Every Summer After

AJOVEBOOK
PublishedbyBerkley
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Copyright?2022byCarleyFortune
ReadersGuidecopyright?2022byCarleyFortune
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LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationData
Names:Fortune,Carley,author.
Title:Everysummerafter/CarleyFortune.
Description:Firstedition.|NewYork:Jove,2022.
Identifiers:LCCN2021045380(print)|LCCN2021045381(ebook)|ISBN9780593438534(tradepaperback)|ISBN9780593438541(ebook)
Subjects:LCGFT:Romancefiction.
Classification:LCCPR9199.4.F678E942022(print)|LCCPR9199.4.F678(ebook)|DDC813/.6—dc23/eng/20211006
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2021045380
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2021045381
FirstEdition:May2022
CoverdesignbyVi-AnNguyen
CoverartbyElizabethLennie
BookdesignbyAshleyTucker,adaptedforebookbyCoraWigen
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
pid_prh_6.0_139973820_c0_r1Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
ReadersGuide
AbouttheAuthorTomyparents,fortakingustothelake
AndtoBob,forlettingmegoback1
Now
Thefourthcocktailhadseemedlikeagoodidea.Sodidthebangs,cometothinkofit.ButnowthatI’mstrugglingtounlockmyapartmentdoor,I’mguessingImightregretthatlastspritzinthemorning.Maybethebangs,too.JunetoldmebreakupbangswerealmostalwaysaverybadchoicewhenIsatinherchairforacuttoday.ButJunewasn’tgoingtoherfriend’sengagementcelebration,newlysingle,thatnight.Bangswereinorder.
It’snotthatI’mstillinlovewithmyex;I’mnot.Ineverwas.Sebastianiskindofasnob.Anup-and-comingcorporatelawyer,hewouldn’thavelastedonehouratChantal’spartywithoutscoffingatherchoiceofsignaturedrinkandreferencingsomepretentiousarticlehereadintheNewYorkTimesthatdeclaredAperolspritzes“over.”Instead,hewouldpretendtostudythewinelist,askthebartenderannoyingquestionsaboutterroirandacidityand,regardlessoftheanswers,gowithaglassofthemostexpensivered.It’snotthathehasexceptionaltasteorknowsalotaboutwine;hedoesn’t.Hejustbuysexpensivestufftogivetheimpressionofbeingdiscerning.
SebastianandIweretogetherforsevenmonths,givingourrelationshipthedistinctionofbeingmylongest-lastingoneyet.Intheend,hesaidhedidn’treallyknowwhoIwas.Andhehadapoint.
BeforeSebastian,theguysIpickedwereupforagoodtimeanddidn’tseemtomindkeepingthingscasual.BythetimeImethim,IfiguredbeingaseriousadultmeantIshouldfindsomeonetogetseriousabout.Sebastianfitthebill.Hewasattractive,wellread,andsuccessful,anddespitebeingabitpompous,hecouldtalktoanyoneaboutalmostanything.ButIstillfoundithardtosharetoomanypiecesofmyself.I’dlongagolearnedtotampdownmytendencytoletrandomthoughtsspewunfilteredfrommymouth.IthoughtIwasdoingagoodjobofgivingtherelationshiparealchance,butintheendSebastianrecognizedmyindifference,andhewasright.Ididn’tcareabouthim.Ididn’tcareaboutanyofthem.
Therewasonlytheone.
Andthatoneislonggone.
SoIenjoyspendingtimewithmen,andIappreciatehowsexgivesmeanescapeladderoutofmymind.Ilikemakingmenlaugh,Ilikehavingcompany,Iliketakingabreakfrommyvibratoronceinawhile,butIdon’tgetattached,andIdon’tgodeep.
I’mstillfumblingwithmykey—seriously,issomethingwrongwiththelock?—whenmyphonebuzzesinmypurse.Whichisweird.Noonecallsmethislate.Actually,nooneevercallsme,exceptforChantalandmyparents.ButChantalisstillatherpartyandmyparentsaretouringPragueandwon’tbeawakeyet.ThebuzzingstopsjustasIgetthedooropenandstumbleintomysmallone-bedroomapartment.Icheckthemirrorbytheentrancetofindmylipstickmostlysmudgedoffbutmybangslookingprettyphenomenal.Suckit,June
IbegintounfastenthestrappygoldsandalsI’mwearing,adarksheetofhairfallingovermyface,whenmyphonestartsupagain.Idigitoutofmypurseand,oneshoeoff,makemywaytowardthecouch,frowningatthe“unknownname”messageonthescreen.Probablyawrongnumber.
“Hello?”Iask,bendingtotakeoffthesecondsandal.
“IsthisPercy?”
IstanduprightsofastIhavetoholdontothearmofthecouchtosteadymyself.Percy.It’sanamenobodycallsmeanymore.ThesedaysI’mPersephonetoalmosteveryone.SometimesI’mP.ButI’mneverPercy.Ihaven’tbeenPercyforyears
“Hello…Percy?”Thevoiceisdeepandsoft.It’soneIhaven’theardinmorethanadecade,butsofamiliarI’msuddenlythirteenyearsoldandslatheredinSPF45,readingpaperbacksonthedock.I’msixteenandpeelingoffmyclothestojumpintothelake,nakedandstickyafterashiftattheTavern.I’mseventeenandlyingonSam’sbedinadampbathingsuit,watchinghislongfingersmoveacrosstheanatomytextbookhe’sstudyingbymyfeet.Bloodrusheshottomyfacewithawhoosh,andthesteady,thickpumpingofmyheartinvadesmyeardrums.Itakeashakybreathandsit,stomachmusclesseizing.
“Yes,”Imanage,andheletsoutalong,relieved-soundingbreath.
“It’sCharlie.”
Charlie.
NotSam.
Charlie.Thewrongbrother.
“CharlesFlorek,”Charlieclarifies,andbeginsexplaininghowhetrackeddownmynumber—somethingaboutafriendofafriendandaconnectionatthemagazinewhereIwork—butI’mbarelylistening.
“Charlie?”Iinterrupt.Myvoiceishigh-pitchedandtight,onepartspritzandtwopartsshock.Ormaybeallpartstotaldisappointment.BecausethisvoicedoesnotbelongtoSam.
Butofcourseitdoesn’t.
“Iknow,Iknow.It’sbeenalongtime.God,Idon’tevenknowhowlong,”hesays,anditsoundslikeanapology.
ButIdo.Iknowexactlyhowlong.Ikeepcount.
It’sbeentwelveyearssinceI’veseenCharlie.TwelveyearssincethatcatastrophicThanksgivingweekendwheneverythingbetweenSamandmefellapart.WhenItoreeverythingapart.
IusedtocountthenumberofdaysuntilmyfamilywouldheaduptothecottagesoIcouldseeSamagain.Nowhe’sapainfulmemoryIkeephiddendeepbeneathmyribs.
IalsoknowI’vegonemoreyearswithoutSamthanIspentwithhim.TheThanksgivingthatmarkedsevenyearssinceI’dspokentohim,Ihadapanicattack,myfirstinages,thendrankmywaythroughabottleandahalfofrosé.Itfeltmonumental:I’dofficiallybeenwithouthimformoreyearsthanwe’dhadtogetheratthelake.I’dcriedinugly,heavingsobsonthebathroomtilesuntilIpassedout.ChantalcameoverthenextdaywithgreasytakeoutandheldmyhairbackasIpuked,tearsstreamingdownmyface,andItoldhereverything.
“It’sbeenforever,”ItellCharlie.
“Iknow.AndI’msorrytocallyousolate,”hesays.HesoundssomuchlikeSamithurts,asifthere’salumpofdoughlodgedinmythroat.IrememberwhenwewerefourteenanditwasalmostimpossibletotellhimapartfromCharlieonthephone.IremembernoticingotherthingsaboutSamthatsummer,too
“Listen,Pers.I’mcallingwithsomenews,”hesays,usingthenameheusedtocallmebutsoundingmuchmoreseriousthantheCharlieIonceknew.Ihearhimbreatheinthroughhisnose.“Mompassedawayafewdaysago,andI…well,Ithoughtyou’dwanttoknow.”
Hiswordsslamintomelikeatsunami,andIstruggletofullyunderstandthem.Sue’sdead?Suewasyoung.
AllIcangetoutisaragged-sounding“What?”
Charliesoundsexhaustedwhenhereplies.“Cancer.She’dbeenfightingitforacoupleofyears.We’redevastated,ofcourse,butshewassickofbeingsick,youknow?”
Andnotforthefirsttime,itfeelslikesomeonestolethescripttomylifestoryandwroteitallwrong.ItseemsimpossiblethatSuewassick.Sue,withherbigsmileandherdenimcutoffsandherwhite-blondponytail.Sue,whomadethebestpierogiesintheuniverse.Sue,whotreatedmelikeadaughter.Sue,whoIdreamedonedaymightbeamother-in-lawtome.Sue,whowassickforyearswithoutmeknowing.Ishouldhaveknown.Ishouldhavebeenthere.
“I’mso,sosorry,”Ibegin.“I…Idon’tknowwhattosay.Yourmomwas…shewas…”Isoundpanicked,Icanhearit.
Holdittogether,Itellmyself.YoulostrightstoSuealongtimeago.Youarenotallowedtofallapartrightnow.
IthinkabouthowSueraisedtwoboysonherownwhilerunningtheTavern,andaboutthefirsttimeImether,whenshecameovertothecottagetoassuremymucholderparentsthatSamwasagoodkidandthatshewouldkeepaneyeonus.Irememberwhenshetaughtmehowtoholdthreeplatesatonceandthetimeshetoldmenottotakecrapfromanyboy,includingherowntwosons.
“Shewas…everything,”Isay.“Shewassuchagoodmom.”
“Shewas.AndIknowshemeantalottoyouwhenwewerekids.That’ssortofwhyI’mcalling,”saysCharlie,tentative.“HerfuneralisonSunday.Iknowit’sbeenalongtime,butIthinkyoushouldbethere.Willyoucome?”
Alongtime?It’sbeentwelveyears.TwelveyearssinceI’vemadethedrivenorthtotheplacethatwasmorelikehometomethananywhereelsehasbeen.TwelveyearssinceIdove,headfirst,intothelake.Twelveyearssincemylifecrashedspectacularlyoffcourse.TwelveyearssinceI’veseenSam.
Butthere’sonlyoneanswer.
“OfcourseIwill.”2
Summer,SeventeenYearsAgo
Idon’tthinkmyparentsknewwhentheyboughtthecottagethattwoadolescentboyslivedinthehousenextdoor.MomandDadwantedtogivemeanescapefromthecity,abreakfromotherkidsmyage,andtheFlorekboys,whowentunsupervisedforlongstretchesoftheafternoonsandevenings,wereprobablyasbigasurprisetothemastheyweretome.
Afewofthekidsinmyclasshadsummerhomes,buttheywereallinMuskoka,justashortdrivenorthfromthecity,wherethewordcottagedidn’tseemquiterightforthewaterfrontmansionsthatlinedthearea’srockyshores.Dadflat-outrefusedtolookinMuskoka.Hesaidifweboughtacottagethere,wemightaswellstayinTorontoforthesummer—itwastooclosetothecityandtoofullofTorontonians.SoheandMomfocusedtheirsearchonruralcommunitiesfurthernortheast,whichDaddeclaredtoodevelopedortoooverpriced,andthenfurtherstilluntilfinallytheysettledonBarry’sBay,asleepy,working-classvillagethattransformedintoabustlingtouristtowninthesummer,sidewalksburstingwithcottagersandEuropeansightseersontheirwaytocamporhikeinAlgonquinProvincialPark.“You’llloveitthere,kiddo,”hepromised.“It’stherealcottagecountry.”
Iwouldeventuallylookforwardtothefour-hourdrivefromourTudorinmidtownTorontotothelake,butthatfirsttripspannedaneternity.Entirecivilizationsroseandfellbythetimewepassedthe“WelcometoBarry’sBay”sign,DadandIinthemovingtruckandMomfollowingbehindintheLexus.UnlikeMom’scar,thetruckhadneitheradecentsoundsystemnorair-conditioning,andIwasstucklisteningtothemonotonoushumofCBCRadio,thebacksofmythighsgluedtothevinylbenchandmybangsplasteredtomyclammyforehead
Almostallthegirlsinmyseventh-gradeclassgotbangsafterDelilahMasondid,thoughtheydidn’tsuittherestofusaswell.Delilahwasthemostpopulargirlinourgrade,andIconsideredmyselfluckytobeoneofherclosestfriends.OratleastIusedto,butthatwasbeforethesleepoverincident.Herbangsformedaneatredvalanceoverherforeheadwhileminedefiedbothgravityandstylingproducts,juttingoutinoddpoufsandangles,makingmelookeverybittheawkwardthirteen-year-oldIwas,ratherthanthemysteriousdark-eyedbrunetteIwantedtobe.Myhairwasneitherstraightnorcurlyandseemedtochangeitspersonalitybasedonanunpredictablenumberoffactors,fromthedayoftheweektotheweathertothewayIsleptthenightbefore.WhereasIwoulddoanythingIcouldtomakepeoplelikeme,myhairrefusedtofallinline.
WINDINGDOWNTHEbushlandonthewesternshoreofKamaniskegLake,BareRockLanewasanarrowdirtroadthatliveduptoitsname.ThedriveDadturneddownwassoovergrownthatbranchesscrapedthesidesofthesmalltruck.
“Smellthat,kiddo?”Dadasked,rollingdownhiswindowaswebumpedalonginthetruck.Togetherweinhaleddeeply,andthescentoflong-fallenpineneedlesfilledmynostrils,earthyandmedicinal.
WepulleduptothebackdoorofamodestwoodA-framecabinthatwasdwarfedbythewhiteandredpinesthatgrewaroundit.Dadshutofftheengineandturnedtome,asmilebelowhisgrayingmustacheandeyescrinklingunderdark-rimmedglasses,andsaid,“Welcometothelake,Persephone.”
Thecottagehadthisincrediblesmoky-woodsmell.Somehowitneverfaded,evenafteryearsofMomburningherexpensiveDiptyquecandles.EachtimeIreturned,I’dstandattheentrance,breathingitin,justlikeIdidthatfirstday.Themainfloorwasasmallopenspace,coveredfloortoceilinginpaleplanksofknottedwood.Massivewindowsopenedontoanalmostobnoxiouslystunningviewofthelake.
“Wow,”Imurmured,spottingastaircaseleadingfromthedeckanddownasteephill.
“Notbad,huh?”Dadpattedmeontheshoulder.
“I’mgoingtocheckoutthewater,”Isaid,alreadydartingoutthesidedoor,whichclosedbehindmewithanenthusiasticthwack.IfleddowndozensofstepsuntilIreachedthedock.Itwasahumidafternoon,everyinchofskycarpetedbythickgraycloudsthatweremirroredinthestill,silverwaterbelow.Icouldbarelymakeoutthecottagesthatdottedthefarshore.IwonderedifIcouldswimacrossit.Isatontheedgeofthedock,legsdanglinginthewater,shockedathowquietitwas,untilMomyelleddownformetohelpunpack.
