The Last Summer Girl: A Coming of Age Love Story

by S. C. York

  “Where are you?” He’s pissed and any hope I had flaring to life is quickly extinguished.

  “Little Compton.”

  “Thanks for returning the key and locking up.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I was half expecting to find my clothes burning in the dumpster behind my building.”

  “Do you think so little of me?” I whisper into the phone. I’m devastated that this is what he thinks of me.

  “Frankly, Vanessa, I wouldn’t have been shocked. You are terribly impulsive.”

  “So, is this it then?” I whisper.

  “I think so—yes,” he says softly back to me.

  “You’re breaking up with me over the phone?” It’s hitting me that I’ll never see him again.

  “Vanessa, I gave you a chance to try to make it right, and you cut and ran like you do every time something gets hard.”

  “Ry, I was about to have another panic attack. I was surprised, hurt, confused—I never saw any of this coming at me. Please, can’t you understand?”

  “Vanessa, I’ve told you all summer you need to make better choices—mature a little bit. Maybe it’s just not our time.”

  “Bullshit,” I scream into the phone. “Stop, stop making me feel like it’s all my fault. You lied to me. Why didn’t you tell me what was happening?”

  “Because I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

  “So what was your plan? Sleep with me all week—lead me on? Pretend everything will be fine and then clear out and catch a flight to Heathrow?”

  He sighs in frustration.

  “I can’t get into this right now. You haven’t even asked about Blake. Don’t you even care about the aftermath of the bomb you detonated tonight? You’re a selfish little girl.”

  Choking on tears of hurt and shame I hang my head.

  “Yes, of course, I want to know if he’s okay. How did Charles take the news?”

  But it’s too late. He’s already disconnected the call. I look up and meet the sympathetic eyes of Mel and TJ. They don’t say a word, but hold out their arms to me. I make my way over to the outdoor couch and let them both try to hug my pain away.

  Packing up my childhood room is harder than I thought it would be. I’m heartbroken and sad to be leaving with my relationships in ruin. Picking up the metal picture frames on my dresser, I feel a stab to my gut and tears prickling. Me and Eva from homecoming our freshman year, she’s in braces and I’m standing awkwardly next to her. Next to that picture is one of me and TJ from my fourth birthday party. The two of us are wearing those ridiculous cone paper hats but our smiles are as wide as the ocean.

  Scrolling through the music on my phone, I find Photograph and blast it to my wireless speakers. My nose starts dripping, again. I pick up another Kleenex and dab. My non-stop crying jag is a record even for me. Before the second chorus starts, my door slams open.

  “Not again. I can’t listen to this song again. Vanessa, I’ve been patient with you, but this has gone on too long. Two weeks! Two weeks of you crying and moping around with this damn song echoing through the whole goddamned house! I know you’re hurting. But he’s not the first boy to break your heart, and he won’t be the last,” my father says throwing his hands up in the air.

  “Get out, Dad,” I shout. I don’t want to hear the truth in what he’s saying.

  “Not until I give you this—it just came in the mail.”

  He drops a cream colored envelope on my bed, my name and address is written on it in bold calligraphy. Confused I pick it up, and the weight of it is heavy in my palm. I turn the music down and rip the back open wondering what this is.

  I read the card in disbelief, “This must be a mistake,” I say aloud to my empty room.

  The invitation to Mystic Yacht Club’s, Night of Hope sits in my hand. Who sent this to me? Why?

  Gazing out the window, I’m lost in so many thoughts. The past fourteen days have been a complete blur of crying, packing, sleeping, and self-reflection. I only ended up staying at Mel’s for the remainder of the weekend choosing to face reality and come home. Mom was surprisingly supportive and didn’t judge or say anything cutting for a change. I thought for sure she would hammer me with “I told you so’s.”

  I’ve reached out to Eva a few times, but she brushes off any attempt to meet up and I feel like I’ve been dumped twice. TJ’s the only one I have left.

