The Summer I Drowned

by Taylor Hale

  “I have to go,” I mumble, even though this whole thing has confused me. Are we something now? Should I back off?

  “Yeah, okay,” West says. “Hey, if you’re not hanging out with Keely tomorrow, why don’t you come up to the cabin with me? Bring a bathing suit, just in case.”

  “Are you sure? My curfew is ten p.m.”

  “Just for the day, then.”

  “Okay. I’d like that.”

  “All right. Night, Olive.”

  “Goodnight, West.”

  When I get out of the car, he nods at me, then drives off. His taillights fade into the early-morning fog, beams of yellow consumed by murky gray. My fingers graze over my left hand, right where West’s lips were.

  I can’t believe it. He likes me back. All the making out I’ve been doing with him in my head might actually become a reality.

  Back in through the side door, I slowly creep through the dark halls of Keely’s house. The bathroom door is slightly ajar, and tingles of fear return—but I’m able to shove them away.

  What I saw wasn’t real. It’s like West said: I’ve been going through a lot. I just need more sleep.

  One step at a time, right?

  11

  The next day, I sit on the front porch with my backpack and wait for West to pick me up, the noon sun warm on my skin. When the door opens behind me, Keely steps out in her pajamas. I dodge her curious stare, the same way I’ve avoided her all morning. She tried talking to me over our bowls of cereal, but I mostly gave one-word answers. It’s hard not to be mad at her for telling her parents about my nightmares.

  “Hey, there you are,” Keely says, and when I don’t reply, she joins me on the concrete ledge of the porch. “Shawn invited me to the beach, but I told him I can’t go because I’m still grounded. They’re all partying later too. I feel so left out.”

  “That sucks,” is all I can think to say. I’m sad for Keely and everything, but still annoyed she was so quick to assume what I saw last night wasn’t real—even if it wasn’t.

  We fall silent for a few moments before Keely says, “Look, about last night—”

  “You didn’t have to tell your parents about me having nightmares. Your mom’s going to call mine, and my phone is going to blow up with worried texts from my parents.”

  “I was really worried about you.”

  “So was I when you got alcohol poisoning, but I still didn’t tell your dad how long you’ve been drinking.”

  Keely’s shoulders drop. “Okay, point taken. I’m sorry. But for the record, I asked my parents not to call yours. I insisted that you’re totally fine.”

  Fine probably doesn’t fit my description, but I can’t have Mom freaking out. Whatever’s going on in my head, I can handle. I’m doing the work. Facing my issues.

  That’s why my bathing suit is under my clothes.

  “All right,” I say. “I’ve pretty much concluded that what I saw was a bird or something, anyway.”

  “I mean, it must have been, right? What else could it be?” We fall quiet. My backpack is on the ground beside me, and Keely nods at it. “You going somewhere?”

  “West is picking me up. We’re going to the cabin for the day.”

  “You’re hanging out with West? Alone?” Keely’s nose scrunches. “Wait, do you like him?”

  Face hot, I avert my stare.

  “Holy shit,” Keely says. “Of course you like West. How could I never see it before? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, I just didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Every girl has her secrets. But hey, I totally support you. A summer fling with West would be super cute.”

  Summer fling. Is that all we would be?

  “But as your best friend,” Keely continues, “it’s my duty to tell you that West totally has a reputation as a player. I can’t vouch for that personally, but he’s had a million girlfriends over the years, all of them from out of town. Be careful, okay?”

  “Faye said the same thing, but he’s different with me.” I can still feel his skin on mine, his lips on my hand.

  It’s naive, I know that. West has hurt me before, but everything in my heart screams to be near him. That has to mean something.

  Keely snorts a little. “Sure, every girl thinks that, Liv. Not that you aren’t special—you totally are. Just be careful. And not just with your heart, okay?”

  I tug at the string of my jean shorts until it rips off. “I will.”

