Summer Dreams

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  I paused a moment, biting my lower lip, trying to keep it together as the memory of that day played in my mind. I looked at Rae, always so tough and strong, the one who always kept us friends together when everything else in our lives went wrong. She nodded at me like I was doing great. It was such a simple gesture, but it gave me the strength I needed to go on.

  “Robert was my best friend, the only man I’ve ever loved. I never thought I’d have to live my life without him, not for another fifty years anyway. It feels like someone has reached inside of me and ripped everything out. There are a lot of other things I should say, but I don’t think I can get the words out. I don’t know how I’m going to live my life without him, and the truth is, I don’t even want to try.”

  One Year Later

  In the past year, I hadn’t had much of a life. I didn’t socialize the way I used to, didn’t live the kind of lifestyle I once did when Robert was alive. Even so, I wasn’t a recluse or a “sweatpants and T-shirt couch potato” either. Rae, Callie, and Sasha made sure of that.

  Almost every day since Robert passed, at least one of them stopped by to check on me. Sometimes we watched movies together. Sometimes we went for a walk. And sometimes they’d bring over groceries and cook so that my diet consisted of more than delivered pizza, fast food, and Chinese take-out.

  I was sitting in the living room with Rae, getting ready to binge-watch Anthony Bourdain’s travel series, when she turned to me and said, “Remember how much you used to like volleyball back in high school?”

  It was a random comment, but I could tell she was going somewhere with it. “What about it?”

  “I was just thinking ... a hobby would be really good for you.”

  “Volleyball isn’t a hobby. It’s a sport.”

  “Whatever. Point is, I think you’d have fun if you took it up again.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  She reached into her handbag, pulled out a yellow T-shirt, and flung it at me. “Here.”

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a T-shirt.”

  “I can see that. Why are you giving it to me?”

  “Because I got it for you. Now go try it on and see if it fits.”

  I unfolded the wadded-up shirt and held it out in front of me. The front said Las Vegas Summer Series Volleyball. I turned toward Rae. “What did you do?”

  “I signed you up. I signed us both up. Callie and Sasha are playing too. It’s going to be so much fun!”

  “Why did you do this without talking to me about it first?”

  “I knew you’d say no if I asked.”

  “You’re right. I would have.” I tossed the shirt back to her. “I’m not playing.”

  She threw it back again. “You are playing.”

  I folded the shirt, set it beside me. “Nope.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re better than all three of us. You’re the only one who played in school. If we have any chance of winning a game, we’re going to need your help.”

  “You don’t need my help. You just need practice.”

  “One game, Kenna.”

  “What do you mean—one game?”

  “Come to one game with us. The first game. It’s next week. Come out and see if you like it. If you don’t, I won’t bother you about it anymore. Okay?”

  I didn’t see the point in continuing to argue with her. Nothing would change. She’d keep pushing until I said yes, so I saved us both some time and agreed to it. One game and then I’d bow out and return to life as usual.

  Fists pounded on my front door. I looked at the time. It was a little past ten at night. I knew who was at the door. I also knew why. I just wasn’t motivated to get up and answer it, so I leaned back on the sofa and did nothing. A few seconds of quiet passed, and then the pounding started up again.

  “Stop it!” I yelled. “I’m sorry, but I want to be alone right now. Just go, okay?”

  “Not okay,” Rae said. “We’re not going anywhere. Now open the door.”

  I groaned, stood, and opened the door. Rae, Sasha, and Callie walked in. Sasha asked how I was doing, Callie hugged me, and Rae stood with her arms crossed in front of her, hip jutting out to the side.

  “You said you’d show up tonight,” Rae said. “You said you’d come to the first game and give it a try.”

  I pointed at the shirt I was wearing. “I was planning on coming. See? I have the shirt on and everything.”

  “What happened then? Why didn’t you?”

  “I was about to leave, but I started feeling anxious. I sat down for a minute, hoping it would pass, and when it didn’t, I decided to stay home and maybe try again next week. Like I said, I’m sorry.”

  Rae rested a hand on my shoulder. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just thought you were ready for a change. You seem like you’re doing better lately, like you’re more yourself than you’ve been in a long time.”

  “Most days I am better. You were right to give me a push. I’m tired of sitting here all the time, looking at photos of Robert, and all the things that remind me of when he was alive. In a way, I know these things have kept me from moving on.”

  “Take all the time you need,” Sasha said. “There’s no rush.”

  “Yeah,” Callie said. “None of us have ever had to go through what you have. Maybe that’s why we don’t always know the right thing to say or the best way to help you.”

  “You have helped me—all of you—just by being here. I want to go to the game next week. Maybe getting out and playing volleyball is just what I need to get my life back.”

  A week later I dug my toes in the sand, tossed a ball into the air, and did what I hadn’t done in a long time—I practiced. I was rusty, to say the least, and that was why I’d arrived early, to check out my current level of rust. I practiced my serve a few times, tossing up the ball, smacking it with my hand, and then running to the other side of the net to retrieve it when a male voice said, “Nice serve.”

  I turned. A man with blond, shaggy hair walked toward me.

