That Summer

by Michelle Flick

  “Yeah, and now he’s in the wind. Cops scared him away. Mia scared him away. He won’t be back.”

  Fake bravado. That’s what that statement was. I knew there was something different about Remy when she came back. She was everything that I remembered, but the maturity I saw was a cold dose of a cruel reality that left fear in her eyes.

  “Remy, you can call me if you need something. I’ll help you.”

  She stops wiping down the bar and hangs her head.

  When she looks up at me, I’m relieved to see I haven’t pushed too hard to bring her tears.

  “Are you leaving Amber?”

  “What?” I ask, taken aback by the change in subject.

  “No, you aren’t. You can’t keep coming to my aid.” I should tell her I am. But I need to tell Amber first.

  “But Steve, you would call Steve? You think he would protect you? I don’t.” I bark at her and instantly regret it.

  “No, he can’t because I told him we were through this morning. I learned the first time with Tom that I don’t need a man. Tom hit me. I get it. I look like a victim. But I’m not. You don’t need to worry. I’m a big girl. Go find your girlfriend. Joe!” she yells. “I need a break!” and she walks to the back of the bar, leaving me sitting there.

  RC

  I push through the back door and am greeted by the harsh sunlight blinding me. I feel a scream of frustration gurgling in my throat. The events of the last twenty-four hours are trying to cripple me. I pace back and forth. I needed to get it together.

  I need to find my center. I need to calm down. I’m safe, well maybe not terribly safe in a back alley, but God, Jack could be infuriating.

  No, he was trying to be nice, but he was just making it so damn hard to stay away from him, to get over him. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to get him out of my heart if behind every turn he is being sweet and kind and everything else I love about him. So annoying.

  I come up short in my pacing when I see a set of paws and a pair of work boots.

  I look at Jack. Of course, it’s him.

  “Mia wanted out. I followed her.”

  “Jack, I can’t do this. It’s too much. I need to deal with Tom. I can’t deal with you, too. I can’t,” I say and I hear the crack in my voice.

  “Rem,” he says, and I know immediately he is going to hug me. And, God help me, I need him to. Tom scared the shit out of me, again. He reinforced what a loser he was, again. He would be back, again, and I just don’t know when. I can only hope the cops pick him up before he comes back.

  And like putting on my favorite pair of worn in jeans, the feel of Jack when he wraps his arms around me is soothing, comforting, and everything I remember him to be. I could stand here forever like this. It’s what I came here for.

  I want nothing more than to tip my head and look at him and kiss him. It’s the closest I’ve gotten to him since I’ve been back, and suddenly Tom vanishes from my mind.

  “Look at me?” he asks.

  I shake my head back and forth.

  “Why?” he asks.

  “Because.” I stop shaking my head and inhale deeply, smelling the sawdust that lingers on him. “Because I believe you’re perfect. And if I look at you, I’m going to kiss you. And if you kiss me, then you’re a cheater. And if you’re a cheater, then you’re not perfect, and I need you to be perfect.”

  “I’m sorry he hurt you,” he says into my hair and I feel the only tear I’m going to allow to fall about this, slide down my cheek. I had cried enough for Tom. I was strong because I walked away and took care of myself. But here in this moment, in his arms, I could have this one moment of vulnerability. Jack will keep it to himself.

  I feel like I should say something off-kilter, to take the seriousness out of the situation, but I don’t have that urge with him. I don’t have to pretend. So I’m not going to. I hold this moment tight, because it’s only a moment and I’ve got to let him go.

  “You should go, Jack,” I say and release myself from his arms, immediately regretting the absence of his body against mine. I only meant to find a moment of safety with him, and now I don’t have the feeling of safety, and a more acute feeling of longing for him. Years haven’t dulled my memory of the feel of him, either. “I hope Amber knows how lucky she is to have someone like you. Guys like you don’t exist outside South Shore.” His hands are lingering on the upper part of my arms, burning the feel of him into my memory and it’s going to have to be good enough. He made his choice and I can respect that. I can let him be happy. I had this moment at least. The left corner of his mouth twitches up. “I’ve looked, Jack, and never found you. Make sure she’s good to you and you her.”

  “Remmington,” he says softly and I know what he’s going to say. I know it because it’s there in his green eyes. He does love me still. He’s going to tell me he’ll leave her. I could let him. I could let him sweep me into his arms again and let him kiss me until I’m breathless. We could recapture that passion, that love again, if I only let him continue. If I only let him, but Jared’s words ring in my ears, striking the thought from my mind. He deserves better; he deserves the life he’s created, one without a woman with a dysfunctional family, an abusive ex-husband, and the ability to make one bad choice after another.

  “Jack, I know what you’re going to say.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do. And believe me, I want you to. I want you to more than you know, but I need you to be perfect more. It’s my hope and it’s all I have.”

  His hands drop from my arms and my heart is screaming at my mind to shut up and let it be happy. He takes off his baseball cap, and wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Rem, I just— I just don’t know what to do. It’s not easy to stay away from you.”

