The Summer I Drowned

by Taylor Hale

  To distract myself from my thoughts, I walk, watching my feet squish against the grass. The sound of the water grows louder. I freeze when I look up, because the lighthouse is right in front of me. Its bright red paint shines under the moonlight, and its height towers endlessly into the hazy sky. Beyond it, on the edge of the cliff, is a short wooden fence connected by ropes that sway in the wind. The hinges creak and scrape against my ears.

  This is where it happened. Where everything changed.

  It’s scary to think people have really died down there. Like Samwell Ellis, the boy who cracked his skull when I was in kindergarten. He didn’t have the chance to recover, to move away from Caldwell and get better. He just hit his head and never woke up. This rope isn’t enough—kids can easily slip under it. So can adults. So can I.

  The wind picks up, coils around my wrists, carries me to the edge of the cliff.

  If getting over my fears means facing them head-on, I should look down. So I do. Then I’m over the rope. It’s exactly as it was five years ago—the rocks, jagged like teeth, and the water, sloshing in a violent rage. This is where the nightmares take place. Where I’ve spent so many of my days, only in memory.

  A gust pushes against my back. The waves overlap and swallow one another. I picture myself falling into it. The current jerking me back and forth. The bubbles fizzing around me. The taste of the ocean.

  Someone is calling my name, but his voice is distant, like he’s yelling through glass. There aren’t many times when this thought has slithered out from dark crevices of my mind—but sometimes, I do wonder if I would have been better off if I’d died that day. My parents never would have had to pay for therapy. I never would have had to dream of death over and over again.

  Someone yanks on my wrist and hurls me backward. I’m jerked out of my trance just in time to see that my right foot has extended over the edge of the cliff. I scream as West pulls me away and locks me in his arms so I can’t move. He drags me away from the cliff, and once we’re halfway down the hill, he collapses on the ground and hugs me. I go limp against him. I can’t feel anything—not my muscles, not my heartbeat. My memories since I got out of the car are as blurry as the clouds that creep over the moon.

  “What the fuck, Olivia?” West’s fingers thread through my hair, and his pulse thuds against my head as he holds me to his chest. “I thought you were going to walk right off! Jesus Christ, what happened?”

  “I—I don’t know, I—”

  “Why’d you go over there, huh? Fuck, I thought I was going to lose you.”

  “I . . . don’t remember. I just wanted to look.”

  “You scared the shit out of me. If I hadn’t run, you would’ve . . .”

  He holds me tighter. I shut my eyes and slip into a comfortable darkness, balling the soft cotton fabric of his shirt in my fist. I can’t wrap my head around what just happened, but I can focus on him. His erratic breathing. His smell of earth and sea. The way he presses his lips to the top of my head, but doesn’t kiss me, and how it makes me feel achingly safe and numb all at once.

  “You’re okay,” West says, over and over, until it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

  After West carried me away from the cliff, I lost my voice. By the time he gets me in the car, I’m still paralyzed, unsure if what just happened was real, a flashback, or a combination of the two. Maybe this is the place where nightmares and consciousness meet.

  It doesn’t take long for West to pull the Corvette up to Keely’s street. When he parks, I shrink away from his concerned gaze. I want to be at home in my bed—not the Myerses’ guest room bed, my own bed. With my blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and Aqua, who I really should have brought. With my mom, who always strokes my hair when I have panic attacks because she knows it calms me.

  West drapes his hand over the steering wheel. “You going to tell me what that was back there?”

  The silence is heavy. I don’t want to push him away, but I can’t explain what I don’t understand myself. When I picture myself standing at the edge of the cliff, the car fills up with water. I lean against the headrest.

  “Olive.” West’s voice keeps me grounded. “What’s going on with you?”

  “It’s nothing,” I lie. “I haven’t been sleeping well, okay?”

  “I could’ve sworn you were going to walk right off that cliff.”

  “I didn’t know I was doing that.”

