Summertime Sadness

by Dylan Heart

  Summer raises herself back onto her ass, probably so that she has more advantage as she hovers above me. “No,” she shakes her head. “You absolutely cannot do that. It’s a death sentence.”

  I breathe a heavy sigh. “But I don’t know what I want to do for the rest of my life.”

  “You can just spend the rest of forever with me,” Dillon says from behind us. We both turn to face him and see that he’s well past drunk. His swimming shorts sag a good few inches beneath his pelvic bone, exposing the mound above his privates. Sunglasses sit on the shelf space at the end of his nose. He bends down to kiss my lips but gets my chin instead. “You know I meant to kiss you on the lips, right?”

  I nod.

  “I love you, and I don’t think you should go to college.”

  I laugh. “You know I have to.”

  He throws his head back, and I’m a little concerned his dick might pop out the top of his shorts. “But gas is so expensive,” he moans.

  Tyson storms past us, cradling a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a beer-bong in the other. He races toward the ocean screaming for Dillon to come join him. Dillon steps a few feet back before he hurdles his body over us, knocking Summer’s beer over in the process.

  As his strong body fights against the current, I turn to Summer. “I need to tell you something.”

  She puts a hand to my face, turning her head away from me. “If you’re pregnant, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve been telling you to use condoms for years.”

  I swat at her hand. “If I were pregnant, would I be drinking right now?”

  She nods her head. “Good point. Continue.”

  “I’m breaking up with him.”

  “The hell you are!” She stands and hunches over me. “If you want to have a mid-mid-life crisis, then so be it. Go get hooked on heroin or buy a fancy car, but I’ll be damned if I let you break up this little family we’ve got going on here.”

  “Are you done?”

  She thinks about it for a second, then says, “Yeah.”

  “Good.” I grab her by the arms and pull her back down. “I love Dillon. He’s all I’ve ever known—”

  “You don’t get it, Charlie. You’re one of the lucky ones. Do you know how many people dream about marrying their high school sweetheart?”

  Middle school sweetheart is probably more appropriate. “If I could stay here in paradise forever, then sure, I could stay with Dillon. But we’re going home in a few days, and a few months after that, we’re leaving for college and he’s staying in Lakeside.”

  “It’s only an hour away from State.”

  “It’s not the distance,” I say, exasperated. “Whoever I’m going to be, whatever I’m going to do with my life, the one thing I know is that I can’t stay in Lakeside. It’s never felt like home.”

  Rake reaches into a loose pull-string bag that sits underneath the gearshift. He grabs a wrinkled sheet of paper and pushes it into my lap.

  “What’s this?” I ask weakly, unfolding it to discover it’s a wanted poster of Blue. He looks different in the photo—rougher, older, and a lot more dangerous than the man I fell in love with. Whatever Rake’s intentions were, showing me this meaningless sheet of paper won’t work. He can play chess all he wants, but this queen won’t budge. I know–without a sliver of doubt–that the Blue in that picture is not the same Blue I know today.

  Something in particular in Rake’s bag catches my attention. A fat stack of stolen cash—a third of it his, the rest Blue’s. On the offhand chance that I should escape, that money could come in handy. Blue and I could live off it for months until we’re able to figure out our next move. If Rake catches me reaching into that bag, he’d probably cut off my hand, and let’s be real fucking honest, he’d catch me. I push my back up against the seat and reach into my pocket, searching for a lighter. When I find it, I withdraw it slowly, peering over at Rake to make sure he’s not onto me.

  He’s anywhere else but with me. It’s as if he goes in and out of consciousness. I wonder if that’s how all sociopaths function, barely able to maintain their grip on this world. I spin the edge of the metal—a spark first and then a flame.

  His head snaps toward me as I set the wanted flyer on fire. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  I force a smile but in the reflection of the window, it looks far too sincere. “I’m setting the past on fire. Want to know why?” I throw the flaming sheet into the backseat, praying it’ll set the car ablaze. “Because it doesn’t fucking matter.”

