Summer Doesn't Last Forever

by Magdalene G. Jones

  “Jeez, I know,” I jut out my lip. “Fair warning, I will be bawling tomorrow.”

  “Heck, yeah, me too.”

  “Are you going to come to the next camp?” I straighten as the waitress calls out our orders.

  “I’ll grab it,” Amias stands up. “And you better bet I will!”

  I smile after him, then sigh at the window. Maybe goodbyes still have a tighter hold on me than I thought. I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth as my stomach knots.

  If today could last forever . . .

  I shake my head. No, summer only lasts forever in one place. You can’t make it last anywhere else.

  Amias walks back with our coffees, “Penny for your thoughts?”

  I take my cup and inhale its smell, “Nah, they’re too gloomy. After all, I am on my very first date. At a Grecian coffee shop. In Marathon. Like the place the dude died, and everyone decided ‘Hey, we should make what killed him a world-renowned goal.’”

  “That’s a good point,” he laughs. “And enforces my decision to not run a marathon. Ever.”

  “Amen,” I salute him with my coffee and take a sip.

  I frown. Amias raises his eyebrows.

  “What?”

  “I just don’t think coffee is quite the Greeks’ thing,” I nod but take another sip.

  Amias tastes his own and makes a face, “Uh, yeah. This is no better than the resort’s.”

  “I can’t believe I jumped into the cold springs for this,” I grumble, leaning back in my chair.

  Amias and I both frown at our coffees, but then sigh and keep drinking them.

  “It’s better than nothing,” I decide.

  “Any coffee is better than nothing.”

  “Except for instant coffee.”

  “Don’t mention such horrors,” Amias shudders.

  I laugh and look out the window again, “Greece is such a strange place.”

  “It is,” he follows my gaze to the graffitied building opposite us. “Ancient sites eroding under pollution. Beautiful natural scenery and iconic little villages. But once you get into the cities, it could almost be anywhere else.”

  “It has the sad weight of age, and surprising youthfulness in the poppies, ocean, and mountains.”

  “You are a poet for a reason, Tarni Bird.”

  “Thank you!” I pose one hand under my chin.

  “Sure thing. I can’t wait to hear what you wrote for tonight,” Amias takes another drink of his coffee.

  “Oof. Dude, you are supposed to be distracting me from that. I still can’t believe Jeff said yes to my reading it,” I chew the inside of my cheek.

  “Did he even ask to hear it?”

  “No, and that’s what terrifies me.”

  “Don’t worry. You will be amazing,” he reaches over the table and grabs my hand again.

  “Oh wow,” I fake a sunny voice. “All of my worries are gone just with those sentences. Thank you, Amias.”

  “Shut up, you cynic,” Amias laughs at my sarcasm.

  We keep talking and sipping at our coffees. Unfortunately, the taste only gets worse with time. It sticks to my tongue like tar. Before long, Amias and I decide to book it. He pays, and we walk out with our quarter-sipped coffees. And throw them in the nearest trash can.

  “Bleh,” I wrinkle my nose. “For that, you owe me another coffee date the next time we meet up.”

  “Deal,” he wraps his arm around me. “Sorry.”

  “You had it too. It’s fine. I just want good coffee at some point.”

  “Well, if you come to visit me in Kenya, you will. I don’t know about your super-secret location, though.”

  I blink at him, “That’s right. You don’t know where I live.”

  “Nope. But that’s okay,” he shrugs.

  “Nah, I can tell you. Just keep it quiet . . . ,” I lean over and tell him.

  Amias stares at me, “Really? We’re that close?”

  “Yep! Not like Genevieve and the triplets. It would take four flights to get where they are.”

  “Score!” He gives me a high-five. “We’re pretty much neighbors!”

  I laugh, “Ah, the TCK life messes with your perception of ‘near.’”

  “You so right.”

  Still laughing and chatting, we start walking. Our hands swing back and forth as we trail along the ocean. Amias pauses and picks a bright yellow flower out of the sand. Without a word, he slides it behind my ear.

  “Thank you,” my cheeks heat, and my gaze drops to the pavement.

  I spot a dandelion in the cracks. Somehow growing, despite its lonely, dry circumstances. How very like someone I know. I bend down, pick it, and set it in Amias’s hand with a sheepish smile. He laughs.

