“‘Dearest Amias,’” he glances at me. “‘I have written that line, and now remember you will be reading this soon. Thus, I am probably bright red already.’”
He chuckles and looks at me again. I shrug, my face growing warmer.
“I was right.”
Amias smiles and keeps reading, “‘I don’t know what to write or how. Writing is the word of the heart, but right now, even my heart struggles to speak. If I could draw, maybe I could show you what I want to say. But I guess fumbling poetry will have to suffice.’”
He turns the page admiring the prosy poetry lines.
“I thought it was about time I shared some of my poetry with you,” I smile a little. “Though it doesn’t rhyme.”
“I don’t care. I’m just glad you are letting me see,” Amias squeezes my shoulder and starts.
I look over his shoulder, reading the lines also.
“‘It was late, and I was an idiot
That seems to be how most silly stories start, right?
Tired, sad girl falls asleep on neighbor’s shoulder
Waking to embarrassment and further annoyance
It’s remarkable how things can change.’”
“‘It was late, and I was a mess
Yet, you never let that bother you
You chose to be my friend, despite my brokenness
Despite the embarrassment
You showed me God’s love when I believed I couldn’t have it.’”
“‘It was late, and I was hurting
When you came along
I had music, but you taught me to read it
I had books, but you taught me the beauty of poetry
I had fears, but you decided four-square was worth conquering them.’”
“‘(Seeing as I have beaten you every time since I wonder if you regret the move.)’”
He chuckles, squeezing my shoulder again but not moving his hand. He keeps reading.
“‘It was late, and I was stubborn
But God was so good when he gave me your friendship
You love with humility and serve honestly
You ground your heart in Christ and listen with compassion
You seek out the beauty in the small things
And you put it to music,’”
“‘It was late, and I was scared
When I tried to push you away, you didn’t let me
You held me as I tried to recover myself.
And amid my fears
I realized that knowing you is worth the pain of farewell.’”
“‘It is late, and I wish I had learned this all sooner
But thank you, Amias
Thank you for showing me what real friendship is
Thank you for bribing me with coffee
Thank you for reminding me that hope isn’t silly.’”
Amias pauses to flip the page again, and my stomach flips with it. He opens his mouth and freezes. A smile crawls over my face. Amias’s already pink face glows, a chuckle escaping his throat.
“‘It is late, but I finally have the courage
In case it isn’t horribly obvious
I have fallen a little bit head over heels for you?
Just in case you were wondering?’”
“Tarni,” Amias pulls me into a hug.
His arms tremble almost as bad as mine. I inhale, dizzy with nervousness.
“Tarni,” Amias repeats, resting his head on mine. “I-I . . . like you too. A lot. A lot a lot.”
My heart swells. I press my face into his shoulder, and a giggle sneaks out of my chest. Amias pulls back for a moment. He runs a hand over my fluffy hair.
“I’ve been waiting for the right moment, but I knew you were struggling. I didn’t want to be selfish. And I didn’t know if saying something during camp would be too soon.”
“Clearly not,” I squeeze his hand.
“Clearly,” he takes my other hand too.
We stare into each other’s eyes again. Then giggle again. Amias leans forward, resting his cheek on my hair.
“I don’t know what to say,” he sighs a little.
“Me neither,” I smile. “I wish we had more time to find the words.”
“You and me, Tarni Bird, we have all the time in the world.”
“Do we? Even in the TCK long-distance lives we lead?”
He tightens his hold on my hands, “Yes. Some gifts come with being young. We have years to say it all. There’s no rush to fit it into this last week.”
Years. I grin up at him, my head lighter than a feather. He grins back, sliding his arm around me. We gaze at the ocean.
“I’m so grateful for you, Seabird,” Amias whispers.
I laugh and scrunch up my face, “And I’m grateful for you. White boy.”
“Hey, now! Mine was cute!” He pretends to pout.
“Seabirds are pests.”
“Not a seagull. A sea bird. It’s literally your name.”
“Whatever.”
And we sit, laughing or silent or talking because, what the heck, we actually said we like each other. Time passes on, and we keep gazing at the sparkling water. Amias’s arm remains wrapped around me.
So with a little more courage in my bones, I pull out my phone. I copy one of my notes and paste it in messages. I stare down at it, my heart aching. Amias glances down.
“Send it,” he rubs my arm. “Send it, and let it go.”
I nod. And press send.
Everly, my dear friend,
I understand why you want to end our friendship. I understand the desire to distance yourself from . . . well . . . our years together with the boys were hardly all summery joys. I realize now that I failed to stand for and with you. And I am sorry. But, my friend, you didn’t stand up for me. I went through the same pains you did. Adam’s manipulation and bullying, Asher’s threats, and even Luke’s harassment.
Neither of us knew how to stand up for ourselves, let alone each other. I have learned a lot from these weeks at camp. I have learned a lot about the realities of our lives together. And how pain can make us shelter ourselves from hurt at all costs.
There is so much I want to tell you. But I will not unburden until you have chosen the hard option of working through our friendship, or are content leaving it in the past.