Weweretiredandcrankyfrommovingboxesandfightingoffmosquitoesbythetimeweunloadedthetruck.IleftMomandDadtogetthekitchenorganizedandheadedupstairs.Thereweretwobedrooms;myparentsforfeitedthelakesideonetome,sayingthatsinceIspentmoretimeinmyroom,I’dmakebetteruseoftheview.Iunpackedmyclothes,madethebed,andfoldedaHudson’sBayblanketattheend.Daddidn’tthinkweneededsuchheavywoolblanketsinsummer,butMominsistedonhavingoneforeachbed.
“It’sCanadiana,”sheexplainedinatonethatsaidthatshouldhavebeenobvious.
IarrangedaperilouslyhighstackofpaperbacksononenightstandandtackedupaCreaturefromtheBlackLagoonposterabovethebed.Ihadathingforhorror.Iwatchedatonofscarymovies,myparentshavinglongagogivenuponcensoringthem,andhooveredclassicR.L.StineandChristopherPikebooks,aswellasnewerseriesabouthotteenswhoturnedintowerewolvesduringfullmoonsandhotteenswhohuntedghostsaftercheerleadingpractice.BackwhenIstillhadfriends,I’dbringthebookstoschoolandreadthegoodbits(asinanythinggoryorremotelysexy)aloud.Atfirst,Ijustlovedgettingareactionfromthegirls,lovedbeingthecenterofattentionbutwiththesafetynetofsomeoneelse’swordsastheentertainment.ButthemorehorrorIread,themoreIgrewtolovethewriting
“Pizzafordinner?”Momstoodatthedoorway,eyeingtheposterbutsayingnothing.
“Theyhavepizza?”Barry’sBayhadn’tlookedbigenoughtohavedelivery.And,itturnedout,itwasn’t,sowedrovetothetakeout-onlyPizzaPizza,locatedinacornerofoneofthetown’stwogrocerystores.
“Howmanypeoplelivehere?”IaskedMom.Itwassevenp.m.,andmostofthebusinessesonthemaindraglookedclosed.
“Aboutonethousandtwohundred,thoughIexpectit’sprobablytriplethatinthesummerwithallthecottagers,”shesaid.Withtheexceptionofacrowdedrestaurantpatio,thetownwasprettymuchdeserted.“TheTavernmustbetheplacetobeonaSaturdaynight,”shecommented,slowingdownaswepassed.
“Itlookslikeit’stheonlyplacetobe,”Ireplied.
Bythetimewegotback,DadhadthesmallTVsetup.Therewasnocable,butwehadpackedourfamilyDVDcollection
“IwasthinkingTheGreatOutdoors,”saidDad.“Seemsappropriate,don’tyouthink,kiddo?”
“Hmm…”Icroucheddowntoinspectthecontentsofthecabinet.“TheBlairWitchProjectwouldalsobeappropriate.”
“I’mnotwatchingthat,”Momsaid,settingoutplatesandnapkinsnexttothepizzaboxesonthecoffeetable.
“TheGreatOutdoorsitis,”saidDad,poppingitintotheplayer.“ClassicJohnCandy.Whatcouldbebetter?”
Thewindhadpickedupoutside,movingthroughthepineboughs,andwaveswerenowtravelingacrossthelake’ssurface.Thebreezecomingthroughthewindowssmelledlikerain.
“Yeah,”Isaid,takingabiteofmyslice.“Thisisactuallyprettygreat.”
ABOLTOFlightningziggedthroughthesky,illuminatingthepinesandthelakeandthehillsofthefarshore,likesomeonehadtakenaflashphotowithagiantcamera.Iwatchedthestorm,transfixed,frommybedroomwindows.TheviewwassomuchbiggerthanthewedgeofskyIcouldseefrommyroominToronto,thethundersolouditseemedtoberightabovethecottage,asthoughithadbeencustomorderedforourfirstnight.Eventuallythedeafeningclapsfadedintodistantrumbles,andIslippedbackintobed,listeningtotherainpeltingthewindows.
MomandDadwerealreadydownstairswhenIwokethenextmorning,momentarilyconfusedbythebrightsuncomingthroughthewindowsandripplesoflightmovingacrosstheceiling.Theysat,coffeesattheready,readingmaterialsinhand—DadinthearmchairwithanissueofTheEconomist,scratchinghisbeardabsentmindedly,andMomonastoolatthekitchencounter,flippingthroughathickdesignmagazine,heroversizedred-framedglassesbalancingonthetipofhernose.
“Hearthatthunderlastnight,kiddo?”Dadasked.
“Kindahardtomiss,”Isaid,grabbingaboxofcerealfromthestillmostlyemptycupboards.“Idon’tthinkIgotalotofsleep.”
Afterbreakfast,Ifilledacanvastotewithsupplies—anovel,acoupleofmagazines,lipbalm,andatubeofSPF45—andheadeddowntothelake.Thoughithadpouredthenightbefore,thedockwasalreadydryfromthemorningsun.
Iplacedmytoweldownandslatheredsunscreenallovermyface,thenlayonmystomach,faceproppedonmyhands.Therewasn’tanotherdockformaybeanother150metersononeside,buttheoneintheotherdirectionwasrelativelyclose.Therewasarowboattiedtoitandaraftfloatingfurtheroutfromshore.IpulledoutmypaperbackandpickedupfromwhereIleftoffthenightbefore.
ImusthavefallenasleepbecauseIwassuddenlyjerkedawakebyaloudsplashandthesoundofboysyellingandlaughing.
“I’llgetyou!”oneshouted.
“Likeyoucould!”adeepervoicetaunted.
Splash!
Twoheadsbobbedinthelakenexttotheneighbor’sraft.Stilllyingonmybelly,Iwatchedthemclimbontotheraft,takingturnslaunchingthemselvesoffinflipsanddivesandflops.ItwasearlyJuly,buttheywerebothbronzedalready.Iguessedtheywerebrothersandthatthesmaller,skinnyonewasprobablyclosetomyage.Theolderboystoodaheadabovehim,shadowshintingatleanmusclesrunningalonghistorsoandarms.Whenhetossedtheyoungeroneoverhisshoulderintothewater,Isatuplaughing.Theyhadn’tnoticedmeuntilthen,butnowtheolderboystoodlookinginmydirectionwithabigsmileacrosshisface.Thesmalleroneclimbedupontheraftbesidehim.
“Hey!”theolderboyshoutedwithawave.
“Hi!”Iyelledback.
“Newneighbor?”hecalledover.
“Yeah,”Ihollered.
Theyoungerboystoodstaringuntiltheolderoneshovedhisshoulder.
“Jesus,Sam.Sayhi.”
Samraisedhishandandstaredatmebeforetheolderboypushedhimbackintothelake.
ITTOOKEIGHThoursfortheFlorekboystofindme.IwassittingonthedeckwithmybookafterwashingthedinnerdisheswhenIheardaknockatthebackdoor.Istrainedmyneckbutcouldn’tseewhoMomwastalkingto,soItuckedmybookmarkintothepagesandpushedmyselfoutofthefoldingchair.
“Wesawagirlonyourdockearliertodayandwantedtocomesayhi.”Thevoicebelongedtoateenageboy,deepishbutyoungsounding.“Mybrotherdoesn’thaveanyonehisagenearbytoplaywith.”
“Play?I’mnotababy,”asecondboyreplied,hiswordscrackinginirritation.
Momlookedatmeoverhershoulder,eyesnarrowedinquestion.“You’vegotvisitors,Persephone,”shesaid,makingitclearshewasn’texactlypleasedaboutthatfact.
Isteppedoutsideandclosedthescreendoorbehindme,lookingupatthetawny-hairedboysI’dseenswimmingearlierintheday.Theywereclearlyrelated—bothlankyandtanned—buttheirdifferenceswerejustasplain.Whereastheolderboywassmilingwide,scrubbedcleanandclearlyknewhiswayaroundabottleofstylinggel,theyoungeronewasstaringathisfeet,awavytangleofhairfallinghaphazardlyoverhiseyes.HeworebaggycargoshortsandafadedWeezerT-shirtthatwasatleastonesizetoobig;theolderboywasdressedinjeans,afittedwhitecrewneckandblackConverse,therubbertoesperfectlywhite.
“Hi,Persephone,I’mCharlie,”thebiggeronesaid,withdeepdimplesandcelery-greeneyesdancingacrossmyface.Cute.Boy-bandcute.“Andthisismybrother,Sam.”Heputhishandontheyoungerboy’sshoulder.Samgavemeareluctanthalfgrinfromunderaswooshofhair,thenlookeddownagain.Ifiguredhewastallforhisage,butallthatlengthmadehimgangly,hisarmsandlegstwiggysticks,andhiselbowsandkneessharpasjaggedrocks.Hisfeetlookedliketrippinghazards.
“Uh…hey,”Istarted,lookingbetweenthem.“IthinkIsawyouguysdownatthelaketoday.”
“Yup,thatwasus,”saidCharliewhileSamkickedatpineneedles.“Welivenextdoor.”
“Like,allthetime?”Iasked,givingoxygentothefirstthoughtthatcameintomyhead.
“Year-round,”heconfirmed.
“We’refromToronto,sothis,”Isaid,wavingaroundatthesurroundingbush,“isprettynewforme.You’reluckytolivehere.”
Samsnortedatthat,butCharliewenton,ignoringhim.
“Well,SamandIwouldbehappytoshowyouaround.Wouldn’twe,Sam?”heaskedhisbrother,notpausingfortheanswer.“Andyou’rewelcometouseourraftanytime.Wedon’tmind,”hesaid,stillsmiling.Hespokewiththeconfidenceofanadult.
“Cool.Idefinitelywill,thanks.”Igavehimashysmileback.
“Listen,Ihaveafavortoaskyou,”saidCharlieconspiratorially.Samgroanedfromunderhismopofsandyhair.“Somefriendsofminearecomingbytonight,andIthoughtSamcouldhangoutwithyouherewhilethey’reover.Hedoesn’thavemuchofasociallife,andyoulookaboutthesameage,”hesaid,givingmeaonce-over.
“I’mthirteen,”Ireplied,glancingatSamtoseeifhehadanopiniononthisproposal,buthewasstillexaminingtheground.Ormaybehissubmarine-sizefeet.
“Perrrrfect,”Charliepurred.“Sam’sthirteen,too.I’mfifteen,”headdedproudly.
“Congratulations,”Sammuttered.
Charliecontinued,“Anyway,Persephone…”
“Percy,”Iinterruptedwithaburst.Charliegavemeafunnylook.IlaughednervouslyandspunthefriendshipbraceletIworearoundmywrist,explaining,“It’sPercy.Persephoneis…toomuchname.Andabitpretentious.”Samstraightenedupandlookedatmethen,scrunchinghiseyebrowsandnosemomentarily.Hisfacewaskindofordinary,nofeatureespeciallymemorable,exceptforhiseyes,whichwereashockingshadeofskyblue.
“Percyitis,”Charlieagreed,butmyattentionwasstillonSam,whowatchedmewithhisheadtilted.Charlieclearedhisthroat.“SoasIwassaying,you’dbedoingmeahugefavorifyou’dentertainmylittlebrotherfortheevening.”
“Jesus,”SamwhisperedatthesametimeIasked,“Entertain?”Weblinkedateachother.Ishiftedmyweightonmyfeet,notsurewhattosay.IthadbeenmonthssinceI’doffendedDelilahMasonsofantasticallythatInolongerhadanyfriends,monthssinceI’dspenttimewithsomeonemyage,butthelastthingIwantedwasforSamtobeforcedtohangoutwithme.BeforeIcouldsayso,hespokeup.
“Youdon’thavetoifyoudon’twant.”Hesoundedapologetic.“He’sjusttryingtogetridofmebecauseMom’snothome.”Charliebeltedhimacrossthechest.
ThetruthwasIwantedafriendmorethanIwantedmybangstobehave.IfSamwaswilling,Icouldusethecompany.
“Idon’tmind,”Itoldhim,addingwithfalseconfidence,“Imean,itisahugeimposition.Soyoucanshowmehowtodooneofthosesomersaultsofftheraftaspayback.”Hegavemealopsidedgrin.Itwasaquietsmile,butitwasagreatsmile,hisblueeyesglintinglikeseaglassagainsthissunnyskin.
Ididthat,Ithought,athrillrunningthroughme.Iwantedtodoitagain.3
Now
Myteenageselfwouldn’tbelieveit,butIdon’townacar.Backthen,IwasdeterminedtohavemyownsetofwheelssoIcouldheadnortheveryweekendpossible.Thesedays,mylifeisconfinedtoaleafyareainToronto’swestend,whereIlive,andthecity’sdowntowncore,whereIwork.Icangettotheoffice,thegym,andmyparents’condobyeitherwalkingorpublictransit.
Ihavefriendswhohaven’teverbotheredgettingtheirlicense;they’rethekindofpeoplewhobragaboutnevergoingnorthofBloorStreet.Theirwholeworldisconfinedtoastylishlittleurbanbubble,andthey’reproudofit.Mineis,too,butsometimesIfeellikeI’msuffocating.
Thetruthis,thecityhasn’treallyfeltlikehomesinceIwasthirteenandfellinlovewiththelakeandthecottageandthebush.Mostofthetime,though,Idon’tletmyselfthinkaboutthat.Idon’thavetimeto.TheworldI’vebuiltformyselfburstswiththetrappingsofurbanbusyness—thelatehoursattheoffice,thespinclasses,andthemanybrunches.It’showIlikeit.Anoverstuffedcalendarbringsmejoy.ButeverysooftenIcatchmyselffantasizingaboutleavingthecity—findingasmallplaceonthewatertowrite,workingatarestaurantonthesidetopaythebills—andmyskinstartsfeelingtootight,likemylifedoesn’tfit.
ThiswouldsurpriseprettymucheveryoneIknow.I’mathirty-year-oldwomanwhomostlyhashershittogether.MyapartmentisthetopfloorofabighouseinRoncesvalles,aPolishneighborhoodwhereyoucanstillfindadecentenoughpierogi.Thespaceisstriking,withexposedbeamsandslantingceilings,and,sure,it’stiny,butafullone-bedroominthispartofthecitydoesn’tcomecheap,andmysalaryatSheltermagazineis…modest.Okay,it’scrap.Butthat’stypicalofmediajobs,andwhilemypaymaybesmall,myjobisabigone.
I’veworkedatShelterforfouryears,climbingsteadilyuptheranksfromlowlyeditorialassistanttosenioreditor.Thatputsmeinapositionofpower,assigningstoriesandoverseeingphotoshootsatthecountry’sbiggestdecormagazine.Thanksinlargeparttomyefforts,wehaveamassedadedicatedfollowingonsocialmediaandahugeonlineaudience.It’sworkthatIloveandthatI’mgoodat,andatShelter’sfortieth-anniversarybash,themagazine’seditorinchief,Brenda,creditedmewithbringingthepublicationintothedigitalera.Itwasacareerhighlight.
