Summertime Sadness

by Dylan Heart

  As we exit the alley, I turn around one last time and see the man turning into the alley on the opposite end.

  We’re both out of breath as we come to a stop behind a church on Sixth Street. We’ve lost the man, but something tells me that he’s going to keep looking for us. Blue slides down the wall of the church, and comes to rest with his legs kicked out. I’m tired, confused, scared, and a little angry that I was almost shot.

  “We need to call the police,” I say through ragged breaths.

  He pounds his fist against the wall behind him. “We can’t do that.”

  “What?” I shake my head. “Why not?”

  “Just trust me on this.”

  “I don’t know how it works on the carnival circuit, but out here in the real world, we call the police when someone tries to shoot us.” I wait for a response, but he just rubs his palms against his knees. “You know what? I’m going home.”

  “You can’t.”

  I scoff. “I’m fairly certain that I can.”

  He stands up, his back pulling away from the wall. “I don’t think you understand how serious this is.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course I know it’s serious, hence my burning need to call the police.”

  “Do you want to lose me?” he asks, scraping his boot across the ground.

  “That’s a rather stupid question, don’t you think?” And it has nothing to do with this.

  “If I told you the truth, could you handle it? If the truth changed everything, would you still love me?”

  “Nothing can change the way I feel.” I move to him. “But I always need the truth.”

  “The truth can be worse than ignorance.”

  “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “I just love it when you act coy,” I say. His lips pull tight, and he looks everywhere but at me. “That’s sarcasm, by the way.”

  “I’m trying to protect you,” he says and I believe him. I just want to know what he’s protecting me from.

  “I can handle the truth.”

  “Fine,” he sighs. “You might wanna sit down.”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  He thumbs his lip. “The truth is that I’ve sold drugs for my dad since I was fourteen years old. The man who was chasing us? His name’s Rake, and I killed his brother, Trey.” There’s sorrow in his voice.

  “I’ve changed my mind. I need to sit down.” I pass him and take a resting position against the church exterior, preparing for the worst. I’m in love with a murderer. Any sane person would run, but I wouldn’t make it out of the church driveway before hitting the pavement. “I can’t believe you would keep this from me.”

  “That’s not really fair. What is it that you wanted me to say? It’s not exactly a great conversation starter.” He reaches out his palm, pretending to meet me for the first time. “Hi, my name’s Blue and I’m a carnie. By the way, I killed someone once.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Can I continue now?”

  I nod, unsure why I haven’t started to run.

  “There was a mix-up and things got heated. I was selling coke for Trey, two ounces. I had it stored in my dad’s camper, and when I went to get it, he said that the camper was broken into and the drugs were stolen. I didn’t believe him then, and I don’t believe him now.”

  “That explains that,” I interrupt, under my breath, referencing the disdain he has for his dad.

  “When Trey came to collect, I tried to explain what had happened. I tried to make a deal, but he pulled a gun on me and Cookie.” He shakes his head, his face zoning in on the past. “He was high and he wouldn’t listen. I was able to wrestle the gun from his hands, but he pulled a knife and charged me. The gun flew out of my hand. He was about to kill me when Cookie shot him.”

  I stand up, relieved. “So you didn’t kill him.”

  “Does it matter who pulled the trigger?” he asks with a dazed look. “I took the blame with Trey’s family because I knew they wouldn’t go to the police. I accepted whatever fate I had resigned myself to and I thought it was over, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “Have you tried talking to him?”

  The no shit expression on his face speaks volumes. “Did you see that man? That’s not somebody you can easily reason with.”

  “What about the truth?”

  “Point the finger at Cookie?” He bites into his lip. “That’s not gonna happen.”

  “You would lose everything for him?” I ask angrily.

  “He saved my life.”

  I stare down at my hands, my thumbs digging into each other. “Then what are you going to do?”

  He lets out an exasperated sigh and pulls against his short hair. “I don’t know. The only thing I can think to do is run.”

  My eyes widen. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “If you stay, then I stay, because he knows your face and your name. He’s lost everything, with nothing left to lose, and he won’t stop until he has blood.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “If you think he won’t hurt you to get to me, then you’re naive.”

  “Sorry, I don’t have a lot of experience hanging out with psychopaths!”

  “You think I wanted this?” he yells. “It’s the reason I left the carnival. It wasn’t because I hated the job, or the hours, or the traveling. It’s because every day I spent there was another day I risked losing myself to the person I used to be. And then I met you.” His voice softens. “And I fell for you in ways I didn’t know were possible. You gave me the world, a reason to leave everything else behind. A reason to keep the past in the past.”

  “Let’s call the police,” I plead. “They’ll understand.”

  “That a man was killed during a drug deal? There are no innocent parties in the eyes of the law.”

  An urgency to speak rushes over me, thinking if I hesitate, I might not say a word. “Then kill him,” I say, deadpan. My mouth drops in shock at my own words.

