by A. S. Green
“Enough,” he says. “Something about you not graduating on time.”
“That about sums it up.” I tip my head back and stare at the dusky sky.
Andrew looks at Macie, then back at me. “You’re going to have to do a better job of explaining.”
“Yeah, it can’t be as bad as all that,” Macie adds.
“It’s bad. Mom spent my money. Like, a lot of it.”
Andrew seems to understand without much more explanation than that, but Macie pulls her eyebrows together, furrowing her forehead. “Can she do that? Legally, I mean.”
“It’s the same account I had since I was a kid. It still has both our names on it, so I guess so. But that’s really beside the point. How is this happening to me? I can’t not finish school.”
“How much do you need?” Andrew asks, as if he’s about to whip out his checkbook.
“Nine thousand two hundred dollars. Less, I suppose, if I live at home next year.” The very idea of it makes my shoulders tense.
Andrew bows his head and stares at the ground. After a few seconds he says, “Well, you can’t do that. Listen, Katherine, let me help you.”
“No,” I say, while Macie nods her head so vigorously she looks like a bobblehead.
Even though a part of me wants to throw my arms around Andrew and thank him, another part of me is drowning in shame. This is my problem. I can fix it. And I need Andrew to know that I can handle my own problems. Even if I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to do that.
“It can be a loan,” he says. “I’ll charge you interest if it makes you feel better.”
“I still wouldn’t feel right about that.”
“But that’s a good idea,” Macie says. “What about a loan? From a real bank.”
“I’ve already taken the max.” Out of the corner of my eye I see Andrew’s mouth tighten.
His family has had no need for loans. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all my loans that keep him from wanting a relationship with me. Who’d want to be saddled with someone else’s debt?
“A scholarship?” she suggests.
“I’ve already got some,” I say.
“And it’s too late in the year to apply for them anyway,” Andrew adds gloomily.
“Listen,” Macie says, “this is not the end of the world. We’ll figure this out. For now, let’s tap that keg, okay? I do my best creative thinking when I’m hammered.”
Andrew looks at me doubtfully.
“It’s true,” I say. “She studied for her Shakespeare final with a papier-mâché skull in one hand and a bottle of Jack in the other.”
“That’s right,” Macie says as she squeezes my arm. “We’ll figure this out. We just need a little creativity juice.” With that, she heads back to the front yard of the fraternity house, leaving me and Andrew alone in the shadows.
“This is what was bothering you at dinner, isn’t it? Why didn’t you say something to me then?” His eyes are warm, and they look at me with genuine sensitivity. My heart melts. He’s right. I should have told him.
“I didn’t know what to say. I was still in shock, and you were going on and on about the acidic tomatoes and party planning…” I laugh a little, but he doesn’t. Frankly, my sense of humor does seem a little forced.
“When something like this happens,” he says, putting both his hands on my shoulders, “I want to be the first person to hear about it. That is, if I’m important to you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My heart quickens.
“It means…remember that time senior year when we overheard my parents fighting?”
Of course I remembered. His parents were always the epitome of control and quiet confidence. It was one of the reasons I liked hanging out at his house so much. To see them losing themselves to their grief like that…well, it had been shocking to me, but it had destroyed Andrew.
He’d run out of the house, leaving me standing there. I had to chase him down, and when I caught up to him, he practically dissolved in my arms.
As many times as he’d helped me through things that year, I’d never let myself fall apart like that in front of him. The mere thought of it was demoralizing. I had never fully trusted Andrew with my vulnerability, but he had trusted me with his.
“It means,” he continues, “that sometimes I can’t help but think that I need you more than you need me.”
My eyebrows shoot up so fast I’m pretty sure they hit my hairline. I hate where this is coming from, but it’s still pretty close to what I’ve been waiting for him to say all these years. I mean something to him. I mean a lot to him. Which is why I don’t want to burden him with my current crisis.
“Andrew…my problems don’t have anything to do with you. There’s no reason why you should—”
He drops his hands from my shoulders. “See. That’s what I mean. Everything in my life has everything to do with you. You’ve been the one constant thing in my life for…what? Over seven years now? That’s not an accident, Katherine. We…work. We makes sense. We’ve both been through some rough times, and we only made it to the other side because of each other. I understand you, and you understand me because the same things are important to both of us. Do you know how rare that is?”
His words knock the wind out of me, and I wait for him to spit it out. To just say it. Say it, Andrew. Tell me that you love me. I love you. We belong together, and not just as friends.
But then he says, “You’re my best friend. My life would suck without you.” I try to pretend he’s not quoting a Kelly Clarkson song and let him wrap me into a bear hug. I can be patient. That’s what love is. “I’m sorry this is happening,” he says, “but don’t worry. I’ll come up with a plan, and we’ll put the wheels back on this bus.”
I nod my head against his chest. I trust him, but I want him to believe in me, too. Just like him, I’m stronger than I was back in high school, back when everything fell apart. When he realizes that for himself, that’s when he’ll see me differently.