  I haven’t heard from Ryan since our last phone call, the night it all ended. But I still feel like I need closure. I’ve picked up my phone, my thumb hovering over his name on my call list but something holds me back. I’m ashamed and feel awful that I robbed Blake of the chance to have some dignity, to come out to his father in his own way, with his own words and I know what I did is something I can never come back from.

  I turn on Photograph again and scroll through my Instagram account.

  Faces of us flood my screen. Ryan and I that day at Mohegan Bluffs, then kissing with the fireworks exploding above our heads, and Eva and I dolled up in our fancy second-hand gowns at our first and last MYC black tie event. I sob out loud as the next picture slides across. It’s the first beach concert at Esker and the three of us are holding up our Solo cups with goofy grins, each of us lit up with joy at the promise of a new summer. We had just made our pact. My index finger traces over Eva’s face, she was so vibrant.

  The moments that followed this picture changed the course of our entire summer, even the paths our lives are now on. If I could go back, would I still take that walk down to the shore where I tripped over Blake’s Zodiac?

  I just don’t know.

  I’ve never experienced so much joy and so much pain intertwined before. Flopping back against the pillows lining my headboard, I wave the invitation like a fan and smack my thigh with it. It’s then that the dark bold handwriting on the back jumps out at me:

  Vanessa, hope you can make it. No hard feelings, Blake.

  I grab my phone and dial TJ

  “Hey, you’ll never guess what I just got in the mail.”

  “I got one, too.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do you think we should go?”

  “Well, I’m not sure how I feel about it yet. I’m still processing, but you owe him, Vanessa. I think you need closure on this, too.”

  “You’re right. I just don’t know how I can face him, Charles and Lila.”

  “You have to, Nessa. You owe it to him and Ryan, but most importantly to yourself. You could skirt around this and take the easy way out and just leave town. I’m sure that’s what Lila and Ryan expect. Surprise them. Show them you are more.”

  “TJ, how did you get so wise?”

  “I’m not that great, or I would’ve stopped myself before things got out of hand with Blake.”

  “Shit happens,” I answer. Then I ask him, “Will you be my date?”

  “How can I refuse,” he replies.

  It’s then I notice the actual date of the gala.

  “Crap, TJ! The gala is two days before my job in Manhattan starts. I was hoping to move down there at least a week before to unpack and get settled.”

  “Why? So, you can eat Ramen noodles by yourself and cry in an empty apartment? Stay here longer, around people who care about you. Just pack your work clothes in a garment bag and set that aside with your cosmetics, so when you get down there, you won’t be scrambling to find everything you need.”

  “God, you are gay, huh? Your expert organizational skills should’ve been a clue.”

  “For God’s sake, Nessa, I’m not gay! I hate it when people misunderstand bisexuality.”

  “TJ, calm down. It was just a joke.”

  “Sorry for being touchy. Being open about this is new to me. I was more comfortable keeping it personal, but I know it’s not healthy anymore.”

  “Agreed,” I tell him. “I need to apologize to my dad. He was trying to snap me out of my post-break up funk, and I was mean to him.”

  “That
’s a start, Nessa. Baby steps. Work your way up to the big apology. I need to head over to MYC for my shift. It’s been radio silent over there. Charles and Blake have been by a few times acting completely normal. Like nothing’s changed. It’s weird.”

  “That is weird. I guess they’re more comfortable pretending.”

  “Let’s hope not. Anyway, I’ll call you later.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Hanging up I make my way downstairs to find my dad. He’s out front weeding the garden, “Hey, Dad.” He doesn’t look up but keeps plucking the weeds one by one in his prized bed.

  “You over the pity party yet?” he finally answers.

  “No, but I’m getting there.”

  “Good. Does this mean you’ll stop blasting that awful music?”

  “Probably not. Look, Dad, I’m sorry for being such a mess these past few weeks and for being rude to you just now.”

  “It’s alright, hon. I’m married to your mother, remember?”

  We both snicker at his small joke.

