Summertime Nights

by Katie Winters

  CODY: I’m guessing you need mental health assistance?

  CARMELLA: Don’t remind me.

  CODY: I won’t. We don’t have to talk about it at all. I’ll buy wine. And provisions.

  CARMELLA: What kind of provisions?

  CODY: The Ben and Jerry’s kind.

  Carmella forced herself through her final appointment of the day, then headed back into the hallway. Elsa’s door was opened just a crack. Carmella stuck her foot into it and opened it even more. Elsa sat at the edge of her desk and stared out the window. She didn’t turn to face Carmella, but she knew it was her.

  “I don’t know if I feel up for talking to you right now,” Elsa said.

  Carmella’s heart felt cracked. “There are so many things I need to say.”

  Elsa drew her hands over her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Maybe. Maybe soon. But not today, Carmella. There’s already been too much. To read about all of this? Online? Our family story plastered across headlines like this? I just don’t know what to make of it.” A sob escaped her throat.

  Carmella dropped her eyes to the ground. She considered again what her therapist had said. “You deserve to tell your story, just as much as Elsa deserves to hear it.” But she knew a closed door when she saw one. She stepped back into the foyer and headed for her car. Closure was maybe a thing other people got. Not her.

  She arrived at Cody’s house fifteen minutes later. When she reached his door, she heard his panicked voice inside. “What did you say? Fiona, stop crying! I can’t understand what happened. I can’t—”

  Carmella tried the door and found it open. She pushed it open to discover Cody at his kitchen table, bent over his chair. His cheeks were streaked with red.

  “She fell? Off her tricycle?”

  Silence again. Carmella’s heart dropped into her gut. What was it about today? Was the entire world off-kilter?

  Cody lifted his chin and beckoned for Carmella to come in. She shifted forward, then closed the door behind her. Cody splayed a hand over his forehead and nodded as he continued to speak into the phone.

  “I don’t think that’s bad enough for a hospital run, Fi. It sounds like she just got scared and started crying.”

  Carmella sat at the edge of his couch and pressed her palms together. She hated when he called his ex “Fi.” She wasn’t sure why. It added this familiarity that Carmella didn’t fully like. But who was she to think like that? They’d been married; they had a child together. She couldn’t comprehend that level of familiarity.

  “Maybe an ice pack? It’ll stop the swelling,” Cody suggested then. After another pause, he said, “I don’t think it’s necessary for me to come over, Fi. I’ve had her the past few nights and I told Carmella that I—”

  Again, silence as Fiona spoke on the other end. Carmella felt suddenly deep underwater.

  “Don’t say that,” Cody offered softly. “That’s so cruel, Fiona.”

  Cruel? What had she said? Carmella furrowed her brow and stared at the far corner, praying for this awkward moment to die out.

  “Fiona, I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Cody said then. “Really. You know when we spend more time together, we just fight.”

  More silence.

  “Yes, I do think it would be like that this time. Yes, I know you’ve been going to therapy. I’ve been going, too. I just still don’t think our problems are resolved enough to give it—”

  Again, silence.

  “I understand. And yes, I’ll think about it. Yes, I promise I will. Okay. Kiss Gretchen for me. Tell her I love her. Tell her to get well soon.”

  Cody hung up the phone and pressed it against his chest. It took him a long time to face Carmella. When he did, his eyes seemed very far away.

  “What happened?” Carmella asked.

  “Just a little accident. Typical of toddlers,” Cody said. “But Fiona is dramatic. And she’s overwhelmed. And she wants me to come over.”

  “Do you want to?”

  Cody shrugged. “I never really know. Sometimes, she asks if I want to try again.”

  “Try again?”

  “To be together. To have a family with Gretchen.”

  Carmella’s heart dropped even lower.

  “But I force myself to remember how bad it was to be together. It was awful. We fought all the time. It was such a poisonous environment to have a baby in. But reminding her of that just hurts her. She asks if she’s not good enough for me and it’s all so pointed and jarring and it really breaks me up inside. And then, stuff like this happens, and she’s like, ‘Why can’t we just live together as a family?’ and it just kills me.”