  He slams on the brakes, pulling the wheel hard to the right. Sparks fly against the passenger side of the vehicle as the car grinds against the metal railing on the edge of the road. We come to a jerking halt as he throws the emergency brake.

  He pushes his door open, hopping out onto the asphalt. As he grabs for the back door, I change course. There’s no sane reason to grab the money when I should just be running. I lunge across the gearshift while he pushes the flame to the floor, grinding it out with his boot.

  My hands reach the surface of the highway. My feet scuttle past the gearshift. If I can make it out of the car, across the highway and into the woods, I’ll be safe.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Rake asks from above me. When I crane my neck up to look at him, he brings his foot up to kick me in the chest. As my body jumps from the assault, his hands tangle in my hair, pulling me out of the car and onto my feet. “You’re pretty, I’ll give you that,” he grins, holding me by the crown of my hair. “But you are just about the stupidest girl I’ve ever met.”

  With his free hand, he draws a gun from his hip and points it directly at my face. The scent of the metal terrifies me more than the sight. I can sense the power, the ability to end a life in the way the cool metal warms my nose. “Pull the trigger,” I say, taunting him with false nerves of steel. “Come on, what are you waiting for?”

  His fingers tense around the trigger, as if he might just do it. He shakes his head, his teeth sinking into his lips. “I’m waiting for Blue.”

  I haven’t heard from Blue since we danced in circles for hours. I have the permanent markings on my arm to remind me that I had a date, but I wonder if his have worn off. He’s fifteen minutes late, but I don’t know him well enough–yet–to know what that means. Does that mean he’s not coming? Does it mean he was caught in traffic? You can tell a lot about someone by the amount of time they make you wait.

  I glance at my watch and think about all the things that I could have done today—shopping, showing up randomly at Summer’s dorm, drinking, or even pleasuring myself.

  Blue pulls up to my house in the car of my dreams—a blue Jeep Wrangler. The top’s down, and while I’ve never been the type of girl to melt over a car, I’ve already lost an inch of my body to the depths of the ground.

  He hops out of the Jeep and meets me at the edge of the driveway. He carries his hands behind his back and a smile passes my lips—this girl’s getting flowers. “What’s behind your back?”

  His eyes shift to the side. “Just my hands,” he says as he pulls them out from behind.

  “Oh,” I mumble. “I thought you had something for me.”

  “I do.” He leans toward me and whispers in my ear, “But it’s a surprise.”

  Chapter Thirty

  BLUE

  I’ve only passed two cars since I peeled out of the motel parking lot. In that time, I’ve called Cookie twice more and my dad at least seven more times, but they’re both going straight to voicemail now. I’m worried about them, and my mind’s creating all these scenarios of what Rake could have done to them. It’s probably nothing. That’s what I’m forced to tell myself, anyway, while I watch all these horror films in my head.

  They’re right outside of Lakeside, though. Charlie’s out here on this highway somewhere. A part of me thinks she can protect herself, but the other part of me is hell-bent on reminding me that Rake isn’t just some ordinary guy. He’s the reason I fled the carnival, because I was afraid of what he
might do. I can’t imagine what Charlie must be feeling. If it’s worse than the guilt that I feel from within my gut—well, it could bring me to tears.

  But I can’t cry right now. I’m too overcome with rage. No longer will I hold back. Rake wanted a fight and he’s going to get one. There will be a funeral and I’ll attend, because ending his life isn’t something I can do with righteous glee, but it’s something I’ll do just the same.

  Up ahead, taillights shine against the slick road. My fingers curl around the gun on my lap. I’m more than prepared to jump out of this Jeep and take matters into my own hands. The closer I get, the more the car looks like something Rake would drive. It’s old, beat-up, and the paint is chipped. In the driver’s seat, I can make out the hairline of a woman. It’s long and dark. Beside her, a tall man with his head relaxed against the seat.