  I want to tell him it’s not easy telling him to stay away when the only thing I want to say is for him to come closer. But that won’t help him. It won’t help me either. I’ve got shit to sort through and he does not need it.

  I don’t know what to tell him. I’m at a loss and suddenly exhausted. My body is heavy and my eye throbs, reminding me how awful I must look in front of him.

  “You should go,” I say simply, but I want him to stay.

  “Okay,” he says, and my heart breaks just a little more.

  Mia’s head smacks my hand and I absently pat her as I watch him start to disappear.

  “You know you’re still beautiful, right? Black eye and all?”

  “How do you know what I need to hear?”

  “Because after eight years, Remy, I still know you. And I’m not saying it because you need to hear it; I’m saying it because it’s true.”

  “Goodbye, Jack.”

  “Goodbye, Remmington,” and with his parting words, I feel like I’ve really lost him.

  Chapter 15

  RC

  Standing in my grandparents’ bedroom was strange. Nothing had changed right down to the pictures that sat dusty on the old oak vanity. I would sit with Grams and watch her apply her makeup. Sometimes she’d swipe blush on my cheeks or a dab of lipstick on my lips. I ran my fingers over the hairbrush and mirror. I couldn’t stay in my room any more. Not after what Tom had done to me in there. So here I was, peeling away the memories of them.

  Sleeping in their room exactly as they left it seemed a little morbid to me, so I started in their closet.

  “I can do this,” I say out loud to myself.

  I don’t know if I actually could though. Most of the clothes were Grandpa’s; Grams took most of hers with her when she moved in with my dad. “I can do this,” I repeat. My alternative was a room that carried a terrible memory now. They would understand why I was doing this. I was sure they would encourage it actually. They may be up in heaven cheering me on.

  When I take a deep breath, I can almost smell the peppermint that seemed to linger on my grandpa. I snatch up some of his clothes and put them into a garbage bag. Within minutes I have three bags of clothes and closet space. I tackle
my grandpa’s dresser next. Another bag.

  My Gram’s dresser is almost empty, almost. A set of photos are in the top drawer. They were from the summer I spent here. I flip through to see pictures of my grandpa and me, Grams and me, all three of us, Jared, Jack, and me, a few of Jack and me.

  “Jack Monroe has always seemed like a nice young man.”

  I never would have picked the “nice young man” had my father suggested him to me. I would have gone screaming for a guy on a motorcycle had he made that suggestion. But Grams was right. Jack was a nice guy. I hadn’t found a bad quality in him and besides him being perfect, I fought to cover up my issues from haunting our relationship.

  “When’s he coming back, Rem?” my grandpa asked.

  “Probably within the next day or so, I bet.” I say with a smile that I hope doesn’t let them know what I was just thinking about.

  It didn’t work.

  “What are you thinking about kiddo?”

  I didn’t want to answer this question, but it was really nice to have someone quickly notice I was quite happy and ask me about it.

  I shrugged my shoulders. I hadn’t really put it into words for anyone else to hear about at home. Lord knew I was going to keep it from Jack as long as I could. I’m sure he had heard a rumor or two, my appearance for a summer didn’t scream stellar home, either. That little wench on the beach the first night really didn’t help. But he didn’t jump to conclusions and I wasn’t going to help him draw any just yet.

  “You know, Remmington, we love you,” my Grams said. “And we want you here.”

  It was her catch phrase. “We want you here.” I loved it each time she said it.

  “I just don’t get it.” I began, because it was the truth. I didn’t understand what the hell my parents did. “Dad cheated. It was wrong. Mom checked out. Dad just left. Neither one of them wants me. I don’t understand how we went from happy to me not having a home.”

  “You do have a home,” my grandpa said firmly. He couldn’t be proud of my father’s choices. And how my father could do these things when he had my grandpa for a role model was baffling.

  “I love you both, I do. And I believe you want me here. But, they don’t want me and they haven’t for years.”

  My grandma came around the counter and hugged me fiercely. “We wish we had known. You could have finished high school here. We would have taken you sooner.”

  “I know,” I said sadly. How different the last three years of my life would have been. How much happier it would have been.

  I loved them for being so loving. I wish I had come out here for high school. But things are better with my dad. Liz finally came around. And by that I mean she now includes me in family texts, I go there for holidays, and this is largely because Liz has insisted my Grams come live with them when she could no longer keep up the house. In that short time, I learned Liz could be caring because she was great to my Grams, wonderful in fact. I had questioned myself what it was about me and it really, in my mind, comes down to her not knowing what it means to be a mother. She and my father never had kids and she was still young at thirty-three, compared to my father’s fifty-two. I forgave her and moved forward.

  My dad. There really isn’t any forgiveness. Not any. I actually believe Liz is too good for him. In the rare moments when we had conversations about the past, he made excuses for what he did. He turned it on my mother, and once, on me. I didn’t speak to him for a year. I met Tom in that year. It was a bad year.

