Summer Fling

by Tarrah Anders

  I’m feeling accomplished based on what I have done today when my phone chimes with a text message.

  Mom: She came to the door while I was at the townhouse today.

  Me: Did you speak with her?

  Mom: I answered the door foolishly without looking to see who it was. Told her you were working late.

  Me: She bought it?

  Mom: Seemed to. Said she would come by later.

  I rub my temples and blow out a deep breath. I’m not going to drive back to Sacramento on the off chance she will come back, just to maintain the charade that I still live there full time. I’m not due back there for another two and a half weeks. There is too much to do here and I want to be here. I don’t want the “what if” to impact my life here and what I'm trying to build. I’m not even sure why I care, I’m an adult and she doesn’t run my life, not when we were together and not now that we’ve been divorced for as long as we have.

  Me: Thank you, Mom. I owe you.

  Mom: Pay me back by coming by for dinner when you’re in town next.

  Me: Only if it’s chicken cacciatore.

  Mom: It’s a deal.

  I put my phone down and set aside the laptop. I walk off the patio and down towards the water’s edge. The surface is quiet, almost glass-like, as I stand there wanting to scream out my frustrations and just wishing that my past would stop knocking on my future.

  What is it with that woman? Why can’t she move on and let me be? We’ve been divorced for four years now. Why can’t she just leave me alone?

  I ball my fists and let a frustrated yell pierce through the quietness. I could swear the birds off in the distance were startled, but it’s likely just a random chance. The vocal release was so satisfying, I yell again. It feels good to let it out. I hear movement behind me and turn to see Jackson approaching me. His hands stuffed in his pockets, he shuffles his feet purposefully, perhaps to avoid sneaking up on me after my outbursts. He lifts his head and curious eyes meet mine. He quirks his eyebrows in question.

  “I’m trying to yell at my past,” I explain to him.

  He nods in understanding. “Is it working?”

  “It feels good to just let it out.”

  “Need to talk about it?”

  “Nah man. I’m good. Thank you, though.”

  Jackson turns and heads back towards the house. I turn back around to the lake. I know the answers I’m looking for aren’t out there but I stare at the peaceful scene as my thoughts swirl in my head.

  For the time being, the townhouse is useful for those weekends when I do have to go back to Sacramento, and it’s certainly better than staying at my parents' house. Still, I don’t need that much space.

  A million different scenarios run through my mind. I head back up to the patio and open up a homes-for-sale site. Browsing through the results of a search based on size and location and amenities, I conclude that I could sell my three-bedroom townhouse and pick up a one or two bedroom townhouse for half the price. Less expense, less space to maintain, and a new address, my ex knows nothing about. Sounds like a winner to me.

  I get excited over the possibilities. I bought that house in the hope of having a family to share it with. But now, my hopes for the future have changed. I would rather raise my family here in Sweeny. I would rather have a family with Emma

  I stop myself and reconsider these sudden thoughts I’m having about raising a family with Emma. Our relationship is still new, and what I’m feeling is something I’d expect to start feeling much further into a relationship. But even this early on, when I think about who I would like to spend my life with, start a family with, and grow old with, she immediately comes to mind. . I just need to convince her I’m worth the chance.

  I close the laptop, head inside, locate my keys, put my wallet in my back pocket and slip on my flip-flops.

  I drive without thinking and pull up in front of a brick standalone with a wraparound porch. When I jump out of the truck and up the stairs, swing open the door I am greeted by the receptionist, who peeks over her computer monitor with a smile.

  “Hello, welcome. How may I help you this afternoon?” she asks as I approach her desk.

  “I’d like to talk to someone about purchasing a home here in Sweeny, please?”

  7

  HER

  I’m dusting off one of the shelves when the overhead bell chimes. I don’t see anyone immediately until Cyrus is at my side scaring the shit out of me.

  My hand over my heart, I breathe deeply. “What the hell!” I ask.

  “Sorry. Have you seen Royce?” he rushes.

  “Not today, no. Everything okay?” I ask. I haven’t seen Royce in a few days, but we’ve texted here and there, making plans for this weekend.

  “Yeah, he’s been like a ghost at the house and we’ve really only communicated by email or texts. I figured you would have at least seen him.”

  “Is that normal for him?” I ask.

  “When he gets into something, he goes all in. It’s just funny that I haven’t seen him since the night we all met at the diner. Jackson saw him the next day—caught him yelling at the lake—but that’s it.”

  “Weird.” I shake my head.

  “Yeah, I’m just hoping that he didn’t go back to Sacramento because of Sylvie,” he says, his face contorting like he smelled something bad.

  “Who’s Sylvie?” I ask.

  “Oh, um, his ex,” he says quickly. Then with a small barely noticeable cringe in his shoulders, I can tell that he didn’t mean to say anything about an ex.

  Worry creeps in, but I try to ignore it. This isn’t a repeat from that one summer. Royce is not married; he is single and only interested in me.

  I crack a smile and quietly release an “oh” as I start dusting the shelf again.