I release you, Everly. I was too scared for a long time because your friendships and my friendships with the boys defined me. I didn’t know how to be me without you. But I have put my identity in a deeper place. One that cannot be shaken.
I love you, my sister. No matter what you decide.
—Tarni
I gaze up at the sky and release a heavy breath.
Another adventure, Tarni Bird. I glance at Amias. He smiles softly, pushing my glasses back on my nose. Another adventure.
Chapter Twelve: Honoring
The following three days are some of the best—yet hardest—of my life as I grieve and ponder. And cry even more. My fears try to attack, but my friends stand at my side. I fight self-doubts and old ways. And I lose. Often.
But such is the nature of healing—longer and harder than we would like, yet deeper than we can imagine.
I step into the dining hall, laughing with the Harrison triplets. The warm smells overwhelm me and my growling stomach. Kelly darts forward to grab a plate, and Brynn elbows her.
“Don’t you dare get between me and my food,” Brynn shakes a finger in Kelly’s face.
We chuckle. Kelly rolls her eyes but doesn’t push the issue. Drew slings his arm over my shoulder.
“So, how has skit practice been?”
“Pretty good,” I shrug. “I don’t have a large role. I just come in at the end.”
“Oh, nice. If I had joined, that would be the role for me,” Drew scans the dining hall.
I fight a smirk, “Abi is probably fixing her makeup.”
He shoots me a look, “I don’t see Amias either.”
“He’s waiting for me at the table.”
&nbs
p; “You two are so cute,” Brynn sighs, getting her plate. “You make me wish I had a boyfriend.”
“You don’t?” Kelly eyes her.
“Well, Jason doesn’t count.”
“Poor Jason,” Drew names one of his friends.
“Not ‘poor Jason.’ Poor me for having to put up with him,” Brynn dishes food onto her plate.
I follow her, grabbing plenty of salad and a cheeseburger. Kelly spots some of her friends and joins them. And the rest of us walk over to our noisy table. Amias looks up and gestures to the seat beside him. I smile back, sitting down.
“Thank you,” I look around the table. “Where are my roommates?”
“I don’t know. Maya was doing something or other,” Amias shrugs.
“And I can imagine the others are trying to stop Maya from doing something or other. Man, am I glad I’m not with them,” I bite into my cheeseburger.
Drew and Brynn laugh.
“Tarni!” Lena runs toward us, waving her hand.
I blink as she slides to a stop, “Hey, Lena.”
“Hey,” she pants for breath. “As soon as you are finished, join us in the auditorium. Jeff excused us for rehearsals.”
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
She waves and disappears in the crowd as quickly as she had come. I shake my head, turning back to my food.
“How is the skit coming?” Amias asks.
“Good. I think. But like I told Brynn and Drew, I don’t have a big part. So I’m not a good judge.”
He nods, brushing a stray hair out of my face. I scrunch my nose at him.
“You look like a rabbit when you make that face,” Drew laughs.
I slowly turn, pinning my friend with a sharp glare.
“It’s cute!” Brynn swats her brother.
“I dunno . . . ,” Drew narrows his eyes in thought.
I look for something to throw at him. Amias sets a hand on my shoulder, laughing.
“Your face is so cute, any ridiculous expression looks good,” he promises me.
My cheeks heat. I wage between pointing out that he does think my expressions are ridiculous or being satisfied with the compliment. I go with the latter, but give Drew another narrowed look. He ignores me, feasting on his food.
“Ah,” Brynn winks at me. “There’s Abi.”
“Where?” Drew straightens.
We all laugh, and he scowls at us.
“Oh, yes, very funny,” he crosses his arms.
“You were being rude,” Brynn sniffs.
“Please. You are supposed to be rude to best friends.”
“That is true,” Brynn nods at me. “Except when your best friend is sitting with her . . . her . . . Amias.”
They laugh. My face heats, and I lean against Amias with a groan. He chuckles, pressing his chin into my hair.
“But Tarni and I are also best friends,” he reminds the sibling pair.
“See?” Drew jabs at Brynn.
Brynn rolls her eyes.
I finish my lunch, wave to Amias, Brynn, and Drew, and walk across the grounds towards the auditorium. I fold my arms around myself, savoring the momentary stillness. I love my new friends and will always choose time with them over being alone. Yet there have been few moments of quiet since I had my hard revelations—as Lena had taken to calling them.
It felt nice.
Maybe going back to Africa won’t be as bad as I am dreading. Maybe there is a time for community and a time for solitude. My cheerfulness fades. I am committed to my friends and investing in our friendships, but I know the goodbyes will be torturous. I may not fear goodbyes, but I still hate them.
I sigh drearily but shake myself. No. You still have time here. Enjoy it. Don’t live in goodbye until it’s here.
I pass the sports court where we had played soccer. (And where Maya tried to teach me handball. That did not go well.) I draw closer to the big auditorium building. The murmur of noise brushes my ears. I walk inside, shut the door, and look around. The busy stage sits in the center of rows of chairs. I raise my eyebrows at the cluttered group of people. This is the scene . . . before mine. I watch, impressed with the actors’ abilities.
Lena, apparently, is not.
“Owen!” The frazzled Lena near the door yells. “Speak up! I can’t hear you.”