  Keely heaves out a sigh and rests her chin on her palms. “I’m so jealous you actually get to see the guy you like.”

  Her playful demeanor cracks, her lips curved down. This is a horrible thing to suggest, but I don’t want Keely to be sad. Shawn’s nothing special to me, but it seems like he’s the only thing that makes her happy.

  I nudge her. “Hey, when has not being allowed ever stopped you?”

  She grins. “Good point.”

  Roger’s cruiser pulls into the driveway. Keely and I stand.

  “Hi, girls.” Roger yawns and walks up the driveway in full uniform.

  “Hey, Dad,” Keely says. “What are you doing home?”

  “Just came for some early lunch, I’m starving.” The sun reflects off his sunglasses, but he takes them off and tucks them into his shirt pocket before he looks at me. “Olivia, about last night . . . I apologize for what I said about your meds. It wasn’t my place. Thing is, I want you to feel safe here. Caldwell’s still a good town, and we haven’t had a violent event in God knows how long. Well, aside from this damn animal killer . . .”

  “Thank you, Roger,” I say. “Did something else happen?”

  He smooths his thumb along his belt and stops at the holster of his gun, his brown skin wrinkled into a grimace. “No point in drawing it out, I suppose. You girls will hear about this eventually. Yesterday, someone killed a dog.”

  The hairs on my neck raise.

  “A dog?” Keely says. “Oh my God, no! That’s a bigger deal than a squirrel or a deer, right?”

  “Yep. Horrific sight. Do I ever feel for Mrs. Daly, waking up to that, her poor pet drowned to death and then left on her lawn.”

  Drowned.

  The word echoes through the caverns of my mind.

  Roger clears his throat. “Sorry, girls. I’m exhausted. I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff. Come inside, Lemon. And Olivia, that ten p.m. curfew is law. No slipups.”

  I quickly agree, not wanting to get on Roger’s bad side. West’s Corvette pulls to a stop out front.

  Roger shields his eyes from the sun with his hand. “I thought it was Miles you two were friends with.”

  “I’m friends with West too.” I slip past him. “I’ll be back before ten, okay?”

  He shrugs and waves me off. Keely yells bye as I hurry over to West’s car and slide into the passenger seat.

  “Hey, you good?” he asks. “Chief Myers is looking pretty serious.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know,” I tell him, unsure if I should be repeating things Roger says to me. “It’s about the animal killer, but Roger isn’t saying much. He’s just really serious about my curfew.”

  “I’ll get you home on time.” West shifts the gear out of park, and we drive away in silence. Anxiety claws through me at the thought of being in that cabin again—but for different reasons than last time. The entire way there, I glance at West’s hand on the stick shift, remembering when it was clasped to mine.

  West tosses his keys on a console table and flicks on a light. The overhead fan spins and casts cool wind on my arms, which eases the musky humidity in the cabin. It’s so quiet in here without Faye and them running around wasted.

  “Damn, it’s stuffy in here,” West says. “But if I turn the AC on, my dad’ll notice the electrical bill. You good?”

&nbs
p; “I’m okay.” As okay as I can be alone in a house with him.

  I follow him into the kitchen and drop my backpack on a stool by the bar. West inspects the fridge, his black T-shirt tight against his frame, and somehow I’m only now noticing he’s in blue swim trunks. My aqua bikini is underneath my tank top and shorts. I picture myself floating on the lake, the water so dark beneath me; my feet are gone, and the room spins.

  I can’t do it. There’s no way.

  But this is my chance to try.

  To distract myself from the budding panic, I run my finger along the smooth surface of the bar while West digs through the cupboards. On the wall is a photo of Brian, Miles, and Faye in front of the lake. Miles is on Brian’s shoulder while Faye holds onto his leg, the sun high behind them. They look happy.

  “Why aren’t you in any of these?” I ask.

  “Huh?” West keeps rifling. “Don’t know, you’d have to ask my dad that. Probably because Beatrice doesn’t want my face on the walls of her precious vacation spot. Not that I care.”