  “Umm ... thanks.”

  He looked to be in his mid-twenties, like me, and wore a pair of long, navy-blue board shorts and nothing else. I couldn’t blame him. His tan body was worth showing off, which was exactly why I concentrated on his face.

  “Do you need some help?”

  “Help?”

  “Yeah. I could stand on the other side and toss it back to you so you don’t have to keep running back and forth.”

  “I’m fine. I don’t mind the exercise.”

  He shrugged, walked to the net beside me, unzipped a duffle bag, and pulled his own ball out, which wouldn’t have been a big deal except for one tiny detail—the ball was pink—hot pink—and a little on the small side. He looked over, caught me staring. I shifted my focus to my own ball, but it was too late.

  “It’s my daughter’s ball,” he said, “in case you were wondering.”

  “Oh, okay. I was just thinking it was cute, and the fact it’s your daughter’s ball is even cuter. I’m sure she thinks it’s cool you’re using it. How old is she?”

  He didn’t reply. Instead he stood for a moment like he was trying to decide whether or not he should answer the question. “She’s not very old.”

  I felt like I’d just asked him an inappropriate question, so I turned away from him, tossed my ball into the air, and smacked it—but this time it went the wrong direction. Instead of heading toward the net, it went soaring to the side, dropping into the sand where the man was practicing. He dropped his own ball, grabbed mine, and walked it back over.

  “Sorry about that,” I said.

  He laughed. “You keep your ball on your side, and I’ll keep mine on mine.”

  “No. I meant, I’m sorry if I offended you before.”

  “Offended me? How?”

  “You didn’t seem to want to talk about your daughter.”

  “It’s not that. I love talking about her. It’s just ... my daughter is ..
. she’s not well.”

  “I’m sorry. Is it the flu or something?”

  “She has leukemia.”

  Leukemia. I knew little about the disease except that in many cases it was treatable, but in some, it wasn’t. “I’m sorry. She’s going to be okay, right?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so. Madeline was diagnosed several months ago with a rare form of leukemia. It’s just so hard to believe. She’s only three years old.”

  “I’m guessing she’s been through treatments?”

  “Chemotherapy. It didn’t work, so now I’m just waiting to see if a bone marrow match can be found. It’s crazy, you know? I never thought I’d be dealing with this.” He balanced the volleyball on the end of his finger and spun it around. “I come here some days just to unwind, to forget it all, and here I am ruining your day by telling you my entire life story. Sorry to just dump it on you. You don’t even know me. You probably think I’m crazy.”

  “Believe me, if I told you what the last year of my life was like, you’d think the same thing about me. Life is hard sometimes. Things happen when we least expect it.”

  I was just about to share a few more details when I spotted Rae, Callie, and Sasha walking across the grass, mouths gaping open, eyes shifting from me to the guy and back to me again. All three of them had huge grins on their faces.

  Rae increased her pace, caught up to where we were standing, and said, “Hey, Kenna. Who’s your friend?”

  I turned toward him. “Oh, I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s Sean. Sean Conrad. And you are?”

  “Kenna.”

  I glanced at my wristwatch. “Our game starts in ten minutes. I should probably go.”

  “No rush,” Rae said. “We can start without you, and when you’re ready, we’ll rotate you in.”

  I glared at her.

  She smiled back.

  “I’d like to play first,” I said. “Why don’t you all warm up, and I’ll be over in a minute?”

  The three of them walked away, whispering to each other as they went.

  “I’d better get going too,” Sean said. “I had fun talking to you today. Took my mind off other things I didn’t want to think about, so thank you.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded.

  “By the way,” he said. “Do you play here every week?”

  A simple yes would have been sufficient. Instead I blurted, “Every Thursday night for the next two months. Today’s our second game.”

  “Sounds fun. It was good to meet you, Kenna. Maybe we’ll bump into each other another time and we can finish our conversation.”

  The Farmer’s Market in Las Vegas was open every Friday morning on Casino Center, which was south of the Las Vegas strip. I was tagging along as a third wheel with Callie and her husband when I heard my name being called. I turned, convincing myself the voice sounded a lot like Sean’s, but when a tall, black-haired man in a ball cap stepped out of the crowd and waved, I realized I was mistaken. The man made a beeline for me, scooping me up and twirling me around the moment he reached me.

  “Kenna, it’s so good to see you. How are you? I heard about what happened to Robert, and I know I should have called. I thought about it so many times after the funeral, and I’m sorry I never did.”

  “It’s no big deal, Jerry. I’m doing fine.”

  Jerry King had been one of Robert’s closest friends in high school. He was the kind of guy who only had to glance in a woman’s direction and she was smitten. His good looks paired with the fact his father was the manager of one of the most expensive hotels on the strip, girls had swooned over Jerry his entire life.

  He released me, took a step back, and looked me up and down. “You look amazing. I mean it, Kenna. Wow.”

  Given I was dressed in a T-shirt and cut-off shorts, amazing was a bit of a stretch. But I accepted the compliment.

  “You’re looking good too, Jerry. How’s Allison?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “You’re not together anymore?”