The boy nods and starts again. I lick my lips, walking towards Lena.
“Good timing,” she whispers, offering me a barely-smile. “Your part -. No! Soeng-Su, don’t you move that chair! No!”
The boy—Genevieve’s crush, I think, but I can’t tell from here—sets the chair back down. Lena rolls her eyes, leaning back.
“Your part is coming up,” She repeats.
“Great. Should I go up there or . . . ?” I look around the unfamiliar “theatre.”
“Nah. Stick with me for a minute. I’m probably going to run through this scene again.”
“Sorry?” I offer. “If it’s any comfort, I don’t notice anything wrong.”
“Thanks. They aren’t doing anything wrong, but they aren’t getting things quite right either,” Lena sighs like a weary theatre critic.
“Did Rachelle dump you?”
“She’s hanging out with her crowd, and she wouldn’t be much help anyway. She’d tell me everything is fine. Which I know, but I can’t let the cast know.”
I lick my lips. I didn’t know she could be this bossy. She’s always so kind and chill.
“Ellie,” Lena cups her hands around her mouth. “We cut that part out.”
“Sorry!” Ellie yells back, correcting whatever she had done wrong.
Lena lets a ghost of a smile touch her lips, momentarily satisfied. Very momentary.
“Louder, Nick! Dude, no one will be able to hear you.”
I watch, amused and bemused as my friend yells for another ten minutes. Finally, she calls the next scene and gestures for me to go up.
And for twenty minutes, Lena orders us around without hesitation. She’s like the drill sergeant of the stage and knows it. I manage better than some (thanks to an expat “auntie” who had done theatre), but I still get called out several times. I glance across the stage at Genevieve. My roommate bugs her green eyes and nods.
But it’s worth it. Lena’s drilling makes each run easier, and she finally calls it done.
“Well done, everyone,” she walks up to us. “I saw some great improvement.”
We give her half-smiles, a little disgruntled. She checks her phone.
“It’s honoring time back at the lounge in ten minutes. So, we need to get out of here. Anyone know who is being honored today?”
“Tarni is,” Genevieve says at the back of the group.
I start and wheel around.
Genevieve shrugs, “Abi asked Jeff before lunch.”
“You didn’t tell me?” My voice borders on a squeak.
“You were going to freak out about it. I thought I would spare you some minutes of nervousness,” Genevieve winks.
I open and close my mouth as anxiety coils around my throat. Buzzing roars through my head.
Lena hooks her arm through mine, “Come along, Tarni. They can’t start without you!”
My stomach twists in knots as we walk back towards the hotel building. What will they say? Is anyone going to say anything at all? I swallow hard. My hands shake. I ignore Lena’s rehearsal notes, Genevieve’s worried gaze, and the conversations and laughter around me. We walk into the lounge room. Most of our campmates have already gathered. They and the leaders look up as our crew enters.
Jeff smiles broadly, “Perfect timing! Tarni, if you would come over here please . . .”
I shuffle over, trying to breathe evenly. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s fine. Stop. Freaking. Out.
Jeff slaps my shoulder and nods to the others about to be honored—one of Genevieve’s friends, Brynn, and Amias. My eyebrows lift in surprise, and Amias waves nervously. I wave back, managing a smile. Please let us be together. Please, please, please.
“All right,” Miss Jan—our leader—looks around one last time. “Shall we go outside?”
We step out into the bright sunlight and sit on the soft grass. My heart thuds against my chest.
“Tarni,” Miss Jan smiles at me. “You first.”
“Okay,” I shift into the center of our circle, swallowing hard.
“Let’s pray,” Miss Jan bows her head.
I squeeze my eyes shut, alone in the pounding of my heart. What if no one said anything? What if they did, but they got it wrong? Would they speak to who I was at the start of camp and not who I am now? I pray fervently, waiting. Don’t let them have misunderstood me. Please.
The silence is torturous.
“Can those who have something raise their hand?” Miss Jan’s voice pierces the dark.
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter.
“Who wants to start?” Miss Jan asks after another couple of seconds.
I open my eyes but avoid looking at anyone. My heart beats painfully fast.
“I got this beautiful picture,” Rachelle starts from the back of the group. “I saw this pair of lips, speaking words of life over a desert. And as they spoke, rain fell from the sky, and a river flowed through the midst of the desert. Bringing life and joy.”
I stare at her. My mouth drops open.
“I know you have struggled a lot,” Rachelle’s gaze holds a care that makes me feel as though she has known me forever. “But you have words of life in your heart, and God is going to use you to spread that life to the dry places.”
“Thank you,” I manage, unable to say anything else.
“Tarni,” Genevieve clears her throat.
I turn to face her, and the last bits of my nervousness fades away. She smiles gently.
“I didn’t get a pretty picture like Rachelle, but I did get three words,” she glances down at a scrap of paper. “Free. Whole. Fearless. And as your friend and roommate, I can confirm that you are all those. And far more than what can be captured in a few words. You have taught me so much, and I am more grateful than you can know.”
I smile broadly at her, tears burning my eyes again.
Summer Doesn't Last Forever Page 15