  “But where were you when this was taken?”

  “Probably with a nanny.”

  “They’d just leave you alone?”

  “Yep.” West shrugs, hands hooked to the handles of the cupboards. “I came here a few times, but my dad and Beatrice stopped bringing me because I’d always end up pissing off Miles and Faye. They wanted ‘peace,’ so it was easier to leave me at home.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Whatever. I got to play video games and sports without my annoying siblings, can’t complain about that.”

  “But didn’t it get lonely too?”

  “At first, maybe. But I got over it pretty quick.”

  In the photo, the lake looks just the same as it did when I went last time. We could go there and swim in it now. West wouldn’t let me drown. My knees shake, because I can’t really be thinking of doing it, can I?

  “Guess I should’ve brought food,” West mutters and closes the cupboards. “I can always drive and grab us something.”

  Tucking my hands behind my back, I face him. “I’m not really thinking about food.”

  “What are you thinking about then?”

  I glance at his shorts. “You’re wearing your bathing suit . . .” With a tug on the strap of my bikini, I reveal mine to him.

  “No shit.” He smiles wide. “So does that mean you’re down to swim?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we can just go sit by the lake?”

  “Yeah. C’mon, let’s go.”

  West offers his hand, and I take it.

  The woods are hot and dry as we make our way to the lake. Even with the film of sweat on our palms, we don’t let go of each other, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to touching him. Elation washes over me as West holds up a branch and allows me to pass under. Once we reach the lake, we sit back in the grass, a fair distance from the muddy shore. The water ripples and shines with bits of sunlight, and the breeze is cool under the shade of the tree.

  Pulling my knees to my chest, I descend into the memory of the last time I was here. Beside me, West sits cross-legged and shreds a leaf.

  “The last time I was here,” I say, “Miles tried to get me into the water. Faye kept calling me a buzzkill.”

  “Sounds like my siblings.” He laughs once. “They’re both assholes.”

  I pluck a flat rock out of the dirt and try to skip it over the lake, but it just plops in. “Miles is really different from when we were kids. I don’t know how I feel about him.” The sea glass he gave me is still in the front pouch of my purse, which I left back at Keely’s. Despite everything that happened with Miles, sometimes I touch them and feel okay again. They were a thoughtful gift. A gift that reminds me of who we used to be. What West said last night was true—Miles doesn’t own me. But the thought of his face twisting in betrayal upon seeing us together makes me sick with guilt.

  “People change.” West leans back so his forearm grazes the small of my back. Our eyes meet. “Not gonna lie, you grew up to be really beautiful.”

  “Oh, wow. Thank you.”

  God, everything he says is so effortless. Like he’s said it to a lot of girls, to be honest.

  “West, can I ask you something?”

  He nods. “Shoot.”

  “Are you a player?”

  When he laughs, it’s almost like he expected the question. “No. But I’m guessing someone told you I am.”

  “Sort of.”

  “Do you think I’m trying to play you?” Biting my lip, I shake my head. “Good, because I’m not.”

  “Will you tell me about Amelia?”

  Now he tenses. His stare drifts across the lake before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a frayed wallet. He removes a photo and glances at it before he hands it to me. A toddler with olive skin and blue-green eyes sits with her fist in her mouth, surrounded by pink blankets, and a bow is tied to her wispy brown hair.

  The Amelia theories had ranged from secret girlfriend to long lost sister to great-grandma—but not this.

  “I was going to tell you,” West says, “but the thing is, no one in Caldwell really knows, because it’s none of their business. My family likes keeping their secrets buried, so Miles and Faye don’t even gossip about it, even though they hate me enough to.”

  He’s speaking, but a broken record in my head repeats West has a kid West has a kid West has a kid. He takes back the photo.

  “Faye told me to ask you about Amelia,” I say. “She said you’d lie.”

