Three Summers

by S. J. Sylvis

  He gave me that award-winning grin and told me to watch out as he stretched his body as far as it would possibly go, and propped one leg into my window while holding onto the tree with his other hand. In one giant push, he was inside my bedroom at midnight, on my birthday.

  “Did you climb that tree?!” I whispered, with wide eyes. He only nodded as he sauntered towards me. He took his hand and wrapped it around my waist. I remember the butterflies flying rapidly in my stomach as his hand touched me. My shirt was so thin that I could feel his entire hand through it. He landed his lips on mine and his hands roamed my body and I felt like I was flying. I remember how when his lips let go of mine, I literally looked down at my feet so make sure they were still on the ground.

  “I brought you something,” he said when his lips left mine. He stepped back and started to pull his backpack off, reaching inside. He pulled out a tiny white cardboard box and I took it, slowly, with wondering eyes.

  When I opened it up, I first saw a tiny note. I pulled it out of the box, and it read, “A cupcake, for my cupcake”, and I felt my cheeks rise. Behind the note lay a chocolate cupcake with a little kid’s plastic ring on top. I remember laughing and meeting his face. It was such a idyllic moment between the two of us. That memory is so minor considering all that’ve been through, but it seems so much bigger now. Especially with him standing here, on my nineteenth birthday, with a chocolate cupcake in hand.

  I’m not sure if should be happy, or mad. I can’t pinpoint my feelings as I stare at the cupcake. This time, there isn’t a note. Just a simple, brown chocolate cupcake. I take a deep breath and the sweetness fills my nose, causing my mouth to water. I look up at him and he is watching me very intently. I shut the lid to the box quickly and continue to stare at him until he finally breaks the tenderness of our moment.

  “I thought a lot about what you said to me the other night.” My eyebrows dip. “When you asked if I wanted you to forgive me.”

  My heart climbs as he speaks and I can’t take my eyes off his. They have me trapped. I feel completely trapped.

  “I do want you to forgive me, Sadie. I do. I really do.” I nod my head in understanding until he speaks again. “I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but I want you to. So, I promise from this moment on, I am going to do everything I can to make it up to you and I understand if you never forgive me, but I’m going to try until the day that I die.” I swallow loudly and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I can hear that tiny voice in the back of my head begging me to ask him the question that’s been bugging me since the music festival.

  I blurt, “Why didn’t you correct me when I accused you of being with Samantha?” He tilts his head in my direction and he looks defeated, again.

  “I—” He closes his eyes and then opens them quickly when he starts to speak again. “I thought it would be easier for you to just hate me as much as humanly possible, because I don’t deserve to even have a tiny sliver of you.” He groans, “I hoped if you thought I did more to you than I even care to admit that it’d be better for the both of us. I’m obviously destructive and you shouldn’t be around me.”

  “Then why are you trying to get me to forgive you?” I question his actions. They don’t make sense to me.

  “Because I’m selfish. I’m so fucking selfish.” He looks pained as the words leave his mouth. Maybe this situation between the two of us has more of an effect on him that I thought. Maybe he hurts just as badly as I do, but… there’s still that tiny voice in my head saying, he’s the one who did this. He’s the one who did this to us.

  He gives me one last look and opens the door to his truck. “Happy Birthday, Sadie.” Before I can muster up a “thanks,” he pulls out of the parking lot, leaving only those tail lights glowing in my view.

  When I agreed to go to this party with Hannah Marie and Anna, I had no idea what I was really getting into. I haven’t been to a town party since I was seventeen, and that was way before the attack even happened. I went with Rowen and we ended up leaving as soon as the keg was empty. That’s when everyone was getting incoherently drunk; it wasn’t our scene. We drove up to Old Man Henry’s that night and we spent most of the night in the back of his pick-up, letting the light of moon cascade over our bare bodies. It was a good night, a really good night.

  “Do you think this looks okay?” I ask Hannah as I climb into her jeep. I was wearing some high-waisted, ripped demin shorts that Alicia and I found during one of our thrift-shop trips. They were super cute, but I wasn’t sure it was my style. I was so used to wearing things that made me feel safe and secure and these… these made me feel the complete opposite. They showed off my long, skinny legs and I swear I could feel a breeze on my butt cheeks.

