I’m really hoping that Seth is the right boy for me. Despite our problems, I can see glimpses of our future. Like a few nights after I caught Seth in the lounge when I told him about Temple.
“I have some good news,” I said.
“Yes, please.”
“I’m going to college in Philly.”
“You are?” I could hear Seth smiling through the phone. “Where?”
“Temple.”
“Good school.”
“That’s what I hear. I was planning to go to Drexel or Philadelphia University—”
“No, Temple’s much better.”
“I know.”
“That is awesome,” Seth said. “That is . . . I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. I swear I’ll never let anything like this ever happen again. Please let me make it up to you.”
I know in my heart we can make this work. Underneath the doubt and hurt, there’s an unshakable certainty that what we have is something real. Seth swept me away two years ago. I’d been waiting to feel like that forever. But we can’t make this work if he doesn’t have the same certainty.
Tonight could not be more gorgeous. The air is extra fresh. Tall grass rustles softly in the summer breeze. The sky is crystal clear. I wish Seth were here so much my heart hurts.
Jocelyn, Kara, and I walk down the hill to the beach instead of driving. I see the moon right away. There’s a bright point of light next to it that I know is not a star. The moon is a waning crescent. Seth’s favorite phase.
“Where are we meeting up with Adrienne?” Kara asks.
“On the boardwalk,” I tell her. We’re all wearing the delicate sundresses Jocelyn gave us as last-summer-before-college gifts. They flutter around our legs in the warm breeze.
Jocelyn and Kara brainstorm ideas for Kara’s A Day in the Life emotional baggage video on the walk down the hill. I’m only half listening. The whole walk down, I watch the moon and hope that everything will be okay.
twenty–four
Seth
can’t stand losing you
THE WAY I just randomly noticed my favorite moon phase when I glanced out the window while I was unpacking is a good sign. I remember a night like this, explaining to Skye that what she thought was a star next to the moon was actually Venus.
The fact that I’m still unpacking is ridiculous. I should be done by now. Grant and I have been renting this place for over a month. But between my internship and working nights and weekends at Phantom Fountain, I haven’t had much time for home improvement.
I still can’t believe I snagged this internship. Our plan was such a long shot. Guess it goes to show that when you have enough passion for something, anything is possible. I was so nervous that day I met with Mr. Ellis. He’s the internship director at the Art Institute of Philadelphia. I had to convince him to take me.
“You understand that the deadline has passed,” Mr. Ellis told me.
“Yes. I do. And I totally respect that. But I was hoping you would take a look at my portfolio anyway. I would do anything to be here this summer.”
He gave me a brief nod. I handed my portfolio to him over the desk. He opened it and began flipping pages. When I shifted in my chair, the leather made a rude noise. I almost blurted out, “It was the chair!” Then I remembered that I was technically an adult.
“Interesting.” Mr. Ellis pointed to a print of one of my collages from last year. I called it Future Tension. Photos of people crying, screaming, and writhing in pain were plastered all over a plastic top to an end table. “Tell me about it.”
“I wanted to translate the anxiety I was feeling about my future into a visual form.”
Mr. Ellis studied me. “Why were you feeling anxious about your future?”
“Well, my family sort of scrapes by financially. My dad owned a roller rink, but it went bankrupt. The rink hardly turned a profit on its best days. But it made him happy because it was his dream.” I rubbed my hands against my jeans. My dad’s failure wasn’t what I expected to be discussing at this interview. “Ideally, I’d follow his example to do what makes me happy. I mean, I want to now. I’m switching my major to art next year. Which I should have been majoring in from the start. But I started out as a business major even though I hated it because I was worried about making a decent living. And I wanted to be able to support my mom when she’s older. My parents aren’t together anymore.”
“So you let financial concerns dictate your course of study.”
I nodded, embarrassed.
“That’s not uncommon. The important thing is that you’ve gained a sense of clarity, yes?”
“Yes. Totally. All I want to do now is follow my heart. In all aspects of life.”
Mr. Ellis smiled faintly. He flipped more pages of my portfolio.
I was literally on the edge of my seat. The chair squeaked when I sat back. I tried to relax. Desperation isn’t my most attractive quality.
“I admire your passion,” Mr. Ellis said. “You remind me of me at your age.”
“I do?”
“You have the hunger. The drive.” He closed my portfolio. “Someone who remains a dear friend gave me an opportunity at the start of my career. I want to give you the same chance. You came late to the realization that you belong here. Nevertheless, it’s clear that you belong.”
“Thank you.”
“You’d have to put in extra hours to make up for missing the application deadline. Would that be a problem?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.” Mr. Ellis stood and extended his hand to me. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Katims.”
I walked back to campus in a daze. The next day I got a call saying I was in. Our bootleg plan worked.
It actually worked.
This internship has exposed me to a whole new world of emerging career opportunities, like relational aesthetics. It’s an area that inspires a dynamic social environment by engaging the audience to actively participate with art. The audience can interact with lights, sounds, buttons, anything that enhances both the artwork and experience of the viewer. More corporations are commissioning this kind of interactive artwork for their buildings, particularly in lobbies and waiting rooms. I’m excited to explore the possibilities.