  His head shakes. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” I ask dryly, unable to back down. If Rake is as dangerous as Blue says, then I don’t see any other way.

  “Because I understand his anger and his pain. And stopping him right now means going down a road I can’t go down. You want me to handle him, but I’m telling you that I can’t. I will run from him, I will hide. I will beat him into the ground if I have to, but there’s already been too much blood.”

  “I love you, Blue...”

  “What do you want to do?”

  I throw my hands in the air. “It doesn’t matter what I want, does it? You’ve backed me into a corner with no real options. Either I go with you and leave everything I’ve ever known behind, or I stay here, spending every minute of every day looking over my shoulder.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want any of this.” He stares at the gravel beneath us.

  “I know that.” I close my eyes tight, hoping the darkness behind them will give me some insight. Nothing comes.

  His hand falls onto my shoulder, gently caressing me. “Look at me.”

  I do as I’m told, staring deep into his eyes.

  “There’s a way to fix all of this.” He rubs his palm against my cheek. I move into his touch. “I just need to figure it out, but until then, I don’t think we have any choice but to run.”

  I laugh lightly, a little because I’m uncomfortable, but mostly because I never saw any of it coming. “I’ve wanted to leave this town for so long.”

  A faux smile forms on his face as he tries to make the best out of this impossible situation. “That’s a silver lining right there.”

  “I just never thought it’d be this way.”

  He caresses my arm, assuring me that everything will eventually be okay. “We’ll leave tonight.”

  I step back. “That’s not enough time.”

  “Just pack a few bags and don’t tell anyone w
here you’re going,” he says, forming a plan out loud and conveniently ignoring me.

  “Where will we go?”

  “Wherever the road takes us.”

  I step back further.

  “It’s not like I was expecting this.”

  “Promise me something,” I say.

  “Anything.”

  “Promise that we can be happy away from here.”

  “That’s easy.” His smile lights up my soul. “You’re the only home I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m not a house, Blue.”

  “That’s not what home is. Now, I need to pick something up from the carnival. Can you meet me there?”

  “Yeah,” I say, processing the last five minutes. There’s a swelling of energy in my legs, because I’m more than ready to run.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Good or bad, everyone will have something to say about your relationship. Your head will certainly have an opinion of its own. Armed with boxing gloves, it’ll be ready to knock your heart out in one punch. Your heart can’t possibly know what it’s talking about, because it lacks the computing power to fully understand the consequences of love. Conversely, the brain thinks too much, and it can never calculate an arbitrary equation as complex as love. The arithmetic simply isn’t there.

  So, yeah, there’s a war brewing deep in my bones. They’re going to fight to the death, but something tells me I’m the only one who’s going to lose anything. I’m going to lose my future or I’m going to lose Blue. I’ve already lost too much and I’m going to war to keep them both, armed with nothing but desperation.

  I should go with him. I should stay here. Every second I allow my brain to think, I change my mind. It’s exhausting. I crank up the music as I drive home, hoping the blaring bass will drown out any more decision-making my brain attempts.

  I think of the people I’m leaving behind and have to remind myself that I won’t be gone forever. Just long enough for Blue to figure out what he’s going to do. And this could be a good thing for me too, getting away from all the pain and bullshit of the past month. I’ve never been one to run away from my problems, but that’s probably because I’ve never really had actual problems before. I’m new to this adult thing and I don’t think I’m cut out for it.

  I pull into my driveway and put the car into park. I still have time to change my mind. I get out of the car and gently close the door. My mom will be home in less than an hour.

  It’s funny how one thing changes a million other things. I stare at the pictures of my friends and family taped to the corners of my mirror–I’m old-fashioned that way. Born in the wrong decade, I tell you. But that’s not the point. The point is that my bedroom feels distant, strange, and unfamiliar, like it’s not even my room anymore.

  I felt the same way as I ascended the steps. I was walking on foreign carpets. I’m not sure if this is something everyone goes through when they leave home, or if it’s a special feeling reserved for those of us fortunate enough to experience a crazy carnival ride at such a young age. I’m part of a special club now.

  The duffel bag on my bed is almost full, stuffed to the top with randomly selected clothing. I’ve barely made a dent in my closet, but it’s not like I’m moving out. I’m running away. It’s a far cry from the days I used to daydream of leaving for college. My family and friends would be here to send me off in a U-Haul packed with everything in this room and my mom’s sofa because it’s the most comfortable damn thing I’ve ever had the privilege to sleep on.

  I grab a blank sheet of paper that sits alone in my printer. I’m not sure what to say even as I begin to scribble a note—it’s been a while since I’ve written anything by hand, and it shows. I leave the completed note on my bed, held down by a snow-globe with a picture of me and Summer in it.

  I zip up my bag and take one long glance at my room before I gently shut the door. It’s really goodbye and it’s not until I’m well out the front door that I process the letter I just wrote for my mother. It was meant as a goodbye-for-now letter but it reads much more like fiction. In the future, when all the dust has settled, maybe I’ll try my hand at being a writer.