  “How did you know dandelions are my favorite?”

  “You wrote a song about them,” I take his hand again, squeezing the dandelion between us.

  His smile grows, and he plays with the flower in my hair, “You remember that?”

  I nod, not sure what else to say. We step through the back gate to the resort, and my mouth drops.

  “Koa?”

  My little brother looks up, “Tarni!”

  He runs across the grass and barrels into me. I laugh, barely staying upright. He’s grown in our month apart, and his curls pile on top of his ears. His smile is a little more toothy, his skin a little darker, and I half-wonder if he broke his nose at some point. Then realize he’s streaked it with dirt already.

  “Hey there! Are you here early?” I squeeze him.

  “Yuh-huh. Grandma and Grandpa are here. Mum and Dad just arrived, too. We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Koa glances at Amias.

  His mouth drops. He glances between Amias and me.

  “You like her?” Koa turns to me. “You like him? Oh my gosh!”

  My face heats, and Amias laughs. I mess with my brother’s hair.

  “We . . . yeah,” I avoid Amias’s gaze.

  Being young and in a kinda-relationship is so awkward.

  “I’m Amias,” Amias sticks out his hand to Koa.

  Koa shakes it, “I have a video of when she fell asleep on your shoulder, you know.”

  “Koa,” I hiss.

  “No, I need that. You’d better send it to me,” Amias nods gravely.

  I groan and hide my face in my hands. Amias and Koa laugh at me.

  “Boys,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Oh, shut up,” Amias scrunches his face and bats my shoulder playfully.

  “Tarni!”

  I look up again, “Mum! Dad!”

  My parents run across the lawn. I abandon Amias and Koa, hurrying to meet them. I jump into their open arms. Laughter bursts from our tightly squeezed bodies. I shut my eyes and hug them with trembling hands.

  Home. Fully.

  “We missed you so much!” Mum kisses my cheek. “How have you been?”

  “Great. Really, really great,” I step back and squeeze her hands. “I need to tell you everything soon. How have you been?”

  “Good. Things at home are as crazy as ever,” Dad looks beyond me to Amias and Koa, “Is that your young man over there?”

  “More importantly, is he your young man?” Mum raises her eyebrows.

  “Err, yes?” I fuss with my hair. “We both like each other and have said as much.”

  “Aww,” Mum holds her hand over her heart. “He’s so cute, Tarni!”

  I laugh at my mother acting like my roommates, “Do you want to meet him?”

  “Yes!”

  I gesture for Amias to come. He nods and walks over with a bright smile.

  “Mum, Dad, this is Amias,” I slide my arm around him. “Amias, meet my parents. Dr. Philip Bird and Mrs. Medika Bird.”

  “Pleasure to meet you both,” Amias shakes their hands.

  “Likewise,” Mum winks. “Tarni has told us so much about you.”

  Amias laughs and squeezes my shoulder, “Good. It would’ve been awkward if she hadn’t, seeing as I have told my pa
rents everything too.”

  “Uh-oh,” My face burns brighter, but I grin at him. “What did you tell them?”

  “That I re-taught you to play four-square, and you’ve been beating me ever since.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Ha!” Koa slaps Amias shoulder “sympathetically.”

  “Aren’t you guys supposed to be in session right now?” Mum asks Amias and I.

  “Nah,” I shrug. “The big talent show thing is tonight, and all the parents are arriving. So Jeff said we would do the morning worship stuff and afternoon honoring, but otherwise work on other things.”

  “Tarni and I were at a coffee shop because I bribed her into jumping into the cold springs. But the coffee was horrible, so she’s insisting it doesn’t count,” Amias adds.

  “It doesn’t.”

  “I was going to say I agree,” he wrinkles his nose.

  Mum’s smile turns a little more sly, “Oh, how sweet.”

  I ignore her comment, looking around, “Where are Grandma and Grandpa?”

  “Inside, checking into our rooms for us,” Dad gestures to the hotel building.

  “Great,” I lick my lips. “I want to say hi to them, but after that, can we take a walk on the beach?”

  My parents glance at Amias, but he shakes his head.