  My adrenaline races as I slam on my horn, desperate to gain their attention. The man turns to face me and I tap my brakes, pulling back and away from the harmless old man and the woman I presume is his daughter.

  Hopelessness settles in, as if I could spend all night on this highway and never find her. Like I turned right out of the motel parking lot when I should have turned left. I find comfort where I least expect it—in the knowledge that Rake took Charlie for a reason, and that reason involves me. He won’t hurt her until I’m able to see it. I have to hold onto that and pray that I’m able to stop him before it’s too late.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  CHARLIE

  After my attempted escape, Rake put me in the driver’s seat. Like any sane person, I thought that was a huge mistake. You don’t give your prisoner that kind of power, that kind of control. Then he pointed a gun at me and it all became clear. One miscalculated decision and we’re both dead. The scariest part is that he doesn’t even seem to care.

  I’ve learned from my time at the movies that you can’t reason with a madman. It’s a lost cause. You get to a point of diminishing returns once you hit a certain threshold, and that threshold has been breached. This isn’t a man with a soul to save or a life to lose. He’s the deadliest type of antagonist, with only one thing on his mind. Revenge. Still, I will never go down without a fight. “You don’t have to do this. Any of it,” I plead through tense lips.

  “It’s not about needing to do anything. I don’t need to kill Blue to find peace. I just wanna take everything away from him because that’s just the way I function.”

  Desperation makes us say the stupidest shit. Like, “Blue didn’t kill your brother. It was Cookie.”

  There’s a pause so quiet I can hear the sound of his tongue rolling against his teeth.

  “It was an acciden—”

  He turns to me, the gun pointed at my head shifting slightly. “Cookie told me everything.”

  “Then what are you doing?” I cry out. “Just let me go.”

  “I’m almost sorry you were dragged into this, but it just goes to show that you don’t have the best judgment. Falling in love with a murderer.”

  I turn to him with moist eyes. “He’s not a killer.”

  “He didn’t pull the trigger, but he’s just as guilty.”

  “You need to come back down to reality.” I shake my head, disturbing a tear that sits on the edge of my eye.

  “How about you focus on the road, sweetie?” He wags his gun at the road.

  That brings a laugh out of me, but I find nothing funny. “Yeah, well, how about you take some fucking responsibility for your actions.” I turn back to him, every veins in my body pulsing.

  “Don’t test me, girl.” He cocks the gun. “I don’t care if you’re driving this car.”

  “And I don’t care that your brother is dead!” My hands curl tight around the steering wheel. I should say nothing more but the cord between my mouth and my mind has been permanently severed. “Have you ever considered it might be your fault? You got him selling drugs. He learned everything he knew from you, didn’t he?”

  “Shut up,” he demands tersely.

  “I bet you wish you could go back and change it all, huh.” I continue to taunt him. “Go back and save him by staying out of his life, because if it weren’t for you, he’d still be alive today.”

  “Fuck you,” he scoffs.

  “No, fuck you!” I scream, my voice breaking at the tip of my register.

  Headlights beam against the rearview mirror, blinding me. I push a hand above my eyes, squinting so that I can see the vehicle behind me. It’s a blue Jeep. A sense of hope runs along the edges of my lips.

  “Look what we have here,” Rake says, shifting in his seat. He smashes his gun against the window, sending shards of glass rolling onto the highway behind us.

  “What are you—”

  “Don’t worry,” he says wickedly. “I’m not aiming for his head.”

  He pulls the trigger once.

  Twice.

  Three times. Each shot ricochets off the metal of Blue’s Jeep.

  “Stop,” I cry out. “You’re going to kill him.”

  “That’s not the plan,” he says and brings his head back into the car. “But anything’s possible.”

  My options are limited, but I have to do something. I have to remember that it’s my hands on the wheel, and as much as Rake would hate to admit it, I’m in control. Rake pops his head back out the window, firing another shot. Blue swerves behind us, tapping on his brakes and gaining a little distance between us.