  Mom,

  I wish things could have been different. I wish I could be the perfect daughter. I wish a lot of things these days, but most of all, I wish I had the courage to tell you goodbye.

  But I know that you love me unconditionally, and because of that love, you would have convinced me to stay. And you would be right, but that’s not what I need right now.

  But I love you too. And I’ll be home. Someday.

  Love, Charlie

  I throw my bag into the backseat of the car, and then take another longing glance at the house I grew up in—the house that built me, if you will. The foundation is cracking, and I hope there’s still a house standing whenever I decide to come back.

  Tyson sits in the passenger seat. He’s quiet, but so am I. He hasn’t said much since I told him I was leaving town. I think he’s mulling it over in his head, either trying to process it or come up with a reasonable plea to make me stay.

  “I like Blue,” he says, breaking the silence. “I mean, you have to take the good with the bad.”

  I turn to him, knowing full well that I should keep my eyes on the road. “Is it too much bad, though?”

  “Not if you love him.” He shrugs. “I guess.”

  His words soak in and I nod in agreement.

  “Road, Charlie!” he yells and points ahead.

  I’m straddling the lanes like a cowgirl. I jerk the wheel to the right to correct myself. “It’s not like I’m not coming back,” I say. “I am. Someday.”

  His turn to look at me. This is definitely a safer way to communicate, even if I can feel his judgment, although not vocalized, poking and prodding against the side of my face.

  “What’s the plan again?” he asks.

  “I’m meeting Blue at the carnival, and then I need you to take my car back home.”

  “Right.” There’s a smirk on his face.

  “Tyson...”

  “What? I just wanna take it for a short drive.”

  Tyson is one of those unfortunate kids in every town who have parents who believe their kids must work for their first car. He’s been working since he was seventeen, but he spends way too much of his pay on the stupid things we all spend our own cash on. It’s a rough life.

  “Just make sure it’s in my mom’s driveway before noon tomorrow.”

  He flashes a wide grin. “Sure thing.”

  We pull into the packed field of the carnival. I drive up and down the aisles of the lot searching for Blue’s Jeep. It takes a good few minutes before I see it parked underneath a large tree. I pull in beside it.

  Tyson jumps out of the car, opens the door to the backseat, and grabs my bags. A perfect gentleman. He tosses them into the back of the Jeep.

  I make my way around the car to find him swaying on his feet, both hands deep in his pockets. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

  “I don’t believe in mistakes.”

  I nod in newfound agreement. “I wish I could say goodbye to everyone.”

  “I’ll give them the message.”

  “How angry do you think they’re going to be?”

  “Pretty pissed.” He smiles and caresses the thick air with his hand. “But I’ll smooth it over.”

  “I don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be, so I should—”

  His arms circle around me, hugging me tight. “Just promise you’ll call whenever you get where you’re going,” he says quietly against my ear.

  I pull back, brushing the length of his arms. “I promise.”

  We give each other knowing looks, the kind that says a less formal, final version of goodbye. With a nod of my head, I turn and begin my journey toward my new life.

  “I get it,” he says.

  I turn around, waiting for the rest of his sentence.

  “I know why you’re leaving. I’d do the same thing.”<
br />
  I just smile.

  “Plus, he’s kind of hot...”

  I rush toward him, embracing him. If I hold him any tighter, his head would probably pop off. “You were always the best of us.”

  “I know.” He grins. “You should go find Blue.”

  There are tears in my eyes when I walk away. I don’t bother wiping them because it’s a relief.

  From within, I feel the humanity surging through me, but I know it’s fleeting. It’ll flicker out soon, and I won’t know when it’ll hit me again.

  As I approach the gate, I take one last glance at Tyson, leaning against the trunk of my car.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It’s the last day of the carnival and things are in full swing. The crowds have ballooned since the last time I was here—the night Dillon died.

  Traditionally, fireworks burst across the sky during the last four hours. Tonight is no exception. It’s still early, so there are longer spans between the bangs and the booms. Streams of rockets are launched into the sky, painting willow trees against the backdrop of illuminated clouds.

  I tried to call Blue as I hopped the gate, but his phone went straight to voicemail. He has a knack for not charging his phone, which is really unfortunate on a night like this. I have no idea how I’m going to find him, but I guess the best place to start would be the offices toward the back.

  The crowd is thick as I push my way through the throngs of carnival-goers. To the left of me is an impossibly long line for the Zipper. But I see a shortcut, so I ditch through the crowds, pass the loading gate, and escape onto the midway that circles around the entirety of the grounds.

  I brush my hand through my hair and press forward. I’m in the center of Game Street. Booths line both sides of the midway, thousands of dollars being stolen by unethical carnies scamming for their overlords. There’s a girl sitting on a stool preparing to launch darts against under-inflated balloons. The prize for success? A bear that retails for fourteen dollars at a chain department store near you.