  West’s jaw is tight, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he looks away. I know he doesn’t mean for the expression on his face to hurt me, but it does.

  “You think I’m crazy,” I say, and tears sting my eyes.

  “Don’t say shit like that about yourself. No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I’m just worried.” West falls quiet. Outside, the world is still.

  “Please don’t look at me like that,” I whisper.

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m some sort of timid animal who needs to be handled with care. I get treated like that at home, sometimes by my parents, sometimes by teachers because my school knows about the problems I have. I’m trying to get better, so please don’t treat me like I’m different.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  When more silence threatens us, West grunts and unbuckles his seatbelt so he can face me easier. “All right, look. Here’s what I think: you need a break from this goddamn town. Why don’t you come to Camden with me tomorrow? I want you to meet Amelia.”

  “Really?” I can’t help but smile. Finally, West cracks one too.

  “Yeah, really,” he says. “What do you say?”

  “I’d like that.” I put my hand on the door handle. “But I should go. Goodnight, West.”

  “Night.”

  Leaving him is always the worst part. But as I’m halfway across the lawn, West’s car door opens.

  “Olive, wait.”

  He rounds the hood in one quick motion. Before I can even process it, I’m trapped in his arms. Even after everything that just happened, my knees go weak. He supports my weight.

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he says against my forehead. “Fuck, I haven’t been that scared in a while. Not since I heard about the last time you fell.”

  We pull away. His eyes are dark blue and pained under the midnight sky, splashed with more stars than I could ever dream of counting. I stare at his mouth, drunk on his scent and the heat of his body near mine. Everything around us fades. With his hands on each side of my face, West kisses my forehead, then his lips press against mine: soft, warm, and everything I’ve ever dreamed of. He inhales a sharp, ragged breath. I’m surprised at how fast my confidence rises, how easy it is to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him back. The feeling is hot and cold; his tongue grazes mine, but his stubble is rough against my skin.

  “I was not expecting that,” I whisper. I’ve never been so warm.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I was tired of waiting.”

  “Don’t apologize. Please.”

  We kiss again. Everything urges me to stay with him—we could even go back to his place and sleep in his bed, and we wouldn’t have to say goodbye so soon. But I can’t. West must know it, too, because he bumps his forehead to mine and says, “I guess I should let you go.”

  “Okay. But tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  He holds my hand and grazes his finger along my palm as he pulls away. My heart is still pounding as he gets into his car. He waves to me once before he drives off, and the Corvette disappears into the darkness of the street.

  Later that night, after tossing and turning in bed for hours, something scuffles outside my window. A hack and a cough scrape the silence of the night. I stare blankly at the ceiling and listen as the sound is strangled, like something is scarfing up its last breath. I’m too petrified to move, but convince myself I’m having
another nightmare until I drift away again.

  15

  One of the things I miss most about living in Caldwell Beach is the mornings—waking up every day to dewy, cantaloupe-orange skies, caws of blue jays, and coos of mourning doves. When I wake up in the guest room, my recollection of last night returns in waves.

  The good comes first. When I touch my lips, I can still feel West kissing me, even though it was dark outside the last time we were together.

  But the bad comes back too. After what happened on the cliff, I need to call Dr. Levy. But she’ll say it was an “episode,” and then she’ll tell my parents. They’ll all want me to come home. I can’t do that, not yet. Especially after I finally kissed West.

  Pulling myself out of bed, I take my antidepressants and put on the blue dress so West can see me in it later. Like most mornings I wake here, Sun and Roger are in the kitchen making coffee, and Keely is digging around in the cupboards for cereal. We all say our good mornings, and Roger asks me to grab the mail, so I step outside. The sun is hot on my sunscreened skin, but there’s still a fresh, cold feeling in the air when it’s this early. But as I walk across the front lawn to the mailbox, an off smell reaches my nose.