Beinganeditoristhekindofjobthatpeoplethinkisextremelyglamorous.Itlooksfastandflashy,thoughifI’mbeinghonest,itmostlyinvolvessittinginacubicleallday,googlingsynonymsforminimalist.Butthereareproductlaunchestoattendandlunchestobesharedwithup-and-comingdesigners.It’salsothekindofjobthathotshotcorporatelawyersandsocial-climbingbankersswiperighton,whichhasprovedusefulinfindingdatestojoinmeonthecocktailpartycircuit.Andthereareperks,likepresstripsandopenchampagnebars,andanobsceneamountoffreestuff.There’salsoanendlessflowofindustrygossipforChantalandmetochewover,ourfavoritewaytopassaThursdayevening.(AndmymomnevertiresofseeingPersephoneFraserinprintonthemagazine’smasthead.)
Charlie’sphonecallisanaxthroughmybubble,andI’msoanxioustogetnorththatassoonasIhangup,Ibookacarandamotelroomfortomorrow,eventhoughthefuneralisafewdaysfromnow.It’slikeI’vewokenfromatwelve-yearcoma,andmyheadthrobsinanticipationandterror.
I’mgoingtoseeSam.
ISITDOWNtowriteanemailtomyparentstotellthemaboutSue.Theyhaven’tbeenregularlycheckingtheirmessagesonthisEuropeanvacationoftheirs,soIdon’tknowwhenthey’llgetit.Ialsodon’tknowwhethertheywerestillincontactwithSue.MomkeptintouchwithherforatleastafewyearsafterSamandI“brokeup,”buteachtimeshe’dmentionanyoneoftheFloreks,myeyeswouldwellup.Eventuallyshestoppedgivingmeupdates.
IkeepthenoteshortandwhenI’mdone,IthrowsomeclothesintotheRimowasuitcaseIcouldn’taffordbutboughtanyway.It’snowwellaftermidnight,andIhaveaninterviewforworkinthemorningandthenalongdrive,soIchangeintopj’s,liedown,andshutmyeyes.ButI’mtoowiredtosleep.
TherearethesemomentsIcomebacktowhenI’matmymostnostalgic,whenallIwanttodoiscurlupinthepastwithSam.Icanplaytheminmymindasifthey’reoldhomevideos.Iusedtowatchthemallthetimeinuniversity,abedtimeroutineasfamiliarasthepilledHudson’sBayblanketI’dtakenfromthecottage.Butthememoriesandtheregretstheycarriedwiththemchafedliketheblanket’swool,andIwouldlosenightsimaginingwhereSamwasatthatprecisemoment,wonderingifthere’sachancehemightbethinkingofme.SometimesIfeltsurehewas—liketherewasaninvisible,unbreakablestringthatranbetweenus,stretchingvastdistancesandkeepingusjoined.Othertimes,Idozedoffinthemidstofamovieonlytowakeinthemiddleofthenight,mylungsfeelingliketheywereonthevergeofcollapse,andI’dhavetobreathemywaythroughthepanicattack.
Eventually,bytheendofschool,I’dmanagedtoshutoffthenightlybroadcasts,fillingmybraininsteadwithloomingexamsandarticledeadlinesandinternshipapplications,andthepanicattacksbegantosubside.
TonightIhavenosuchrestraint.Icueupourfirsts—thefirsttimewemet,ourfirstkiss,thefirsttimeSamtoldmehelovedme—untiltherealityofseeinghimstartstosinkin,andmythoughtsbecomeaswirlofquestionsIdon’thaveanswersfor.Howwillhereacttomyshowingup?Howmuchhashechanged?Ishesingle?Or,fuck,ishemarried?
Mytherapist,Jennifer—notJen,neverJen—Imadethemistakeonceandwassharplycorrected.Thewomanhasframedquotesonthewall(“Lifebeginsaftercoffee,”and“I’mnotweirdI’mlimitededition”),soI’mnotsurewhatkindofgravitasshethinksherfullnameadds.Anyway,Jenniferhastricksforcopingwiththiskindofanxiousspiraling,butdeepbellybreathsandmantrasdon’tstandachancetonight.IstartedseeingJenniferafewyearsago,shortlyaftertheThanksgivingIspentpukinguproséandspillingmygutstoChantal.Ididn’twanttotalktoatherapist;Ithoughtthatpanicattackhadjustbeenabliponanotherwise(fairlysuccessful!)pathtopushingSamFlorekoutofmyheartandmind,butChantalwasinsistent.“Thisshitisabovemypaygrade,P,”she’dtoldmewithtrademarkbluntforce.
ChantalandImetasinternsatthecitymagazinewheresheisnowtheentertainmenteditor.Webondedoverthepeculiarbusinessoffact-checkingrestaurantreviews(Sothehalibutiscoatedinapinenutdust,notapistachiocrust?)andtheeditorinchief’sfarcicalobsessionwithtennis.Themomentthatsolidifiedourfriendshipwasduringastorymeetingthattheeditorliterallybeganwiththewords,“I’vebeenthinkingalotabouttennis,”andthenturnedtoChantal,whowastheonlyBlackpersonintheentireoffice,andsaid,“Youmustbegreatattennis.”Herfaceremainedperfectlycomposedwhensherepliedthatshedidnotplay,whileatthesametimeIblurted,“Areyoukidding?”
Chantalismyclosestgirlfriend,notthatthere’smuchcompetition.Myreluctancetoshareembarrassingorintimatepartsofmyselfwithotherwomenmakesthemsuspiciousofme.Forinstance:ChantalknewIgrewupwithacottageandthatIhungaroundwiththeboysnextdoor,butshehadnoideaabouttheextentofmyrelationshipwithSam—orhowitendedinamessyexplosionthatleftnosurvivors.IthinkthefactthatI’dkeptsuchafundamentalpieceofmyhistoryfromherwasmoreshockingthanthestoryofwhathappenedallthoseyearsago.
“Youdounderstandwhatitmeanstohavefriends,right?”she’daskedmeafterItoldherthehorribletruth.Consideringthatmytwoclosestfriendsnolongerspeaktome,theanswerprobablyshouldhavebeenNotreally
ButIhavebeenagoodfriendtoChantal.I’mthepersonshecallstobitchaboutworkorherfuturemother-in-law,whoiscontinuallysuggestingChantalrelaxherhairforthewedding.Chantalhasnointerestinwedding-ythings,exceptforhavingabigdanceparty,anopenbar,andakillerdress,which,fair,butsincetheeventneedstocometogethersomehow,I’vebecomethedefaultplanner,puttingtogetherPinterestboardswithdecorinspo.I’mreliable.I’magoodlistener.I’mtheonewhoknowswhatcoolnewrestauranthasthehottestchef.ImakeexcellentManhattans.Iamfun!Ijustdon’twanttotalkaboutwhatkeepsmeawakeatnight.Idon’twanttorevealhowI’mbeginningtoquestionwhetherclimbingtheladderhasmademehappy,howsometimesIlongtowritebutcan’tseemtofindthecourage,orhowlonelyIsometimesfeel.Chantalistheonlypersonwhocanpullitoutofme.
Ofcourse,myreluctancetodiscussSamwithChantalhasnothingtodowithwhetherornotIthinkabouthim.OfcourseIdo.ButItrynotto,andIdon’tstumbleveryoften.Ihaven’thadapanicattacksinceIstartedseeingJennifer.IliketothinkI’vegrownoverthelastdecade.IliketothinkI’vemovedon.Still,everyonceinawhile,thesunwillshimmeroffLakeOntarioinawaythatremindsmeofthecottage,andI’mrightbackontheraftwithhim.
MYHANDSAREshakingsobadlywhenIfillouttheformsattherentalcarcounterthatI’msurprisedtheclerkhandsoverthekeys.BrendawasunderstandingwhenIcalledtoaskfortherestoftheweekoff—Itoldhertherehadbeenadeathinthefamily,andwhileitwastechnicallyalie,Suewaslikefamily.Atleastshehadbeenatonetime.
Iprobablyhadn’tneededtostretchthetruth,though.IhavetakenpreciselyonedayoffthisyearforanextendedValentine’sspaweekendwithChantal—wehavemarkedtheholidaytogethersincewewerebothsingle,andnoboyfriendorfiancéwillputanendtothetradition.
IbrieflyconsidernottellingChantalwhereI’mgoing,butthenIhavevisionsofgettinginanaccidentandnooneknowingwhyIwasonthehighwayfarfromthecity.SoIwriteaquicktextfromtherentalcarlot,addingafewI’mtotallyfineexclamationpointsbeforeIhitsend:Yourpartywassomuchfun!!!(Toomuchfun!Shouldn’thavehadthatlastspritz!)Headingoutoftownforafewdaysforafuneral.Sam’smom.
Hertextbuzzessecondslater:THESam???AreyouOK?
Theanswerisno.
I’llbefine,Iwriteback.
MyphonestartsvibratingassoonasIhitsend,butIletChantal’scallgotovoicemail.I’msolowonsleep,I’mrunningpurelyonadrenalineandthetwovatsofcoffeeIdrankatthismorning’sinterviewwithafull-of-himselfwallpaperdesigner.Ireallydon’twanttotalk.
Inthetimeittakesmetonavigatethroughthecitystreetsandontothe401,mybowelsareinsuchtightknotsthatIneedtopullintoaTimHortonsoffthehighwayforanemergencybathroombreak.
I’mstillshakywhenIgetbackinthecar,bottleofwaterandraisin-branmuffininhand,butasurrealkindofcalmcomesovermeasIdrivefurthernorth.Eventually,rockyoutcropsofCanadianShieldgraniteeruptfromtheland,androadsidesignsforlivebaitandchiptrucksemergefromthescrub.It’sbeensolongsinceI’vetraveledthisroute,yetit’sallsofamiliar—likeI’mdrivingbackintoanotherpartofmylife.
ThelasttimeImadethistripwasThanksgivingweekend.Iwasalonethen,too,racingupintheusedToyotaI’dboughtwithmytipmoney.Ididn’tstoptheentirefour-hourdrive.IthadbeenthreeagonizingmonthssinceI’dseenSam,andIwasdesperateforhimtowraphisarmsaroundme,tofeelenvelopedbyhisbody,totellhimthetruth.
CouldIhaveknownhowthatweekendwouldgivemeboththegreatestandmostterriblemomentsofmylife?Howrapidlythingswouldgovery,verybadly?ThatIwouldneverseeSamagain?Mymistakehadcomemonthsearlier,butcouldIhavepreventedtheaftershocksthatcausedthemostseveredestruction?
Mystomachtakesaroller-coasterrideassoonasIspotaglimpseofthelake’ssouthernend,andItakedeepbreathsiiiiiinone,two,three,fourandooouuuutone,two,three,fourallthewaytotheCedarGroveMotelontheoutskirtsoftown.
It’slateafternoonbythetimeIcheckin.Ibuyacopyofthelocalpaperfromtheelderlymanatthelobbydeskandmovethecarinfrontofroom106.It’scleanandnondescript.Agenericprintofadeerinaforesthangingoverthebedandafrayedpolyesterquiltthatwasprobablyburgundyatthebeginningofitslonglifearetheonlydoses
IhanguptheblacksheathdressI’vebroughtforthefuneralandsitontheedgeofthebed,tappingmyfingersonmythighsandlookingoutthewindow.Thenorthendofthelake,towndock,andpublicbeacharejustvisible.Ifeelitchy.Itseemswrongtobesoclosetothewaterbutnotgotothecottage.I’vepackedmybathingsuitandtowelsoIcouldwalkovertothebeach,butallIwanttodoisdiveofftheendofmydock.There’sjustoneproblem:It’snotmydockanymore.4
Summer,SeventeenYearsAgo
I’dneverhadaboyinmybedroomuntilthatfirsteveningwhenCharliedroppedSamoffonthedoorstepofourcottage.Assoonaswewerealone,Iwastongue-tiedwithnerves.Samdidn’tseemtohavethesameproblem.
“SowhatkindofnameisPersephone?”heasked,stuffingathirdOreointohismouth.Weweresittingonthefloor,dooropenatMom’sinsistence.Givenhowsullenhewaswhenwemet,hewasalotchattierthanIexpected.WithinminutesIlearnedhehadlivednextdoorallhislife,hewasalsostartingeighthgradeinthefall,andthathelikedWeezerwellenough,buttheshirtwasactuallyahand-me-downfromhisbrother.“Almostallmyclothesare,”heexplainedmatter-of-factly.
Momhadn’tlookedhappywhenIaskedifSamcouldstayfortheevening.“Idon’tknowifthat’sthebestidea,Persephone,”shesaidslowly,rightinfrontofhim,thenturnedtoDadforhisinput.IthinkitwaslessaboutSam’sboy-nessandmorethatMomwantedtokeepmeawayfromotherteenagersforatleasttwomonthsbeforewewentbacktothecity.
“Sheneedstohaveafriend,Diane,”hereplied,tocompletemymortification.Lettingmyhairfallacrossmyface,IgrabbedSambythearmandpulledhimtowardthestairs.
IttookfiveminutesforMomtocheckonus,holdingaplateofOreoslikeshedidwhenIwassix.Iwassurprisedshedidn’tbringglassesofmilk.Weweremunchingonthecookies,chestsspeckledwithdarkcrumbs,whenSamaskedaboutmyname.
“It’sfromGreekmythology,”Itoldhim.“Myparentsaretotalgeeks.Persephoneisthegoddessoftheunderworld.Itdoesn’treallysuitme.”
HestudiedtheCreaturefromtheBlackLagoonposterandthestackofhorrorpaperbacksonmybedsidetable,thenfixedhisgazeonme,oneeyebrowraised.
“Idunno.Goddessoftheunderworld?Seemslikeitsuitsyou.Soundsprettycooltome…”Hetrailedoff,hisexpressionturningserious.“Persephone,Persephone…”Herolledmynamearoundinhismouthlikehewastryingtofigureouthowittasted.“Ilikeit.”
“What’sSamshortfor?”Iasked,myhandsandneckheating.“Samuel?”
“Nope.”Hesmirked.
“Samson?Samwise?”
HejerkedhisheadbacklikeI’dsurprisedhim.
“LordoftheRings,nice.”Hisvoicecrackedoverthenice,andhegavemeanoff-kiltergrinthatsentanotherthrillzippingthroughmychest.“But,nope.It’sjustSam.Mymomlikesone-syllablenamesforboys—likeSamandCharles.Shesaysthey’restrongerwhenthey’reshort.Butsometimes,whenshe’sreallypissed,shecallsmeSamuel.Shesaysitgiveshermoretoworkwith.”
