We'll Always Have Summer

by Jenny Han

  I didn’t want to see a mark on his face one day and not know how it got there. I wanted to be with him. His was the face I loved.

  Wordlessly, I slipped my left hand out of his, and Jeremiah’s face slackened. Then I held out my hand for him, and his eyes lit up. The joy I felt in that moment—I couldn’t even put it into words. His hand shook as he placed the ring on my finger.

  He asked, “Isabel Conklin, will you marry me?” in as serious a voice as I’d ever heard him use.

  “Yes, I’ll marry you,” I said.

  He put his arms around me, and we held on to each other, clinging like we were the other’s safe harbor. All I could think was, if we just get through this storm, we will make it. He’d made mistakes, I had too. But we loved each other, and that was what mattered.

  We made plans all night—where we would live, how we would tell our parents. The past few days felt like another lifetime ago. That day, without another word about it, we decided to leave the past in the past. The future was where we were headed.

  chapter twelve

  That night I dreamed of Conrad. I was the same age I was now, but he was younger, ten or eleven maybe. I think he might even have been wearing overalls. We played outside my house until it got dark, just running around the yard. I said, “Susannah will be wondering where you are. You should go home.” He said, “I can’t. I don’t know how. Will you help me?” And then I was sad, because I didn’t know how either. We weren’t at my house anymore, and it was so dark. We were in the woods. We were lost.

  When I woke up, I was crying and Jeremiah was asleep next to me. I sat up in the bed. It was dark, the only light in the room was my alarm clock. It read 4:57. I lay back down.

  I wiped my eyes, and then I breathed in Jeremiah’s scent, the sweetness of his face, the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. He was there. He was solid and real and next to me, crammed in close the way you have to be when you are sleeping in a dorm-room bed. We were that close now.

  In the morning, when I woke up, I didn’t remember right away. The dream was there in the back of my head, in a place I couldn’t get to. It was fading fast, almost all the way, but not quite, not yet. I had to think hard and fast to piece it all together, to hold on to it.

  I started to sit up, but Jeremiah pulled me back toward him and said, “Five more minutes.” He was the big spoon, and I was the little spoon tucked into my spot in his arms. I closed my eyes, willing myself to remember before it was gone. Like those last few seconds before the sun sets—going, going, and then gone. Remember, remember, or the dream will slip away forever.

  Jeremiah started to say something about breakfast, and I covered his mouth and said, “Shh. One sec.”

  And then I had it. Conrad, and how funny he looked in his denim overalls. The two of us playing outside for hours. I let out a sigh. I felt so relieved.

  “What were you saying?” I asked Jeremiah.

  “Breakfast,” he said, planting a kiss on my palm.

  Snuggling in closer to him, I said, “Five more minutes.”

  chapter thirteen

  I wanted to tell everyone face-to-face, all at once. In a weird way, it would be perfect timing. Our families would be together in Cousins in a week. A battered-women’s shelter that Susannah had volunteered at and fund-raised for had planted a garden in her honor, and there was going to be a little ceremony next Saturday. We were all going—me, Jere, my mom, his dad, Steven. Conrad.

  I hadn’t seen Conrad since Christmas. He was supposed to fly back for my mother’s fiftieth birthday party, but he bailed at the last minute. “Typical Con,” Jeremiah had said, shaking his head. He’d looked at me, waiting for me to agree. I didn’t say anything.

  My mother and Conrad had a special relationship, always had. They got each other on some level I didn’t understand. After Susannah died, they became closer, maybe because they grieved for her in the same way—alone. My mom and Conrad spoke on the phone often, about what I didn’t know. So when he didn’t come, I could see how disappointed she was, even though she didn’t say so. I wanted to tell her, Love him all you want, but don’t expect anything in return. Conrad isn’t someone who can be counted on.

  He did send a nice bouquet of red zinnias, though. “My favorite,” she’d said, beaming.

  What would he say when we told him our news? I couldn’t begin to guess. When it came to Conrad, I was never sure of anything.