  With a frown, I spin on my heels and scan the lawn. It’s the exact same stench as the night Miles, Keely, and I found the dead squirrel: flesh mixed with the smell of grass and Caldwell’s constant ocean air. Morbidly intrigued, I gravitate toward it.

  Around the side of the house, right below my window, is an animal carcass.

  The scream is instant. I fall back on the heels of my hands and skitter away, just as the front door flies open and Roger sprints outside. He’s at my side in seconds, Keely behind him.

  “Oh my God, Dad!” Keely says.

  Roger hoists me to my feet, and I fall onto him. “You okay, Olivia? Here, stay back.”

  But I can’t look away. Torn pink flesh clings to its bones with matted and bloodied gray fur and sharp little teeth. It’s an opossum. Or, it was.

  Keely tries to hold me back, but I stagger closer to the animal. Flies buzz around it.

  “You girls get inside,” Roger says, his voice serious. “I’ll take care of this.”

  “What the hell happened?” Keely asks. “Why is this on our lawn, Dad?”

  “The animal killer,” I say, stunned. “It was him. It had to be him.”

  I picture a man—a faceless man—creep up to the house, peek through my blinds, and watch me sleep. He puts the carcass on the ground and smirks.

  But why? Why me?

  “There’s no sign of foul play.” Roger kneels next to the carcass and points at it. “If you look along the neckline, you can see teeth marks. Looks like he got in a fight with some other critter and wandered down here to die.”

  The hairs raise on my arms. I try to rub them out, but the feeling that I’m being watched doesn’t fade.

  “Why would it be at my window?” I ask. “There’s been other stuff, too, like that night I thought I saw something in the shower. What if—I don’t know, what if they’re trying to send me a message?”

  As soon as the words escape my lips, I realize how they sound.

  Roger says, “I’m the police chief. If it was a message, it was more likely for me. Let’s just go inside and check the cameras.”

  A few minutes later, we’re huddled around the computer desk in the living room. Sun joins us with a coffee mug. When the screen loads to last night, a sudden realization turns me to stone: they’re going to see I snuck out. But I’m right about the animal killer, I know I am. Maybe if I can prove it, the other things won’t matter as much.

  On the screen, the different camera angles show the Myerses’ house late at night. Roger fast-forwards through the footage. Tugging on my elastic, I brace myself for the timestamp to get past 11:00 p.m. Two minutes after, we see me sneak out the side door.

  “What the—” Roger pauses, and his angered eyes fall on me. “Olivia, you’d better have a damn good explanation for this.”

  “Please, I’ll explain after you see what happened with the animal.”

  Roger exhales through his nose but continues the footage. Like last time, nothing out of the ordinary shows up on the screen. Trees sway with the wind, and the odd squirrel or rabbit hops over the lawn. Then we see me return with my arms crossed, a smile on my face because I’d just kissed West.

  On the screen that shows the guest room window, the light goes on inside—me, getting ready for bed—and then it turns off. Shortly after, a shadow moves across the screen.

  “Hold on.” Roger zooms in. At the top corner, an opossum limps onto the property.

  Alone.

  I wait for a man to follow it. To appear and strategically place it to mess with me, but no one ever comes. There’s no animal killer. No man. Just a poor, maimed animal, and it falls to its death right outside of my window.

  “See?” Roger says. “Just the opossum. No one is sending you messages, Olivia.”

  “But . . .”

  Roger lets out a long, heavy sigh. I’ve heard it before—he always exhales like this when he’s about to say something that will disappoint Keely. But he’s locked on me.

  “Olivia, I’m sorry, but we’re calling your parents and having them pick you up as soon as possible. Either tomorrow or the day after, most likely.”

  “W-what?”

  “Mom, Dad, no!” Keely exclaims.

  “Lemon, we’ve been thinking about it since you went missing.” Roger focuses back on me. “We’ll always be grateful you helped bring Keely home, Olivia, but the truth is, being responsible for you and our own daughter is becoming a little too much. Especially if you’re going to break the rules and sneak out at night.”