Ilaughedatthis,andhisgrinturnedintoafull-blownsmile,onesideslightlyhigherthantheother.Hehadthiseasywayabouthim,likehewasn’ttryingtopleaseanyone.Ilikedit.Iwantedtobejustlikethat.
IwaspolishingoffacookiewhenSamspokeagain.“Sowhatdidyourdadmeandownstairs?”
Ifeignedconfusion.I’dbeenhopinghesomehowhadn’theard.Samsquintedandaddedquietly,“Aboutyouneedingtohaveafriend?”
Iwinced,thenswallowed,notsureofwhattosayorhowmuchtotellhim.
“Ihadsome”—Imadeairquoteswithmyfingers—“?‘issues’withafewofthegirlsatschoolthisyear.Theydon’tlikemeanymore.”IfidgetedwiththebraceletonmywristwhileSamponderedthis.WhenIpeeredupathim,hewaslookingrightatme,browsdrawnlikehewasworkingoutamathproblem.
“Twogirlsinmyclassweresuspendedforbullyinglastyear,”hefinallysaid.“Theyweregettingtheboystoaskthisonegirloutasaprank,andthenthey’dteaseherforbelievingit.”
Asmuchasshedespisedme,Idon’tthinkDelilahwouldhavegonethatfar.IwonderedifSamwaspartoftheprank,andasifhecouldseemymindchurning,hesaid,“Theywantedmetogetinonit,butIwouldn’t.Itseemedmeanandkindofmessedup.”
“It’stotallymessedup,”Isaid,relieved.
Keepinghisblueeyestrainedonme,hechangedthesubject.“Tellmeaboutthisbraceletyoukeepplayingwith.”Hepointedtomywrist.
“Thisismyfriendshipbracelet!”
BeforeIwasasocialoutcast,Iwasknownfortwothingsatschool:myloveofhorrorandmyfriendshipbracelets.Iwovetheminelaboratepatterns,butthatwassecondarytopickingjusttherightcolors.Icarefullychoseeachpalettetoreflectthewearer’spersonality.Delilah’swaspinksanddeepreds—feminineandpowerful.Myownwasatrendymixofneonorange,neonpink,peach,white,andgray.Delilahhadalwaysbeentheprettiest,mostpopulargirlinourclass,andeventhoughtheotherkidslikedme,Iknewmystatuswasduetomyproximitytoher.WhenIgotrequestsforbraceletsfromeverygirlinourclassandevenafewoftheeighthgraders,IfeltlikeIfinallyhadmyownthingasidefrombeingDelilah’sfunnysidekick.Ifeltcreativeandcoolandinteresting.Butthenoneday,IfoundthebraceletsI’dmadeformythreebestfriendscutupinlittlepiecesinmydesk.
“Whogaveittoyou?”Samasked.
“Oh…well,noonedid.Imadeitmyself.”
“Thepatternisreallycool.”
“Thanks!”Iperkedup.“I’vebeenpracticingallyear!Ithoughttheneonsandthepeachwerekindoffunkytogether.”
“Definitely,”hesaid,leaningcloser.“Couldyoumakemeone?”heasked,lookingbackupatme.Hewasn’tkidding.Ihoppedupanddugouttheembroideryflosskitfrommydesk.Iplacedthesmallwoodenboxwithmyinitialscarvedontoponthefloorbetweenus.
“I’vegotabunchofdifferentcolors,butI’mnotsureifIhaveanythingyou’lllike,”Isaid,pullingouttherainbowloopsofthread.I’dneverdoneoneforaboybefore.“Buttellmewhatyou’reinto,andifIdon’thaveit,IcangetMomtotakemeintotowntoseeifwecanfindit.UsuallyIknowpeoplealittlebetterbeforeImakethem.Itmightsoundsilly,butItrytomatchthecolorstotheirpersonality.”
“Thatdoesn’tsoundsilly,”hesaid.“Sowhatdothosecolorssayaboutyou?”Hereachedoutandtuggedononeofthestringsdanglingfrommywrist.Hishandswerelikehisfeet,toobigforhisbody.TheyremindedmeoftheoversizedpawsofaGermanshepherdpuppy.
“Well…thesedon’treallymeananything,”Istammered.“Ijustthoughtitwasasophisticatedpalette.”Ireturnedtoorganizingtheembroideryfloss,liningthemupinatidyrowfromlighttodarkonthewoodfloorbetweenus.“MaybeIcouldmakeitinbluestomatchyoureyes?”Isaid,thinkingaloud.“Idon’thaveatonofblue,soI’lljustneedtogetafewmoreshades.”IglancedatSamtoseewhathethought,excepthewasn’tlookingatthefloss;hewasstaringrightatme.
“That’sokay,”hesaid.“Iwantittobejustlikeyours.”
THENEXTMORNINGIscarfeddownbreakfast,thenracedtothewaterwithmykit.Isatcross-leggedonthedockandfastenedthebracelettomyshortswithasafetypintoworkonitwhileIwaitedforSam.
Whenhisfootstepstrampedacrossthedocknextdoor,itwasalmostliketheywererightbesideme.Hewaswearingthesamenavyshortsasyesterday;itlookedliketheymightfalloffhisnarrowhipsatanymoment.Iwavedathim,andheraisedhishandandthendoveofftheendofthedockandpaddledtowardme.Hewasinthewaterinfrontofmeinunderaminute.
“You’refast,”Isaid,impressed.“I’vetakenswimminglessons,butI’mnowherenearasgoodasyou.”
Samgavemethecrookedgrin,thenhauledhimselfoutofthewaterandploppeddownnexttome.Waterdrippedoffhishairandraninrivuletsdownhisfaceandhischest,whichwasalmostconcaveinform.Ifhewasatallself-consciousaboutbeinghalf-nakednexttoagirl,Iwouldn’thaveknownit.HepulledonthestrandsofembroideryflossIwasworkingon.
“Isthatmybracelet?Itlooksgreat.”
“Istarteditlastnight,”Itoldhim.“Theydon’tactuallytakethatlongtomake.Ishouldbeabletofinishitforyoutomorrow.”
“Awesome.”Hemotionedtotheraft.“Readytocollectyourpayment?”Samhadagreedtoshowmehowtodoaflipofftheraftinexchangeforthebracelet.
“Definitely,”Isaid,takingoffmyJayshatandslatheringcopiousamountsofSPFallovermyface.
“You’rereallyintosunsafety,huh?”Hepickedupthehat.
“Iguess.Well,no.It’smorethatI’mnotintofreckles,andthesungivesmefreckles.They’reokayonmyarmsandstuff,butIdon’twantthemallovermyface.”WhatIwantedwasacreamy,unblemishedcomplexionlikeDelilahMason’s.
Samshookhishead,baffled,thenhiseyeslitup.“Didyouknowthatfrecklesarecausedbyanoverproductionofmelaninthatgetsstimulatedbythesun?”
Myjawdropped.
“What?”hesaid.“It’strue.”
“No,Ibelieveyou,”Isaidslowly.“It’sjustareallyrandomfactforyoutoknow.”
Hegrinned.“I’mgoingtobeadoctor.Iknowalotof”—hemadeairquotes—“?‘randomfacts,’asyoucallthem.”
“Youalreadyknowwhatyouwanttobe?”Iwasblownaway.IhadnocluewhatIwantedtodo.Notevenclose.Englishwasmybestsubject,andIlikedtowrite,butIneverreallythoughtabouthavingagrown-upjob.
“I’vealwayswantedtobeadoctor,acardiologist,butmyschoolkindofsucks.Idon’twanttobestuckhereforever,soIlearnstuffonmyown.Mymomordersusedtextbooksformeonline,”Samexplained.
Itookthisin.“So…you’resmart,huh?”
“Iguess.”Andthenhestood,astackofarmsandlegsandpointyjoints,andhauledmeupbymyarms.Hewassurprisinglystrongforsomeonesoweedy.“AndI’manawesomeswimmer.C’mon,I’llshowyouhowtodothatsomersault.”
Countlessbellyflops,afewdives,andonesemi-successfulsomersaultlater,SamandIlayoutstretchedontheraft,facestothesky,thealready-hotmorningsundryingourbathingsuits.
“You’realwaysdoingthat,”Samsaid,lookingoveratme.
“Doingwhat?”
“Touchingyourhair.”
Ishrugged.IshouldhavelistenedtoMomwhenshetoldmebangswouldn’tworkformyhairtype.Instead,onespringeveningwhilemyparentsweremarkingpapers,Itookmatters—andMom’sgoodsewingshears—intomyownhands.ExceptthatIcouldn’tgetthebangstolieevenly,andeverysnipjustmadethingsworse.Inlessthanfiveminutes,Ihadtotallybutcheredmyhair.
Icreptdownstairstothelivingroom,tearsrunningdownmyface.Hearingmysniffles,myparentsturnedtoseemestandingwithscissorsinhand.
“Persephone!Whatonearth?”Mymothergaspedandflungherselfatme,checkingmywristsandarmsforsignsofdamage,beforehuggingmetightly,whileDadsatagape.
“Don’tworry,honey.We’llgetthisfixed,”Momsaid,steppingawaytomakeanappointmentathersalon.“Ifyou’regoingtohavebangs,theyneedtolookintentional.”
Dadgavemeaweaksmile.“Whatwereyouthinking,kiddo?”
MyparentshadalreadyputinanofferonalakesidepropertyinBarry’sBay,butseeingmeclutchingthosescissorsmusthavesentthemovertheedge,becausethenextdayDadcalledtheRealtorandtoldhertouptheoffer.Theywantedmeoutofthecityassoonastheschoolyearended.
ButeventodayIthinkmyparentswereprobablyoverreacting.DianeandArthurFraser,bothprofessorsattheUniversityofToronto,dotedonmeinawayparticulartoolder,upper-middle-classparentswithjustonechild.Mymom,asociologyscholar,wasinherlatethirtieswhentheyhadme;myfather,whotaughtGreekmythology,wasinhisearlyforties.Myeveryrequestforanewtoy,atriptothebookstore,orsuppliesforanewhobbywasmetwithenthusiasmandacreditcard.Beingachildwhopreferredearninggoldstarstocausingtrouble,Ididn’tgivethemmuchneedfordiscipline.Inturn,theygavemeaverylongleash.
Sowhenthethreegirlswhoformedmyclosestcircleoffriendsturnedtheirbacksonme,IwasunaccustomedtodealingwithanysortofadversityandIhadnoideahowtocopeexcepttotrymyhardesttowinthemback.
Delilahwasourgroup’suncontestedruler,apositionwebestoweduponherbecauseshepossessedthetwomostimportantrequirementsforteenageleadership:anexceptionallyprettyfaceandtotalawarenessofthepoweritgaveher.SinceitwasDelilahwhomIangered,andDelilahwhomIneededtowinback,myattemptstogainreadmittancetothegroupweretargetedather.Ithoughtcuttingmybangslikeherswoulddemonstratemyloyalty.Instead,whenshesawmeatschool,sheraisedhervoiceinanexaggeratedwhisper,andsaid,“God,doeseveryonehavebangsthesedays?Ithinkit’stimetogrowmineout.”
EverymorningIdreadedtheschoolday—sittingaloneatrecess,watchingmyoldfriendslaughtogether,wonderingifitwasmetheywerelaughingabout.Asummerawayfromeverything,whereIcouldreadmybookswithoutworryingaboutbeingcalledafreakandswimwheneverIwantedto,feltlikeheaven.
IlookedoveratSam.
“Where’syourbrothertoday?”Iasked,thinkingofhowthey’dgoofedaroundinthewaterthedaybefore.Samturnedontohisstomachandproppedhimselfuponhisforearms.
“Whydoyouwanttoknowaboutmybrother?”heasked,hisbrowsknittedtogether.
“Noreason.Ijustwondered.Ishehavingfriendsovertonight?”Samlookedatmefromthecornerofhiseye.WhatIreallywantedtoknowwasifSamwantedtohangoutagain.
“Hisfriendswereoverreallylate,”hesaidfinally.“HewasstillasleepwhenIcamedowntothelake.Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingontonight.”
“Oh,”Isaidlimply,thendecidedtotakearisk.“Well,ifyouwanttocomeoveragain,that’dbecool.OurTV’skindofsmall,butwehaveabigDVDcollection.”
“Imightjustdothat,”saidSam,hisforeheadrelaxing.“Oryoucouldcomeovertoourplace.OurTVisprettydecent.Mom’sneverhome,butshewouldn’tmindyoubeingthere.”
“Youguysareallowedtohavefriendsoverwhenshe’snotthere?”Myparentswerebynomeansstrict,buttheywerealwayshomewhenIhadpeopleover.
“Oneortwoisokay,butCharlielikestohaveparties.Justsmallones,butMomgetsmadifshecomeshomeandthere’s,like,tenkidsinthehouse.”
“Doesthathappenalot?”I’dneverbeentoarealteenagerparty.Icrawledtotheedgeoftheraftanddangledmyfeetinthewatertocooloff.
“Yeah,butmostlythey’reprettyboring,andMomdoesn’tfindout.”Samcameandsatbesideme,plunginghisshoestringlegsintothelake,kickingthembackandforth.“Iusuallystayinmyroom,readingorwhatever.Ifhehasagirlover,thenhetriestogetridofmelikelastnight.”
“Doeshehaveagirlfriend?”Iasked.Sampushedbackthehairthathadfallenoverhiseye,andgavemeasuspicioussidewaysglance.I’dneverhadaboyfriend,andunlikealotofgirlsinmyclass,gettingonewasn’thighonmyprioritylist.ButI’dalsoneverbeenkissedandwouldhavegivenmyrightarmforsomeonetothinkIwasprettyenoughtokiss.
“Charliealwayshasagirlfriend,”hesaid.“Hejustdoesn’thavethemforverylong.”
“So,”Isaid,changingthesubject.“Howcomeyourmom’snotaroundalot?”
“Youaskalotofquestions,youknowthat?”Hedidn’tsayitharshly,buthiscommentsentaprickleoffeardownmyneck.Ihesitated.
“Idon’tmind,”hesaid,nudgingmewithhisshoulder.Ifeltmybodyrelax.“Momrunsarestaurant.Youprobablydon’tknowityet.TheTavern?It’sourfamily’splace.”
“Idoknowit,actually!”Isaid,rememberingthepackedpatio.“MomandIdrovepast.Whatkindofrestaurantisit?”
“Polish…likepierogiesandstuff?Myfamily’sPolish.”
Ihadnoideawhatapierogiwas,butIdidn’tleton.“Itlookedreallybusywhenwewentby.”
“Therearen’tmanyplacestoeathere.Butthefood’sgood.Mommakesthebestpierogiesever.Butit’salotofwork,soshe’sgonemostdaysfromtheafternoonon.”
“Doesn’tyourdadhelp?”
Sampausedbeforeresponding.“Uh,no.”
“Okaaaay,”Isaid.“So…whynot?”
“Mydad’sdead,Percy,”hesaid,watchingaJetSkiroarby.