Chapter Four
KATHERINE
The next morning I’m leaning into the bathroom mirror at the Alpha Phi house, trying to see how close I can get the mascara wand to my eye. Lexi and McKenzie are standing along the counter to my right. Based on the way they’re dressed, I’m guessing they have brunch plans at Brook Marsh. Mom and I used to do lunch at the country club. Back before Dad left.
Macie comes in just as Lexi and McKenzie leave. “Here,” Macie says, slapping something against my back, hard.
“What’s that?” I ask. I take my time twisting the mascara cap back on and dropping the tube into my makeup bag.
“This,” she says with her typical dramatic flair, “is what they call the campus newspaper.” She says it slowly like she’s pronouncing a foreign word.
“Yeah, I think I’ve heard of that before. I mean, why do I want it?”
She shakes it in my face. “Girl, inside these smudgy pages I’ve found the answer to your prayers. Your means of salvation.”
I roll my eyes and start brushing my hair. Macie is always going on about finding herself, or finding myself, or finding something. She means well.
“Look,” she says, flipping the paper open and folding it back on itself. She jabs her finger to the want ads, one in particular that she’s circled in red Sharpie.
I pull a handful of paper towels off the roll and start to wipe down the sink, then notice the water spots on the mirror and tackle them, too. “Am I being incredibly dense?” I ask. “I still don’t get it.”
“This is your ticket,” she says. “And would you please stop cleaning the bathroom? The housekeeper will do that.”
I sigh in surrender; she’s losing patience with me.
“Not only does this cancel out all your money drama,” she continues, “but I’ve been thinking about this, and it may be your last chance to do something on your own. Just for you. Not for your mom. Not for Andrew. Not even for me. You need this job for more than just the money.” She sou
nds almost pleading now.
I roll my eyes again and look down at the newspaper she has set on the counter.
WANTED. Summer caretaker for historic lighthouse on Little Bear Island. 6/1–9/3. Education/exp w/historical sites preferred. DL required. $10,000. Serious inquiries only. 218-555-0113.
I make a dismissive sound and toss the paper towels in the garbage. “Too far away.”
“A short six-hour drive,” is her quick response.
“Why would they pay so much? Ten grand? That’s insane. There’s got to be a catch.”
“The old man who lives there leaves on an Alaskan fishing trip every summer. He had someone lined up as summer caretaker, but she backed out at the last minute. The guy’s desperate. And a little eccentric, if you ask me. He’s trying to make it an offer that’s hard to refuse.”
“How do you know all that?” I ask, flipping the paper over. Did I miss something?
“I called,” she says, looking pretty satisfied with herself. “I checked it out in advance. You didn’t think I’d send my friend into something sketchy, now did you? I told him that you were super tidy, maybe even a little obsessive. He seemed to like that, plus I told him how you worked at the campus historical center one semester.”
“I filled in for someone one day.”
“So I stretched the truth a little. The job’s yours if you want it. He asked that you call and confirm by tomorrow.”
“Confirm? Macie, you can’t go around committing me to things without asking me first.”
“Come on, Katherine. It’s good money. It’s all the money you need.”
I can’t deny that, but I lean into the mirror, trying to seem unimpressed. The problem has been making my head spin. I can’t do the internship and still make enough money for school, but it’s not likely I’d make enough in only three months anyway, so skipping out on the internship seems like a complete waste of an opportunity. I’d been thinking maybe I could find a job in town where I could work nights and work with Professor Schumacher during the day. (I mean, who needs sleep?) But I couldn’t do that long distance. And a lighthouse? What’s up with that?
“Come on, Katherine. Heading up to the north woods. It’s very romantic, don’t you think? It sounds like something out of one of your books. What’s that one on your shelf? The one with all the dog ears?”
I laugh without any bitterness. Macie has that effect on me. “Pride and Prejudice, but believe me, it doesn’t sound anything like that.”
“Katie,” she whines, knowing how much I hate it when she calls me that.
“I appreciate your concern, but—”
“Do you?” She tips her head to the side, and her earring swings like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. She holds the newspaper up in front of my face, so I can’t help but read the advertisement again.
“What’s ‘DL required’ mean?” I ask. “Driver’s license?”
“Or dog lover,” she jokes as she shoves the newspaper back into my hands.
“Ha, ha.” Animals really aren’t my thing. My mom bought me a Betta fish after Dad left, but it committed suicide. It leaped right out of its bowl onto the steaming radiator while I ate my breakfast. Pretty much lost my enthusiasm for the whole pet thing after that.
“Andrew won’t like it.” I sling my backpack onto my shoulders.
Macie throws her arms up in exasperation. “The fact that that’s your brilliant counter-argument makes me even more convinced you need to get out of here for a while.”
I groan in annoyance, but I slip the newspaper into my backpack anyway. I don’t want to fight with her. And maybe…somewhere…in the back of my mind…I worry that she might be right.
It’s well past midnight and my pillow is buzzing. At first I think it’s a mosquito that has discovered the tiny hole in my window screen. I slap at the air then flop over, covering my head with the blankets. After a few seconds of thrashing, I’m fully awake, realizing that I’ve fallen asleep on my phone and I’ve missed three texts from Andrew. It buzzes again.
Me: Where r u?
Andrew: Outside in my car. Can I come in?