  I worried, too, about what my mother would say. Jeremiah wasn’t worried, but he so rarely was. He said, “Once they know we’re serious, they’ll have to get on board, because they won’t be able to stop us. We’re adults now.”

  We were walking back from the dining hall. Jeremiah dropped my hand, jumped onto a bench, threw his head back, and yelled, “Hey, everybody! Belly Conklin is gonna marry me!”

  A few people turned to look but then kept walking.

  “Get down from there,” I said, laughing and covering my face with my hoodie.

  He jumped back down and ran around the bench once, his arms up and out like an airplane. He zoomed back over to me and lifted me up by the armpits. “Come on, fly,” he encouraged.

  I rolled my eyes and moved my arms up and down. “Happy?”

  “Yes,” he said, setting me back down on the ground.

  I was too. This was the Jere I knew. This was the boy from the beach house. Getting engaged, promising to be each other’s forever, it made me feel like even with all the changes over the past few years, he was still the same boy and I was still the same girl. Now nobody could take that away from us, not anymore.

  chapter fourteen

  I knew I had to talk to Taylor and Anika before my dad came and got me in the morning. I debated just telling them together, but I knew that Taylor would be hurt if I lumped her, my oldest friend, with Anika, who I had known for less than a year. I had to tell Taylor first. I owed her that much.

  I knew she’d think we were crazy. Getting back together was one thing, but getting married was something else entirely. Unlike most of her sorority sisters, Taylor didn’t want to get married until she was at least twenty-eight.

  I called and asked her to meet me at the Drip House, the coffee shop everyone studied at. I told her I had news. She tried to get it out of me over the phone, but I resisted, saying, “It’s the kind of news you have to tell in person.”

  Taylor was already seated with her nonfat iced latte when I got there. She had on her Ray-Bans, and she was texting. She put down her phone when she saw me.

  I sat down across from her, careful to keep my hand in my lap.

  Taking off her sunglasses, she said, “You’re looking much better today.”

  “Thanks, Tay. I feel a lot better.”

  “So what’s up?” She scrutinized me. “Did you guys get back together? Or did you break up for real?”

  I held up my left hand with a flourish. She looked at it, confused. Then her eyes focused on my ring finger.

  Taylor’s eyes turned huge. “You’re effing kidding me. You’re engaged?!” she screamed. A couple of people turned around and looked at us, annoyed. I shrank down in my seat a little. Grabbing my hand, she said, “Oh my God! Let me see that thing!”

  I could tell she thought it was too small, but I didn’t care.

  “Oh my God,” she said, still staring at the ring.

  “I know,” I said.

  “But, Belly . . . he cheated on you.”

  “We’re starting over fresh. I really love him, Tay.”

  “Yeah, but the timing is kinda suspect,” she said slowly. “I mean, it’s really sudden.”

  “It is and it isn’t. You said it yourself. This is Jere we’re talking about. He’s the love of my life.”

  She just stared at me, her mouth an O. She sputtered, “But—but why can’t you wait at least until after you finish college?”

  “We don’t see the point in waiting if we’re gonna get married anyways.” I took a sip of Taylor’s drink. “We’re gonna get an apartment
. You can help me pick out curtains and stuff.”

  “I guess,” she said. “But wait, what about your mom? Did Laurel flip her shit?”

  “We’re telling my mom and his dad next week in Cousins. We’ll tell my dad after.”

  She perked up. “Wait, so nobody even knows yet? Just me?”

  I nodded, and I could tell Taylor was pleased. She loves being in on a secret—it’s one of her top favorite things in life.

  “It’s gonna be an apocalypse,” she said, taking her drink back. “Like, dead bodies. Like, blood in the streets. And when I say blood, I mean your blood.”

  “Gee, thanks a lot, Tay.”

  “I’m just speaking the truth. Laurel is the OG feminist. She’s like Gloria freaking Steinem. She’s not gonna like this one bit. She’ll go all Terminator on his ass. And yours.”