  “Nah. We split up about nine months ago. The next day she moved back to Arizona with one of her friends.”

  “What happened?”

  “I have no idea about her perspective. She never told me. For me, I got tired of the drinking, tired of her wanting to go out almost every night with her friends. Once in a while would have been fine. She went out all the time. I’d say four or five times a week most weeks. I felt like I was living with a roommate, not a wife. I also wanted us to have a kid. She didn’t. Every time I talked to her about it, she’d get angry and say it was too much pressure. I couldn’t see how unhappy I was when we were together, but now—now that I’m free—I can’t believe I was ever married to someone like her.”

  Jerry and Allison had first met two years earlier at a reggae concert. After dating for a few short months, they’d shared one too many bottles of wine one night and decided to do the clichéd Vegas-style drive-through wedding. I wasn’t surprised to hear him say the marriage hadn’t worked out. From the first time he introduced her to me, she struck me as a carefree party girl. She never pretended to be anything less. Not for him or anyone. And whether he liked it or not, drunk or not, he knew who she was when he married her.

  “Seems like we’ve both had a rough year,” I said.

  “Oh, I don’t know. When she walked out the door, I felt relieved. I’d been thinking of ending things and couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m sure she knew. And I’m guessing it made it a lot easier for her to make a decision. Now I’m free, and I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. The last couple months I’ve been dating a lot, getting out, meeting new people. Life’s good, ya know?”

  “Where are you meeting all these girls?”

  “One of my coworkers put me on a dating app called Lovespell. You ever heard of it?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Have you thought about jumping back into the dating pool yet, or is it still too soon?”

  “I haven’t thought much about it. I can’t imagine anyone else in my life. I’d like to think I could find love again one day, but no one will ever compare to Robert, so what’s the point?”

  “The point is he wouldn’t want you to be alone. The longer you’re alone, the more comfortable you’ll get, and the harder it will be to date again.”

  “I don’t feel alone. I have my friends. And I’m thinking of getting a puppy.”

  He placed a hand on my arm. “Kenna, I know you think you’ll never love another man the way you loved Robert, but you never know. There are all kinds of men out there. And all kinds of love. Just because you allow yourself to love again doesn’t mean you ever have to stop loving Robert.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone. “Speaking of Robert. I’ve always had his cell phone number, but I’ve never had yours. What is it?”

  I gave it to him.

  “And what’s your address?”

  I gave that to him also.

  He kissed my cheek. “I’ll stop by sometime and see how you’re doing.”

  He walked away, and somehow I knew I’d be seeing him again soon.

  Over the next two weeks of volleyball games, I never saw Sean again. His daughter’s illness had been on my mind a lot lately. I wondered if she was okay. Before Robert died, I’d lived my life as the consummate optimist, always seeing the positive side of things. Now I tended to focus on the negative, which was bad habit, and one I didn’t like.

  I was tossing my volleyball on the floor of my passenger seat after the game when a hand tapped my car window. I looked up.

  “Hey, I was just thinking about you,” I said.

  Sean smiled. “You were?”

  “I meant to say, I was thinking about your daughter.”

  “You haven’t thought about me at all then?”

  “I didn’t say ... I mean ...”

  “You know something? You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

  And red in the face.

&n
bsp; I was sure of it.

  “How’s Madeline doing? Better, I hope.”

  “She’s about the same. The last couple weeks have been hard, but today was a good day.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Hey, I was wondering if you might like to get a drink with me, or if you can’t tonight, how about some other night?

  “I ... umm ... you know I’d like to, Sean, it’s just ... I lost my husband a year ago, and I haven’t been out with anyone since it happened. I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  He tapped the roof of my car with a finger. “Well, okay. I just thought I’d ask. I was thinking more along the lines of us just grabbing a drink and talking, nothing formal, but I understand how you feel. Have a good night, and maybe I’ll see you around again sometime.”

  He turned, and I watched him walk away, wondering why part of me felt conflicted. I didn’t understand it. I hadn’t expected to feel anything, and yet, I found myself wishing he hadn’t ended the conversation and walked away. I reversed out of the parking spot and pulled alongside him. “Can I change my answer?”

  He laughed. “It’s okay, really. I’m fine.”

  “Well, I’m not fine. You’re the first guy to ask me to do anything, and I think I just panicked. I’d like to grab a drink with you, if you’re still interested.”

  It hadn’t even been two minutes since he walked away. Of course he was still interested.

  Stop talking, Kenna. Just stop talking.

  “Have you ever been to Twilight Bar before? It’s only a few blocks from here.”

  “I’ve been there several times. I love their Slim Bee cocktail. It’s one of Rae’s favorite places to go.”

  “Rae?”

  “My friend. She was the long-haired brunette you met a couple weeks ago.”

  “Oh, right. I remember.”

  I thought about telling him to get in and we could drive to the bar together, but then my rational side kicked in. I didn’t really know the guy yet. “Why don’t I meet you there in a few minutes?”

  “Sounds good. I need to make one quick stop on the way, and then I’ll be there.”