  My mom. I thought about the last time I talked to her. Three, four months? It had been years since I saw her. I feel bad that my father had destroyed her. I feel terrible that she was so blindsided by my father’s infidelity. But she never picked herself up. She never once was concerned about me after. I wonder if it was because I was a reminder of my father, because I look just like him. I wonder if she was mentally ill and this just tipped the scales. I send a monthly check to keep a roof over her head and food in her fridge.

  I am over feeling unwanted. From my parents, I learned that everyone gets dealt shitty hands. A person has a right to grieve or be sad or be furious. Normally, I was furious. But then that person needs to move forward or at least try. I also learned you can’t be selfish. This one I was struggling with. Being in South Shore was selfish because of the nineteen-year-old staring back at me from a photograph.

  “I’ll get it together, Grams and Gramps. I will.”

  I leave the room and head to my laptop. I’ll need to change the décor of that room. The couch would be my best bet until all of that stuff comes in. Good thing about being rich, overnight shipping was nothing.

  JM

  I had made the decision to leave Amber. I have thought about what is best for her, I’ve thought about being loyal and faithful and staying with her, but I can’t do it.

  We’ve had some great memories. She actually made me forget Remy, but I was lying when I said I was over her. Because the moment Remmington Crawford showed up in my life again all the memories came flooding back. I was going to go back to her. All roads lead to Remy.

  But the truth is I had been in two relationships in my life and one had ended on a porch because I was scared and the other one was about to end because I had never stopped loving someone else.

  I say I’m doing the leaving, but Amber is going to be the one to move out. The house is mine. Everything is in my name, which means this conversation would not only end our relationship of three years, but also leave her homeless.

  I wish she would call me out, call me a liar and a cheat, and tell me how selfish I am for doing this to us. I must be crazy. I really just must be. But my Dad was right. I want to be happy and Remy is who made me happy. I was sure of it.

  Amber was sitting on the back deck. I had found her out here a lot lately and no longer called for her in the house.

  “Amber, we need to talk.” I could have eased into it. But that seems cold and calculating, trying to get her to be comfortable for me to rip off the band-aid and tell her it’s over.

  “What about, Jack?” She doesn’t look at me and I move to sit across from her.

  “I don’t think we should be together.”

  “You don’t?” She doesn’t sound upset. She sounds condescending, almost. Like she can’t believe it took me this long. It hits me. She knew this was coming. The entire time I had tried to be reassuring, fighting my attraction to Remy, Amber had known her arrival was the end of our relationship. I had just prolonged it.

  “It’s not fair to you, Amber. I should have realized that sooner.”

  “You think?”

  “Amber, I-” I don’t know what to say to her to make this any better. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “I bet you are, Jack. Poor Jack. Such a hard life. So perfect. Always trying to do the right thing,” she says condescendingly for sure this time.

  I won’t fight with her. I hurt her. I don’t need to add any more pain.

  “I can’t believe you are doing this to me, to us,” she says, and I hear the break in her voice. And for a moment I think I’ve made a mistake, but I’ve thought about her feelings. I had thought about the three of us. I wouldn’t want to be with someone who didn’t love me, who loved someone else.

  “It’s not fair to you, Amber. You deserve to find someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved.” I don’t add, the way that I love Remy. I don’t need to rub it in. It’s going to be an open wound for her; I just hope she finds someone.

  “So this is really it?” She looks bemused, and I realize I feel the same. I know what I want to do and that’s find Remy, but how to really end this?

  “Yeah, it is Amber.”

  I see a tear roll down her cheek and guilt washes over me. And even though she’s keeping it together, being strong, I see the hurt in her eyes. I caused her a lot of pain in the last two months. I should have ended it sooner. I should have stayed away. I should have, oh hell I have no idea what I’m doing.

  “I wish that gi
rl never came to South Shore.”

  She’s angry about Remy and I’m happy, and I’m an asshole in this moment. A complete asshole.

  I move to hug her, to offer some comfort to the pain I’ve caused her.

  “Don’t you dare hug me! You’re breaking up with me for a girl from eight years ago who you dated for three months and then she left your ass. You’re an idiot, Jack, and I hope she eats you up and spits you out.”

  Her tears are falling steadily and maybe I deserve that.

  She runs the back of her hand across her face. “I’ll come by tomorrow and get my stuff while you’re at work.”

  “Okay,”

  “Okay, that’s all you’re going to say? Three years, Jack! Three!” She erupts at me.

  “I’m sorry Amber. I am.”

  Anything else I think to say, just makes me sound more like the dick that I am. Could she handle that? But, that would solidify me as a dick and an asshole, so I stay quiet.

  “It’s not enough, Jack.” She pauses, staring out at the woods. “I’m going to go. I’m really leaving.” The last sentence is said to herself in sadness and disbelief.

  And honestly, had someone told me three months ago our relationship would be ending, I wouldn’t have believed it. She pushes herself off the railing and goes down the steps and disappears around the side. There’s a moment that I want to yell: Stop! I think I’ve made a mistake. I had been with her for three years. The weight of what I was giving up settled in on me. I didn’t feel better. I didn’t feel like I had made the right choice. I was throwing away something that was good because of a memory.

  I stand there watching the spot where she had vanished.