by S. C. York
I smile at her, she knows me so well and trusts me in a way Ryan never did.
“He took a promotion in London—was striving for it all summer and never said a word.”
She shakes her head, “Men can be such crap.”
“I know,” lifting my soda I make a toast, “To surviving crappy men.”
“Amen,” she answers, and we clink cups.
“Hey, I just realized we missed the last concert of the summer at Esker. It was yesterday.”
She smiles wistfully, “Maybe next year, maybe in five. But we’ll be there again. Next time put on panties that cover your ass!”
We laugh and cry simultaneously.
“What about TJ? Eva, he misses you.”
“I can’t. He’s your childhood friend and I’m not thrilled that you’ve forgiven him. But I can’t. Of all the people, he knew. He must’ve had a suspicion; it was too easy, too natural how they were both suddenly in the hot tub together.”
What can I say? She’s right. He did know. And instead of telling her he kept his suspicion to himself, leaving her vulnerable to the events that transpired.
“I’d better be going,” she says quietly. We stand up to hug.
“I can’t believe this is it.”
“When I’m settled I’ll take the train from Providence and you can take me for drinks in New York.”
“Pinky promise?” I ask her.
“Pinky promise,” she replies. We hug and cry, then pay the bill. My eyes don’t adjust quickly enough when we get outside, and I grip her arm for a second, waiting for my pupils to change.
“Wishing you had my Jackie O glasses now, huh, Nessa.”
“Yep.”
We drive off in different directions, but I just know she’ll be okay. Even though it’s not the way she wanted, she did get out of our small town.
“This is it,” I say, cramming the last bag into the trunk. Dad is holding Mom, her lip quivers as she dabs her eyes with a tissue.
“I’ll come home soon, Mom. Stamford is only a two-hour drive. Besides, you and Dad have to drive out in my MINI and swap cars with me so he can get his manly ride back.”
She smiles wistfully, “I know, baby. But it’s just not the same.” She starts crying harder and blows her nose. I give her a tight hug, and then turn to my dad.
“Wait. I forgot something in the house,” he says, jogging inside. The car keys dig into my hand as I take one last look at the beloved Cape that’s been my home for over twenty years. The hydrangeas still bloom, thanks to Dad’s constant care.
“Here, this is for you,” he hands me a large package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
“What’s this?”
“I don’t know. Ryan left it for you the night he was here. I’m sorry. I completely forgot about it with everything going on.”
I gingerly take the package from him. Opening the back door of the car, I slide it on top of the boxes crammed inside. Giving my parents one last hug, I open the door and get into the driver’s seat.
“I’ll call you when I get to my apartment,” I say, closing the door gently. Pausing for a moment, I blink back a few tears then I turn the key in the ignition. The old car’s engine powers up and I back out of the drive.
I pass streets full of childhood memories. I stare at all the houses where I went trick or treating. In my mind I see all the bike rides TJ and I took around the neighborhood. But I know now more than ever, those days are gone for good.
Even after all that’s happened, I needed this summer for myself—to get closure on growing up. I wasn’t ready to leave or face the reality that I can’t stop time. As much as Mom’s a pain, home is still home. Now I’m leaving, and going into unchartered waters. I’m scared and truly alone now. There’s no boyfriend and no best friend to hold my hand. I know if Eva were here she’d tell me that I’m lucky to have a fresh start where no one knows me or my past. But I cling to the familiar, where she was always able to paint a blank canvas bright red.
The exit for Interstate 95 South is ahead. But I just can’t do it. Hitting the gas, I race past the entrance ramp and pull an illegal U-turn in front of the Allyn Street fire house.
Ryan’s package in the backseat sits in silence but it’s a second passenger. Its presence bothers me. It’s like an unopened message of some sort. There’s no way I can drive two hours wondering what the heck it is.
I’m back at the same stop light I was at five minutes ago. I hesitate. Left or right? Back home or to where it all started? The car honks behind me alerting me that the light has changed. I make my decision.
Parking the car by the side of the road I open the door and slide out my parting gift. Shivering slightly, I sit on the bench at the end of Pearl Street.
Looking across the Mystic River, I have the perfect view of the Seaport and drawbridge. The early evening air bites with a small chill. Fall is only a few weeks away. The sun’s going down behind me and its last rays brush across the waves in the channel.
I see its reflection off the large glass windows of S&P Oyster House and I tear up at the memory of my first date there with Ryan. It feels like a lifetime ago, not three months. Untying the twine around his package, I unwrap it and stare in silence. It’s a canvas painting of the Bluffs in Block Island, with the lighthouse standing guard over the beautiful, rugged, clay cliffs. A small, handwritten card is taped on the back of the frame.
Nessa, for your new apartment…saw this at the art show. It made me think of you, of us. — Ry
I re-wrap the gift and place it next to the bench. I’m lost in my thoughts about what it means.
