Summer Dreams

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “Without knowing this guy, I’d only be making assumptions.”

  “So make assumptions then.”

  “I only have one. His daughter. What if something’s happened?”

  “Even if it has, he knows I drove to the hospital last time out of concern, so I think he’d tell me.”

  “We’re not going to get anywhere speculating, Kenna. I think you should text him.”

  I shook my head. “No way. He said he’d call me, not the other way around.”

  “So what? You don’t have to say much. Just keep it simple. Ask him how his day is going—then you’re leaving it wide open for him to say anything.”

  “It’s not happening, Rae. He doesn’t deserve it. I feel like I deserve some form of communication. Even if it’s small.”

  I had always been a woman of my word, and I appreciated the same in return. To text him now before he texted me didn’t seem fair, and it didn’t seem right.

  Rae raised her wine glass, wiggled it in the air. “Can I get a top-off on this wine?”

  I walked to the kitchen, poured another round into her glass, and returned to the dining room to find my cell phone in a different place than where I’d left it a minute before.

  “Rae?”

  She batted her eyelashes. It was her tell, a clear indicator of her guilt. “Yeah?”

  “What did you do?”

  She avoided eye contact. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You do know what I mean. My phone isn’t where it was before I walked into the kitchen.”

  “Don’t freak out. I didn’t do anything major. I may have just helped you out a little bit.”

  I placed the glass of wine in her hand a little too fast. Red liquid splashed over the edge, spotting her shirt.

  “Kenna! Really? I know you’re irritated, but you didn’t have to ruin my shirt.”

  It was an accident, but I didn’t apologize. I grabbed my cell phone, clicked on my text messages, then on Sean’s name. Rae had sent: Hey Sean, how’s it going?

  “How’s it going?” I shook my head. “I told you I didn’t want to contact him. He should be contacting me.”

  “If you didn’t text him, you’d spend all your time wondering what happened. At least now if he doesn’t text back, you’ll know he blew you off instead of assuming he did.”

  She set the wine glass on the table, scooted her chair back, and stood.

  “Oh no,” I said. “You’re not leaving now. You’re staying.”

  “Why? You’re mad, and you clearly don’t want me here anymore. I did my part. The rest is up to him.”

  I pointed to the chair. “Just don’t leave yet. Okay?”

  “Are you going to chill out?”

  I nodded.

  She tipped her head toward my partially empty wine glass. “I think you’re the one who needs more wine. Not me.”

  “Fine.”

  I reached for her glass and drank it. All of it.

  She sat back down. “There. Feel better?”

  For the next forty-five minutes, we chatted while we waited for a miracle to happen, and finally, forty-eight minutes after Rae had sent the text, it did.

  “He just texted me.”

  She rubbed her hands together. “Why are you just sitting there staring at the screen? Aren’t you going to click on it and see what it says?”

  “I don’t know if I can. I’m too nervous.”

  “Do you want me to do it?”

  I nodded and slid my phone in her direction. She pressed on his name, read the message, and then set the phone down. By the look on her face, whatever he’d said wasn’t good.

  “Well,” I said. “Is it really bad?”

  “I think you should read it yourself.”

  “Just read it to me, Rae. I’m more nervous to read it now.”

  She sighed, picked the phone back up, and repeated what he’d written: Kenna, my daughter passed away this morning. I’m sorry. I just can’t deal with anything else right now.

  One week later I still hadn’t heard from Sean. I assumed there was a good chance I’d never hear from him again, and I didn’t blame him if I didn’t. Losing Robert was a pain like none I’d ever experienced. But losing a child? I couldn’t imagine what he was going through or how long it would take him to get through it.

  I wanted to reach out to say how sorry I was, but every time I started to text him a message, I ended up deleting it. I kept thinking I’d be bothering him, and I didn’t want him thinking I was just trying to keep myself insert myself into his life.

  Rae had called a few hours before, inviting me for a girls’ night out with her, Callie, and Sasha. We’d decided to meet at her house and take an Uber from there. I arrived and found all three girls standing in the hall. Rae was holding a big box in her hand wrapped in black and white paper.

  “What’s that?” I said.

  Rae held it out to me. “Open it up and find out.”

  “It’s from all of us,” Sasha said.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

  “Yeah,” Callie said. “We kinda did. Besides, we wanted to do it.”

  I took the box, pulled off the lid, and glanced inside.

  “You guys ... you didn’t have to ... I mean ... I can’t believe you ...”

  I was crying, which seemed to be the norm for me these days.

  “Do you like him?” Rae said.

  I reached in and pulled out a Maltese puppy not much bigger than the palm of my hand. “I love him. He’s perfect.”

  “And don’t worry,” Rae said. “We had just put the little guy in the box when we saw you drive up.”

  Sasha grabbed a sack sitting on the chair next to her and handed it to me. “Here’s everything you need to get started—food and toys—oh, and Callie bought you a crate.”

  I looked at each of them, snuggled the puppy in my arms, and said, “Thank you. All of you. And not just for this. For everything.”

