Reunited

by Hilary Weisman Graham

  “I love how we even remembered to bring a can opener,” Summer said.

  Tiernan laughed. “As I recall, we actually ate an entire can of green beans.”

  “With our hands,” Summer added.

  The whole thing seemed pretty pathetic in retrospect. Then again, was it really any less pathetic than what Tiernan was doing right now?

  She stuck her hand out the window, cupping the air with her palm so that it rose and fell with the wind. She was more than one thousand miles from home—her most successful runaway attempt to date.

  “I’m just so happy for Alice,” Summer said. “She and Quentin were so cute together.”

  “I know.” Tiernan nodded. “She totally deserves it.”

  “It was total love at first sight,” Summer went on.

  Tiernan shrugged. “If you believe in things like that.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “I just think that most people do such a bad job making themselves happy, it’s completely ridiculous to think anyone else can do it for you.”

  “So, you’re saying that you don’t believe in love?”

  “Oh, I believe in love, all right,” Tiernan clarified. “But only as a temporary condition. Like insanity.”

  Summer laughed. “Wow. That’s optimistic.”

  “I think being in love’s the best feeling in the world. But that feeling never lasts.”

  “Sometimes it does,” Summer said defensively.

  “I guess it depends how much you’re willing to delude yourself,” Tiernan said, sounding harsher than she’d intended.

  Tiernan wished she could take back that last part, but it was too late. She could already see Summer slipping into that distant mood she got in every time her cell phone rang, like a black-and-white print left in the developer too long—its details fading away until the entire sheet went dark. And once a photo was overexposed, it was too late to get it back.

  Suddenly Tiernan was hit with this crazy urge to spill her guts to Summer right here and now. To finally tell her the truth about that night at the winter dance and just deal with the consequences. But the funny thing was, you needed guts to be able to spill your guts.

  Anyway, Tiernan had missed her big chance. Coach Quigley was already barking instructions to turn off the highway, which had woken Alice up. And before Alice had fully opened her eyes, she was busy adjusting the stereo, cranking up the Level3 tune “Dinosaur,” the song that had brought them to Nashville.

  . . . IF THERE’S ONE THING WE LEARNED FROM

  JURASSIC PARK

  IT’S THAT THE PAST CAN EAT YOU ALIVE

  BUT I SWEAR,

  JEFF GOLDBLUM’S ALIVE AND WELL

  AND LIVING IN NASHVILLE . . .

  Tiernan had been so quick to write off this album back when it first came out, but once you got beyond the catchy melody and poppy beat, there was actually something much darker underneath. Pain, longing, regret. Jeff Goldblum. Her shoulders wiggled from an involuntary shiver when she thought about seeing Level3 play Friday night.

  “Can you believe they actually got back together and we’re seeing them play in two nights?” Summer asked.

  “Crazy,” Alice said.

  Tiernan nodded. “I was just thinking the exact same thing.”

  They valeted the Pea Pod at the Gaywether’s grand entrance. Ah, the Gaywether. The name alone was worth the $163 a night.

  The woman at reception told them they had an hour to kill before check-in, so they wandered off to explore “Li’l Miss,” one of the Gaywether’s two enormous glass-covered atriums.

  Other than the fact that it smelled like her cousin’s iguana cage, Tiernan thought the Li’l Miss lived up to its name—a mini replica of the Mississippi River delta, complete with flowing river—yet at the same time offering all the comforts of air-conditioning. The place was crawling with fat Southern tourists strolling about in families or pairs—window shopping in Li’l Miss’s tacky stores, grazing like cattle at the all-you-can-eat buffet, cruising along the indoor river on actual miniature river-boats.

  “I know there are already Seven Wonders of the World but I vote this place as number eight,” Tiernan said, snapping a photo of a portly middle-aged couple, their matching Dollywood T-shirts stretched taut over their matching beer guts.

  “At least it’s cool in here,” Summer said.

  “Seriously,” Tiernan said. “I say we cover the entire southern half of the country in a giant glass bubble.”

  “What about the ozone layer?” Alice asked.

  “Slap that baby in a bubble, too.”