Ididn’tknowwhattosay.WhatIshouldhavesaidwasnothing.Butinstead:“I’venevermetanyonewithadeaddadbefore.”Iimmediatelywantedtoscoopthewordsupandshovethembackdownmythroat.Myeyeswentwidewithpanic.
WoulditmakethingsmoreorlessawkwardifIjumpedinthelake?
Samturnedtomeslowly,blinkedonce,staredstraightintomyeyes,andsaid,“I’venevermetanyonewithsuchabigmouthbefore.”
IfeltlikeIwascaughtinanet.Isatthere,mouthhangingopen,mythroatandeyesburning.Andthenthestraightlineofhislipscurledupatonecorner,andhelaughed.
“Justkidding,”hesaid.“Notaboutmydadbeingdead,andactuallyyoudohaveabigmouth,butIdon’tmind.”Myreliefwasinstant,butthenSamputhishandsonmyshouldersandgavethemalittleshake.Istiffened—itwaslikeallthenerveendingsinmybodyhadmovedtobeneathhisfingers.Samgavemeafunnylook,squeezingmyshouldersgently.“Youokaythere?”Heshiftedhisheaddowntomeetmyeyes.Itookanunsteadybreath.
“SometimesthingsjustcomeoutofmymouthbeforeIthinkabouthowtheysoundorevenwhatI’mreallysaying.Ididn’tmeantoberude.I’msorryaboutyourdad,Sam.”
“Thanks,”hesaidsoftly.“Ithappenedabitoverayearago,butmostofthekidsatschoolarestillweirdaboutit.I’lltakeyourquestionsoverthepityanyday.”
“Okay,”Isaid.
“Nomorequestions?”heaskedwithasmirk.
“I’llsavethemforlater,”Isaid,standingonshakylegs.“Wanttoshowmethatsomersaultagain?”Hejumpedupbesideme,acrookedsmileonhismouth.
“Nope.”
Andtheninaflash,hegrabbedmywaistandpushedmeintothewater.
WEFELLINTOaneasyroutinethatfirstweekofsummer.Therewasanarrowpathbytheshorethatranthroughthebushbetweenourtwoproperties,andwewentbackandforthseveraltimesaday.Wespentthemorningsswimmingandjumpingofftheraft,thenreadonthedockuntilthesungottoohot,andthenwe’dhitthewateragain.
Despitehowoftenshewasattherestaurant,ittookSuejustafewdaystofigureoutthatSamandIwerespendingmoretimetogetherthanapart.Sheshoweduponourdoorstep,Samintow,holdingalargeTupperwarecontainerofhomemadepierogies.Shewassurprisinglyyoung,like,wayyoungerthanmyparents,anddressedmorelikemethanagrown-up,indenimcutoffsandagraytanktop,herpaleblondhairpulledbackintoaswishyponytail.Shewassmallandsoft,andhersmilewaswideanddimpledlikeCharlie’s.
MomputonapotofcoffeeandthethreeadultssatoutonthedeckchattingwhileSamandIeavesdroppedfromthecouch.SueassuredMomandDadthatIwaswelcomeatherhouseanytime,thatSamwasa“freakishlyresponsiblekid,”andthatshe’dkeepaneyeonus,atleastwhenshewashome.
“Shemusthavehadthoseboysrightoutofhighschool,”IheardMomtellingDadthatevening.
“It’sdifferentuphere,”wasallhesaid.
SamandIendedupspendingmostofourtimeinthewaterorathisplace.Onthedayswhenthesunwastoohot,we’dheaduptothehouse,whichwasbuiltinthestyleofanoldfarmhouse,paintedwhite.Abasketballnethungabovethegaragedoor.Suehatedair-conditioning,preferringtokeepthewindowsopentofeelthebreezeoffthelake,butthebasementwasalwayscool.SamandIwouldflopdownateitherendofthecushyredplaidsofaandputonamovie.Wewerestartingtomakeourwaythroughmyhorrorcollection.Samhadseenjustoneortwo,butitdidn’ttakelongforhimtocatchmyenthusiasm.Ithinkhalfthefunforhimwascorrectingany(andevery)scientificallyunsounddetailhepickedupon—theunrealisticamountofbloodbeinghisfavoritestickingpoint.I’drollmyeyesandsay,“Thanks,Doc,”butIlikedhowcloselyhepaidattention
Wetookturnspickingwhattowatch,butaccordingtoSam,I“wentallweird”whenhewantedtowatchTheEvilDead.Ihadmyreasons—themoviewaswhymythreebestfriendsnolongerspoketome.IendeduptellingSamtheentirestory,whichinvolvedasleepoveratmyhouseandanill-advisedscreeningofthebloodiest,raunchiestfilminmycollection
BecauseDelilah,Yvonne,andMarissalikedthehorrorstoriesIreadatschool,IhadassumedTheEvilDeadwasano-brainer.WehuddledaroundtheTVinnestsofblanketsandpillows,wearingourpajamas,withbowlsofpopcorninhand,andwatchedagroupofhottwentysomethingsheadtoacreepycabininthewoods.Duringthemostdisturbingscene,Delilahcoveredherface,thensprangfromthesofaandrantothebathroom,leavingawetspotbehindontheUltrasuedefabric.ThegirlsandIlookedateachotherwide-eyed,andIhurriedtothecupboardtogetpapertowelsandabottleofcleaningspray.
IhopedDelilahwouldforgetaboutthewholepeeing-her-pantsthingbythetimewereturnedtoschool.Shedidnot.Notevenclose.Ifshehad,Iwouldhavebeensparedthenextfewmonthsoftorture.
“Thatwasprettydisgusting,”Samsaidwhenthecreditswererolling.“Butalsoawesome?”
“Right?!”Isaid,jumpingontomykneestofacehim.“It’saclassic!I’mnotweirdforlikingit,right?”Hiseyespoppedatmysuddendisplayofenergy.DidIsoundnuts?IthinkIprobablydid.
“Well,IcanseewhythatDelilahgirlwassofreakedoutbyit—Idon’tthinkI’mgoingtosleeptonight.Butshe’sajerk,andyou’renotweirdforlikingit,”hesaid.Islumpedbackdownontothecouch,satisfied.“You’rejustweirdingeneral,”headded,holdingbackagrin,andIlobbedacushionathim.Heraisedhishandsandlaughed,“ButIlikeweird.”
Iwouldhavebeenthankfulforanyfriendthatsummer,butfindingSamwaslikewinningthefriendshiplottery.Hewasnerdyinagoodwayandsarcasticinahilariousway,andhelikedtoreadalmostasmuchasIdid,thoughhewasmoreintobooksaboutwizardsandmagazinesaboutscienceandnature.TherewasawholeshelfofNationalGeographicmagazinesinhisbasement,andIthinkhe’dreadallofthem.
Samwasfastbecomingmyfavoriteperson.AndI’mprettysurehefeltthesame—healwaysworethebraceletImadehim.Heoncepulleditdowntoshowmethepaleringofskinunderneathit.Sometimeshe’dleaveforanexcruciatinglylongmorningorafternoontohangoutwithhisfriendsfromschool,butwhenhewashome,wewerealmostalwaystogether.
Bymidsummer,asmatteringoffrecklesdottedmynose,cheeks,andchest.Asiftheyhadsomehowescapedmynotice,Samleanedinclosetomyfaceonedaywhenwewerelyingontheraft,andsaid,“IguessSPF45wasn’tstrongenough.”
“Iguessnot,”Igrowled.“Andthanksforremindingme.”
“Idon’tunderstandwhyyouhateyourfrecklessomuch,”hesaid.“Ilikethem.”Istaredathim,unblinking.
“Seriously?”Iasked.
Whointheirrightmindlikesfreckles?
“Yeaaaah.”HedrewthewordoutandgavemeaWhyareyoubeingsoweird?look,whichIchosetoignore.
“Swearonit?”
“Swearonwhat?”heasked,andIhesitated.“Yousaidswearonit,”heexplained.“Whatdoyouwantmetoswearon?”
“Umm…”Ihadn’tmeantitliterally.Ilookedaround,myeyeslandingonhiswrist.“Swearonourfriendshipbracelet.”Hisbrowsfurrowed,butthenhereachedoverandhookedhisindexfingerundermybracelet,givingitagentletug.
“Iswear,”hevowed.“Nowyouswearthatyou’lldropthisweirdfreckleobsession.”Asmallsmileplayedonhislips,andIletoutalittlelaughbeforereachingoverandcurlingmyfingeraroundhisbracelet,tuggingonitlikehehad.
“Iswear.”Irolledmyeyes,butsecretlyIwaspleased.AndIdidn’tworrytoomuchaboutmyfrecklesafterthat.
HALLOWEENINAUGUSTwastheofficialnameSamandIgavetotheweekwedevotedtobingeingtheentireHalloweenfranchise.WehadjustputonthefourthmoviewhenCharlielopeddownthebasementstairsinhisboxersandlaunchedhimselfoverthecouchbetweenus.Charlie,Ihadlearned,wasalwayswearingasmileandrarelyashirt.
“Couldyougetanyfurtherawayfromher,Samuel?”hechuckled.
“Couldyougetanymorenaked,Charles?”Samdeadpanned.
Charlie’sfacesplitintoatoothysmile.“Sure!”hecried,jumpingupandhookinghisthumbsintothewaistbandofhisboxers.
Iyelpedandcoveredmyeyes.
“Jesus,Charlie.Cutitout,”Samyelled,hisvoicecracking.
BoththeFlorekboyslikedtotease;whereasIwastheobjectofSam’sgentleribbing,SamwassubjectedtoCharlie’srelentlessdigsabouthisscrawninessandsexualinexperience.Samrarelytalkedback,andtheonlysignofhisirritationwastheredstainonhischeeks.Atthelake,CharliepushedSamintothewaterateverypossiblechance,tothepointthatevenIfounditannoying.“Hedoesitmorewhenyou’rearound,”Samtoldmeoneday.
Charlielaughedandplunkedbackdownonthecouch.Heelbowedmysideandsaid,“Yourneck’sallblotchy,Pers.”Hepulledmyarmsawayfrommyfaceandputhishandovermykneeandsqueezed.“Sorry,Ididn’tmeantoupsetyou.”IglancedatSam,buthewasstaringatCharlie’shandonmyleg.
WewereinterruptedbySuecallingusupforlunch.Aplatterofcheeseandpotatopierogieswaitedforusontheroundtableinthekitchen.Itwasasunnyspacewithcreamcabinets,windowsoverlookingthelake,andaslidingglassdoorontothedeck.SuestoodatthesinkinherdenimcutoffsandawhiteT-shirt,herhairpulledbackintoherusualponytail,washingupalargepot.
“Hi,Mrs.Florek,”Isaid,sittingdownandhelpingmyselftothreemassivedumplings.“Thanksformakinglunch.”
Sheturnedaroundfromthesink.“Charlie,goputonsomeclothes.Andyou’rewelcome,Percy—Iknowhowmuchyoulikemypierogies.”
“Ilovethem,”Isaid,andshegavemeoneofhertoothy,dimpledsmiles.Samtoldmepierogieshadbeenhisdad’sfavoriteandSuehadstoppedmakingthemathomebeforeIcamearound.
AfterIfinishedmyserving,Ipiledmoreontomyplatealongwithalargedollopofsourcream.
“Sam,yourgirlfriendeatslikeahorse,”Charlielaughed.Iwincedattheg-word.
“Cutitout,Charlie,”Suesnapped.“Nevercommentonhowmuchawomaneats,anddon’tteasethem.They’retooyoungforanyofthat,anyway.”
“Well,I’mnottooyoung,”Charliesaid,wigglinghiseyebrowsinmydirection.“Wanttotradeup,Percy?”
“Charlie!”Suebarked.
“I’mjustmessingaround,”hesaidandstooduptoclearhisplate,knockinghisbrotheracrossthebackofthehead.
ItriedtocatchSam’seye,buthewasscowlingatCharlie,hisfacethecolorofafieldtomato.
ASTHELASTweekofsummervacationcametoanend,Ibegandreadingheadingbacktothecity.IhaddreamsaboutgoingtoschoolnakedandfindingSam’sbraceletcutupintoorangeandpinkpiecesinmydesk.
WewerelyingontherafttheafternoonbeforeIwasleaving.Ihadtriedmybestalldaynottobeadowner,butapparentlyIwasn’tdoingaverygoodjobbecauseSamkeptaskingifIwasokay.Suddenly,hesatupandsaid,“Youknowwhatyouneed?Onelastboatride.”TheFlorekshadasmall9.9motoronthebackoftheirrowboatthatSamhadtaughtmehowtodrive.
Igrabbedmybook,andSamgatheredhisrodandtacklebox.Wefoldedourtowelsacrossthebenchesandsetoffinourdampbathingsuitsandbarefeet.Idrovetoareedybay,whichSamclaimedwasagoodspotforfishing,andcuttheengine.I’dbeenwatchinghimcastoffthefrontoftheboatwhenhestartedtalking.
“Itwasaheartattack,”hesaid,hiseyesonhisrod.Iswallowedbutstayedquiet.“Wedon’ttalkabouthimmuchathome,”headded,reelingthelinein.“Anddefinitelynotwithmyfriends.Theycouldbarelylookatmeatthefuneral.Andevennow,iftheymentionsomethingaboutoneoftheirdads,theylookatmelikethey’veaccidentallysaidsomethingsuperoffensive.”
“Thatsucks,”Isaid.“Icantellyouallaboutmydadifyouwant.ButIwarnyou:He’stotallyboring.”Hesmiled,andIwenton.“Butseriously,youdon’thavetotalkwithme,either.Notifyoudon’twantto.”
“That’sthething,”hesaid,squintingintothesun.“Ido.Iwishwe’dtalkabouthimmoreathome,butitmakesMomsad.”Hesetdownhisrodandlookedupatme.“I’mstartingtoforgetstuffabouthim,youknow?”Iclimbedintothemiddlebench,closertohim.
“Idon’treallyknow.Idon’tknowanyonewithadeaddad,remember?”Inudgedhisfootwithmytoe,andhehuffedoutalaugh.“ButIcanimagine.Icanlisten.”Henoddedonceandranhishandthroughhishair.
“Ithappenedattherestaurant.Hewascooking.MomwasathomeandsomeonecalledtotellusthatDadhadfallenandthattheambulancehadtakenhimtothehospital.Itonlytookustenminutestogetthere—youknowhowclosethehospitalis—butitdidn’tmatter.Hewasgone.”Hesaiditquickly,likeithurttogetthewordsout.
Ireachedoutandsqueezedhishand,thentwistedhisbraceletaroundsothebestpartofthepatternfacedup.“I’msorry,”Iwhispered.
“Explainsthewholedoctorthing,huh?”Icouldtellhewastryingtosoundupbeat,buthisvoicewasdull.Ismiledbutdidn’treply.
“Tellmewhathewaslike…whenyou’reready,”Isaidinstead.“Iwanttohearallabouthim.”