  “Bonfire later?” he asks with a hopeful expression in his brown eyes that are the same color as mine.

  “Definitely,” I answer.

  I can’t do this. The gala is tomorrow night and I don’t know if I have the courage to go.

  I turn down Pearl Street away from downtown, passing a few benches facing the bridge. But I can’t appreciate the view today because I’m too caught up in my thoughts.

  The walls in my room are blank and my floor’s covered with brown moving boxes. It’s strange, as much as I wanted freedom, it terrifies me. I thought I would be spending these last days with Ryan and Eva and until now I’ve managed to keep busy to avoid dwelling on where my summer ends—alone. The very thing I’ve always feared the most has happened to me.

  But I’ve been focusing on myself, taking a breather and trying to heal. In the mornings, like today, I go for a run or head down to Mystic River with my paddle board. The tranquility of morning before the traffic and bustle of tourists gives me the peace I need.

  I loop back around through downtown and I see the vendors setting up their display booths. The Mystic Art Show is this weekend, and it’s always been special to me. The downtown streets close and artists from photographers to watercolor painters and jewelers fill up their white tents with splashes of color.

  Eva and I would roam each stall every year with a few twenties hoping to find something special that we could afford. But I just can’t bring myself to go tomorrow. It won’t be the same without her. She’s still holed up in her house and barely leaves. TJ’s tried just about everything but she won’t budge. They will never be friends again.

  I finish strong up the hill past the Congregational church that overlooks town and then cool down turning left onto my street. Finishing my run, I bend over at the waist. Sprinting the last quarter mile has improved my time, but we are in the middle of a heat wave and it’s making it harder to breathe.

  The screen door opens and Dad comes out holding a glass of iced lemonade for me.

  “Thanks, Dad,” he just grunts and walks to his work truck to start his day. He’s not a morning person but the way things have turned out has forced me to spend more time at home, and it’s made all the difference in my relationship with my parents.

  I notice the little things they do for me more, like Dad making fresh lemonade for me every morning after my workouts and Mom putting baby powder in my sneakers so they don’t stink every time I lace them up.

  Mom even went to Starbucks and got me gifts cards. She said it’s her way of letting me know that she’s thinking of me when I’m in Manhattan. It’s bittersweet how when some relationships are distanced others grow closer.

  I walk into the house and find her in the same spot she’s in every morning at nine-fifteen, reading the paper. “Hey Mom, do you want to go shopping today? I need to go to HomeGoods to get some towels and linens for my new place.”

  She looks up, smiling at me in surprise, “I’d love to, Vanessa. How about lunch after?”

  “That’d be a great, Mom,” I reply then bound up the stairs for a shower.

  I lie down in bed, listening to my new favorite song, Don’t Let Me Down. I stare up at the plastic glow in the dark stars and debate if I should pack them too, but a knock at my door distracts me.

  “Vanessa, there’s someone here to see you. You need to come downstairs.”

  Confused by my dad’s serious demeanor, I rush out the door past him hoping it’s Eva, coming to say goodbye.

  I freeze at the top of the stairs when I see him waiting for me below. Ryan’s standing in my parents’ small foyer and his presence dominates the small space. My mother stands next to him wringing her hands and pacing. I’m sure she’s both awed by his presence and worried about how it will affect me since I just started to snap out of it a little.

  “Hi,” he says quietly.

  I slowly make my way toward him. I’m stunned and this feels like a mirage. I never thought I’d see him again and all my regrets, everything I’ve wanted to tell him runs through my mind.

  “Can we talk?” he asks when I reach him.

  I don’t answer but brush past him and lead him outside to the partially covered porch. Sitting down on the swing I stick one foot out to rock myself.

  He stands to the side in front of me, leaning back against the railing and Mom quietly shuts the door giving us some privacy. But I’d bet money she has her ear pressed to the door.

  Ryan’s wearing a baseball cap and I can’t read his eyes through the shadow it casts over his face in the twilight. The air smells of rain, and the clouds behind him are pink in the soft summer night sky.