  Cyrus moves his weight from one leg to another, puts his hands in his back pockets and smiles. “Well, thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” He backs away and out the door.

  Royce can’t be involved with anyone else. He spends all his time working on the clinic or something for it, next door at the diner, or trying to get me to go on another date with him. He slips me these weird notes and texts me all the time. However, he does go back to Sacramento for a weekend each month because he works in a clinic there still.

  Is that just a back-up story?

  Maybe this Sylvie person is not an ex, but someone he’s still involved with.

  Another chime of the front door interrupts my thoughts. I look around the case that I’ve been standing in front of for the last twenty minutes and see Royce walking through the aisle directly toward me.

  He slides his arm around my waist and picks me up while kissing the back of my neck. He sets me down and I turn to him just as he leans in, but I stop him with my hand at his chest.

  “Who’s Sylvie?” I ask him. His posture goes rigid and he sets me down.

  “Is she here? How do you know about Sylvie?” he asks, rapidly looking around.

  “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.” I place my hands on my hips as he takes a small step back.

  I notice his posture isn’t defensive, it’s more curious. He looks me in the eye and doesn’t add any additional gestures when he starts talking.

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting this to be the topic of conversation today, but sure. Can we sit?” he asks. I lead him over towards the register and pull out the two stools from behind the counter. In silence, we sit side by side until Royce turns to me and folds his hands together.

  “In what seems like an eternity ago, I was married,” he starts. I suck in a breath. “But the marriage ended four years ago.”

  “Why would Cyrus think you went back to Sacramento because of her?” I inquire.

  He smiles. I just let him know how I found out about her. Dang it!

  “She doesn’t know I’ve moved here.”

  “If you’ve been divorced for four years, what does it matter?” I quiz.

  “Because even though it’s been four ye
ars, she continues to make it her life’s mission to interfere with everything I do. She has this way of finding out information and switching it up to her own advantage and making me look like the bad guy.” He breathes out a deep breath.

  “But that doesn’t answer my question. If you guys are divorced as you say, what’s her deal?”

  “We are. Completely divorced. I don’t know why honestly. I do my best to avoid her.”

  “When did you last see her?” I ask.

  “The last time I was in Sacramento. She was waiting for me at home when I got off my shift at the clinic there,” he answers.

  Home. I fight back the tears that are trying to push to the surface. He saw her two weeks ago. What if everything he is saying is a lie? What if he’s really married?

  “Do you guys, um… live together?” I ask quietly.

  “God no! She moved out of the house before the divorce. I bought the place, it’s in my name, and wasn’t something that she had any investment in. She was parked outside on the street, waiting in her car. She goes there occasionally from what I’ve been told.”

  “Why?” I ask. Do I really want to know the answer to that?

  “Fuck if I know. My mom was at the house when she last came by. She doesn’t ever say what she wants.”

  “Why can’t you just tell her that you’ve moved here?”

  “Because she wants everything I have to be ruined, and I don’t want what I have here in Sweeny to be tainted by her. I want to keep her as far away from Sweeny as possible. This place is sacred to me. You, the clinic, this town—I don’t want her to defile any of it.”

  “I’m so confused right now.” I shake my head to try to make sense of everything.

  Royce reaches across the small gap between us and grabs my hand. He intertwines our fingers and squeezes.

  “Please don’t be. There is no one in my life aside from you. Well, the guys too, but I like you for other reasons.”

  “I’m still unsure Royce.” I shake my head.

  “You close up in thirty minutes, right?” he asks.

  “Actually, right now. But I need to close up the till and do a few things before I’m done,” I say, noticing the time on the clock.

  “I’ll come back in an hour. Will that be enough time? I want to show you something.” He smiles.

  Warily, I nod.

  “One hour,” he repeats and kisses the back of my hand. “I’ll be back.”

  HIM

  After leaving Emma to finish closing up her store, I text Cyrus to meet me at the diner. Within minutes, he walks in and seats himself across from me in the booth.

  “Man, I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you. Listen, I may have spilled the beans about Sylvie to Emma. I didn’t mean to; it just kinda slipped out,” he says quickly.

  “I know. She and I just had a sit down about it. But that’s not why we’re here. I’m letting you know I’m moving out.”

  His jaw drops. “What?”

  “Yeah, if I’m going to live here, man, and have a relationship with Em or anybody, I can’t be living in a bachelor pad. We’re not twenty-three anymore, plus, I want my own space. I’m grateful to your parents for hooking us up with that place, but I’ve gotta do what I need to do.”

  “I understand. It sucks, but I understand. It’s just a summer rental anyway. When are you going to move out?”

  “Effective immediately. Like this weekend.”

  “Shit, you don’t waste any time, do you? Is this why I haven’t seen you?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been meeting with a real estate agent here and there as well as doing work at the clinic. I decided I’m also going to sell my townhouse in Sacramento, and get a smaller place for the weekends when I’m working down there. The place here is a rent to own deal, so I’m leasing it now, but with the intent to purchase it.”