  “Nothin’ to do with me. This is Tarni’s story,” he releases his grasp on me. “Though we do want to talk with you later. Once you’ve met my parents and so on.”

  My stomach twists a little bit at the thought of that conversation. I reach up to the flower in my hair. Why must my self-doubts arise around potential awkwardness? I shake myself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  “All right, sweetheart,” Dad swaps glances with Mum.

  Mum’s forehead creases, “Let us get settled into our rooms, then we can talk.”

  I swallow hard and smile, “Wonderful.”

  Mum leads the way towards the hotel. I start after her, but Amias squeezes my hand and tugs me back.

  “I’m proud of you,” he hugs me, adjusting the flower in my hair. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you,” I release a heavy breath. “Come meet my grandparents. I think Grandma would kill me if I didn’t introduce you.”

  Amias laughs, and we follow my parents inside the hotel lobby. A smile bursts over my face.

  “Grandma! Grandpa!”

  Two grey heads spin around, “Tarni!”

  I hurry to meet them and wrap them in tight hugs. Laughing, we sit on couches and chat while my parents get their rooms sorted. My grandma pulls out her phone, showing me pictures from their trip with Koa in a mountain village. I introduce them to Amias, and my Grandpa waggles his eyebrows between us until Grandma elbows him. My roommates join us for a few minutes. They laugh and relive memories for my sweet grandparents as I wait for my parents. I bite my lip. Amias sets his hand on my shoulder.

  Finally, my parents walk back into the lobby. I jump to my feet and fidget as my roommates introduce themselves. Genevieve catches my eye, offering an apologetic grimace.

  “We can continue later,” Abi pulls Maya away. “You probably have lots to talk to Tarni about.”

  My mom raises her eyebrows and laughs, “I guess so, though we’re the only ones who didn’t know that.”

  My grandparents chuckle, but I just smile and point at the door. We walk down to the beach in silence. And sitting on those beach chairs once again, I explain everything.

  Man. And I had thought talking to Amias was hard.

  By the end of my story, we all cry on Marathon beach. My mom holds me so tightly, my spine pops.

  “I’m so sorry, Tarni,” Mum sniffs and wipes her eyes.

  “Yeah, me too,” I smile. “But I’m getting better now. Finally.”

  “We want to protect you,” Dad stares out at the ocean. “And knowing we were all blind . . .”

  “I know,” I rub tears off my cheeks. “Believe me, I know.”

  “Has Everly texted you back?” Mum asks.

  “Yes, and she called me recently. We aren’t texting often, but we’ve started healing our friendship,” I puff out my cheeks. “It is not easy, but worth it.”

  “I am so proud of you,” Dad grabs my hand.

  “I missed you guys. I’m sorry for being a total pain these last five months.”

  “No, honey,” he kisses the top of my head. “We’re sorry for all the times we didn’t handle it well. You were hurting, and we knew that. But we couldn’t have dreamed of how bad it was.”

  “Thank you.”

  We are silent for several long moments.

  “You’re so grown up,” Mum exhales a shaky sigh. “Dealing with these hard, hard things, pushing past your fears, getting a boyfriend -.”

  “He’s not really my boyfriend, Mum,” I chuckle. “Amias and I both know we’re young.”

  “Well, still. You have a sweet friend who also likes you. It’s just . . . bittersweet for me to see.”

  “Because it took a heck a lot of pain for me to get here. Yeah,” I gaze at the water. “Thank you. For making me come here.”

  “Of course,” Dad pats my shoulder. “Though, I don’t think either of us expected it would have this deep of an effect on you.”

  “That’s part of the beauty of it, I guess,” I smile between them. “Always grace beyond what we can foresee.”

  :•─.•─:•─.•─:•☾☼☽•:─•.─•:─•.─•:

  I stand backstage, my stomach in knots. My heartbeat pounds like crashing waves. Lena’s shaky voice fills the auditorium. I shut my eyes, focusing on her. In about two minutes, I’ll be up there in front of everyone, performing. And ten minutes after that, I’ll read my poem to a crowd of kids and parents.

  My stomach flops. I hug myself, shivering despite the hot, cramped hallway serving as our “backstage.” Tension builds like the sticky air. My cast-mates mutter around me, muffling nervous cackles as they talk amongst themselves. And Ellie shoots sharp glares at anyone who gets too loud.