  “My mom loves Jeremiah. She and Susannah always talked about me marrying one of her sons. It might be, like, a dream come true for her. In fact, I bet it will be.” I knew that wasn’t the least bit true even as I was saying it.

  Taylor looked unconvinced too. “Maybe,” she said. “So when is this happening?”

  “This August.”

  “That’s really, really soon. Hardly gives us any time to plan.” Chewing on her straw, she cast a sneaky look my way. “What about bridesmaids? Are you going to have a maid of honor?”

  “I don’t know. . . . We want it to be really small. We’re gonna do it at the Cousins house. Really casual, like, not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal? You’re getting married and you don’t want it to be a big deal?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t care about all that stuff. All I want is to be with Jeremiah.”

  “All what stuff?”

  “Like, bridesmaids and wedding cake. Stuff like that.”

  “Liar!” She pointed her finger at me. “You wanted five bridesmaids and a four-tier carrot cake. You wanted an ice sculpture of a human heart with your initials carved into it. Which, by the way, is gross.”

  “Tay!”

  She held up her hand to stop me. “You wanted a live band and crab cakes and a balloon drop after your first dance. What was that song you wanted to dance to?”

  “‘Stay’ by Maurice Williams and the Zodiacs,” I said automatically. “But Taylor, I was probably ten years old when I said all that stuff.” I was really touched that she remembered, though. But I guessed I remembered everything Taylor wanted too. Doves, little lace gloves, hot-pink stiletto heels.

  “You should have everything you want, Belly,” Taylor said, her chin jutting out in her stubborn Taylor way. “You only get married once.”

  “I know, but we don’t have the money. And anyway, I don’t really care about those things anymore. That was kid stuff.” But maybe I didn’t have to do all of it, maybe just some of it. Maybe I could still have a real wedding, but simple. Because, it would be nice to wear a wedding dress and to have a father-daughter dance with my dad.

  “I thought Jeremy’s dad was loaded. Can’t he afford to give you a real wedding?”

  “There’s no way my mom would let him pay for it. Besides, like I said, we don’t want anything fancy.”

  “Okay,” she conceded. “We’ll forget the ice sculpture. But balloons are cheap—we can still do balloons. And the carrot cake. We could just do a regular two-layer, I guess. And I don’t care what you say, you’re wearing a wedding dress.”

  “That sounds good,” I agreed, taking a sip of her drink. It felt really nice to have Taylor’s blessing. It was like getting permission to be excited, something I didn’t know I needed or wanted.

  “And you’ll still have bridesmaids. Or at least a maid of honor.”

  “I’ll just have you.”

  Taylor looked pleased. “But what about Anika? You don’t want Anika to be a bridesmaid?”

  “Hmm, maybe,” I said, and when her face fell, just slightly, I added, “But I want you to be my maid of honor. Okay?”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I’m so honored.”

  Taylor Jewel, my oldest friend in the world. We’d been through some times together, and I knew now it was pure grace that we’d managed to come out the other side.

  chapter fifteen

  Anika was next, and I was dreading it. I respected her opinion. I didn’t want her to think less of me. The prospect of being a bridesmaid wasn’t going to have any sway over her. That wasn’t something she would care about either way.

  We had decided to room together that fall, in a suite with two of our other friends, Shay and Lynn, in the new dorm on the other side of campus. Anika and I were going to buy cute plates and cups, she was bringing her fridge, and I was bringing my TV. Everything was set.

  We were hanging out in her room later that night. I was packing her books inside a big crate, and she was rolling up her posters.

  The radio was on, and our campus station was playing Madonna’s “The Power of Good-Bye.” Maybe it was a sign.

  I sat on the floor, putting away the last book, trying to drum up the courage to tell her. Nervously, I licked my lips. “Ani, I have something I need to talk to you about,” I said.

  She’d been struggling with the movie poster on the back of her door. “What’s up?”