  “Absolutely! Especially with that shirt. You look good.” I look down and adjust my tucked-in white tank and make sure my bra isn’t showing. I wear my hair down and thankfully the humidity isn’t messing with it, yet.

  On the drive over to Kyle’s, I can’t help but feel the nerves jolting through my limbs. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen my friends from high school and a lot of them haven’t seen me since I obtained this ragged scar on my face. Granted, it’s not that noticeable to me anymore, but to them, it may be.

  When we pull through the iron gates and buzz in the number combination that Kyle had given Anna, I take in the huge, castle-like houses. I live in a pretty decent house; it’s all brick and it’s two stories with more than enough rooms inside, but these houses… they’re gigantic. It looks like royalty should live here. Perfectly manicured lawns, bright green grass, not a single blade out of line.

  Kyle’s house is just the same. He only has one older brother, yet his house could probably house ten other siblings. When we walk through the front doors, it already smells of warm beer and the musk of too many people. There are so many people lingering around that I lose count. Most of them are drinking from aluminum beer cans or red solo cups. Some people are dancing; others are playing drinking games scattered around the living area. In the kitchen, there are three metal kegs, with a line of cups being filled to the brim. The lights are dim and there’s a disco ball and a strobe light on opposite corners of the living room. If someone had seizures, they’d definitely want to steer clear of this room. Hannah grabs my hands and pulls me to the back deck, and the second the warm night air fills my nostrils, I feel like I can finally breathe again.

  “Jesus, I felt like I was in an alternate reality back there. Kyle went all out for this one.” Anna says from behind me.

  “Me too. The parties at Duke were nothing like that. They were much more mellow.” The parties at Duke were kind of sophisticated, not to sound snobby, but they were. At least the parties I went to. Alicia had been to many parties so maybe she purposely took me to the ones that were mellow. Sounds like something she’d do to shield me.

  Right after I’d gotten ready for the party earlier tonight, I’d sent a picture to Alicia giving her proof that I wasn’t being a “hermit,” as she calls is, and she sent me a text back with nearly one hundred exclamation points, letting me know that she was proud. That had me smiling, but then she followed up that text with another saying I needed to give her “proof” of this “so-called” party. I’d told Anna and Hannah Marie all about Alicia and how she kind of helped me out of my slump after last summer. They had already friended her on their social media accounts.

  “Okay, here. Give me your phone and you and Anna go stand with your backs to the back door. This will give Alicia all the proof she needs.” Hannah commands, grabbing my phone, and Anna and I trot over to the door. I wrap my arm around Anna’s waist and we both stick out our tongues as Hannah snaps the picture.

  The flash blinds me for a second, but when my vision returns to semi-normal, I see a scowl on Hannah’s perfectly round face. Concern courses through my body. “What’s wrong, Hannah?”

  “Things are about to get interesting… ” Confusion fills Anna’s eyes and then I hear her voice.

  “Sadie?” My
blood runs cold of the sound of my name out of Samantha’s mouth. I slowly turn around and am greeted with that sandy blonde hair pulled up into a high, teased ponytail. She’s wearing next to nothing and she looks a little rough around the edges.

  I always thought Samantha was pretty but not exceptionally pretty. She was just normal, and I always felt that her friendly heart made her better than she was on the outside, until her friendly heart disappeared and was replaced by a back-stabbing, semi-crazy friend with a black soul.

  “I’m really glad you’re here. I… ” She walks up to me and she’s only standing a few feet away. My face cringes at the smell of her strong perfume. That’s new. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  I have to hold back a laugh. “For?” Defensively, I cross my arms. Almost as if I’m shielding myself from her.

  “For the thing with Rowen and me. We never met to hurt you. We just, kind of, happened.” My eyes almost bug out of my head and I hear Hannah chuckle beside me. Samantha has lost her ever-loving mind.

