My Bittersweet Summer

by Starla Huchton

  He looked at me sideways, a slight, sad smile teasing at his lips. “You’re my proof, Mighty Mouse. That’s why I care.” Zach looked away again, his expression fading into a frown. “But I can’t tell Matt, or any of my friends, that. They’d laugh. They’d badger me until I wasn’t sure what the right thing was anymore. I’ve seen them do it. I’ve helped them do it to others in the past. I don’t know how to avoid it, so I thought it was better not to tell them.”

  I had no idea how to respond. It sort of made sense, but I didn’t know how to believe him. There was so much vulnerability in his words, though, I didn’t want to be responsible for destroying something so fragile. Some unspoken pain weighed on him, his shoulders looking tired from carrying it for so long. Knowing who his “friends” were, it was hard to imagine how tough it must’ve been not to have anyone around he could trust.

  “So what are my chances, Margie?” he asked. “Back to ground zero?”

  I wrapped my fingers around the handle, staring at it as I thought. “Unlock the door, please.”

  Without argument, Zach touched the button, freeing me. It popped open when I pulled on the handle, my foot narrowly avoiding a puddle when I stepped out. I paused there, fully expecting my next words to haunt me later.

  “Maybe… Seventy-thirty,” I said, then got out of the car, hurrying to the back door to avoid getting soaked.

  I don’t know how much my words meant, but when he breezed in behind me a few minutes later, I definitely saw him smile. Admittedly, it sort of felt good to know I’d brought back a little bit of happiness to someone, even if he was someone I mostly couldn’t stand.

  * * * * *

  Sitting at the bar after closing on Friday night, I rubbed my aching shoulder. The left one always bothered me, and it had gotten progressively worse over the last three days. I rolled my neck, then took a long pull of water from the plastic gas station cup I refilled at least four times a shift.

  “You good, Margie?” Jamal asked as he finished wiping down the bar.

  I flashed him a smile and a thumbs up, which he returned with a wave before heading to the back to clock out. Alone, I stretched and yawned, kneading my shoulder again.

  “Margaret.” At the sound of my mother’s voice, I jumped, nearly falling off of the stool. She leaned up next to me, her face stern.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” I searched my memory for anything I might’ve messed up that night, but she already knew about the broken plate and hadn’t cared at the time.

  “When was the last day you didn’t come in to work?”

  I blinked at her. “What?”

  From behind her back she produced a paper, handing it to me. “Your time sheet for the last two weeks.”

  Studying the numbers, I looked for anything out of place. “Uh, yeah. Is there a problem?”

  She slapped it on the bar, still peeved. “You haven’t taken any days off this whole pay period. Did you the one before?”

  “Umm…”

  “Wrong answer.” Lowering herself onto a stool next to me, she grabbed my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Sweetheart, I appreciate all of the work you’ve done in this place, but you need to balance it. Even your father and I trade off days so we can recharge our batteries. And now that Maurice is in the groove of it, he’ll be able to fill in as manager more often so both your father and I can be home at the same time. I know you love what you do, but you’re wearing yourself thin.”

  Chuckling, I nodded. “Okay, okay. I promise not to come in on Monday. It’ll be my day off.”

  “As will Saturday and Sunday, too.”

  I jumped to my feet. “What? I can’t take the whole weekend, Mom. Saturday is our busiest night.”

  “Yep, and you’ve worked every one of them since before we even opened. No other staff member aside from your father or myself can say that.”

  “But—”

  “There’s not going to be any argument here, Margie. You’re well past our allotted limit for overtime.”

  “But—”

  Her eyes narrowed, my sign that I was dangerously close to getting the side of her no sane person would want to see. If I pressed any more, it was entirely possible she’d fire me for no other reason than to punish me for arguing.

  I sighed, utterly resigned. “Fine, but I don’t want to hear about how all the food goes wrong without me here.”

  She cracked a smile and set a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be rough, but I’m sure if everyone pitches in, we’ll make it through somehow.”

  I grimaced. “You’re just making fun of me now. Why do you hate me?”

  Standing, she leaned in and kissed my forehead. “It’s called tough love, sweetheart. Take advantage of your time off. You never know, you might actually enjoy it.”

  “I don’t want time off.”

  “Get the mopping done and we’ll call it a night. Try to be quick with it, we want to leave soon,” she said absently, halfway to the manager’s office.

  Dragging my feet, I wandered back to the kitchen to collect the mop and bucket. As I’d been doing the last three days, I completely ignored Zach as he watched me pass by. I thought I’d get away with another conversation-free night, but he caught up to me as I reached the cleaning station.

  “Need some help?”

  I shrugged. “Just gotta mop and I’m done. Why are you still here?”

  He motioned to the dishwasher. “I deep clean stuff from the line once a week. Just finished. As long as I’m here, I don’t mind helping you.”

  I ran the hose into the bright yellow bucket and turned on the hot water, reaching up for the floor cleaner. “Won’t your friends get suspicious when you miss whatever party of the century is happening tonight?” I poured a splash of the chemical into the rapidly-filling bucket and replaced the bottle on the shelf.