  Carmella suddenly felt as though her problems were terribly small.

  “Do you think you still love her?” she asked softly.

  “It doesn’t really matter. I see it all out in front of me — the big mess of it all and I know that we can’t go back that,” Cody said. “No matter how much I wish we could, sometimes.”

  “Do you really wish that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Carmella felt even sourer than she had before. Why was that? Cody stood and headed for the fridge, where he removed a bottle of wine. He cracked it open and then poured them both half-filled glasses.

  “I hope I’m not making a mistake,” he said, mostly to himself.

  “In what, exactly?”

  “In not going over there. In not being there for Gretchen. In not getting back together with Fiona. I don’t know. Being an adult just means being wracked with guilt all the time.”

  “I definitely feel all that guilt and more today,” Carmella said. “And a hangover the size of Texas.”

  “Right.” Cody arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to talk about him at all?”

  “Only the ways we’ll murder him in cold blood,” Carmella said. She then buzzed her lips and said, “I’m just grateful that I didn’t go all the way with him.”

  Cody’s shoulders slumped forward the slightest bit. “I wondered about that. You didn’t check your phone till the morning.”

  “Yeah. I fell asleep at the Sunrise Cove. I had to do some kind of weird walk of shame through the foyer of the inn. Although I don’t know if it’s a walk of shame, officially, if I didn’t actually do the deed?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to check the definition,” Cody said playfully.

  Maybe they could find a way through this dark time together.

  They drank their first glass of wine. Cody confessed he was starving, that he’d skipped lunch that afternoon, and they decided to head to the diner for an official “sad person dinner.”

  “It didn’t use to be sad to go to the diner,” Carmella said as she stepped into the heat of the evening.

  “Grilled cheese sandwiches and burgers really do transition from being everyday fare to, ‘Oh my God, I’m dying. I need comfort food,’” Cody admitted. “What’s that about?”

  “We reach for nostalgia at every turn,” Carmella said.

  “Something like that.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carmella and Cody walked the route to the diner. Cody was despondent. His eyes scanned the waters as they creaked along the boardwalk, and his hand twitched toward his pocket as though he remembered something urgent he needed to do and then pushed the thought away. Carmella remembered all the other times he’d been similar to this — times Cody’s eyes had seemed lackluster and faraway, times she’d drummed through her wide treasure-trove of memories of their time together in order to cheer him up. She reached up and gripped his elbow and squeezed just once, a thing she had done when they’d been teenagers, but he hardly smiled at all. He was like a ghost. Maybe they all were.

  The waitress they knew well, the eighteen-year-old whip-smart yet growing more pregnant by the day, Mandy, Amelia Taylor’s niece — drew open the door with the jangle of the bell and greeted them warmly. As she did, she spoke off to the side to one of the fry cooks, saying, “Yeah, Chelsea and Xav already have a pretty good set-
up, I guess. I’ll head to Brooklyn to see them before the baby comes.

  Chelsea had worked at the diner for years but had recently headed off to Brooklyn to make something of herself, along with her boyfriend, that dark and brooding teen, Xavier. Again, Carmella marveled at the bravery of such young people, off to craft a world of their own design without a worry in the world. To be young and untouchable.

  “Hi, there!” Mandy said brightly. “We aren’t so busy tonight, so grab a booth wherever you please. That one over by the jukebox has your name on it, as usual, I guess. Can I grab you some milkshakes to get you started?”

  Her energy buzzed wildly. Carmella hesitated, glanced toward Cody, and then forced herself to nod. “That would be great.”

  “Just coffee for me,” Cody interjected.

  Carmella’s smile faltered a bit. “Okay. Maybe no milkshakes today, then.”

  “Two coffees?”

  “Sure.”