  “Selling the townhouse, is that a way to get rid of Sylvie?”

  “Let’s hope so. She won’t know where the new place is, so that’s the plan.”

  “Does she know about the clinic here?” he asks.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never mentioned it in any interaction with her.”

  “Anyway, congrats, man. I’m proud of you. When can I see the new place?”

  “This weekend? I need help getting some of the stuff out of the house in Sac. Since I’m downsizing, I won’t need all that shit moved into the new place down there, so I can put some of it in my place here.”

  “If you pay for my pizza and beer, then I’m yours to command.”

  “You’re so easy,” I say.

  “Tell that to the ladies,” he jokes.

  We order some food and drinks while I wait for the hour to be up before I go back and meet up with Emma. Once I pay the bill, I notice the lights go off inside Emma’s store. I pat Cyrus on the back then head to the rear parking lot.

  The back entrance door opens and Emma slips out, looking around until she sees me. She grips the strap on her shoulder and takes a deep breath.

  “Okay, so show me what you’ve got,” she says, taking a step forward.

  I grab her hand and take her to the passenger side of my truck. I open the door for her and motion for her to get in. She smiles tentatively at me, as she hoists herself up into the cab. I run over to my side and jump in, start the truck and then back out of the spot. We drive in comfortable silence as we crisscross through the streets of Sweeny as the evening sun flickers through the trees. Children play in the yards while adults walk their dogs and water their lawns. They wave as we drive by. We jump on to the highway from one of the streets and in five minutes time, I turn the car and pull into a shaded driveway. The driveway winds before coming to a stop in front of a dark brown home, with two garage doors side by side and a large tree beside the house.

  I park blocking the garages and get out. Emma is looking at me strangely, as I open her door for her.

  “Where are we? Why are we here?” she asks jumping down.

  We walk to the front door that is strangely along the side of the house along the small path. I pull the key out of my pocket and fit it in the slot. Emma looks around silently. Once the door is unlocked, I sweep my arm and motion for her to enter. She crosses the threshold and lets out a quick giggle.

  I can understand why.

  “There’s so much wood here. Like, from floor to ceiling wood. I wouldn’t have expected that from the look of the outside of the house looking so modern.” She says carefully as if she’s afraid her comment will bother me.

  The inside has, as Emma put it, a lot of wood. The paneled walls, the kitchen cabinets, the floors, the counters — all wood. Just inside the front door is the living room, which has vaulted ceilings. The only thing breaking up the wood theme is a red brick fireplace and plush multi-colored carpet, which extends into the adjacent kitchen. Stairs lead to a loft that overlooks the living room with a large window overlooking a small area of green space and then the lake. Across the spacious room is a door that leads out to the side of the house. Down the hallway from the living room is a bedroom and a full bathroom, as well as a bigger space that could be a second living room. Double doors lead out to a deck, which, past the retaining wall, has a view of the west shore of Lake Jetson. The house that Cyrus and Jackson are in is within sight of the back patio.

  “So, what is this place?” Emma finally asks once she’s viewed the entire house.

  “This is my new place. I’m renting it. Well, renting to own, actually,” I reply.

  “What about your place with the guys?”

  “I want my own place. I want a place where you and I can be alone together. I don’t want to worry about the tiny ass bullshit that comes with having roommates.”

  “So, you rented a place, on the other side of the lake?”

  “Renting to own,” I correct her playfully.

  She looks around and crosses her arms as she takes in the living room.

  “Well, this won’t do.” She shakes her head.

  “Com
e again?”

  “I vote that we paint.”

  “Paint?” I ask.

  “I can’t hang out here if there is this much wood. It’s making me sick.”

  I laugh. “Well, what color should the wood walls be then?”

  “Definitely not tan. When are you going to get furniture in here?”

  “This weekend. That's another thing. I’m selling the townhouse in Sacramento and purchasing a one bedroom there for when I have to be in the city for work.”

  “Is working there permanent?”

  “Not completely, but it allows me to see my parents and grandparents while I’m there.” I shrug.

  She smiles and comes to stand before me. “If you let me choose the paint colors, I’ll go on another date with you.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal!” I hold my hand out to her to shake.

  8

  HER

  I’m still hesitant about Royce after learning about Sylvie, his ex-wife. But I really want to believe that Royce is staying here in Sweeny. I don’t want a relationship with drama. I know it’s stupid and insecure of me to think that, but I can’t help it.

  All signs point to “yes.”

  He brought me to this house to show me he’s planting roots here.

  He is actively working on building his practice here in town.

  He is trying to prove to me that he isn’t going anywhere.

  He has even said it directly several times.

  He was forthcoming about his ex, and while I may not understand all of it, it’s not like he looked guilty or acted like he was hiding something.

  The paint aisle of the local hardware store is starting to spin as I continue to stare at all the different colors in front of me. I’m looking at different versions of white. There’s ivory, cream, ivory vanilla, something Indian, and a color that more resembles a gray than a white.