by Lily Jenkins
I spend so much time with Erica that it’s only natural that Levi notices. He’s not a nosy guy, and doesn’t bring it up for a good long while. But then, after he runs into Erica and me at a Fourth of July picnic downtown, curiosity gets the better of him and he finally asks about her.
We’re at work. The days are getting hotter. It’s in the low 90s, but no one in this town has air conditioning, and I’m sweating like crazy. Everyone else is used to the heat, but for me it makes the air feel swampy and hard to breathe. Levi and I are working in Watson’s t-shirts with the sleeves torn off. The garage door is open, but it does little to reduce the warmth radiating from the motorcycle engines and power tools.
Levi and I take a break, opening cold bottles of water that have condensation beading down the sides. My throat has been dry all week with the heat. I finish half my bottle in one gulp, and Levi does the same. He wipes his forehead with a rag, then pours the rest of the water into his hair.
“Ahhh,” he says, leaning back into a chair. He’s dog-sitting again today. General Burnside comes over to him and licks his hands. Levi pets him without looking.
I pour some of the cold water over my head too, letting its icy coolness drip down the back of my neck.
We sit for a little while, letting our bodies cool off, before Levi breaks the silence.
“So man,” he says, “it was good seeing you and Erica last night. How have things been with that?”
I grin, thinking of the awkward meeting. Erica, like most girls, feels surprisingly uncomfortable around Levi. I think deep down she knows that he’s harmless, but she’s spent so little time with him that she doesn’t trust him yet. “They’re good,” I tell him. “Things have been good.”
When I don’t elaborate, Levi prods, “Thinking about staying past the summer then? It’d be cool with me if you did. Watson could use the help too, that’s for sure.”
My grin drops. “No,” I say. I set the water bottle on the table and start to get up. “I can’t.”
“Whoa, man,” Levi says, putting up his hands in a calming gesture. “Just making conversation. It’s all good.”
I take a deep breath and sit back down. My hands are still clenched into fists though. I really don’t like thinking about the end of summer. I just want to live it, and pretend it will go on forever.
Levi must sense my anger, because he redirects the conversation into neutral territory. “She ever find out who that cat belongs to?”
I let out a deep sigh and reach for another water. “Yeah,” I say, taking a sip. “It’s fucked up. Some lady called and said the owners used to be neighbors of hers. Used to be. They just left their cat behind.”
“What douches,” Levi says.
“Yeah. So now the cat is hers, except it still hates her. We think its last owner might have been female, and not very nice. That’s why it doesn’t like Erica. He likes me just fine though, so I go over to help her with him sometimes.”
Levi’s quiet. He must be deciding between questions. I’m glad he has the sense to edit himself.
“I met her brother once,” he says finally, and I turn to face him. “Briefly, at a party. Some asshole didn’t see me and knocked my beer right onto my shirt. It was in one of those cheap red party cups, and I had just filled it, so I was doused. Conner came over and helped me clean up a bit. Nice guy. Very friendly. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen then. I didn’t realize it was him until I saw his picture in the newspaper, after, you know. Sucks, man. It really sucks.”
We sit thinking this over for a minute.
“Well,” says Levi after a while, “we’d better get back to work.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He gets up to leave, and I pull out my phone. I’ve got this overwhelming urge to talk to Erica after hearing about her brother. Although I don’t want to mention it to her at all. It’s more that hearing about her brother makes it all seem more real, more immediate. And I think about how Erica must feel, and I need to believe that she’ll be okay. That someone can get over losing a member of their family. That she’ll be okay.
I stare at the phone and end up texting her.
What are you up to?
I stare at the phone a moment. I hate this shitty old phone. On my iPhone, it used to give a little note when the message was delivered, and another when it was read by the receiver. With this one, I can’t even be sure the text went through. I tap my foot, looking at the time and thinking about how long I should wait before calling, when the phone buzzes with a response.
Not much, she writes. You?
Just thinking about you. ;)
There’s a pause. Then she writes: Did you eat lunch yet?
Nah. You?
No. Let’s get something by you. I can meet you there.
I look down at my clothes. If you don’t mind me dirty from work.
I know just the place then.
We work out the time, and I head back to join Levi, my mood much lighter. A smile fights to take over my face. I try to resist, but it wins easily.
I get to see Erica. Nothing can get me down now, not even the end of the world.
I make it across the street all by myself this time. I don’t even realize until I’ve already done it, my mind is so distracted by thoughts of Adam. These past two weeks have been the best I can remember in—maybe ever. My parents are still a mess, and there’s still that guilt about having a good time when Conner is gone, but that all seems to disappear once I’m with Adam. It’s like he turns off the radio in my head that streams nothing but negative thoughts, and together we can enjoy the calm silence.
I’m wearing a blouse with a pattern of spring flowers and a yellow skirt that stops just above my knees. It’s hot and humid today, and the wind feels nice between my legs. There are huge white clouds in the sky, passing quickly overhead like untethered sails. My hair is in a ponytail, and I have on my lucky coral lipstick, which I’ve worn so much lately that I’m almost out.