  “Samantha, why are you lying?” I ask, wanting my voice to sound strong, but it comes out full of hurt. I reprimand myself, in my head. I don’t want anyone to know that what Samantha has done and apparently is still doing… hurts. It hurts my heart. My feelings are actually hurt. We were best friends, but I guess I didn’t know her like I thought I did.

  Her face blushes a little as she speaks, “What do you mean?”

  Rage. I feel rage, now. Just like that. “Oh, cut the shit, Samantha! Everyone knows that you and Rowen were never a thing.” Now Samantha’s face is as red as the solo cups surrounding us. I take a small peek around and every single person has stopped dancing, stopped talking, stopped doing everything but staring directly at this drama-filled “chat.”

  “I… ” She is at a loss for words so I help her out a little.

  “I don’t know why you would try to hurt me so bad. It was enough that I got brutally attacked and that my boyfriend just never reached out to me, ever again. Then my best friend decides to lie about being with my boyfriend?” My voice has completely risen to its highest pitch. My hands are shaking and clenched at my sides Thankfully, Hannah Marie grabs my clenched fist and draws me back from the ledge that I’m teetering over.

  “I think you need to leave, Samantha.” My entire body buzzes at the sound of Rowen’s voice.

  “I can take care of myself, Rowen.” I spit out the words and he looks away briefly, taking a deep breath.

  “I’m—I,” she stutters, and I don’t give her a chance to respond.

  “There is nothing you can say to redeem yourself, Samantha.” My eyes have started welling up a bit, and I instantly curse my body for wanting to cry.

  She looks over at Rowen and he scowls at her. She suddenly looks away and I feel so flustered and caught in the middle. This is just one huge mess. It’s like I’m the tiny helpless fly stuck in a giant spider web full of lies about to get eaten.

  I watch as Samantha backs away and turns slowly when she reaches the back door. I lose sight of her lanky body as she makes her way through the crowd. I’m broken out of my trance when I hear Kyle yell, “HOT DAMN! Welcome back, Sadie!” I quickly look over at him and can’t help but laugh. He’s wearing nothing but some tiny board shorts and he has an American flag bandana wrapped around his head like a headband. His shaggy brown hair is hanging over the sides in all sorts of different directions. He’s pointing the grilling spatula at me. I laugh even harder, and I look over at Hannah and Anna and they’re laughing, too.

  “It’s good to be back.” I chuckle, and Hannah Marie and Anna drag me to get a red cup filled with beer. In this moment, I feel more alive than I have since the attack. I scan the crowd and see if I can find Rowen, but I can’t. He and Samantha are both gone, and maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.

  Ten

  The next few weeks of summer fly by. I’ve been hanging out with Hannah and Anna on my days off, in between spending quality time with my family. My days are filled with laughter and sometimes, I forget about all the bad that happened in the last year. I absentmindedly regret not coming home sooner than the summer. Maybe I would have healed faster if I had just faced the stormy waters. Maybe I would have been happier.

  Rowen has kept his distance during work but after every shift, he waits for me by his truck. He walks me to my car, which sometimes includes painfully awkward small talk and sometimes we’re just silent. I feel the tension racing between the two of us during work, especially on the nights that the sky has darkened and the air is still. There’s so much to say but neither of us want to say anything. I’m not sure it would change anything, and I’m not sure it would help the situation. I’m at a good place, even if being near him makes my heart dance around in my chest.

  The one thing I promised myself that I’d do before going back to school in a couple weeks was visit my dear old friend, James. James was one of the few people who came to see me in the hospital. My parents felt that they owed him a big tribute for racing to my side seconds after I was beaten. He kept me calm, and he made me feel safe. He made me feel safe when the entire world was crashing around me. I had focused on his old, wrinkled, soft face until I was met with an abyss of darkness. When he came to visit me in the hospital, his gaze didn’t linger on my stitches; he didn’t glance at all the blackened bruises; he just simply sat beside my bed and talked about the weather. Basically, anything to avoid what had just happened and I was thankful for it. I’m still like that, which is why it’s taken me so long to visit him. But he was a big part of my emotional recovery, and I’d never thanked him. So here I am, driving my little Ford on the narrow blacktop roads smushed between farmland.