  I was on my bed watching an episode of Cedar Cove when my doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so receiving an unexpected visitor so late at night made my heart race. I glanced out the window. The street was too dark to see who was parked in my driveway. Someone was parked there though. Thinking it might be Sean, or rather, hoping it was Sean, I made a quick trip to my bathroom before heading downstairs. I ran my fingers through my short hair, dabbed on some lipstick, and wiped the smeared eyeliner off my face. I sprayed on two squirts of my favorite perfume, and then reassessed my look. It wasn’t great, but it would have to do for now.

  I opened the front door and did my best to crack a smile and try not to look too disappointed. “Jerry, what are you doing here?”

  He stepped inside my house and handed me a brown paper bag. Inside I found a six-pack of beer and two bottles of wine.

  “I would have called first, but I thought I’d take a chance, see if you were home.”

  “I was just headed to bed.”

  He was staring at my lips—my freshly applied, lipstick-stained lips—and I knew he didn’t believe me. “It’s not even ten o’clock yet. But hell, if you want to be alone, I’ll go. You can keep the wine. I brought it for you. Wasn’t sure what you liked, but I remember having dinner with you and Robert once, and you ordered a red.”

  Good memory.

  I felt sufficiently guilty, which may or may not have been his intention. “It’s okay. You’re here now. We can talk for a bit. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to having company unless it’s one of my girlfriends.” I reached into the bag, pulled out a beer, and handed it to him. “Go ahead, sit down. I’ll open one of these bottles and join you.”

  He snapped the cap off the beer and sat down on one side of the sofa. I poured a glass of wine and sat on the other.

  “So, how have you been lately?” he asked. “We didn’t really get the chance to talk much when I saw you last.”

  “I’m better. The first year was rough, but lately I feel like I’m finally getting back to myself
again.”

  “What changed? Have you been in therapy, or have you met someone, or ...?”

  “I started doing things for me again. I’m on a volleyball team every week at the park, and I’m trying to get out more.”

  “There’s no man in your life then?” He tipped his head toward the puppy, sleeping on a blanket next to the sofa. “Aside from your new dog, I mean.”

  “There was someone I saw a couple times. We never dated long enough for it to go anywhere. What about you? Are you still on the dating site you were talking about?”

  He nodded. “You should try it. It’s a trip.”

  I took a sip of my wine, and noticed he’d been guzzling the beer. Two empty bottles were on the coffee table, and he was almost finished with his third.

  “Have you met anyone you’re interested in?”

  “I’ve dated a few nice girls. I just don’t like any of them enough to pursue a relationship.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t found the right one yet.”

  “Maybe.”

  He scooted closer to me, not so close that we were touching, but close enough. I was already leaning so far over the edge of the sofa I had to grip the arm so I wouldn’t slide off.

  “Robert ever tell you I had a crush on you in high school?”

  A few words, and our normal conversation had taken a turn for the awkward. “He didn’t.”

  “Yeah, it was right before the two of you started dating. I liked you first, but when Robert met you, he was fixated. He couldn’t stop talking about you. I’d been planning on asking you out until he said he liked you.”

  I laughed. “Oh, come on. I don’t believe you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you dated Missy from the time you two were in the eighth grade until you were both freshman in college.”

  “Yeah, well, there was a time when we almost broke up.”

  I wondered why he was telling me this now, why he’d moved closer to me on the sofa, why he hadn’t taken his eyes off me for several minutes, why he’d really come over tonight.

  “Jerry, I—”

  “We’re both single now, Kenna. I was just thinking about how nice it would be if we gave it a shot.”

  “Gave what a shot? Dating each other?”

  He set his beer down and lunged at me, sending my glass of wine flying. Red liquid spilled onto the rug, and the glass came crashing down on my wood floor. “Jerry!”

  He wasn’t listening. His lips were puckered, aiming for mine. Instead of locking against my lips, he missed, kissing my chin instead. His hands shot forward, cupping my breasts. I leaned back and slapped him across the face. “Get out!”

  He jerked his head back and laughed. “Oh, come on, Kenna. You’re lonely. I’m lonely. I like you, and I think you like me too.”

  “I don’t like you, Jerry. Not in the way you think you like me. We’ve always been friends. All we’ll ever be is friends.”

  “That’s what you say now. Once we get to know each other again, who knows? I don’t see why we can’t turn our friendship into something else. What do you say?”

  “I asked you to leave.”

  He attempted to place his hand on my knee, but I smacked it away.

  “Oh, come on. I was just messing around. I’m sorry. We were having such a good time together. I’ll stop ... if you really want me to stop.”

  I stood and walked out of the room. “I’m taking the dog out. When I get back, you better not be here.”

  “But Kenna, just wait a—”

  “Goodnight, Jerry. Don’t ever come to my house again.”

  The following morning, two-dozen red roses were delivered to my door along with a half-assed apology note from Jerry, which I ripped up and threw in the trash. The note said: Sorry. I’d really like to see you again.