When I get to Watson’s, the main garage door is open. Levi is on his back, working on a huge motorcycle that has chrome pipes and a skull and crossbones painted onto the front panel. There’s a line of equally bulky bikes on the side wall of the shop. I remember Adam telling me something about a motorcycle show, and I briefly wonder if he was telling me to test out if I’d be willing to go with him or not. To be honest, I don’t have much interest in the motorcycles themselves, although I do enjoy riding around with Adam. But if he wanted to go, I’d go with him. We’d have a good time, going together.
I’m standing for a moment, observing the shop, before Adam comes out from the bathroom, wiping his hands clean on a cloth. The sight of him makes my heart beat faster, and I find myself inhaling and standing up taller. I guess we’re still in that perfect early stage of the relationship, where every encounter is bliss and just seeing the other person is enough of a reason to make it a wonderful day. His face lights up upon seeing me, and our mutual excitement seems to make our individual enthusiasm grow just a little bit more.
I want him, and he wants me back. There’s something magical about that simple feeling.
He throws the cloth into a small sink on the back wall and walks over to me. His hair is messy, getting a bit longer, but the way it falls into his face is just so hot I would never suggest he get a haircut. He’s wearing a blue t-shirt with the Watson’s logo over the breast. It’s tight on his body, and the sleeves have been ripped off, showcasing his arms. Blue work pants and heavy boots complete his uniform. There are smears of grease on the sides of his pants, but his face and exposed arms look clean. He must have been washing up right before I came.
Adam walks up to me and smiles, his white teeth gleaming and his eyes soft and light.
“Hey,” he says, taking my hands.
I smile back. It’s impossible to resist smiling. “Hi.”
Levi has sat up where he’s working, and pushes his long hair back over his shoulder. I wave to him, and he nods back at me.
“I’m going to head out to lunch,” Adam tells him, and Levi calls out to take our time. I’m not sure Adam even hears him. We exit the shop and step onto the street, hand in hand. Once out in the open, Adam looks up.
“Looks like it might rain,” he says.
I look up, about to disagree, but see that even in this short period of time the sky has indeed darkened. A thick layer of clouds hangs low, like a puffy ceiling overhead.
“Oh well,” I say. “We should be fine. It’s warm.”
We walk uphill toward Commercial. I can hear the cars but barely register them, feeling the warmth of Adam’s hand in mine. He leans close, and we start talking like we’re the only ones around.
“You look really nice today,” he says.
I look down at my outfit, remembering it for the first time since seeing him. “I’ll look pretty stupid if it rains though. I’m dressed for summer.”
“I think you’ll probably look about a million times better if you get wet.”
He says this without thinking, and the word “wet” hangs in the air. His unintended pun creates that warm tension between us, and it’s like I can feel the air spark with static. I can’t think of anything to say, and he must be lost in his own thoughts, because we’re silent the rest of the way.
The lunch spot I’ve chosen is a food stand in the shape of a small white dinghy. It’s at the end of a grassy clearing, and has some picnic bench seating next to it. There’s a short line along the perch next to the boat, but it moves quickly.
“I haven’t actually been here before,” I confess to Adam as we approach. “But Nicole swears by it, and they’re supposed to have the best fish and chips around.”
“Great,” Adam says. “I’m starving.” He sniffs the air. “It smells good, at least.”
I sniff too. There’s a greasy fishy flavor in the air, but it’s fresh and not stale like the air that can hang around a fast food place. My stomach rumbles a little, and I look at the board over the small counter, displaying the limited menu. Fish, chips, and soda. That’s pretty much it.
We’re quiet as we wait in line. Adam lets me order first, then places the same order for fish and chips and a soda. He pays, and we take our drinks to a bench. The way the town slopes down, we can see all the way down to the water from here. In the far distance we can see the outline of rain falling, still high above the earth.
We watch, and Adam puts his arm around me. In a few minutes, our order number is called and we go up together.
The operator, a gray-haired man in his late forties, hands over one set of fish and chips on a tray. “Number thirty-seven,” he says, and Adam takes it. A moment later the second tray comes out, and the man pushes it across the counter. He smiles at me. “And another combo for your girlfriend.”
“Oh,” Adam says, picking up the tray. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
My mouth drops open, and Adam doesn’t even notice. He takes both trays and walks away, leaving me standing there, stunned, with the man behind the counter watching my reaction with awkward pity. I shake myself out of it and follow Adam back to the bench. He’s separating out the two meals, and picks up a fry to dip in a Dixie cup of ketchup.
“This is pretty good,” he says, taking a bite. When I don’t respond, he looks up to see that I am sitting, not touching the food, with my arms at my sides. I can tell that my eyes are wide, asking the questions that are burning in my mind. I am hurt, but mostly I am just embarrassed and furious. Not his girlfriend? I suppose I’m not, technically. We never had that conversation. I just assumed, with all that has happened, that we were a couple, no matter what the label. And even if we weren’t anything officially, why would he feel the need to correct a stranger? Is he that uncomfortable with the idea of anyone thinking we’re together? What is this for him? Is it still just a fling?
He stares at me a moment, his face hardening at my expression. I’m waiting for him to say something, but instead he pouts and turns away to the water.
I can’t believe this. He’s making me start.