“Okay.”Hepickeduptherodagain.Thenadded,“Sorryforgoingallemoonyourlastday.”
“Suitsmymood,anyway.”Ishrugged.“I’mkindofdepressedaboutsummerending.Idon’twanttogohometomorrow.”
Hebumpedmykneewithhis.“Idon’twantyoutogo,either.”5
Now
Sue’sfaceisstaringatme,hairpulledback,smilesowideit’sbeckonedherdimples.Therearefinelinesfanningoutfromhereyesthatdidn’tusedtobethere,butevenonthelocalpaper’ssmudgednewsprint,youcanseedeterminationintheslightupwardtiltofherchinandthehandthatrestsonherhip.She’sstandinginfrontoftheTaverninthephoto,whichrunsundertheheadline“TributetoaBelovedBarry’sBayBusinessLeader.”
I’vebecomeskilledatwardingoffthelonelinessthatthreatenedtopullmeunderinmyearlytwenties.It’saformulathatinvolvedthrowingmyselfintowork,no-stringssex,andoverpricedcocktailswithChantal.Ittookyearstoperfect.ButsittinginthemotelroomwithSue’sobituaryinmyhandsandthelakesparklinginthedistance,Icanfeelitineverypartofmybody—thetwistingofmygut,theacheinmyneck,thetightnessinmychest.
IcouldtalktoChantal.She’ssentthreemoretexts,askingmetocallher,askingmewhenthefuneralis,askingwhetherIwanthertocome.Ishouldatleasttextherback.ButThanksgivingbreakdownaside,Ihaven’tspokentoheraboutSamtoooften.ItellmyselfIdon’thavetheenergytogetintoitrightnow,butit’smorethatifIstarttalkingabouthim,abouthowmonumentalitfeelstobehere,howscary,Imaynotbeabletoholdittogether.
WhatIreallyneedisabottleofwine.Mystomachgurgles.Andmaybesomefood.Ihaven’teatenanythingexceptfortheraisin-branmuffinfrommyemergencyTimHortonsstop.It’sablisteringlateafternoon,soIthrowonthelightestthingI’vepacked:asleevelesspoppy-coloredcottondressthathitsabovetheknees.Ithaslargebuttonsdownthefrontandabeltedwaist.Ifastenmygoldsandalsandheadoutthedoor.
Ittakesabouttwentyminutestowalktothecenteroftown.MybangsarestucktomyforeheadbythetimeIgetthere,andIholdmyhairinadensepileontopofmyheadtocoolmyneckdown.Otherthananewcaféwithasandwichboardadvertisinglattesandcappuccinos(neitherofwhichyoucouldgetintownwhenIwasakid),thefamilybusinessesonthemainstreetareprettymuchthesame.SomehowI’mnotpreparedforthewallopofseeingthebutter-yellowbuildingandtheredsignpaintedwithPolishfolkartflowers.Istandinthemiddleofthesidewalk,staring.TheTavernisindarkness,thegreenpatioumbrellasfoldedshut.Thisisprobablythefirsttimesincetherestaurantopenedthatit’sbeenclosedonaThursdayeveninginJuly.There’sasmallsigntapedtothefrontdoor,andwithoutthinking,Imovetowardit.
It’sashortmessage,writtenwithblackmarker:TheTaverniscloseduntilAugusttomournthelossofownerSueFlorek.Wethankyouforyoursupportandunderstanding.Iwonderwhowroteit.Sam?Charlie?Butterfliesswarmmystomach.Ileanintotheglassdoorwithmyhandscuppedaroundmyfaceandnoticealightoninside.It’scomingfromthewindowsthatleadintothekitchen.Someone’sinthere.
Asifdrawnbyamagneticforce,Iheadaroundtothebackofthebuilding.Theheavysteeldoorthatleadsintothekitchenisproppedopenafewinches.Thebutterfliesbecomeaflockofflappinggulls.Ipullthedoorwiderandstepinside.AndthenIfreeze.
Atthedishwasherstandsatall,sandy-hairedman,andalthoughhisbackisturnedtome,heisasunmistakableasmyownreflection.He’swearingsneakers,ablueT-shirt,andnavy-and-white-stripedboardshorts.He’sstillslimbutthere’ssomuchmoreofhim.Allgolden-brownskinandbroadshouldersandstronglegs.He’sscrubbingsomethinginthesink,ateatoweloveroneshoulder.Iwatchthemusclesclenchinhisbackasheliftsaplatterintothewasherrack.Thesightofhislargehandssendsbloodrushingtomyearssoloudlyit’slikewavesarecrashinginsidemyhead.Irememberwhenhekneltovermeinhisbedroom,runningthosefingersalongmybodylikehehaddiscoveredanewplanet.
Hisnameslidessoftlyfrommylips.
“Sam?”
Heturns,alookofconfusionacrosshisface.Hiseyesaretheclearblueskiestheyalwayswere,butsomuchelseisdifferent.Theedgesofhischeekbonesandjawareharder,andtheskinunderneathhiseyesistingedpurple,asifsleephaseludedhimfornightsonend.Hishairisshorterthanheusedtowearit,croppedcloseonthesidesandonlyalittlefloppyontop,andhisarmsarethickandcorded.Hewasbeautifulateighteen,butadultSamissodevastatingIcouldcry.Imissedhimbecomingthis.Andthegriefofthatloss—ofseeingSamgrowintoaman—isafistsqueezingaroundmylungs.
Sam’sgazemovesacrossmyfaceandthendropsdownmybody.Icanseetheflintofrecognitionthatsparkswhenhiseyesmaketheirwaybackuptomine.Samalwayskeptasnug-fittingsealonhisfeelings,butIspentsixyearsfiguringouthowtopryitoff.Idevotedhourstostudyingthesubtlemovementofemotionsacrosshisfeatures.Theywerelikerainthattraveledfromthefarshoreandacrossthewater,unassuminguntilitwasrightthere,peltingthecottagewindows.Imemorizedhisshimmersofmischief,thedistantthunderofhisjealousy,andthewhitecapsofhisecstasy.IknewSamFlorek.
Hiseyeslockontomine.Theirholdisasunrelentingasever.Hislipsarepinchedintoaflatline,andhischestexpandsinslow,steadybreaths.
ItakeahesitantstepforwardasifI’mapproachingawildhorse.Hiseyebrowsshootup,andheshakeshisheadoncelikehe’sbeenstartledfromadream.Ihalt.
Westandstaringateachothersilently,andthenhetakesthreegiantstridestowardmeandwrapshisarmsaroundmesotightit’slikehislargebodyisacocoonaroundmine.HesmellslikesunandsoapandsomethingnewthatIdon’trecognize.Whenhespeaks,hisvoiceisadeepraspthatIwanttodrownin.
“Youcamehome.”
Isqueezemyeyesshut.
Icamehome.
SAMPULLSBACKfromme,hishandsonmyshoulders.Hiseyespingaroundmyfaceindisbelief.
Igivehimasmallsmile.
“Hi,”Isay.
ThelopsidedgrinthatcurveshismouthisadrugI’veneverkicked.Thefaintcrinklesatthecornersofhiseyesandthestubbleonhisfacearenewandso…sexy.Samissexy.SomanytimesI’vewonderedaboutwhathe’dbelikeallgrownup,buttherealityofthirty-year-oldSamissomuchmoresolidanddangerousthanwhatIcouldhaveimagined.
“Hi,Percy.”Mynamepassesfromhislipsandstraighttomybloodstream,asuddeninjectionofdesireandshameandathousandmemories.Andjustasquickly,IrememberwhyI’mhere.
“Sam,I’msosorry,”Isay,myvoicecracking.I’msorawwithgriefandregretthatIcan’tstopthetearsthatrolldownmycheeks.AndthenSamisholdingmeagain,whispering,“Shhh,”intomyhairwhilehemovesonehandupanddownmyback.
“It’sokay,Percy,”hewhispers,andwhenIpeerupathim,hisforeheadiswrinkledinconcern.
“Ishouldbecomfortingyou,”Isay,wipingmycheeks.“I’msorry.”
“Don’tworryaboutthat.”Hisvoiceissoftashepatsmybackandthentakesastepback,runninghishandthroughhishair.Thefamiliargesturetugsafrayedstringinsideme.“Shewassickforyears.Wehadalongtimetocometotermswithit.”
“Ican’timagineanyamountoftimebeinglongenough.Shewassoyoung.”
“Fifty-two.”
Iinhalesharply,becausethat’sevenyoungerthanIhadguessed.AndIcanimaginehowthismustgnawatSam.Hisdadwasyoung,too.
“Ihopeit’sokaythatIcame,”Isay.“Iwasn’tsureyou’dwantmehere.”
“Yeah,ofcourse.”Hesaysitasifithasn’tbeenmorethanadecadesincewespoke.Asifhedoesn’thateme.Heturnsbacktothedishwasher,emptyingatrayofsideplatesandstackingthemonthecounter.“Howdidyouknow?”HeglancesatmeandsquintswhenIdon’timmediatelyreply.“Ah.”
He’salreadyfiguredouttheanswer,butItellhimanyway.“Charliecalledme.”
Hisfacedarkens.“Ofcoursehedid,”hesaysflatly.
Thereareservingdishesandchafingtrayslineduponthecounters—thekindofequipmentneededtocaterabigfunction.Imovebesidehimatthedishwashingstationandbeginputtingsomedustyservingutensilsinaracktorunthroughthewasher.It’sthesamemachinefromwhenIworkedhere.I’verunitsomanytimesIcoulddoitwithmyeyesclosed.
“Sowhat’sallthisfor?”Iask,keepingmyeyesonthesink.ButIdon’tgetaresponse.IcantellfromthequietthatSamhasstoppedemptyingdishes.Itakeadeepbreath,inone,two,three,fourandoutone,two,three,four,beforelookingovermyshoulder.He’sleaningagainstthecounter,armscrossed,watchingme.
“Whatareyoudoing?”heasks,voicerough.Iturntofacehimstraighton,takinganotherdeepbreath,andfromsomedeepforgottenplace,IfindPercy,thegirlIusedtobe.
Iliftmychinandgivehimanincredulouslook,puttingahandonmyhip.Myhandissoakingwet,butIignorethataswellastheswoopinginmystomach.
“I’mhelpingyouout,genius.”Thewaterseepsthroughmydress,butIdon’tbudge.Idon’tlookaway.AmuscleinhisjawtwitchesandhisfrownloosensjustenoughthatIknowI’vestuckaknifeunderhissealerlid.Asmilethreatenstoruinmypokerface,andIbitemyliptoholditback.Hiseyesflashtomymouth.
“Youwerealwaysashitdishwasher,”Isay,andheburstsoutlaughing,therichbellowbouncingoffthekitchen’ssteelsurfaces.Itisthemostmagnificentsound.IwanttorecorditsoIcanlistentoitlater,againandagain.Idon’tknowthelasttimeI’vesmiledthiswidely.
Hisblueeyessparklewhentheyfindmine,thendriftdowntothewetspotmyhandhasleftonmyhip.Heswallows.Hisneckisthesamegoldenbrownashisarms.Iwanttostickmynoseatthecurvewhereitmeetshisshoulderandinhaleahitofhim.
“Iseeyourtrashtalkhasn’timproved,”hesayswithaffection,andIfeellikeI’vewonamarathon.Hemotionstothedishesonthecounterandsighs.“Momwantedtohaveeveryonehereforapartyaftershepassed.Theideaofpeoplestandingaroundwithcrustlesseggsaladsandwichesinthechurchbasementafterherfuneralhorrifiedher.Shewantsustoeatanddrinkandhavefun.Shewasveryspecific.”Hesaysitwithlove,buthesoundstired.“Sheevenmadethepierogiesandcabbagerollsshewantedservedmonthsago,whenshewasstillwellenough,andputtheminthefreezer.”
Myeyesandthroatburn,butIstaystrongthistime.“Thatsoundslikeyourmom.Organizedandthoughtfuland…”
“Alwaysstuffingpeoplefullofcarbs?”
“Iwasgoingtosay,‘feedingthepeoplesheloves,’?”Ireply.Samsmiles,butit’sasadone.
Westandthereinthequiet,surveyingthetidyarrayofequipmentandplates.Sampullstheteatoweloffhisshoulderandsetsitdownonthecounter,givingmealonglookasifhe’sdecidingsomething.
Hepointstothedoor.“Let’sgetoutofhere.”
WE’REEATINGICEcreamandsittingonthesamebenchweusedtoaskids—notfarfromthecenteroftownonthenorthshore.Icanseethemotelacrossthebayinthedistance.Thesunhasdippedlowinthesky,andthere’sabreezecomingoffthewater.Wehaven’tspokenmuch,whichisokaywithmebecausesittingbesideSamfeelsunreal.Hislonglegsarespreadoutbesidemine,andI’mfixatedonthesizeofhiskneesandhisleghair.Samgrewoutofhisstringyphaseafterhehitpuberty,butheissothoroughlyamannow.
“Percy?”Samasks,breakingmyfocus.
“Yeah?”Iturntowardhim.
“Youmightwanttoeatthatalittlefaster.”Hepointstothepinkandbluetrailoficecreamdrippingdownmyhand.
“Shit!”Itrytocatchitwithanapkin,butabloblandsonmychest.Idabatit,butitonlyseemstomakemattersworse.Samwatchesfromthecornerofhiseyewithasmirk.
“Ican’tbelieveyoustilleatcottoncandy.Howoldareyou?”heteases.
ImotiontohiswaffleconewithtwomassivescoopsofMooseTracks,thesameflavorheusedtoorderasakid.“You’reonetotalk.”
“Vanilla,caramel,peanutbuttercups?MooseTracksisclassic,”hescoffs.
“Noway.Cottoncandyisthebest.Youjustneverlearnedtoappreciateit.”
Samraisesonebrowinanexpressionofabsolutetrouble,thenleansoverandrunshistongueflatovermyscoopoficecream,bitingoffahunkfromthetop.Iletoutaninvoluntarygasp,mymouthhangingopenasIstareathisteethmarks.
IrememberthefirsttimeSamdidthatwhenwewerefifteen.Theglimpseofhistongueshockedmespeechlessthen,too.
Idon’tlookupuntilheelbowsmeintheside.
“Thatalwaysfreakedyouout,”hechucklesinasoftbaritone.
“Menace.”Ismile,ignoringthepressurebuildinginmylowerbelly.
“I’llgiveyouatasteofminetobefair.”Hetiltshisconetome.Thisisnew.Iwipeawaythebeadsofsweatformingabovemylip.Samnotices,givingmeacrookedgrinasthoughhecanreadeverydirtythoughtthat’srunningthroughmymind.“Ipromiseit’sgood,”hesays,andhisvoiceisasdarkandsmoothascoffee.I’mnotusedtothisSam—onewhoseemsfullyawareofhiseffectonme.
Icantellhedoesn’tthinkI’lldoit,butthatjustspursmeon.Itakeaquicktasteofhiscone.