Me: No men after midnight. Rules.
Andrew: Seriously? It’s not like I’m going to ravage you on the living room floor.
I stare at those amazingly awesome words for a minute, or two. Or three. The image of our naked, tangled bodies sends a flash of heat right to my core. Unfortunately, before I can figure out how to respond in a clever, sexy way, Andrew has to go and break the spell.
Andrew: Kidding. Sorry if that embarrassed you. I just really need to talk.
His text douses my flash fire with cold water. I’m glad he can’t see my face because there’d be no hiding my disappointment.
Me: Talk about what?
Andrew: I heard about the job.
A flutter of panic hits my stomach. He’s going to talk me out of it. Not that I’ve talked myself into it, but still. We’ve had plenty of conversations over the years that started just like this. Oh man, I wasn’t being fair. Macie was rubbing off on me too much. Andrew wouldn’t do anything that wasn’t in my best interest.
Andrew: You’re not going to take it, are you? What about Professor Schumacher’s internship? How is this going to look on your resumé?
I bite my lip. Way to cut to the chase, Andrew.
Me: It’s a good job that pays. It would solve everything.
Andrew: But what about us?
I wish I could hear his tone of voice. I don’t know how to take his meaning.
Me: What is US…exactly?
This is dangerous territory, and my palms are instantly sweating. My question skates around the edges of a conversation I’ve been too afraid to have, and I suspect he doesn’t see coming.
Andrew: US is you and me, just like it’s always been.
Me: Then I expect US to continue, even if I do take the job.
I read the text over in my head. The “if” looks more like a “when.” Andrew sees it, too.
Andrew: I would miss you.
I bask in those five words and consider leaving things there so we can end on that note. Instead, I respond.
Me: It’s only three months.
And there it is. Mentally, I’ve accepted the job. I only have to make the call and confirm. Shit. What am I doing?
Andrew: Sure. Sure. I just worry.
Me: No need. It’s all under control. I can solve my own problems.
Andrew: You sure about that?
I scowl at his question. His persisting doubt makes me want to lash out. Anyone else, and I would have, but I don’t because it’s Andrew. He didn’t mean his question the way it sounds.
Me: It’s a job. It’s money. And it might be nice to try something on my own this summer. Find myself.
Andrew: Haha! You spend too much time with Macie. You’re not lost. There’s nothing to find.
I type out, Some alone time. Maybe I could try painting. But then I delete it.
Andrew: I don’t like the thought of you being alone.
Me: I wouldn’t be alone. There’s a whole town full of people.
Andrew: But what would you do?
Me: Probably read a lot.
There’s a long delay, then…
Andrew: Not exactly productive. We’ll talk later. Good night, Katherine. Love ya.
I stare at his last message and blink back the sting in my eyes. I can hear the tone in his words so clearly now. The resignation. The disappointment. I’ve let him down. He’s worked so hard for both of us, and I’ve been ungrateful.
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs. I press my face against my knees and start to rock rhythmically. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Everything is ruined. Andrew’s going to go on without me. I’m going to be stuck in a lighthouse on some godforsaken island, while Andrew’s living our life without me.
A minute or so later, Macie cracks open my door. “You okay in here?” she asks. “I got up and heard your bed creaking.” She laughs quietly
and teases, “You don’t have a guy in here, do you?” Then, when she really gets a look at me, “Oh, God. Katherine, what’s wrong?”
I’m still staring at my knees. Control. Maintain control. “Nothing.”
“You’re not going to ugly cry, are you?”
I look up at her, not blinking. “Do I ever?”
“No.”
“Then, no.”
She walks into my room, slowly, assessing me. I tell her what happened, and when I finish, she wraps her arms around me while I bury my face against her shoulder.
“I have to take the job,” I say. “Don’t let me back out.”
“Never,” she says. “We’ll call first thing in the morning.”
Before she stands up, she puts her hands on my shoulders. “You’re the captain of your ship, Katherine. Time to steer your own damn boat.”
I nod, but I can’t look at her.
“Last time I checked, it wasn’t a crime to put yourself first now and then. Mark my words. After one summer on Little Bear Island, you’ll see yourself the same way I do. Beautiful. Confident. Adventurous. Talented. And that’s the kind of person you want to be when you someday marry Andy.”
“Andrew,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Right,” she says.
JUNE
Chapter Five
BENNET
“Dammit!”
With a frustrated yell, I throw my songwriting notebook across the bridge of the Little Bear Island ferry and sit down hard on the tall chair behind the captain’s wheel. My outburst is answered by a sharp breeze through my open window, a dozen seagulls squawking at a passing fishing boat, the clanking of halyards in the marina, and Samson, who jumps up from the corner to see what’s bothering me.
I pet his black, boxy head and run my thumb along the groove that runs between his eyes and down the center of his skull. “Good boy.”
Samson’s tail wags. It hits the iron walls with a thunk, thunk, thunk. Besides me and the dog, the bridge is empty. The void allows me to clear my head. It’s a nice reprieve from my cottage, which these days is a fucking mess—littered in crumpled balls of paper, half-empty mugs of hot chocolate, and guitar picks.