets dressed and the music still hasn’t started. Rob suggests we go to the food tents to see if we can get something to eat. It’s only then that I think to ask him what happened to the girl he was supposed to be meeting here.

  “She never made it, since the roads were already closed by the time she was supposed to leave,” Rob says, and shrugs.

  “Shame,” I say, thinking mostly about his flirt session with Cora from the night before. But Rob just shrugs again and grins.

  The food tents are handing out more army-issued bologna sandwiches. We each get one and Catherine suggests a picnic by the lake. We go to the drinkable side.

  Our picnic ends and still no music, so Suzie brings up the woods that surround the farm. “I heard they’re selling things in there.”

  “What sort of things?” Evan perks up and I’m sure he’s thinking about getting more weed.

  “T-shirts and stuff like that,” Suzie says.

  We have nothing better to do, so we go.

  chapter 55

  Cora

  At around one, Ned shows up at the tent. He’s volunteering today.

  Turns out, he was volunteering yesterday, too. I know this because as soon as he comes in, he walks right up to me and says, “I thought you’d be here yesterday.”

  “What?” I respond, a little disoriented by the lack of greeting.

  “I thought we’d both be here volunteering together yesterday.”

  “Oh,” I say, as I brew up some more freak-out tea. You would think all the announcements about the acid would have stemmed some of the tide of bad trips, but you’d be wrong. Maybe it only freaked me and Michael out. Or maybe we were just looking for an easy excuse to spend time together. “Anna gave me the day off,” I tell Ned. “To see the festival.” I leave it at that.

  “Oh, really? How was it?”

  “Great,” I say.

  “Great,” Ned says to me, and smiles. “I mean, obviously, I could hear some of the music from here. But it must have been cool to watch it, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, and busy myself with pouring tea and delivering it to a couple sitting in the corner.

  Ned gets some orders himself and starts to treat some minor wounds. But I notice that every time he needs something from somewhere else in the tent, he manages to find a way to walk by me and say something.

  The first time it’s “Who was your favorite person you saw yesterday?”

  “Janis Joplin,” I answer honestly, thinking not only of her spectacular performance but of meeting her at the hotel bar.

  The next time he walks by, he’s had time to think about this response and he asks me, “Was Janis Joplin on yesterday? I don’t remember hearing her.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “She was on really late.”

  “How late?”

  “I think around two a.m.”

  He frowns, about to say something else, but I walk away to tend to a patient.

  He finds a way to be where I am within five minutes. “Your dad let you stay out until two a.m.?” he asks incredulously.

  “Not exactly,” I say.

  “You snuck out?” he asks, and he lightly touches my shoulder for no particular reason.

  I look him in the eyes then, those brown eyes that used to make me feel so warm and happy, like holding a freshly baked cookie on your tongue. “Not exactly,” I say mysteriously, and give him a small smile before I go to a young boy with a twisted ankle. The boy is slightly hysterical and therefore, thankfully, needs my full attention for a while. Ned isn’t able to get to me, but at one point, I catch him looking thoughtfully in my direction. It’s like he knows, like he can feel the sea change between us.

  Anna, never missing anything, must see the quick glance Ned and I share. Next time she’s near me, she voices my exact thought. “They always know,” she says.

  I look at her, both of us understanding exactly what she’s talking about. “Do they?” I ask.

  She nods. “When you’re just about ready to move on, they know. And that’s usually when they come back. It’s like the universe’s way of making you figure out what you really want.”

  She leaves me to cut up more bandages and I have a perfect view of the back of Ned’s head as he tends to someone.

  How will I pass this test? Am I ready to move on? Move on to what, though? A boy I might never see again? One who lives hundreds of miles way and who, not to mention, has a gorgeous girlfriend. Okay, a bitchy girlfriend, but gorgeous nonetheless.

  I look at Ned’s soft brown hair, see the one piece in the back that always seems to stick up. I watch the familiar shadow his body casts across the floor and know there was a time when I delighted in seeing that tall, assured shadow holding hands with mine—like the pavement itself was painted with our love.

  And I know that something in my heart has changed. That little lump that was always embedded somewhere in my throat whenever I saw him; that little surge of adrenaline; even that ounce of fear of losing him that was always brimming just below the surface when we were together.

  It’s all gone.

  Instead, unencumbered by butterflies in my s
tomach or a stuttering heartbeat, I finally imagine what staying with Ned really would have entailed. If we’d gotten married someday, he would be doing what he always did: making decisions for both of us. For our entire family. And who would I be? A wife and mother, I presume. But not a doctor.

  In other words, I wouldn’t be me at all.

  Throughout all my pining and heartbreak, how did I miss this one kernel of cold, hard truth that would have made it much easier to get over him after all?

  chapter 56

  Michael

  I wish Cora and I had thought to come to these woods together. They are wild and fun. They are also the same woods that we were camping by on the first night. Evan recognizes the way to his pharmacy immediately.

  Just as Suzie said, there are vendors spread out among the trees, a lot of them selling homemade tie-dyed T-shirts, some with hilariously rude sayings. One of the shirts has a doodle of the moon landing with the big words “GOVERNMENT HOAX” surrounding it. That guy works impressively fast, considering the landing was all of a few weeks ago.

  “Nice shirt,” the guy says to me when he sees me looking at his wares. I think he must be trying to hawk something from his table, but when I look up, he’s actually pointing to the T-shirt I’m wearing. “Were you there?”

  “I wish,” I respond, wondering if I had more of an enterprising spirit, could I really have made it out to California as a sixteen-year-old?

  “I was there,” the man reminisces.

  “Which was better?” I have to ask. The Monterey Pop festival in ’67 was legendary, but I’m really starting to think Woodstock might surpass its fame. Though, perhaps, that’s wishful thinking on my part since this is the one I’m here for.

  The guy grins. “It’s all groovy,” he says emphatically, and points behind me. I turn around to see three thin wooden signs tacked to a tree. Each one has an arrow pointing in a different direction and a label: GROOVY WAY, GENTLE PATH, HIGH WAY.