“You’reright,”Isay,shrugging.“It’sprettygood.”Hiseyesflashtomymouth,andthenheclearshisthroat
Wesitinawkwardsilenceforaminute.
“Sohowhaveyoubeen,Percy?”heasks,andIholdmyhandsuphelplessly.
“I’mnotsurewheretostart,”Ilaugh,nervous.Howdoyouevenbeginaftersomuchtimehaspassed?
“Howaboutthreeupdates?”Henudgesme,hiseyesglinting.
Itwasagameweusedtoplay.Wewentforlongstretchesapart,andwheneverwe’dseeeachotheragain,we’dtelleachotherourthreebiggestpiecesofnewsinrapidfire.Ihaveanewdraftofmystoryforyoutoread.I’mtrainingforthefour-hundred-meterfreestyle.IgotaBonmyalgebraexam.Ilaughagain,butmythroathasgonedry.
“Umm…”Isquintoutatthewater.It’sbeenmorethanadecade,buthasthatmuchreallyhappened?
“IstillliveinToronto,”Istart,takingabiteoficecreamtodelay.“MomandDadarewell—they’retravelingaroundEurope.AndI’majournalist,aneditor,actually—IworkatShelter,thedesignmagazine.”
“Ajournalist,huh?”hesayswithasmile.“That’sgreat,Percy.I’mhappyforyou.I’mgladyou’rewriting.”
Idon’tcorrecthim.Myworkinvolveslittlewriting,mostlyheadlinesandtheoddarticle.Beinganeditorisallabouttellingotherpeoplewhattowrite
“Andwhataboutyou?”Iask,returningmyfocustothewaterinfrontofus—thesightofSamsittingbesidemeistoojarring.I’dlookedhimuponsocialmediayearsearlier,hisprofilepicturewasashotofthelake,butnevertookthestepofaddinghimasafriend.
“One,I’madoctornow.”
“Wow.That’s…that’sincredible,Sam,”Isay.“NotthatI’msurprised.”
“Predictable,right?And,two,Ispecializedincardiology.Anothershocker.”He’snotbraggingatall.Ifanything,hesoundsabitembarrassed.
“Exactlywhereyouwantedtobe.”
I’mhappyforhim—it’swhathewasalwaysworkingtoward.Butsomehowitalsohurtsthathislifecontinuedwithoutmeasplanned.Imademywaythroughmyfirstyearofuniversityinafog,strugglingthroughmycreativewritingclasses,notabletofocusonmuchofanything,letalonecharacterdevelopment.EventuallyaprofessorsuggestedIgivejournalismashot.Therulesofreportingandstorystructuremadesensetome,gavemeanoutletthatdidn’tfeelsopersonal,soconnectedtoSam.Iabandonedmydreamofbeinganauthor,butIeventuallysetnewgoals.There’sspeculationthatwhenit’stimeforaneweditorinchiefatShelter,I’llbeatthetopofthelist.Icreatedadifferentpathformyself,onethatIlove,butitstingsthatSammanagedtofollowhisoriginalone.
“Andthree,”hesays,“I’mlivinghere.InBarry’sBay.”Ijerkmyheadback,andhelaughssoftly.SamwasasdeterminedtoleaveBarry’sBayashewastobecomeadoctor.Iassumedafterheleftforschoolhe’dnevermoveback.
Fromthemomentweweretogether-together,Idreamedofwhatourlifewouldbelikewhenwefinallylivedinthesameplace.Iimaginedmovingtowhereverhewasdoinghisresidencyaftermyundergrad.Iwouldwritefictionandwaittablesuntilourincomesweresteady.We’dcomebacktoBarry’sBaywheneverwecould,splittingourtimebetweenthecountryandthecity.
“IstayedinKingstonformyresidency,”heexplains,asifreadingmymind.SamattendedmedschoolatQueen’sUniversityinKingston,oneofthetopschoolsinthewholecountry.KingstonwasnowherenearaslargeasToronto,butitsatonLakeOntario.Samwasmeanttobenearwater.“ButI’vebeenhereforthelastyeartohelpMom.Shewassickforayearbeforethat.Wewerehopefulatfirst…”Helooksoutoverthewater.
“I’msorry,”Iwhisper,andwesitquietlyforafewminutes,finishingourconesandwatchingsomeonefishoffthetowndock.
“Afterawhile,itdidn’tseemlikethingsweregoingtogetanybetter,”hesays,pickingupfromwhereheleftoff.“IhadbeendrivingbackandforthbetweenhereandKingston,butIwantedtocomehome.Youknow,gotothetreatmentsandalltheappointments.Helpoutaroundthehouseandattherestaurant.Itwastoomuchforherevenwhenshewashealthy.TheTavernwasalwaysmeanttobeherandDad.”
ThethoughtofSambeinghereforthepastyear,livinginthathousedownonBareRockLane,withoutmeknowing,withoutmebeingheretohelp,feelsmonumentallywrong.Iputmyhandoverhisbrieflyandsqueezebeforereturningittomylap.Hetracksitsmovement.
“Whataboutyourwork?”Iask,myvoicehoarse.
“I’vebeenworkingatthehospitalhere.Afewshiftsaweek.”Hesoundstiredagain.
“Yourmommusthavereallyappreciatedyoucomingback,”Isay,tryingtosoundupbeatinsteadofhowbruisedIfeel.“Sheknewyoudidn’twanttostayhere.”
“It’snotsobad,”Samsays,soundinglikehemeansit,andforthesecondtimethiseveningmyjawdrops.“I’mserious,”hepromiseswithasmallgrin.“IknowIraggedonBarry’sBaywhenIwasakid,butImisseditalotwhenIwasawayatschool.I’mluckytohavethis,”hesays,noddingtothewater.
“WhoareyouandwhathaveyoudonewithSamFlorek?”Ijoke.“Butno,that’sgreat.It’ssoamazingthatyoucametohelpyourmom.Andthatyoudon’thateithere.I’vemissedthisplacesomuch.EverysummerIgetcabinfeverinthecity.Allthatconcrete—itfeelssohotanditchy.I’ddoanythingtojumpintothelake.”
Hestudiesme,aseriouslookcomingoverhisface.“Well,we’llhavetomakethathappen.”Igivehimasmallsmile,thenlookoutoverthebay.Ifthingshadturnedoutdifferently,wouldIhavebeenlivinghereforthepastyear?KeepingSuecompanyatherappointments?HelpingwiththeTavern?WouldIhavekeptwriting?Iwouldhavewantedto
“Ican’tbelieveyouwerehereallthattime,”Imurmur,pushingthehairoffmyforehead.
Heprodsmylegwithhisfoot,andItiltmyheadtohim.He’swearingthebiggestsmirk,hiseyescrinkledatthecorners.“Ican’tbelieveyougotbangsagain.”6
Summer,SixteenYearsAgo
Eighthgradedidn’tsuck.
Itdidn’tsuck,butitwasweird.I(finally)gotmyperiod.KyleHoustontouchedmybuttatthespringdance.AndbytheendofSeptember,DelilahMasonandIwerebestfriendsagain.
Shehadclompeduptomeinapairofwhitecowboybootsandashortdenimskirtonthefirstdayofschoolandcomplimentedmytan.Itoldheraboutthecottage,tryingtoplayitascoolaspossible,andshefilledmeinontheequestriancampsheattendedintheKawarthas.TherewasahorsenamedMonopolyandanembarrassingperiodstoryinvolvingwhiteshortsandadaylongridingtrip.(Delilahgotherperiodandherboobswhenwewereeleven,naturally.)
Afterafewdaysofnicetiesandsharedlunches,IaskedaboutMarissaandYvonne.Delilahcurledherlipindisgust.“Wewentonagroupdatewithmycousinandhisfriends,andtheyweresuchbabies.”
It’snotthatIhadforgottenwhathappenedtheyearbefore,butIwaswillingtolookpastit.HavingSammeantIdidn’tfeelthesamekindofpressuretopleaseDelilah,didn’ttakeherquitesoseriously,althoughIwasdeterminednevertobesuchababy.Besides,beingfriendswithDelilahmeantnomorelunchesalone,nomorefeelinglikeacompleteloser.AndwhileIwouldn’teverdescribeherasnice,Delilahwasfunnyandsmart.
Shechosecrushesforbothofus,sayingthathighschoolboysweremuchcuter,butweneededpracticebeforewegotthere.MinewasKyleHouston,whohadboththecoloringandpersonalityofmashedpotatoes.(Forhispart,Kyledidn’tseemtoointerested,either.Thatis,untilhecoppedafeelatthedance.)
SAMANDIhadanever-endingemailchain,butitwasn’tuntilThanksgivingthatIsawhiminthefleshagain.Suehadinvitedustojointhemforturkeydinner,andmyparentshadhappilyaccepted.TheymaynothavebeensureaboutSuewhentheyfirstmether,butIcouldtellthey’dwarmeduptoher.Theyhadheroverforcoffeeacoupleoftimestheprevioussummer,andIheardMomtellingDadabouthowimpressedshewasthatSuewasraising“thosetwoniceboys”onherownandhowshe“musthaveakeenbusinesssense”tohavemadetheTavernsuchabigsuccess.
Samwarnedmethathismomtendedtooverdoitforholidayseversincehisdadpassedaway.Shewouldn’thearofmyparentsbringinganyfood,either.SoweshowedupcarryingwineandbrandyandabouquetofflowersMomandIhadpickedoutatthegrocerystore.ThesunwaslowintheskyandtheFloreks’houselookedlikeitwasglowingfromwithin.Thesmellofturkeywaftedouttousaswesteppedontotheporch,andthedoorswungopenbeforeweevenknocked.
Samstoodinthedoorway,histhickshagofhaircombedintosubmissionandpartedtooneside.
“Icouldhearyourfootstepsonthegravel,”hesaid,seeingthesurprisedexpressionsonourfaces.Thenheaddedanuncharacteristicallychirpy,“HappyThanksgiving!”andheldthedooropenwithonearm,steppingtothesidetoletusin.
“MayItakeyourcoats,Mr.andMrs.Fraser?”heasked.Heworeawhitebutton-downshirttuckedintokhakipants,whichmadehimlooklikeabusboyatmyparents’favoriteFrenchrestaurant.
“Certainly.Thankyou,Sam,”Dadsaid.“ButDianeandArthurwilldojustfine.”
“Hey,guys!HappyThanksgiving!”Suegreetedmyparents,herarmsheldwide,whileIputthegiftsIwasholdingonthefloorandtookoffmycoat.
“MayItakethat,Persephone?”Samaskedwithexaggeratedgraciousness,extendinghisarmformycoat.
“Whyareyoutalkinglikethat?”Iwhispered.
“Momgaveusabigspeechaboutbeingonourbestbehavior.Sheevenplayedthe‘makeyourdadproud’card.Hewasbigonmanners,”hesaidquietly.“Youlooklovely,thisevening,bytheway,”headdedinanoverlyenthusiastictone.Iignoredhiscomment,thoughIhadmadeextraeffort,brushingmyhairoutsoitshoneandwearingmycrushed-velvetburgundydresswiththepuffedsleeves.
“Well,cutitout,”Isaid.“Thatvoiceyou’reusingisgivingmethecreeps.”
“Gotit.Noweirdvoice.”Hesmirked,thencrouchedtopickupthebottlesandflowersfromthefloor.Whenhestood,heleanedcloserandsaid,“Imeanit,though.Youdolooknice.”
Hisbreathonmycheekmademeblush,butbeforeIcouldrespond,Suehadmeinahug.“It’ssogoodtoseeyou,Percy.Youlookbeautiful.”Ithankedher,stillreelingfromSam’scomment,andwavedatCharlie,whostoodbehindher.
“Red’syourcolor,Pers,”hesaid.Hehadonapairofblackdresspantsandashirtthatmatchedthepalegreenofhiseyes.
“Ididn’trealizeyouknewhowtofullydressyourself,”Ireplied.
Charliewinked,andthenSueusheredusintothelivingroom,whereafirecrackledinthestonehearth.WhileSuefinishedinthekitchen,Sampassedtraysofcheeseandbowlsofnuts,andCharlietookdrinkorders,offeringMomaginandtonicandaskingDadifhewantedred(“it’sapinotnoir”)orwhitewine(“sauvignonblanc”).Myparentslookedbothimpressedandamused.“Restaurantkid”wasallCharliesaidbywayofexplanation.
Suejoineduswheneverythingwasjustaboutreadyandhadadrinkwithmyparents.Shewasmoremadeupthanusual,inafittedblackturtleneckandcapripants.Shehadherblondhairdownaroundhershouldersandworearose-coloredlipstick.Ithadtheeffectofmakingherlookbotholderandmorebeautiful.Myownmomwasn’tunattractive—shekeptherdarkstraighthairinaneatbobandhadstrangerust-coloredeyes—andshewasfashionable.ButSuewasprettypretty.
Bythetimewesatdownfordinner,ourfaceswereflushedfromthefireandtheoverlappingconversations.CharlieandSambroughtoutplattersanddishesandbowlsofsidesandsauces,andSuecarriedtheturkeytotheheadofthetableandcarveditherself.Theboysduginwithimpressivespeed,mannersabandoned,andmyparentswatched,slack-jawed.
“Youshouldseemygrocerybills,”Suelaughed.
IsatnexttoSam,andwhenIreachedforasecondhelpingofpotatocasserole,hegavemeastunnedlook.
“You’renotwearingyourbracelet,”hesaidquietly,hisforksuspendedmidwaytohismouth,apieceofdarkmeatspearedontheend.
“Uh,no,”Ireplied,watchingthehurtflickerinhiseyes.Ifeltself-consciouswearingitaroundDelilah,butIcouldn’tsaythatrightnow.“Istillhaveit,though.It’sinmyjewelryboxathome.”
“You’recold,Pers.Samnevertakeshisoff!”Charliecutin,andthechatterthathadbeenswirlingaroundusstopped.“HefreakedwhenMomwantedtowashit.Thoughtitwouldgetruinedinthewashingmachine.”
“Itwouldhave,”Samsaidflatly,streaksofcrimsonpaintinghischeeks.
“Wehandwashedit,anditwasfine,”Suesaid,eithernotpickinguponthetensionbetweenthetwoboysorignoringitaltogether.Shewentbacktochattingwithmyparents.
“Jerk,”Sammumbledunderhisbreath,lookingdownathisplate.
Ileanedincloserandwhispered,“I’llwearitnexttime.Ipromise.”
MOMANDDADletmeinviteDelilahtothecottageforthefirstweekofthesummer.OnthelastdayofJune,thefourofusrodeupinmyparents’newoverstuffedSUV.MykneeswerebouncingwithanticipationbythetimeweturneddownBareRockLane,andtherewasahuge,stupidsmileacrossmyface.Thecottageneededmoreworkbeforewevisitedinwinter,soIhadn’tseenSamsinceThanksgiving,sevenmonthsago.