The other interns are cool. There are nine of us total. Sometimes we go out after, but I usually have to work. We’re all interning in different departments at the Art Institute. I’m in the curator’s office. Which is perfect because I’m actually using some skills from my business classes. Everything I’m learning about the business side of art has convinced me that there are so many exciting things I could do in the art world while still making a decent living. Zero anxiety remains about switching majors. Plus I scored an awesome apartment right where I wanted to live. Grant and I will probably renew our lease for senior year, too.
The phone rings. It’s my dad.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi. How’s the internship?”
“Awesome. Even with the extra hours.” I was planning to trade some shifts at Phantom Fountain to spend at least one weekend in Sea Bright this summer. But these crazy long days are making it impossible. Some nights I don’t even have a chance to talk to Skye. Or we keep missing each other.
“So I have news,” Dad says.
“Good or bad?”
“Very good. Your mom and I are getting back together.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup. I’m moving back home tomorrow.”
What a relief. I’ve been waiting to hear this ever since the night Mom took me out to dinner and told me what Dad said. But every time Mom or Dad calls, I’m worried one of them changed their mind about getting back together. I’m so happy it all worked out.
“That’s awesome,” I say. “Congrats.”
“We’re happy. We knew you would be, too.”
Dad does sound happy. After the rink shut down, he got a construction job in Rowayton, Connecticut. He was miserable at first. But he’s been healing. I can hear it in his vo
ice every time we talk.
“There’s more news,” Dad says.
“Good or bad?”
“That depends. How attached are you to the beach house?”
My heart lurches at the mention of Sea Bright. “Not very.”
“Good. Because I’m selling it.”
“Is it even worth anything?”
“Don’t be a wise guy. I’ve been doing some renovations. She’s fixing up nicely.”
“You’re in Sea Bright?”
“Yeah. I’ll be commuting from home until it’s done.”
I should be there, too. Wanting to be in two places at once is beyond frustrating.
“Are you sad about selling it?” I ask.
“It’s time.”
Later I’m unpacking a box I “packed” by grabbing a pile of junk off the floor of my closet and dumping it into this box without even looking to see what was in the pile. I take out my old Vans and uncover the playlist I made for Skye after our first summer at the beach. Flashes of endless summer nights wash over me like watercolors.
What am I doing? What’s more important than us?
I have to go get her.
I can’t go yet. But when I can, I’ll make sure it’s a night she’ll never forget.
twenty–five
Skye
you’re all my eyes can see
I DRAG myself down the boardwalk slowly, flip-flops scraping against the tattered wood, hardly noticing how gorgeous the ocean looks today. Everything is so tragic. The roller rink has shut down. Its brilliant neon sign has been darkened forever. Part of the boardwalk was damaged in a storm and hasn’t been fixed yet. There’s this gaping, jagged hole just waiting for someone to fall in. Jocelyn and Kara left. We keep saying we’re going to stay BFFs in college. But they’ll probably drift away from me along with everyone else.
This summer has no sparkle without Seth.
My heart aches for all the time we could have had together. Not worrying about catching a train or leaving early for the long drive home. Leaving behind school and work and everything else. I keep trying to get over it and move on, but it’s so hard to move on from a wish that didn’t come true.
The sand-painting guy is out. I know his name is Joe from the sign he has on his collection bucket. Joe always works the concrete strip across from the snowball place that connects the boardwalk to the parking lot. I stop to watch him. A thin ribbon of sand filters from his hand to form precise patterns. He’s making a bright pink-and-purple flower.
“Hey,” Joe says, squinting up at me against the sun.
“Hey. This one’s really pretty.” His sand paintings always start with a small design in the center. Then he moves out from there, going around and around in circles to add layers. Every sand painting he does is totally unique. They’re usually some kind of flower motif. Or he’ll use a shape as a theme. Others are like these intricate spirals that could extend out forever.
“Thanks.”
“Do you know what you’re going to do before you start?”
“Never. The design comes to me as I go along.”
There’s something hypnotic about watching Joe work. I love colored sand. It reminds me of the sand birds Adrienne and I made a few years ago at Asbury Park. They started out as tall, thin glass bottles. We used funnels to pour colored sand into them. It was fun to tilt the funnel to change the slopes of the sand. When the bottles were filled with stripes of colored sand, we glued on googly eyes, feathers, and golf tees for beaks to make them birds. Mine still sits on my dresser here at the beach house.
Joe reaches into a bag of aqua sand and grabs a handful. Then he carefully fills in the swirly petals of his flower design by letting the sand filter from his fist.
A couple with two little girls across from me have been watching Joe. One of the girls is enraptured by the sand painting. The other girl is tugging on her mom’s hand, begging to go. A boy who looks like he’s in college steps up next to me. He smells like mint and Ivory soap. Just like Seth.