  Summer watched as a boat cruised by. “Oooh! Let’s take a riverboat ride!”

  “Sweet.” Tiernan high-fived Summer. “I’m in.”

  “I don’t know.” Alice shook her head. “It’s probably expensive.”

  “Oh, pleeease, Alice. We have to. Those boat rides are the pièce de résistance of this whole craptacular place!”

  “I’m being serious,” Summer said. “I think it looks like fun.”

  “And I’m agreeing with you,” Tiernan shot back.

  “Not really.” Summer sighed. “You want to have air-quotes fun. I just want to have regular fun.”

  “Is there a difference?” Tiernan asked. Summer rolled her eyes.

  “Girls.” Alice’s voice sounded worn, like an exasperated mother disciplining two cranky toddlers. “You both want to go on the boat ride, right?”

  Summer and Tiernan nodded.

  “Then shut the hey-yell up!” Alice yelled in a bad Southern accent, silencing them for a beat before Tiernan and Summer both had to laugh.

  Except for one elderly couple, they were the only non-family and non-obese people on the boat. The faux Mississippi smelled even swampier up close.

  “Instead of a flat boat, they should have called it a fat boat,” Tiernan whispered.

  “Be nice, T-Bird,” Summer scolded, even though she was laughing.

  “If it makes you happy, Sunny-D,” Tiernan shot back. Then she pretended to take a picture of the river, when she was really taking a shot of the elderly couple, or more specifically, the tube socks they’d pulled up over their flabby spider-veined calves. She showed the back of the camera to Alice.

  “Look. That could be you and Quentin, sixty years from now.”

  Alice pursed her lips, pretending to act grumpy.

  “Come on, A-Plus. You know you want to have his grandchildren,” Tiernan taunted.

  Alice let out a yelp. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Sorry, but Sunny’s the one who started it,” Tiernan countered.

  Alice giggled. “Those nicknames were dorky even back in middle school.”

  “Embrace your inner dork, A-Plus!” Tiernan said, snapping a picture of Alice, then immediately looking at the shot. “Nope, not enough dorkitude,” she said, shaking her head, disappointed.

  “Take one of me.” Summer straightened her posture and placed an index finger under her chin, letting her gaze defocus somewhere in the middle distance, as if she were deep in thought.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Tiernan crowed, as she snapped the shot. “This belongs on the back of your book jacket.” She showed the picture to Summer.

  “Did I write a book?” Summer asked.

  “The Dork’s Guide to Cheesy Tourist Destinations. Volume One.”

  “Look, pulled-pork sandwiches!” Alice pointed to a sign at a “riverside” smokehouse. “Can we get those for dinner?”

  “Speaking of pork sandwiches . . .” Tiernan shot Alice a lascivious smile. “You never told us about last night.”

  Alice nearly spit out the sip of water she’d just taken. “Ew! There were no ‘pork sandwiches,’ thank you very much.”

  Summer leaned in, her voice dropping to that low register people use for talking about sex. “Well . . . how was it?”

  Alice took another drink of water, then let out a dreamy sigh. “It was . . . thirst quenching,” she said dramatically.
<
br />   Summer squealed and clapped her hands, causing the people sitting in front of them to turn around and sneer.

  “You guys . . .” Alice kept her voice low, so Tiernan and Summer huddled in close. “I think Quentin might be the coolest guy I’ve ever met.”

  Tiernan laughed, wondering exactly how many guys Alice had actually “met” other than the nerdlingers from yearbook. But she enjoyed listening to Alice gush about Quentin’s intelligence and creativity, his likes (collecting vinyl) and dislikes (fondue restaurants). Alice was only halfway through a detailed description of Quentin’s hair when Summer wrinkled her nose and pulled herself away from their powwow.

  “Did someone forget to brush their teeth today?” she asked, staring at Tiernan accusingly.

  Tiernan cupped her hands over her mouth and nose and breathed into the enclosed space. “Holy halitosis, Batgirl! Sorry ’bout that.”

  “I thought that was you.” Summer smiled apologetically. “I’d remember that bad breath anywhere.”

  “Still gives me nightmares.” Alice nodded in consensus.