  There are only two things I know for certain. The first is that Rake is crazy—rhyme and reason change based on circumstance with him. It seemed like he had a plan. To capture and kill me while Blue watches. But as the seconds pass and the bullets fly, I become certain that his plan doesn’t extend past a basic desire to incite chaos.

  The second is that I can’t lose Blue. Saying goodbye to Dillon was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. To lose them both in a matter of a week would devastate me. I wouldn’t survive the pain. I’m not even sure I’ve survived the first blow yet.

  I pray that Blue has a plan, even if I’ve come to learn that plans are nothing more than intuitive guesses, and they almost always fall apart. I planned for my life to end different from this, for example.

  Dillon holds my hand as we walk through some stranger’s yard. Behind us, the lights of the carnival light the sky. Cars pass by on the road ahead, but they make no noise. It’s as if we’re in a vacuum where the only thing that exists is the carnival. Everything outside that bubble is meaningless.

  “You know it had to be this way,” I say to Dillon.

  “Sometimes things don’t work out.” He shrugs.

  “So you understand, then?” I ask. “Why I can’t be with you.”

  We both come to a stop where the sidewalk melts against the road. “I get it. Your heart doesn’t lie.”

  “You know I’ll always love you, Dillon.” I wait for a reply, but he just twists on one foot, his entire body swaying. “You know that, right?”

  He brushes his fingers through my hair, smiling. “I know.”

  “All right.” I push my hands into my jeans. “Blue’s waiting for me, so I should probably go.”

  “Have a good time.” He kisses me on the cheek, then turns to walk to his truck, parked on the other side of the road.

  A violent brush of wind stretches past me. The warmth of the air crackles as the temperature plummets. Something’s wrong.

  “Dillon!” I scream.

  He turns to me, his body halfway into his truck. He slides back out and steps into the road, walking back toward me. The temperature spikes back to normal, and the furious wind subsides. There’s a childish grin stretched across the width of Dillon’s face.

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  Then there’s an ear-bursting screech. In slow motion, I turn my head toward the explosion of noise. A semi slams on its brakes, the trailer curling sideways.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dillon calls out, somehow defying the rules of slow motion. I can’t move my mouth f
ast enough to warn him.

  The semi slams into him.

  I cry out, screaming so loud the world should stop. My pain breaks through the vacuum as the city around me comes back into existence. The truck comes to a halt as I collapse onto the sidewalk.

  I understand it now. It’s amazing how everything can become so clear in an instant. Just as I’m in control of my guilt for Dillon’s death, I’m in control of this wheel. I’m in control of what happens next for all three of us. Blue, Rake, and me.

  My eyelids are heavy, my vision blurred from a welling of tears. There’s no way I could survive another loss.The yellow markings in the center of the road become nothing more than abstract paintings. They’ve lost their meaning, like so many other things lately.

  Rake’s too occupied with savage glee as he fires the gun out the window to notice the rolling stream of tears overtaking my face.

  My fingers fold around the wheel. If I’m going to pull this off, I won’t have time to pull my seat belt across my chest. It’ll alert him that I’m about to do the stupidest, most reckless thing imaginable. It’s just like love—it doesn’t make sense and it happens too fast to stop it.

  The headlights of Blue’s Jeep flash against the rearview mirror, blinding my already blurred vision. Faintly, I can make out Blue’s silhouette through the darkness. Somehow, I can see every inch of his body, every inch of his face. I think I’ve memorized it.

  The gun fires, sending blasts of thunder deep into my ears, deafening me. Rake cackles through his mania. This entire ordeal thrills him. It’ll take one pull of his finger with his gun aimed at the right place at the wrong time, and Blue could die.

  The guilt if that should happen? I couldn’t deal with it. It’s so cliché, but my entire life flashes before my eyes. The faces of everyone I’ve ever loved speaking to me in a montage inside my mind. They smile, they cry, they’ll never get the chance to say goodbye.