  “They know I’m working. It’s not a big deal.”

  I shut off the water and grabbed one of the mops. “Do what you want. I’ll be cleaning floors.”

  Without anything else to say, I pushed the bucket towards the main space. As I left, the wooden handles of the other mops and brooms clattered together as he took one from the cluster.

  “Coming out!” I shouted as I pushed through the kitchen door, Zach right behind me.

  When I was about at the middle of the room, he jumped in front of me, plopping his mop in the water.

  I was way too tired for his antics. “What are you doing?”

  He grinned at me. “I challenge you.”

  “What?”

  “You take half, and I take half. First one to finish wins the prize.”

  I snorted. “You want to race me? Have you ever even held a mop before tonight?”

  Zach didn’t budge. “If you feel that sure of your skills, should be an easy win then.”

  “This is dumb.”

  “Admitting defeat already?”

  His smirk was getting to me, as my competitive streak reared its ugly head. “What do I get when I win?”

  “What is it you want?”

  I didn’t need more than a second to think about it. “You leave me alone for an entire month. No conversations, no questions unless it’s work-related, no crap on my bedroom window, and no holding me hostage in your car if my parents make you pick me up for a shift.”

  He frowned. “They don’t make me.”

  “Whatever.” I waved it off. “That’s what I want.”

  Zach rubbed his chin. For a moment, I thought he might walk away from it. “Fine. If you win, you get a full Zach-free month. If I win…”

  I held my breath, hoping it would be something easy.

  His smirk shifted from slightly to full on smug, severely worrying me. “If I win, you spend an entire evening with nobody but me. A date.”

  Reflexively, I stepped back. “What?”

  “And, you have to wear a dress.”

  “I’m so not—”

  “Do we have a deal?”

  I che
wed my lip, mentally walking through every single way it could backfire on me. If I had to go on a date with Zach, I’d definitely be packing the pepper spray, and probably my little folding knife, too. I was mostly sure they’d be unnecessary, but I’d rather be prepared if I was wrong, than nicely give him the benefit of the doubt and live to regret it. Plus, there was nothing saying I had to be pleasant company.

  And, really. Like a rich boy with servants to mop up after his every move could ever beat me in a speed-cleaning contest.

  Smiling, I leaned into my mop. “Deal.”

  Without warning, I ripped my mop out of the water, beating him to the wringer and dashing to the far side of the room to begin as he struggled to catch up. Fully expecting my years of experience to carry me to victory, I ignored the sharp, stabbing pains running along the top of my shoulder as I slid the mop from side to side. Speed was tougher to maintain, though, as the tightness in my muscles got worse with every trip I made to the bucket and back. I kept an eye on his progress, but mostly ignored him, not wanting to wind myself up to the point where I’d get hysterical about potentially losing. Halfway into the race, however, crushing dread crept in.

  Three in, six out.

  Three in, six out.

  Two in, four out.

  I realized, much to my horror, Zach was ahead of me and not slowing one bit. Biting back the pain in my shoulder, I pushed forward. One more trip to the bucket and I’d be—

  “Done!” he said, followed by a splash of finality.

  I spun, disbelieving my own ears. “That’s not… You can’t be…”

  He crossed his arms and planted his feet. “Check it if you don’t believe me. I even got behind the bar.”

  Crossing the room, I looked in every corner and under the tables, even bending over the counter to see the tiles behind the bar sparkling clean. “How the hell?”

  “So, you’re free Saturday, if I heard your mom correctly,” Zach said.

  Slowly, I lowered myself onto a stool. I lost. I lost? That couldn’t be right. There was no way. It wasn’t possible.

  He leaned against the bar beside me, positively beaming. “What do you say, Mighty Mouse? Pick you up at six?”

  My jaw clenched. I knew I shouldn’t be mad. It was my own stupid fault for taking the bet in the first place. Never gamble unless you know you can win. How many times had I told myself that exact thing?

  “Well?”

  I threw my hands up. “I don’t know why you’re so hell-bent on this date thing. I’m not one of those chicks from across the bridge who—”

  “Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Margie,” he said, laughing. “It’s only dinner. Calm down.”

  I grunted. “Where?”

  “Where what?”

  I stuck a hand on my hip and lifted an eyebrow at him. “Where are you going to take me?”

  Zach tilted his head back and hummed thoughtfully. “I dunno yet. It’ll have to be a surprise.”

  “That doesn’t exactly inspire my confidence.”

  Winking at me, he pushed off the bar. “Relax, Mighty Mouse. You and your left hook have nothing to worry about. And you never know…” He stopped outside the kitchen door to grin at me again. “You might actually enjoy yourself.”

  After glaring at the exit for quite a while once he was gone, I remembered I still had a chore to finish. A quick swipe of the mop and I was done and putting everything away for the night. As the dirty water swirled down the drain, I sighed.

  A flaming disaster was headed my way, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to put out the fire.

  * * * * *

  The sound of an incoming message woke me the next morning.

  Just saw your text from last night! WTF Margie????

  When I remembered what it was I’d messaged her about, my stomach twisted into a giant knot.

  Tell me you’re off today.