  There’s no greater power than the power of good-bye.

  I swallowed. “I feel really bad having to do this to you.”

  Anika turned around. “Do what?”

  “I’m not going to be able to room with you next semester.”

  Her eyebrows were knit together. “What? Why? Did something happen?”

  “Jeremiah asked me to marry him.”

  She did a double take. “Isabel Conklin! Shut the shit up.”

  Slowly, I held up my hand.

  Anika whistled. “Wow. That’s crazy.”

  “I know.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she said, “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Yeah. I think so. I really, really love him.”

  “Where are you guys going to live?”

  “In an apartment off campus.” I hesitated. “I just feel bad about letting you down. Are you mad?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “I’m not mad. I mean, yeah, it sucks that we won’t be living together, but I’ll figure something out. I could ask Trina from my dance team. Or my cousin Brandy might be transferring here. She could be our fourth.”

  So it wasn’t such a big deal after all, my not living with them. Life goes on, I guessed. I felt a little wistful, imagining what it would be like if I was still the fourth. Shay was really good at doing hair, and Lynn loved to bake cupcakes. It would have been fun.

  Anika sat down on her bed. “I’ll be fine. I’m just . . . surprised.”

  “Me too.”

  When she didn’t say anything else, I asked, “Do you think I’m making a huge mistake?”

  In her thoughtful way, she asked, “Does it matter what I think?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s not for me to judge, Iz.”

  “But you’re my friend. I respect your opinion. I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

  “You care too much about what other people think.” She said it with sureness but also tenderness.

  If anyone else had said it—my mother, Taylor, even Jere—I would have bristled. But not with Anika. With her, I couldn’t really mind. In a way it was flattering to have her see me so clearly and still like me. Friendship in college was different that way. You spend all this time with people, sometimes every day, every meal. There was no hiding who you were in front of your friends. You were just naked. Especially in front of someone like Anika, who was so frank and open and incisive and said whatever she thought. She didn’t miss a thing.

  Anika said, “At least you’ll never have to wear shower shoes again.”

  “Or have to pull other people’s hair out of the drain,” I added. “Jeremiah’s hair is too short to get caught.”

  “You’ll never h
ave to hide your food.” Anika’s roommate, Joy, was always stealing her food, and Anika had taken to hiding granola bars in her underwear drawer.

  “I might actually have to do that. Jere eats a lot,” I said, twisting my ring around my finger.

  I stayed a while longer, helping her take down the rest of her posters, collecting the dust bunnies under her bed with an old sock I used as a mitten. We talked about the magazine internship Anika had lined up for the summer, and me maybe going to visit her in New York for a weekend.

  After, I walked down the hall back to my room. For the first time all year, it was really quiet—no hair dryers going, no one sitting in the hallway on the phone, no one microwaving popcorn in the commons area. A lot of people had already gone home for the summer. Tomorrow I would be gone too.

  College life as I knew it was about to change.

  chapter sixteen

  I didn’t plan to start going by Isabel. It just happened. All my life, everyone had called me Belly and I didn’t really have a say in it. For the first time in a long time, I did have a say, but it didn’t occur to me until we—Jeremiah, my mom, my dad, and me—were standing in front of my dorm room door on freshman move-in day. My dad and Jeremiah were lugging the TV, my mom had a suitcase, and I was carrying a laundry basket with all my toiletries and picture frames. Sweat was pouring down my dad’s back, and his maroon button-down shirt had three wet spots. Jeremiah was sweating too, since he’d been trying to impress my dad all morning by insisting on bringing up the heaviest stuff. It made my dad feel awkward, I could tell.

  “Hurry, Belly,” my dad said, breathing hard.

  “She’s Isabel now,” my mother said.

  I remember the way I fumbled with my key and how I looked up at the door and saw it. ISABEL, it said in glue-on rhinestones. My roommate’s and my door tags were made out of empty CD cases. My roommate’s, Jillian Capel’s, was a Mariah Carey CD, and mine was Prince.