  “I normally would. If I’m dating a girl, I’ll tell her about my kid, but I never date Caldwell girls, so word hasn’t gotten out.”

  “Why is it such a secret?”

  “My dad’s ashamed I knocked someone up at sixteen and couldn’t even get her to stay with me. And I don’t need everyone in this town talking about what’s my business alone, so I never told anyone about it. Don’t spread it around, okay? Not even to Keely.”

  “I won’t, I promise.” It’s like I’ve been punched in the throat from shock, but I can keep a secret. I would never betray West after he trusted me with this information. Information he gives to no one else. Does that make me special?

  “All right,” he says. “Anyway, that’s part of the reason I left home. And why Miles and Faye like to act like I was disowned. In a way, I guess I was. My dad thinks I’m a huge fuck-up.” He tosses the leaf. “Whatever.”

  “I don’t think you’re a fuck-up.” Teen parent and fuck-up aren’t synonymous—shit happens. But there is one question heavy on my mind: who the heck is the mom?

  “I’m doing okay,” West says. “I visit my kid when I can. I pay child support with my own money.”

  “That’s a lot of responsibility. I can’t even imagine.” Yikes, sometimes I can’t even take care of myself. And West is only two years older than me. To carry all that at nineteen . . .

  “If you think differently of me now, I get it,” he says.

  “No, I still—” I stop myself. Though it’s obvious at this point that I like-like him, saying it out loud is so exposing.

  “Some girls run off,” he goes on. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

  “I’m not going to. But why isn’t Amelia with you?”

  “She’s better off with her mom. I visit whenever I can, but . . . that’s what’s best for her.” The dejected tone of his voice contradicts the words he says. Without thinking, I reach for his hand. West interlaces our fingers and smooths his thumb along the curve of my palm, and my head rests against his shoulder. We sit like that for a long time, listening to the lake as the wind whistles through the trees.

  It’s a lot to take in, but I don’t care if West has a kid with another girl. It just sucks I’ve missed out on so many years of his life. But maybe things were supposed to turn out this way. M
aybe now that we’re older and more mature, we can be together.

  The sun shifts to its peak and beats down on my bare arms and legs. West suddenly reaches out and grabs something.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Check it out.” His hands are clasped to create a dome, and he moves his thumb so I can see inside. A pair of eyes stare back at me.

  “A frog!”

  “You still like them, right?”

  “Yes!”

  West laughs as he slips the cold, slimy frog into my hands. I gently hold it, and its little heartbeat pounds against me.

  “It’s a pickerel frog,” I say and observe the squareish brown spots on its back.

  “Why am I not surprised you know that?” West says. “You still into all that wildlife stuff?”

  “Not really. I kept some of my textbooks, but reading them just reminded me of what happened here, so I sort of got out of it.”

  “Too bad. You used to love identifying species. Guess you haven’t forgotten everything.”

  “There are a lot of things I can’t forget about my life here.”

  When the frog ribbits, I open my hands and allow it to jump away and hop into the lake. The water ripples, entrances me. A shaky breath fills my lungs, and I shut my eyes to block out how it felt when they were inflated with ocean water.

  “He’s got the right idea,” West says and stands, peeling off his shirt.

  Before I can react, he runs and dives into the lake before he emerges and threads his hand through his dark hair. He stands easily—the lake isn’t deep near the shore. But it’s still hard to picture myself going in that water and not drowning, even though logically, I know I’ll be okay. West wouldn’t just let me float there and die. Maybe if I do it, all of this could go away: the flashbacks, the dreams. No more fear, no more nightmares. The sounds of the forest fade behind the thundering of my heart against my eardrums.

  Droplets of water race each other down West’s shoulders and arms. His lips don’t move, but his voice resounds in my head. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.

  On wobbly knees, I take off my shirt, then drop my shorts. Fear coils through me. Sharp, barbed wire constricts my heart. The water ebbs with every movement of his body, and West’s words in my head are a siren’s call. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.