  I put the roses in a vase even though I hated roses. Looking at them was like a broken record that wouldn’t stop, like I was being forced to recall a bad memory over and over again. The first few times, I let it go. Then I relocated the roses to a nightstand in the spare bedroom, and I closed the door.

  It was situations like this that reminded me of why I didn’t have much interest in dating again. I’d heard the dating pool was on the shallow side these days, but I had a feeling single men were even worse than I imagined. All except for Sean. In the time since the last time he texted me, an hour hadn’t passed where I didn’t think of him or his daughter. I wondered if I’d ever hear from him again. And then a text came. It was simple and to the point. I’m thinking of you.

  I replied: I’m thinking of you too.

  Six Months Later

  Many Las Vegas residents avoided the shining lights of the Las Vegas Strip. The flashy allure that drew most people to the desert city steered its local residents to community outskirts. I was no different, but there was one place I visited every few months that pulled me back into city life: the gardens at Bellagio. The whimsical grandeur of the sky-lit atrium combined with the fountain show in front of the hotel provided a unique experience no matter how many times I visited.

  I was in the conservatory, admiring a gigantic turtle made primarily of flowers, when I bumped into a man standing behind me. I turned and said, “I’m sorry,” before I realized whom I’d backed into.

  Sean lowered his camera around his neck and grinned. “Kenna. It’s so good to see you.”

  Over the past few months we’d texted each other a few times a week, and even talked on the phone a few times, but he hadn’t asked me out again, and I’d assumed he still wasn’t ready to move forward with his life again.

  “What are you doing here?” I said.

  He pointed toward a couple dressed in wedding attire, walking through the gardens. “I’m just getting some candid shots of these two before they have a Vegas-style honeymoon.”

  “The bride is beautiful. I love her dress.”

  “Beautiful and still drunk from her bachelorette party last night, I think.”

  We both laughed.

  “The funny thing is, the husband is the billionaire heir to his father’s fortune in France, but no one has recognized them yet.” He looked at the couple and held up a hand. “Let’s take a five-minute break, okay?”

  The couple nodded and received a personal hotel escort to a café nearby. Sean picked his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “This couple has me for another thirty minutes. Then I’m free for the rest of the night. If you can stick around and wait, we could go get a bite to eat.”

  I pushed my hands into my pockets. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m supposed to meet up with my girlfriends later.”

  “How long do you have?”

  “Well, I guess I have a couple hours.”

  “It’s enough time to grab some ice cream, maybe take a walk. What do you say?”

  “I don’t know, Sean.”

  Every part of me wanted to say yes. Every part of me had been waiting for the moment he’d ask me out again. But I was finally to the point where I wasn’t thinking of him all the time. The last thing I wanted was to start up again and end up crushed.

  He sensed my hesitation and grabbed my hand. “Please. I’d love to catch up with you.”

  “I guess I could hang out and wait.”

  He smiled. “Great. I won’t be long. I’ll meet you in front of the gardens in just a bit, okay?”

  I nodded.

  He raised his camera and then darted off in the newlyweds’ direction. A short time later, we were dipping mini spoons into cups of gelato and trying to make a decision about what we wanted to do next. “If you have enough time, I’d like to show you something.”

  “Show me what?”

  “The house I bought last month. Elle sold her place and moved back to Idaho where she’s from, and I bought a place of my own.”

  “Sure, I’d love to see it.”

  A short drive later, we entered a gated community centered around a manmade lake.

  “All right,” he said. “I
want you to guess which one it is.”

  “There has to be fifty houses in here. I wouldn’t know.”

  “I bet you can pick it out. Tell you what ... I’ll narrow it down for you. It’s on the next street.”

  The homes on the next street were all different, each unique in its own way. It was the first thing I liked about the community when we drove into it. No cookie-cutter houses, no traditional feel of everyone trying to match each other. Every home had its own flavor—its own flare. We drove onto the street where Sean lived, passing an Italian villa, a couple of modern contemporaries, a house that looked like it belonged in Gone With the Wind, and then my eyes widened as we reached the last home. I knew it was his. At the tail end of the street was a Mediterranean hacienda with a red tile roof and a massive wooden front door.

  “See?” he said. “I knew you’d know.”

  “You bought this house, the same style of house I told you I wanted to live in one day?”

  He nodded. “I looked at all kinds of houses. But when the realtor showed this one to me, all I could think about was you, and I fell in love with the place. I hope you’re not upset.”

  “How could I be? You bought a house because it reminded you of me.”

  “I’ve thought about you so many times these past months,” he said. “I almost stopped by your house a few times.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d want to see me. I thought you’d think I blew you off these past months and you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

  “I could have done more too. I wanted to text you more than just to see how you were doing, but I worried if I texted too much I’d be bugging you. I didn’t want you to think I was being pushy.”

  He tipped his head back and laughed. “You pushy? Not a chance. I would have been happy to hear from you. When I didn’t, I thought you had moved on and met someone else. Stupid, I know.”

  “Looks like we were both stupid, and, for the record, I haven’t been on a single date since I saw you last.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t have much interest, I guess. What about you? Have you dated at all?”