  With his hands tucked into his shorts he looks me over. I tuck my legs under me and take the ponytail holder I had on my wrist and twist my hair into a bun.

  “How have you been?” he asks.

  I can’t answer. I don’t have the words to say how much I’ve missed him.

  “I’m in town for the gala tomorrow night. My parents are staying over at the Stonington house with Charles. I wasn’t sure if you would show up and I wanted to see you before you leave.”

  “You mean before you leave!” I reply angrily.

  “Fair enough, before we both leave.”

  “It’s real? You’re moving to London?”

  “Yes, I leave in two weeks.”

  Tears start pouring down my face. I know all of this but hearing him say the words makes it all real.

  “I’m sorry. If I knew that it was even a remote possibility, I wouldn’t have gotten involved with you,” he tells me quietly.

  “But you did—we did,” I say gesturing between us with my hands.

  “I know. Vanessa, being with you this summer was special. It was one of the best summers of my life.”

  “So, why did you put in for the job in London?”

  “It wasn’t like that. You don’t understand, and it’s not fair of me to expect you to. You haven’t even started your marketing career yet. You’ll see. When you have a chance to move up, you take it. Sometimes things just fall into your lap unexpectedly. You were one of those things; my job in London is another.”

  I sit back on the cushions studying him, processing his words. His face is sincere and I believe him. I know he didn’t plan this but I’m devastated at how easily he took the job knowing it would end us.

  “So it was real then?”

  “Of course it was.”

  “How long will you be in London for?”

  “I’m not sure. My work visa is for a year but I could stay there up to five—maybe permanently if I like it.”

  I breathe in so fast at his words I choke on air. Wow, this is it.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He’s silent waiting for my question.

  “If you were staying in Boston, would we still be together?”

  “I can’t answer that, Vanessa. That stunt you pulled on Blake was the last straw for me. I lov
e you—but maybe letting you go is the best thing to do. You need to spread your wings, leave your nest here and grow. Staying with me in a long-distance relationship would be clipping your wings when you’re learning to fly.”

  I stare at him getting angrier by the second.

  “Let me get this straight. I’m a baby bird now? A few weeks ago, I was a stupid little girl, and before that I was immature and naïve? You are freakin unbelievable!” I tell him.

  “Vanessa, I did love you. I still do. I’m sorry. Anything I said was in anger and frustration. The damn thing is I just know that in five years, you’ll be perfect for me.”

  “What?” I snap my head up at the hole he keeps digging, “What the hell does that even mean?”

  He rubs the back of his neck and sighs in frustration, “Nessa, it means I love you for so many reasons. You’re like a rough diamond that hasn’t been cut and polished, but I can see the potential of the precious gem waiting to be unearthed.”

  “Thanks, Shakespeare. Keep going, you’re on a roll here.”

  “Shit,” he laughs, “It’s just not coming out right. What I’m trying to say is I’ve had my years after college. I’m not in the same place that you are. I think the next few years will be huge for you, career-wise, but more importantly, world-wise. You are going to meet so many new people. Have so many new experiences that will shape you into the woman you’ll become—”

  He stops, realizing that none of what he is saying is making any sense to me. Behind him, raindrops start falling softly to the ground.

  God, even the sky is crying for me.

  “Anyway I should go. I hope I gave you some closure.”

  “How very kind and mature of you,” I reply snidely.

  He walks out into the rain to his shiny Range Rover.

  No! No! I want him back, forever.

  “WAIT!” I scream.

  I run after him, my bare feet cuts through the wet grass and I throw myself at him. My mouth opens over his and my tongue fights its way past his lips.

  He grabs my legs and hoists me up and we kiss fight in the rain.

  He pulls back panting, looking me in the eyes and then he grabs my lips again as it rains harder. My t-shirt plasters to my skin and I whimper when he puts me down. He pulls my hair out of my bun to run his hands through the wet strands. He spreads them out behind me and takes one last long look, pressing his lips to mine.