“Hey, Vanessa, I thought it was you.”
Startled, I jump slightly as Sean approaches me. His police cruiser is parked across the street behind my car.
“It figures. I guess it’s fitting in a way, I suppose.”
“What,” he asks.
“It’s you. I’m ending summer the way it began with a chance meeting with my ex.”
“Just don’t throw up on me again,” he says with a smile.
I laugh at the memory, and at how far I’ve come from that drunk girl on the beach.
“Just don’t slobber in my ear again and we’ll be fine.”
He laughs with me at the memory.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Sure,” I answer.
“Why are you crying?”
“I just got my heart broken again. Actually, it’s smashed completely—obliterated.”
He’s silent for a minute, staring out at the scenic town in front of us.
“I loved you, you know.”
“What?”
“I did. Last summer, it was the best time of my life. But I’m only twenty-six, Nessa. I wasn’t ready to meet a girl like you and settle down. I shit my pants. I shut down my feelings and pretended it wasn’t happening. I started screwing around and I was fooling myself. I’m sorry.”
“I never asked you for a ring, Sean.”
“True, but we both know that’s where it could’ve headed.”
I bite my lip, not believing the shit luck I have in relationships, so close but never being anyone’s last summer girl.
“I loved you, too. At the time you were everything to me. I appreciate having some closure now, but I don’t think you understand what you put me through. I started having panic attacks. I was put on medicine, Sean.”
“Ah, shit, I’m so sorry. If I could take it all back, I would. I would give anything just to have you as my girlfriend again. I lost my head when I saw you this summer, especially with that preppy guy. Seriously, Nessa, you’re not torn up over that douchebag, are you?”
“Yep, the very one.”
“Christ.”
“I know.”
We sit lost in our own regrets.
“Do you want to hang out sometime, maybe catch a movie?” he asks.
It feels good to banter with him and for a moment, a split second, I remember the good times. But too much has happened bet
ween us, and I know I can never go back.
“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”
I can tell he’s disappointed by the way his shoulders sag.
“Friends?” he asks me.
“How?” I reply.
We sit in silence again, until he gets a call on his radio.
“I have to go, Nessa.”
We stand up, and he moves to give me a hug, but at the last second kisses me on the lips. For a minute I’m spun back in time to last summer, to the carefree girl I was with him. I kiss him back wanting to cling to the pure memory for just a second. But I know I can never be that girl again, I’ve come too far this past year and found a love stronger and more mature than what I had with him.
I let him go.
“Sorry,” he says sheepishly.
“Goodbye, Sean, I’m leaving tonight, moving to Stamford. I just had to sit here one last time.”
“I’ll miss you, Nessa, keep in touch.”
“Okay,” I tell him. But we both know I won’t.
I watch him walk back up to his police car, climbing inside and turning on the lights. He turns back to me one last time; both of us are despondent for a moment at what might have been. My dad was right. There is always another love out there even when you can’t ever imagine it.
I wave when he speeds away. Turning back toward the water I sit still feeling stunned by the turn of events—still not believing this is where my summer ends.
“Guess it’s time to go. Farewell, Mystic, I’ll never forget you. You’ve given me some of the best moments of my life, but just for once why couldn’t you give me a happy ending?”
I take a deep breath inhaling the saltwater air and watch the lights from the river ripple out across the water one last time. I climb into Dad’s old Jeep Commander, more practical than my MINI. It’s stuffed with everything I could fit inside. I plug in my iPod, scrolling through to find the song I need. Never Forget You blares out into the night. Pulling onto Route 1 South, I glance in my rearview mirror, leaving it all behind.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed reading the beginning of Vanessa’s story as much as I loved telling it. If you did, please leave a review so other readers can find The Last Summer Girl’s story. Vanessa’s next chapter begins, Come The Fall, releasing fall 2017. I look forward to hearing from my fans…look for me on Twitter and Facebook and don’t forget to follow me on Amazon to get the latest news on what’s next!
Love
S.C. York
Natural Mystic, Bob Marley
Cake by the Ocean, DNCE
Ride, 21 pilots
Stressed Out, 21 pilots
Ex’s and Oh’s, Elle King
Uptown Funk, Mark Ronson featuring Bruno Mars
Dangerous Woman, Ariana Grande
Pillowtalk, Zayn
What a Feeling, Collie Buddz
She Gimme Love, Collie Buddz
Into the Mystic, Van Morrison
Photograph, Ed Sheeran
Don’t Let Me Down, The Chainsmokers
This is What You Came for, Calvin Harris, featuring Rihanna
Never Forget You, Zara Larson and MNEK
To Pants, for always telling me this was my destiny and having my back— no matter what. To L.S., my first editor, your support and love has been amazing! To my husband, who was the first one to tell me how great this story was and for letting me write my heart out while he changed diapers. Gio, thanks for believing in me, that I could do this!