  Opened at 9. Done by 2. Swing by then?

  Please. Freaking out.

  I’ll go straight there. C U in a few hours.

  I put the phone down and laid in bed, staring at ceiling. Even though I was off work, I wasn’t going to be able concentrate on anything. Not with my date looming closer with every second that passed. For a moment, I wondered if I could fake being sick, or maybe the cramps excuse would work. Even as I thought about it, though, I knew I wouldn’t do it. After all, if I’d won the race, I’d fully expect him to hold up his part of the bargain. Besides which, all that would do was delay the inevitable. Eventually I’d have to make good on my promise, and I didn’t want to live with it hanging over my head. It was better to get it out of the way.

  My situation could’ve been a whole lot worse. At least Zach was cute, so there was that. Not that it was enough to keep me from feeling nauseated at the idea of spending so much time with him, but it was something, anyway.

  I stayed in bed and read for a good ninety minutes before hunger finally forced me to leave the room. An egg, toast, and pot of coffee later, I was half a book down and in need of a shower. Lunch wandered by along with the rest of my morning, and it was two o’clock before I knew it. Why did time only speed by when you wished it wouldn’t?

  By the time Destiny got there, my nerves were edging toward critical mass. What if I started puking the second he pulled up to the house?

  “Oh, thank God,” I said as I opened the door for her. “I’m completely freaking out here, Des.”

  “Any chance for coffee?” she asked. “I have a feeling this is kind of a long story.”

  I hooked her arm and sighed, leading her toward the kitchen. “Yeah, just made a fresh pot. Hope there’s nowhere you need to be today. I seriously need your help.”

  I told her everything over two mugs of dark, steaming brew, including all that Zach had said to me over the last few weeks about trying to change. I only managed a few brief glances at her face as I spoke, but each time I did her eyes had gotten a little wider.

  “And my stupid shoulder was bothering me so bad last night I totally failed. If I try getting out of it, I look like a complete hypocrite.” I sighed and lifted my mug, draining the last sip of coffee. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

  Destiny sat back for a minute, thinking, and then wandered over to the coffee maker to refill her cup. Returning with the pot, she offered me some, which I took gratefully.

  “So here’s what I think,” she said when she’d sat down again. “You’ve got a golden opportunity here.”

  “Excuse me if I disagree with that,” I said, adding milk and sugar to my mug.

  She put her cup down and crossed her arms. “No, hear me out. I think this is a good thing.”

  “Well, I’m all ears.”

  “Okay, so, the way I see it, you win no matter what. First, you get to teach him a lesson about being kind to others. After I’m done with you, he’s going to regret every second he bullied you as a kid.”

  “Wait,” I interrupted, “what do you mean, when you’re done with me?”

  “This is your chance to use my torture idea, Margie,” she said with a smirk. “I’m going to make sure he’s drooling from the moment he lays eyes on you.”

  “What? No, I don’t want—”

  “Second, this is you taking a stand for every girl out there. This is your chance to prove that it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or not, you can still bag the guy you want by being yourself.”

  “Bag the… but I don’t want this guy!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Bull. There’s not a straight girl in a fifty-mile radius that wouldn’t want Zach Robinson, if only for shallow reasons. As much as you talk about him, I don’t believe for a second you hate him as much as you say you do.”

  “Des, you can’t really—”

  “Third, even if what I just said isn’t dead-on the truth, which it is, who cares? Anywhere he takes you is gonna be a treat. Just enjoy it. You might as well get something out of it. It’s money you don’t have to spend on yourself.”

  “I’d rather spend the n
ight reading. You know I couldn’t care less about a fancy meal.”

  “And fourth…” She paused at that one, studying me for a quiet minute. “What if he ends up being the real deal for you?”

  My jaw sagged. “What?”

  Destiny shrugged. “You never know. Maybe you and Zach are MFEO or something. It could happen. There’s only one way to know for sure.”

  “MFEO?”

  “Made for each other, dingbat. Haven’t you ever seen Sleepless in Seattle?”

  “Isn’t that movie like decades old?”

  She waved it off. “Still a great movie, and totally relevant.”

  “Uh, whatever,” I said. “So, not that I’m indulging this MFEO delusion or anything, but you’re forgetting something big here.”

  “What’s that?”

  Picking up my coffee, I sighed. “August. Paris. Remember? I’m not about to get into a relationship with a guy I can barely tolerate working with when I’m getting ready to leave the country for like four years, at least.”

  “So have a fling or something, I don’t know. There’s nothing wrong with having fun while you’re young.”

  I choked on a mouthful of coffee. “Now you’re suggesting I sleep with him? Seriously?”

  She giggled. “Well, it probably wouldn’t be terrible. It’s not like he’d be your first or…”

  The rising blush creeping up my neck gave away my answer before I could wrap my brain around words.

  “Margie!” she said, shocked. “Are you for real? You haven’t… not even once?”

  Staring at my coffee, I shook my head.

  “Wow.” Destiny sat back, blowing on her mug. “I had no idea.”

  “Not everyone has sex in high school, Des,” I mumbled.

  “Never met the right guy, or just didn’t want to?”