  When I reach his mailbox at the end of the grassy, makeshift driveway, I laugh. It’s a fish. His mailbox is a fish. So strange for someone who doesn’t even fish. He farms, and then the rest of his time is spent at Finger Lickin’ Chicken. He doesn’t even have a lady-friend, which I’ve always found a little sad. Maybe he isn’t into the ladies?

  My car’s tires pad over the grassy land as I drive the long narrow strip to his house. It’s a tiny house. Its color is a bit bland, a mustard-y looking tan hue. The shutters and door are a deep chestnut and the only lively part about his house is the white rocking chairs on the old wooden porch. When I park my car, I peek over at the sky and see the sun slowly creeping its way down behind the treeline, and that’s when I see him.

  James is a bigger man, so I can spot him easily through the rows of the dark green sprouting vegetables. When I step out of the car and wave him down, I can see his huge glistening white smile reflect abstractly on his dark face. He picks up his pace and I instantly grin at his old worn blue-jean overalls and straw hat.

  “Well, if it isn’t my Sadie!” he says, as he envelopes me in a huge hug. I don’t even mind the fact that he has sweat dripping down his face and that he is completely dirty from head to toe. His hug is comforting, like hugging a sweet black bear.

  “I’ve missed you, James,” I say with my face nuzzled in his chest. “How are you?”

  He pulls me back and rests his hands on my shoulders. “How am I? How are you? You look as sweet as ever.” I smile at him and follow him to the front porch.

  “I hope it’s okay that I stopped by. I go back to school soon and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t come see you.”

  “Of course it’s okay. I was hopin’ you’d come. I saw your ‘rents a few weeks ago and they said you were doin’ real good. It made me proud.” He grins from the side and my heart swells.

  “Take a seat. I’m gonna get ya some sweet tea.”

  Minutes later James comes back out to the porch and gives me a glass of sweet iced tea and when I take a tip, my taste buds dance. “My God, this is good.”

  “Mmhm, no one makes sweet tea like me. Well, ‘cept my mama but she taught me so it’s the same thing.” I laugh and take another sip.

  We talk for a few minutes about school and Finger Lickin’ Chick
en and all the drama that the workplace has. I ask him about his crops and how things are going on his end he tells me just fine. The conversation is easy and calming until he goes on and asks about Rowen. It’s literally like I’m chained to Rowen. When someone sees me, they look for him. When someone sees him, they probably look for me.

  “So, how is it workin’ with that boy?” My head snaps to his and I carefully watch him put some chewing tobacco in his mouth and spit the rest of its contents in a tan and brown cup. The smell of the tobacco fills the air and I think now I’ll always associate it with him.

  “Does everyone in this town know that Rowen and I are working together again?!”

  “Oh, now, come on. You know how it is in a small town like ours. Y’all are a hot topic.” I roll my eyes.

  “It’s fine. We’re… ” What are Rowen and I? Friends? No, definitely not. And we have too much backstory to be called acquaintances. I don’t even know what to call us.

  “Forgive him yet?”

  I scoff and rest my head back on the wooden rocking chair. “No, and I probably never will.” Lies.

  “Sure ya will.” I look over at James and his eyes are wrinkled near the edges. His dark, brown eyes meet mine and he gives me a little smile, basically giving me the go-ahead to spill my heart’s contents all over the wooden porch.

  “I don’t know if I want to forgive him.” I whisper and I suddenly feel like pulling my hair down for some extra security. The thought of forgiving Rowen makes my heart feel two things: completely elated and then completely freaking terrified. Once I forgive him, I can’t go back. I can’t un-forgive him and if I forgive him, I’m afraid of the other feelings that will come to the surface; because no matter how hard I try to act like my heart has called it quits on him, it hasn’t. Not really.

  “You wanna know what my mama used to say?” he asks, rocking his chair back and forth. I nod my head and look out to the distance. The sun is almost set and it’s casting a pretty pink tint out on the horizon. It’s stunning, and with all the colors swirled together—it reminds me of love. A beautiful valentine of some sort.