I breathe him in and swoon.
It’s just too much.
After dinner with my parents, I go over to Adrienne’s. Her mom lets me in. I go up to Adrienne’s room where she’s at her desk. Adele is blasting.
“Did you see Kara’s baggage video?” she asks, not looking up from her laptop.
“Yeah. It ruled.”
“I know! The girl is a genius. She’s going to own film school.”
I dive across Adrienne’s bed. Her butter-yellow comforter is so soft I could seriously lounge here all day. “Do you think everyone has baggage?”
“Kara thinks so.”
“Do you?”
Adrienne turns in her chair to face me. “Yeah, I think so. They have to. Baggage is emotional turmoil that accumulates from painful experiences, right? Who hasn’t had at least one painful experience?”
“But aren’t some people predisposed to collect baggage?”
“Maybe. Like if they have a hard home life or something.”
“So one guy could go through a painful experience . . . say, like, his girlfriend dumping him at graduation or his parents splitting up . . . and he could accumulate way more baggage than another guy would in his exact same situation.”
“Hmm.” Adrienne comes over and sits next to me. “I wonder why that scenario sounds familiar?”
I hide my face in a pillow.
“Seth has baggage,” Adrienne says. “We know this. We also know that boy is seriously in love with you. Baggage is evil. Baggage wants to bring us down. Don’t let baggage win.”
She’s right. Seth might never be able to fully let go of his fear that we won’t last. Which just means I have to work harder to show him how much I love him.
Walking home from Adrienne’s, something tells me to keep walking down to the beach. It’s one of those perfect summer nights. Just like the last night Jocelyn and Kara were here. The full moon is low on the horizon. An orange tinge glows along its edge. The comforting sound of waves crashing softly on the beach calls me down.
I walk along the ocean where the dry sand starts getting wet, carrying my flip-flops. My heart aches like it’s going to burst. I want Seth to be here so much it’s hard to breathe. But there’s one place I can go that will make me feel closer to him.
Our dune is magical. Standing up here looking out at the ocean, it’s like the whole world has stopped moving. There is only here. Now. This.
This is where we kissed for the first time. Right here on top of this dune. And now I’m standing here again, waiting for the boy I love to come find me. I have this strong feeling that he’ll know I’m here. Which I know sounds crazy. Seth probably won’t show up this summer at all. When I talked to him yesterday, it sounded like he was still trying to find a way to visit. It’s just . . . the Universe is telling me to be here now. I’m hoping that Seth will be here, too.
I anticipate him in the moonlight.
When I see someone walking toward our dune, I’m not even surprised. I’d recognize him anywhere in his white T-shirt, green cargos, and Vans.
Of course it’s Seth.
Of course he’s here.
Seth climbs up on the dune. He’s carrying a heart-shaped box.
“You’re here,” he says.
“I was waiting for you.”
“I know.” He puts the box down. He hugs me tight.
“Don’t ever let me go,” I whisper.
“Never,” he whispers back.
We stay still like that for a while. I press my cheek against his shoulder. He slides his hand down my back. Then Seth takes my face in his hands and looks at me in the moonlight.
“I can’t live without you,” he says.
Seth kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before. I can feel how much he loves me, how devoted he is to me, all in that one kiss. It’s all I need to know that we’re stronger than ever.
twenty–six
Seth
i’ll be loving you forever
I
DON’T know how I knew Skye would be here on our dune tonight. I just knew.
That’s how it is with soul mates. Things happen that you can’t explain to anyone else. Sometimes you can’t even explain them to yourself. The connection you have defies all logic.
One thing I know for sure is that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with Skye. I can’t wait to give her what I made. Plus something else I have for her . . . if we can ever stop kissing. I swear I could kiss her forever and it wouldn’t be enough.
How is this beautiful girl in love with me? How did I get so lucky?
How could I ever think for one second that anything else was more important than us?
Skye looks over at the box on the sand. “Sorry,” she says. “The glitter caught my eye.”
“Of course it did.” I pick up the box and hold it out to her. “It’s a time capsule.”
“Seriously?”
“Would I tease about time capsules?”
Skye lifts the lid off the box. I tried to re-create our early days and nights here at Sea Bright by including all of the artifacts I could find. Skee-Ball tickets. A Super Ball we won. Some pink colored sand the sand-painting guy let me have. A sugar packet from the snowball place. My burnt-out glow stick from the beach party where we met. The white rock Skye found on the beach that same night. Plus I put in the mix I made for her after I found that old playlist.
Skye takes out each piece of our history. She’s all, “I can’t believe you saved this!” and “You remembered that?” I love how everything is making her so excited. Seeing how happy she is makes me want to do more things like this for her.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” Skye throws her arms around me. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”
“I’d do anything for you. Anything to make you happy.” Looking into her impossibly blue eyes, her honey-blonde hair glowing in the moonlight, I don’t know how I’ve managed to be apart from her for so long. Now when I look at Skye, I see my future. A future that feels more secure when I make her feel safe.
All I Need Page 15