  “We were in a rush this morning,” Tiernan whined. “Who had time to brush?”

  “I did!” Summer and Alice said simultaneously, and they all laughed.

  “For your information, ladies, my stank mouth is very sought after.” Tiernan held up her index finger like a teacher giving an important lecture. “They might even make it into a body spray.”

  “I can see it now,” Alice said. “Bad Hygiene by Calvin Klein.”

  “Or how about Morning Breath?” Summer chimed in. “By the makers of Poison.”

  Tiernan never minded a good laugh at her own expense, and in a strange way it felt kind of comforting to know that after all these years, a detail they were probably dying to forget had snagged a place in Alice’s and Summer’s memories.

  It was like when Tiernan had noticed Alice’s fingernails—or lack thereof—while they were yanking weeds back at Gert’s. It wasn’t as though she was glad Alice was still a pathological nail biter, but something about it was oddly reassuring, like no matter how much time had passed, she was still an expert on Alice’s and Summer’s meaningless details, and they were still experts on hers.

  They continued with the bad-breath jokes way past the point they were funny anymore, laughing twice as hard at the stinkers (ha!) as they did at the witty ones. Tiernan wasn’t exactly sure when the boat ride had changed from “fun” to fun. But, for once in her life, she could actually tell the difference.

  “SAD SONGS”

  WHY ARE ALL THE SONGS I SING THE SAD SONGS?

  WHY ARE ALL THE GIRLS I LOVE THE MAD ONES?

  I SAID I WALK LIKE THIS

  BECAUSE I SHOT MYSELF

  IN THE FOOT

  AND I LIVE IN MY HEAD

  BECAUSE THE REAL WORLD

  ISN’T SO GOOD

  —from Level3’s third CD, Natural Causes

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I CALL THE BED BY THE WINDOW!” SUMMER SAID, POUNCING onto the pastel floral comforter.

  Alice dove onto the other bed. “I call this one!”

  Tiernan sauntered in the doorway like a cowboy ready to shoot up the saloon. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but one of you lucky ladies is getting a bed buddy tonight.”

  “Oooh, is it Robert Pattinson?” Summer asked. Then she and Alice shared a laugh. Summer had been feeling punchy ever since the boat ride.

  “Laugh it up, bed hogs, but either you two decide, or I will,” Tiernan threatened.

  “Not it!” Summer and Alice shouted simultaneously, which incited another round of giggles, during which Alice accidentally cut one. Of course, that really got them howling. Summer lay on the bed in the fetal position, her cheeks sore from smiling.

  Tiernan staggered over. “I guess I’ll be bunking with you, Sunny-D,” she sputtered between laughs.

  “Don’t worry.” Summer wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “This is a fart-free zone.”

  “It’s not my fault!” Alice’s face was pink, her cheeks wet with tears. “It was the pulled-pork sandwich!”

  It took Summer a second to recognize the pulsing feeling in her back pocket was her cell phone. But she didn’t have to check caller ID to know who it was. She’d been steering clear of Jace’s calls all day, but she couldn’t avoid him forever.

  “Hello?” She giggled into the phone.

  “So you’re alive.” Jace sounded mad that she was happy.

  Summer held up a finger and mouthed the words Be right back to Alice and Tiernan. But after seeing the disappointed looks on their faces, Summer made sure to avoid their eyes as she headed to the door. Who were they to judge her, anyway? They didn’t understand her relationship with Jace. It was complicated.

  “I’m sorry,” Summer whispered into the phone as she trudged down the long carpeted hall. “Things have been crazy since yesterday.”

  “Things have been crazy?” Jace said accusingly. “How do you think I feel? My parents keep asking if you’re coming, and I don’t know what to tell them. It’s embarrassing.”

  He went on like this down three flights of stairs. The Vineyardhaven ferry will sell out, he scolded as she tromped through the lobby. You’re acting childish, he accused as she entered the the Falls Atrium.

  Just like the Li’l Miss, the Falls Atrium was buzzing with people, and Summer had to turn up the volume of her phone to hear Jace over the noise of the massive waterfall the room was named for and the annoying country music piped in overhead.