  Carmella led Cody off to their traditional booth. Mandy lay two sticky menus onto the table and then sauntered off to pour them two mugs of coffee. Cody placed his face in his hands for a long, uncomfortable moment. Carmella’s heart beat like a drum at war — monstrously loud and ominous. Her mind continued to flash with images from the previous twenty-four hours. She felt she staggered through the remainder of it; the path toward midnight was made of jagged rock.

  “You want a burger?” she finally asked Cody.

  Cody grumbled. “I guess.”

  “And we can share fries and onion rings?”

  “Sure.”

  Carmella gave the order to Mandy when she returned with their coffees. Cody stared into the glistening dark liquid. Her heart aching, Carmella reached for her purse and drew out three dollar bills, enough money for six songs on the jukebox. Hurriedly, she rushed for the old machine, as though it and it alone could bring healing and peace to their strange day. Within the next minute, she’d selected Fugee’s “Killing Me Softly,” which she and Cody traditionally sang at the top of their lungs for all to hear.

  Back at the table, Cody ripped open his sugar packets and dropped the morsels into the liquid. He stirred with a small spoon; it clacked against the sides of the mug.

  “Remember this, Code?” Carmella tried. “I particularly remember that night after prom when we drove around and belted this out as loud as we could.”

  Cody nodded the slightest bit as though this was a memory far beneath the surface for him — nothing he could fully draw up any longer. “Yeah. Fun, wild times.”

  Carmella swallowed the lump in her throat. She sipped her coffee which was absolutely terrible, probably something they’d brewed up about seven hours before when normal people drank coffee. She wanted a milkshake; she wanted her best friend to act like her best friend; she wanted to take back every silly thing she’d done over the previous twenty-four hours and sleep like an innocent child again. It was too much to ask.

  When Fugees finished, up came Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere,” another of their favorites. Cody’s eyes brightened just the slightest bit.

  “Guess you played all of our tunes, huh?”

  “Only the best for you,” Carmella affirmed.

  Cody’s phone buzzed. He dotted a finger on it and drew up a number of messages, all from Fiona. He grumbled inwardly.

  “What did she say?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me.”

  Cody arched an eyebrow. He looked on the verge of disputing this fact. Carmella rose up and told him she planned to go to the bathroom. She walked in time to Fleetwood Mac, all the way to the stall, where she collapsed on the toilet seat and placed her face in her hands. Once there, she too received a message.

  CAL: I couldn’t believe you stepped off that boat with Helen Skarsgaard.

  CAL: I should have known better than to comprehend what kind of woman you were.

  CAL: You can’t be caged ;)

  Carmella’s throat closed at the thought of him actually scribing these words. What purpose did he think they had? She knew he only wanted to get close to her again to hear more about what had happened with Helen, about her innermost secrets. Carmella couldn’t believe she had allowed some quasi-handsome reporter to make her so weak at the knees that she’d given him so much of her soul. The soul was a funny thing once you revealed it to others, you couldn’t necessarily get it back.

  CARMELLA: Never contact me again.

  She then immediately blocked him. This was at least a bit empowering. It was up to her to draw a line in the sand around her own emotions. Men like Cal weren’t allowed in. Never again, that is.

  Again, she thanked her lucky stars that all she’d done was kiss him. She hadn’t given him everything. And now, she would spend the rest of her life forgetting his name.

  When Carmella returned to the dining area, the jukebox switched over to the classic ‘90s hit, “Nothing Compares 2 U” by Sinead O’Connor. For years, she and Cody had imitated the music video — attempting to make themselves cry, like Sinead, and staring at one another bug-eyed until one or the other started to laugh instead.

  “It’s been seven hours and fifteen days...” Carmella began as she slid into the booth.

  Cody was curled strangely over the table. Again, he had his hands over his cheeks. His forehead was wrinkled as though he was deep in thought. He didn’t play along. In fact, he looked on the verge of some kind of breakdown.

  Mandy arrived with their platters of food. She arched an eyebrow at Cody, made eye contact with Carmella, then walked off to attend to another table.

  “Code? Can you at least tell me what’s up?”