  “It was stupid—it won’t happen again, I promise. Please don’t make me go back to New York. I’m sorry I snuck out, but I had a good reason—”

  “What reason could you have to break the rules, Olivia?” Roger says. “What’s more important than us being able to trust you?”

  Sun places a gentle hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Olivia. It’s best for everyone if you’re with your family.”

  The truth is, I understand why they don’t want me around anymore, but I try to hold in my tears.

  “This isn’t fair, Dad,” Keely whines. “She snuck out one time, big deal!”

  “It isn’t just about that, Lemon,” Roger says.

  Sun gently squeezes my arm. “We’re sorry, Olivia. This decision is final.”

  I see the looks on their faces. It’s about more than me sneaking out; this is about my mental state.

  “It’s okay. Really, I get it.” I back away so they won’t see me cry, but my voice comes out strained. “Can I please go spend the day with West?”

  Roger and Sun share an uneasy look, before Roger says, “All right, go ahead. But be back early, please. Before dark.”

  Keely keeps nagging her parents as I slam the door behind me and collapse on the front porch. Maybe it’s stupid to be so upset—I’m not their kid, they don’t owe me anything. Their reasons are logical: I broke the rules, and I understand they have a lot on their plate, and they probably think I’m losing my mind. But it still hurts to be thrown out, and I’m not ready to leave Caldwell Beach. I’ve been anchored to this place since the day I left. This town isn’t done with me yet.

  When West’s Corvette pulls outside, I wipe my eyes with my bare wrists, but it only makes them wet and slippery. He parks and jogs to the porch.

  “Whoa, what’s going on?”

  This is exactly what he worried about, but I have to tell him. “I’m leaving early, West. Tomorrow or the day after, probably. Keely’s parents know I snuck out last night.”

  “Oh . . . shit.”

  The tears keep coming. West eases himself onto the porch beside me and leans so his arm brushes the small of my back.r />
  “No changing their minds?” he asks.

  “I don’t think so. Even if I could, I’d feel horrible trying. They’re clearly not comfortable with me being here.”

  “Brutal. I’d say you could stay with me, but I doubt your parents would go for it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re right.” I laugh. “My parents would never go for that. But it’s a nice idea.”

  West stands and offers me his hand. “Don’t worry, at least we’ve still got another day together. Come on, let’s make it count.”

  Acres of trees stretch beyond the long, narrow road, topped by a cerulean sky. West talks about Oscar, Sandy, his job at the body shop. A little bit about his dad. The calm rumble of the car lulls me into a state of comfort. I lean back on the headrest, and my eyes flutter shut with the warmth of the sun on my face. I listen to his words, his gritty voice. No nightmares, no bad thoughts.

  Mom texted me and said she and Dad will be here tomorrow to take me home. I didn’t reply—if West and I only have so much time left together, I’m not wasting it. Amelia is adorable in the picture, and I bet she’s even cuter in person.

  Camden, like Caldwell, is heavily populated with trees, but unlike my hometown, there’s a constant stream of cars driving in and out. We arrive at a farmers’ market where the parking lot is packed full. A toddler is in the arms of a girl standing next to a tall guy wearing aviators. That must be Amelia with Sophie and her boyfriend. When West and I get out of the car, Sophie approaches us. She has brown hair and matching dark eyes. Amelia looks more like West. Like in the picture, her olive skin glows so much it sparkles. She wears a lime-green dress and her hair is in curls. Her gaze wanders all over the place, like she can’t decide if I’m more interesting than West, or if the tree behind us wins.

  Sophie shakes my hand with a tight but not unfriendly smile. She and West exchange awkward eye contact before she heaves Amelia into his arms. He takes her with ease, like her tiny frame was made to fit his.

  “Remember that she needs to eat at one,” Sophie says, “and not too much ice cream, or she’ll barf all over you and poop all over me later. There are snacks in the bag.”