  “Where are you?” Jace asked.

  “I’m going to the big waterfall.” Summer didn’t feel like giving much more of an explanation.

  “Well, are you going to explain yourself?”

  “It’s part of the hotel,” she answered flatly.

  “I meant are you going to explain why you’ve been avoiding me?”

  Summer paused, waiting for the words to form.

  “I guess,” she started tentatively, “I’m just wondering . . . why you want me back?”

  Even through the racket she could hear Jace’s impatient huff. “I told you, Summer. I made a mistake. It was totally immature and stupid and I should never have done it.”

  “I didn’t ask why you broke up with me,” she said, loud enough for people to hear. “I asked why you wanted me back.”

  By now she could see the forty-foot waterfall in the distance, a crowd of people admiring it from the far side of the greenish-gray lagoon, tossing in pennies and making wishes.

  If her life were a movie, this would be the scene where Jace would bust out with some ultraromantic line, like “You had me at hello,” and then—somehow—her cell would be on speakerphone and the crowd by the waterfall would listen in, swooning over Jace’s heartfelt confession of love, tears in their eyes. There might even be applause.

  Instead, she got a laundry list.

  “Well . . . you’re smart, and you’re nice, and you’re funny. And you’ve got an incredible smile. Not to mention an amazing ass,” he said with a chuckle.

  Summer didn’t know exactly what she’d wanted Jace to say, but she knew it wasn’t this. She wanted him to tell her she was special, even if she was only special to him. Even if it came out in plain old Jace kind of words.

  That was one of the things she liked best about poetry—the way ordinary words, if you used them right, turned magical. How the whole became greater than the sum of its parts. But there was no magic in Jace’s inventory of compliments. And “Uh . . . my parents really like you” definitely wasn’t poetry.

  When he was done Summer was silent.

  “You know what I think is going on with you?” Jace said accusingly. “I think you’re holding a grudge.”

  Summer bit the inside of her cheek. If she was hotheaded and impetuous like Tiernan, she might have chucked her cell phone right into the waterfall. That ought to be worth something in the wish-making department.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he said, sounding more sur
e of himself. “You’re the master of holding grudges.”

  Summer rode the wave of anger flooding though her body. “You’re the one who dumped me because you wanted to add some notches to your belt with a bunch of meaningless hookups. I think I’m allowed to feel a little resentful.”

  That got him quiet. When Jace finally spoke, his voice was so soft she could barely hear him. “I got scared,” he confessed. “Everything’s changing, Summer. You’re going away to school in the fall—”

  “Thirty minutes away!”

  “I don’t care if it’s five minutes away. I’ll still be right here.” He paused again. “You keep talking about moving on and finding a new life. And I’m afraid . . . that you’ll end up leaving me behind.”

  Summer’s eyes welled with tears. Other than the time Jace cried when his dog got hit by a car, she’d never actually heard him share such honest emotion. Even the way he said “I love you” always reminded Summer of one of those guys from some cheesy daytime soap. But his fear of being abandoned was real. She could tell it was, because it was her fear too.

  “Jace.” She said his name to soothe him. “It’s okay.”

  There was nothing more irresistible than a man who was broken. It was kind of a messed-up thing to admit, but it was true. Summer always had a thing for boys who were a little off, boys who, on the surface, seemed impervious to pain but had a layer of sadness underneath. Like Travis Wyland. Alice and Tiernan used to think her crush on Travis was all about his looks, but Summer was just as attracted to his suffering. Even before his brother had died, she could feel Travis’s pain in every song he wrote.

  “I guess I am holding a pretty big grudge against you,” she admitted.

  “Well, you got over your grudge with that Tiernan chick. Maybe you could do the same for me?”

  Summer scoffed. Had she gotten over her grudge against Tiernan, or had she just forgotten about it for the time being? Forgive and forget. Summer understood the forgetting part, but she never really knew what the deal was with forgiveness. Were you supposed to just go around pretending as though it didn’t matter that someone had done something really horrible to you? And, if so, why not forgive all the murderers, too? Just open up the jail cells and let them roam free.