  Carmella reached for a French fry and ripped it in half. She then placed the piping hot potato on her tongue and waited. Finally, Cody lifted his face to show red-rimmed eyes.

  “You did it,” Carmella said.

  Cody furrowed his brow even more. “Did what?”

  “You cried during ‘Nothing Compares 2 U.’ Just like we always tried to make ourselves do.”

  “Oh. Yep. I guess I did.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  Carmella’s heart darkened. “Did Fiona text you again?”

  “Not exactly.”

  The conversation was strained. Carmella chewed at her lower lip and then ate another fry. She and Cody had had off days before for sure, but this was something else. She felt outside her element, uncomfortable.

  “Carmella, these songs just bring up complicated memories for me, okay?”

  Carmella’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean?”

  “I just mean, Carm — they’re beautiful memories, but they’re ours. They belong to the two of us. And it just reminds me how much I — gosh, forget it. You don’t want to hear it. Not after the day you’ve had.”

  Carmella was flustered. She wrapped a strand of hair behind her ear and gaped at him. “Cody, please. If I’ve made you upset, I want to know why.”

  Cody’s nostrils flared. “Year after year, I was there for you. You were my everything, Carmella. You were always in so much pain, and I knew that, and I always waited for you and wanted you to be comfortable and happy. And I told myself, maybe we’ll figure it out sooner than later. Maybe we’ll find a way to be together then. But year after year, you just grew darker and angrier. And you seemed like you wanted nothing to do with me. And now, we’re here. We’re middle-aged, dammit. At least, right now, I feel pretty stinkin’ old. And our lives have passed us by. I don’t want to be reminded of all the times we could have been together. I don’t want to be reminded of the greatest loss of my life. And I know how selfish that sounds. Look, I have you here. You’re my best friend. I guess that should be enough.”

  Cody lifted the mug of coffee and drank down the rest. He then glanced at his food, grimaced and shot up from the booth. Carmella gaped at him. He seemed unwilling to allow her to speak. He paused just over the table as the last beats of “Nothing Compares 2 U” came through the old speakers.

  “I
’ve been there for you on every bad day, in every way that I could be,” he said finally. “And I don’t know if you were just too selfish to notice my love for you, or you just didn’t want to, but here we are. Forty-two years old. And I have a child to care for and a potential ex-wife to get back together with. I don’t know. Maybe it’s time we take a break. Maybe that’s the healthy thing to do.”

  Carmella reached out and gripped Cody’s wrist. His eyes found hers for the shortest, briefest, most powerful of seconds. He then drew his hand away and marched for the door. Carmella sat in dismay as her thoughts raced through her mind. Another song played on the jukebox, The Kinks’ “This Time Tomorrow,” which now was the equivalent of feeling a punch to the stomach. Carmella’s eyes stung with tears.

  It had been a perfectly horrible day — the kind of days Shakespeare wrote three-hour plays about. Carmella drew her neck forward and let out a long, slow sob. Mandy rushed for her table with a milkshake.

  “Thank you. That is so sweet.” Carmella gasped as terror wrapped around her heart. Tears drew long streaks down her cheeks. She had literally no idea how to go through life without Cody. He was her rock. He was her map. He was her everything.

  “You like strawberries, don’t you?”

  Carmella lifted her eyes to Mandy’s. She tried to understand the question. “What?”

  “I mean the milkshake. It’s the kind I made you. I was pretty sure you liked this flavor.”

  “Oh, gosh. Yes. I do.” Carmella stabbed a straw into the center of the icy delight and sucked slowly. The sugar felt like a crime. What the hell was she doing there all alone at the diner she so loved, without the best friend she loved the most?

  “Please, let me know if I can do anything,” Mandy told her. There was none of that funny teenager sarcasm to her words. Maybe, already, she’d begun to reckon with the fact that life was a sad and dark thing, sometimes. Maybe, already, she’d begun to soften her edges.

  “There’s nothing to be done. I already made all the mistakes a long time ago,” Carmella offered with a dry laugh. “I guess now I have to stare them straight in the face.”