  I fight the urge to pace. Or wring my hands. A pendulum of nervousness shoots back and forth in the pit of my stomach.

  “Tarni,” a hushed voice calls.

  I turn. Genevieve—paler than usual—stands by the backstage door. Abi and Maya peer around the door, beaming and waving. I raise my eyebrows and walk over.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper.

  “Just coming to tell you to break a leg!” Maya smacks her thigh.

  “. . . thanks.”

  Abi chuckles and pulls me into a hug, “You’re going to do great, Tarni! Both of you are.”

  “I sure hope so,” Genevieve glances at the rest of our cast. “Lena will kill us if we don’t.”

  I grimace, “That’s a little too accurate to be funny.”

  “Anyway, I can’t wait to see what you have for us!” Abi claps.

  Earning her a glare from Ellie. Abi freezes and shrinks into her shoulders. I muffle a nervous laugh.

  “We gotta go,” Maya points at the clock on the wall. “But we will be cheering extra hard. And if anyone tries to boo you, we will kill -.”

  “Pour glitter on them,” Abi winks.

  “Whoa, yeah. That’s eviler,” Maya rubs her hands together.

  “Exactly.”

  “Scat,” Genevieve hisses at them.

  Our roommates wave and hurry back into the audience. I watch them go, smiling.

  “Tarni! Genevieve!” Ellie hisses.

  I jump and face the stage door. The first few actors walk out. I swallow hard, squeezing Genevieve’s hand as the opening scene begins.

  “This is Noah,” Lena introduces our main character.

  “He’s nice,” our second narrator continues.

  Genevieve and I peer around the corner of the stage. “Noah” (Owen) gives the audience two thumbs-up.

  “Good with a ball,” the third narrator assures the audience.

  Ellie throws a ball onto the stage. Owen bites his lip, examines the crowd a
nd projectors, and kicks. The ball bounces off a mic stand and rolls off stage. I snort and clap a hand over my mouth. The audience laughs. Lena and the other narrators’ shoulders shake for a moment before they can continue without laughing.

  A moment later, Genevieve squeezes my hand extra hard, then quickly lets go. She steps onto the stage. I clench my fists together, my heart speeding up on her behalf. She swings her red ponytail and skips over to Owen.

  “Hi!” She chirps with a tremor in her voice.

  Owen raises his eyebrows, “Hi . . .”

  “Where do you live?” Genevieve’s voice gets a little stronger.

  “Kenya.”

  “No way,” Genevieve grabs his shoulder and gapes at him. “That’s awesome!

  “You can see Owen tense up,” Lena begins dramatically.

  “He’s waiting for the storm. The pain,” another narrator pulls back in horror.

  “So . . . like . . . do you have lions in your backyard?” Genevieve asks.

  A grin stretches over my face at her valley girl impression. And the continued stream of dumb questions TCKs know all too well.

  “Do you speak African?”

  “Do you have tigers in your backyard?”

  “Can you, like . . . ride zebras to school?”

  Nervous out of my mind, I watch as “Noah” is asked more dumb questions by more people. Watch TCKs “upgrade” the US to a third-world-country. And my hands shaking, I slump onto the stage. The stage lights beam down on me with an unslakable judgment, and my head buzzes.

  But my voice steadies as I lament my new, “underprivileged” life with Soeng-Su and Ellie. One thing after another attacks our characters. Bad internet. Bad roads. Goats. I sprawl out on the stage floor in complete despair.

  “That’s it,” Ellie throws her pot to the floor. “We should cross the border into Mexico.”

  I groan, raising my head, “We can’t. There’s a wall.”

  Laughter breaks through the crowd. And then applause as our cast-mates file back on stage and bow with us. I hop to my feet, my hands shaking, but my smile bright, I find my parents in the audience. Then Maya and Abi and Amias.

  “Tarni!” Koa screams at the top of his lungs. “Tarni! Wahoo!”

  I laugh, but it fades as my heart speed doubles again. Jeff walks up with a microphone.

  “Wonderful work, guys. Lena, amazing,” he gives her a high-five. “Y’all go ahead and sit down. Thank you.”