“Adam?” I ask. I’m trying to make my voice level and calm, but there’s a high-pitched nag to it that I can’t control. I already know this won’t be good.
“What?” he asks. It’s short and clipped, and after he says it he folds his arms over his chest.
I blink in surprise at his response. Is he really going to make this so difficult? “Uh, I think we need to talk about this.”
“Okay. Talk.” His profile is still and stubborn.
He’s acting like a child! I can’t believe this. In the distance, there’s a streak of lighting across the water. A few seconds later the thunder rumbles past.
“Adam,” I say, and now I find that my voice is growing desperate. My emotions are all over the place. The anger is quickly cooling into a sort of neediness that I find disgusting. He doesn’t respond, and I huff. “I can’t talk to you when you’re not even looking at me.”
He makes a grand gesture of turning toward me, and gives me a look. I can feel his resistance coming off of him, and it makes it even harder to talk normally.
I realize suddenly then that we are having our first fight. When I meet his eyes, my stomach lurches. He looks so cold.
I don’t want to lose him. More than anything, I don’t want to lose him.
He waits for me to continue.
“What’s going on?” I ask, keeping my voice level. “Everything was going fine a minute ago.”
He looks at me like I’m stupid beyond belief.
“Okay,” I say. “I know what happened, but I don’t get it. I mean, it’s none of that guy’s business what we are to each other, and, yes, we haven’t talked about it ourselves so I understand if… but it’s… The way you reacted, it sounded like you were sickened with the idea of me being your girlfriend.” His face is motionless, but his eyes are softening. “And,” I continue, “I’m not mad, really. I’m just confused. Because I thought that’s where we were headed.”
Adam looks at me, pained. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath that he lets out in a sigh, then runs a hand through his messy hair. “Erica,” he says, “you know how I feel. I’m crazy about you. But this,” he makes a gesture, indicating the space between us— “We both knew this would never work out.”
It’s like I’ve been punched. All the air seems to leave my body, and I have trouble breathing for a moment. “What?” I ask, and I feel my eyes begin to water. Not quite tears yet, but I’m sure he can see them glistening. “What are you saying?”
“You’re leaving, Erica. You’re going to college. And me, I’m not sticking around either. I thought—I thought we both knew that.”
My mouth is open, unable to find the words. It’s like the whole world is spinning around us. “But, but…” I can’t even talk. My mouth tenses up, and I feel like I’m going to start crying and I fight it. I suck in a breath. “But I thought—I thought maybe that might…” I have to take a moment. “I thought it might change.”
Adam is motionless as he looks at me. His face looks long and old. “It can’t change,” he says, and his voice is barely a whisper on the wind. “You know it can’t. We—we only have the summer.”
I shake my head. “No. No, that’s—it can’t—” I stop talking and make an effort to pull myself together. A few deep breaths later, I say, with a much firmer voice, “But it doesn’t have to be that way. We aren’t locked into anything. We can—”
“No,” Adam interrupts. “We can’t have a future. I can’t. Not with anyone. Can’t we just—” his voice cracks— “Can’t we just enjoy today? Can’t we just pretend like this never happened?”
I shake my head. “I can’t do that,” I say, and I have to close my eyes. If I have to look at him, I’ll lose it. “It—it hurts too much.”
He’s silent next to me. I can hear his body shift. The wind blows, and I hear another crack of thunder in the distance.
Then Adam gives a long sigh. It’s the sigh of defeat. “Okay
,” he says.
I look up at him, more confused than ever. “Okay?” I ask.
“I guess that’s it then.”
What? I move my mouth, but can’t make the words. It’s like a dream where you want to scream, but can’t make a sound.
He runs his hands through his hair. “It’s too hard, on both of us.”
I gasp, trying to come up with something to say. Everything in my body is yelling at me to stop this. To make things like they were.
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage.
His eyes move to mine. “No,” he says. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the weak one, Erica. I’m the one with the problem. You deserve so much more.” He shakes his head. “We have to end this.”
“But why?” I ask. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
He opens his mouth, about to say something, and then stops. His face tenses. “Just forget me, Erica. Forget me.”
Before I can ask anything else, he picks up his meal off the table. He avoids my eyes as he drops it into the open trashcan a few steps away. Then he continues on down the sidewalk, toward the water.
What is he doing? It feels too abrupt to be real. He’ll turn around. He’s got to turn around.
But he keeps on walking, now almost at the street corner. I’m in complete shock, watching him. I can’t move. He’s crossing the street. Forget him? Forget him?
I want to call to him. But I can only stare as he turns a corner.
He doesn’t even look back.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck fucking shit fuck.
I walk down the street, my eyes clenched shut and my hands at my head, holding it as if trying to hold my skull together. I bump into someone. A man’s voice calls out, “Watch it, kid!” I stumble on, barely hearing him, and walk all the way down to the riverfront.
“What am I doing?” I ask myself. I open my eyes and stare at the blank emptiness of the water. The rain has started across the distance, sending dark choppy waves to the shore. I look out, and it’s like looking within at the emptiness inside myself. I feel like my chest is going to cave in. Then, a moment later, I feel like it’s going to explode.