“What’swithyou?”Delilahwhisperedacrossastackofluggage.“Youlookderanged.”
IhadsentSamanIMwithourestimatedtimeofarrivalthenightbeforeweleft,anotherwhenwewerepackingthecar,andanotherjustbeforewepulledoutofthedriveway.HehatedIMsandrespondedtopreciselynoneofthem.Still,Iknewhe’dbewaitingforuswhenwearrived.ButIwasn’tpreparedtoseetwoverytallfiguresstandingoutsidethecottage.
“Isthatthem?”Delilahhissed,pullingatubeoflipglossoutofherpocket.
“Yeah?”Isaid,nottotallybelievingit.Samwastall.Likereallytall.
IwasoutthedoorbeforeDadshutofftheengine,andflungmyselfathim,stretchingmyarmsaroundhisslimtorso.Hiswiryarmscamearoundme,andIcouldfeelhimshakewithlaughter.
Ipulledbackwithabigsmile.
“Hi,Percy,”hesaid,hiseyebrowsraisedhighunderhisuncombedhair.Ipausedatthesoundofhisvoice.Itwasdifferent.Itwasdeep.Iquicklypushedasidemyshockandgrabbedhisarm.
“Updateone,”Isaid,holdingmywristnexttohis,liningupourbraceletssidebyside.“Haven’ttakenitoffsinceafterThanksgiving,”Iadded.
Wegrinnedateachotherlikelunatics.
“Thiswaywe’llhavesomethingtoswearon,”Isaid.
“Thankgod.Itwasmynumberoneconcern.”SarcasmoozedfromSam’swordslikecaramelfromachocolateegg.Hewaspleased.
“Hey,Pers,”CharliesaidfromoverSam’sshoulder,thencalledtomyparents,“Mr.andMrs.Fraser,Momsentusovertohelpunload.”
“Appreciateit,Charlie,”Dadhollered,hisheadinthetrunkoftheSUV.“ButdroptheMr.andMrs.thing,okay?”
“I’mDelilah,”saidavoicebehindme.Whoops.Ihadcompletelyforgottenmyfriend.Asmallpartofme—okay,fine,aratherlargechunk—didn’twanttointroduceDelilahtoSam.Shewassomuchcuterthanme,andherboobshadgottenhugethisyearwhileIremainedflatchested.Iknewitwasn’tlikethatbetweenSamandme,butIdidn’twantittobelikethatbetweenthem,either.
“Sorry,I’mbeingtotallyrude,”Iapologized.“Sam,thisisDelilah.Delilah,Sam.”Theyexchangedhellos,thoughhiswasnoticeablycold.
SamhadrepliedwithexactlythreewordswhenIemailedhimaboutmyrekindledfriendshipwithDelilah:Areyousure?Iwas,butevidently,Samwasnot.
“YoumustbeCharlie,”Delilahcalledout,hominginonhimlikeafoxonababychick.
“Yeah,hey,”Charliesaidashewalkedbycarryingaboxofgroceries,payingherzeroattention.Unruffled,sheturnedbacktoSam,herbigblueeyestwinkling.Shewaswearingthetiniestpairofcoralshortsandaskintightyellowtubetopthatshowedoffherboobsandstomach.
“Percydidn’tmentionhowcuteyouare,”shesaid,lavishinguponhimoneofhersignaturebeamingsmiles,allglossypinklipsandflutteringlashes.
Sam’sfacescrunchedupandhiseyesdartedtomine.
“Sorry,”Imouthed,thengrabbedDelilah’sarmandpulledhertowardthecarasshegiggled.
“Canyoucomeoverlater?”Samaskedafterwefinishedunloading.“I’vegotsomethingIwanttoshowyou.It’supdatesone,two,andthree.”Thewayhespoke,likeDelilahwasn’tthere,filledmychestwithhelium.
“Youhaven’ttoldherabouttheboatyet?”Charlieasked.Samrubbedhisfaceandpushedhishairoffhisforeheadinonemovementofcontrolledagitation.
“No,itwasgoingtobeasurprise.”
“Shit,sorry,man,”Charliesaid,andtohiscredit,hesoundedlikehemeantit.
“Well,fillusin,”Delilahpipedup,herhandsontheracetrackcurvesofherhips.
“WefixedupDad’soldboat,”saidSaminabaritoneofpride.Hisvoicewouldtakesomegettingusedto.
“Andhemeansold,”Charlieadded.
“Itusedtobeourgranddad’s,andDadfixeditupandkeptitgoinguntil…”Sam’ssentencehungthere.
“It’sjustbeensittinginthegarage,”Charliecutin.“MomalwayspromisedIcoulduseitonceIturnedsixteen,butitneededabunchofwork.GranddadhelpedrepairitthisspringwhentheygotbackfromFlorida.Evengotthisguyhelpingout.”CharliebumpedSamwithhiselbow.
“You’vegottoseeit,Percy,”saidSamwithacrookedsmile.“It’sclassic.”
Delilahtossedherhairbehindapaleshoulder.“We’dloveto.”
“OHMYGOD,PERCY!”DELILAHsquealedassoonaswetookoursuitcasesuptomybedroom.“WhydidyounottellmehowhotCharlieis?Iwouldhavewornsomethingwaycuterthanthis!”
Ilaughed.Delilahhadbecomeseriouslyboycrazyoverthepastyear.
“Sam’snotasgood-looking,buthe’scute,too,”shesaid,staringupattheceilingasthoughincarefulthought.“Ibethe’llbejustashotwhenhegetsolder.”Thetasteofjealousywasbitteronmytongue.Ididn’twantherthinkingSamwascute.Ididn’twantherthinkingaboutSamatall.
“He’sokay,Iguess.”Ishrugged.
“Let’spickouroutfitsforwhenwegooverthisafternoon!”Shewasalreadyopeninghersuitcase.
“It’sjustSamandCharlie.Trustme,theydon’tcarehowwe’redressed,”Isaid,butnowIwasn’tentirelysurethatwastrue.Shelookedatmeskeptically.“I’llbewearingmybathingsuitandmyshortsifitmakesanydifferencetoyou,”Iadded.
Wechangedintoourswimsuitsafterunpackingourthings.Delilahputonablackstringbikini,impossiblyheldtogetherwithflimsyties,andwiggledintoapairoffreshwhitedenimcutoffssoshortthesmileofherasscheeksgrinnedoutthebottom.
“Whatdoyouthink?”Sheturnedaround,andItriednottostareatherchest,butitwaskindofimpossible,consideringtheratioofbreasttobathingsuit.
“Youlookinsane,”Isaid.“Goodinsane.”Imeantit,buttheacidburnofenvywasspreadingdownmythroat.Momrefusedtoletmewearastringbikini,butshehadallowedatwo-piece—neonorangewithwidebuckledstrapsonthetop.Ithoughtitwascoolatthestore,butnowIfeltchildish,andmyjeanshortsseemedentirelytoofullbottomed.
Wepaddeddownthestairstothelake.Theskywasclearandthewaterwasblue-blue,ripplingfromabreezecomingfromthesoutheast.
TherewasabrightyellowmotorboatattheFloreks’dock,andthetopsofCharlie’sandSam’sheadswerevisibleastheypokedaroundinside.
“Niceboat!”Iyelled,andtheysprunguplikemeerkats,bothshirtlessandbronzed.Theperksoflivingbythelake.
“IcanseeCharlie’smusclesfromhere,”Delilahshrieked.
Ishushedher.“Soundcarrieseasilyonthewater.”Butshewasright.Charliehadfilledout,andtherewasmoredefinitiontohisarms,chest,andshoulders.
“Wannacomesee?”Samyelledback.
“Doweever,”Delilahpurred,andIelbowedherandraisedmyhandinathumbs-up.
Wecutthroughthetrailbetweenourproperties,emergingfromthewoodsafewmetersfromtheirdock.
“Isn’titgreat?”Sambeamedatmefromtheboat.
“Isn’tshegreat,”Charliecorrected.
“It’sawesome!”Isaid,andmeantit.Theboathadaroundednosewithbrownvinylbenchesinthefrontandroomforsixmoreintheback.
“Totallyretro,”Delilahenthusedaswewalkedontothedock.
“Whoa,whoa,Pers.”Charlieheldhishandsup.“Yourbathingsuitplusthisboat?Iwasgoingtotakeusforadrive,butI’mnotsureI’llbeabletosee.”Iscowledathim.
“Hilarious,”Samsaid,thenranhiseyesoverme.“Thatsuit’sreallycool.Matchestheorangeinthebracelet.Hopin.”
Samreachedouthishandtohelpme,andahotcurrentofelectricitybuzzedfrommyfingerstomyneck.
Whatwasthat?
“WecallittheBananaBoat,forobviousreasons,”Samsaid,unawareofthezaphe’dsentupmyarm.
“Wehaven’tevenshownyouthebestpart.”Charliepusheddownonthewheelandaloudaaaah-whoooo-gaaaaahsoundedfromthehorn.DelilahandIjumpedandthencackledwithlaughter.
“Ohmygod!Thisisahorny-soundingboat!”shecried.
“GivesnewmeaningtothenameBananaBoat,huh?”Samgrinnedather,andtheelectricitythathadbeenrunningupanddownmyarmfaded.
Oncewegottheokayfrommyparents,whowerealreadysittingonthedeckwithglassesofwineinhand,Charliedroveussouthtoalittlecoveandcutthemotor.
“This,ladies,isthejumpingrock,”hedeclared,droppingananchorintothewaterandremovinghisT-shirt.Iwastryingveryhardnottostareathisnewstomachmuscles.Iwasfailing.
“It’stotallysafetojump,”Samsaid.“We’vebeendoingitsincewewerekids.”
“Who’sin?”askedCharlie.
“I’lldoit!”Delilahsaid,standingtounbuttonhershorts.Ihadbeentoodistractedtonoticetherockycliffwe’dpulledinfrontof.Iblanched.
“Youdon’thaveto,”Samsaidtome.“I’llstayintheboatwithyou.”
Istoodandtookoffmyshorts.Iwouldnotbeababy.
Wedoveofftheendoftheboatandswamtowardshore,DelilahandmefollowingSamandCharlieupthesideofthecliff.IscreamedwhenCharliesprintedtowardtheedgeandjumpedoverwithoutwarning.
Wecreptuptotheedgetoseehisheadbobbinginthewater,hisdimplesclearevenfromthisheight.
“Who’snext?”hecalled.
“I’mgoing,”Delilahannounced,andSamandIsteppedbacktogiveherspace.Shemovedbackfromtheedgeandthentookthreehugestridesbeforejumpingoff.Shecameoutofthewaterlaughing.
“Thatwasamazing.You’vegottatryit,Percy!”sheyelled.
Mystomachtwisted.Itseemedalothigherfromupherethanitdidfromtheboat.Ilookedbehindme,thinkingthatmaybeI’djustwalkdown.
“Wanttogobackthewaywecame?”Samasked,readingmymind.
Iscrunchedmymouthup.“Idon’twanttobeachicken,”Iadmitted,lookingbackoverthelakeanddowntoCharlieandDelilah.
“No,Igetit,it’sreallyhigh,”Samsaid,surveyingthewaterbelow.“Wecouldgotogether.I’llholdyourhand,andwe’lljumponthecountofthree.”
Itookadeepbreath.
“Okay.”
Samthreadedhisfingersthroughmine.
“Together,onthree,”hesaid,squeezingmyhandtight.
“One,two,three…”Wedroppedlikeconcrete,ourhandsseparatingwhenwecrashedthroughthesurface.Iwaspulleddown,down,downlikeananvilwastiedtomyankle,andforafractionofasecond,IworriedIwouldn’tmakeitbackup.ButthenthedownwardmomentumstoppedandIkicked,swimminguptothelightoverhead.IcameoutgaspingforairatthesametimeSamemerged,spinningaroundtolookforme.Heworeafulltoothysmile.
“Youokay?”
“Yeah,”Igasped,tryingtocatchmybreath.“ButIamneverdoingthatagain.”
“Whataboutyou,Delilah?”Charlieasked.“Wanttogoagain?”
“Definitely,”shesaid.Asiftherewouldbeanotheranswer.
SamandIswambacktotheboat,usingthelittleladderatthebacktohaulourselvesup.Hepassedmeatowelandwesatonthebenchesatthefrontacrossfromeachother,dryingoff.
“Delilah’snotasbadasIthought,”hesaid.
“Oh,really?”
“Yeah,sheseemskindof…silly?ButIstillhavemyeyeonher.Ifshesaysonemeanthingtoyou,Iwillhavetoexactmyrevenge.”Hishairdrippedontohisshoulders,whichdidn’tlookquiteasbonyastheyusedto.“I’vebeenplottingitsinceyoutoldmeabouther.It’sallplannedout.”
Ilaughed.“Thanksfordefendingmyhonor,SamFlorek,butshe’snotlikethatanymore.”Heeyedmesilently,thenmovedtothebenchbesideme,ourthighspressedtogether.Iwrappedmytowelaroundmyshoulders,veryawareofhowmyskinprickledwhereitmethis.IbarelyregisteredthesplashesofCharlieandDelilah’ssecondjumps.
“What’sinyourhair?”heasked,reachingforthesectionIhadwrappedinembroideryfloss.
“Oh,Iforgotthatwasthere,”Isaid.“Ididittomatchthebracelet.Doyoulikeit?”Whenheturnedhisfocusfrommyhairtomyface,Iwascaughtoffguardbyhowstunningtheblueofhiseyeswas.Itwasn’tlikeIhadn’tnoticedbefore.MaybeitwasthatIhadn’tseenthemthiscloseup?HelookeddifferentfromthelasttimeIsawhim,hischeekbonesmoreprominent,thespacebelowthemhollower.
“Yeah,it’scool.MaybeI’llgrowmyhairoutthissummerandyoucandoittomatchmybracelet,too,”hesaid.Hesearchedmyface,andthepricklingwherehislegpressedagainstminebecameacampfireblaze.Hetiltedhisheadandpursedhislips.Thebottomonewasfullerthanthetop,afaintcreasebisectedthepinkcrescent.Ihadn’tnoticedthatbefore.
“Youlookdifferent,”Sammurmured,squintingwhileheexaminedme.“Nomorefreckles,”hesaidafterafewseconds.
“Don’tworry,they’llbeback,”Isaid,lookingupatthesun.“Probablybytheendoftheday.”Onecornerofhisliproseslightly,buthisbrowsremainedfurrowed.
“Nomorebangs,either,”hesaid,givingtheembroideredsectionofhairagentlepull.Iblinkedbackathim,myheartpounding.
Whatisevenhappeningrightnow?
“No,andtheywon’tbeback—ever,”Ireplied.Iliftedmyhandtotuckmyhairbehindmyear,realizeditwasshaking,andwedgeditsafelyundermythigh.“Youknow,you’retheonlyboyI’vemetwhopayssuchcloseattentiontohair?”Itriedtosoundcalm,butthewordscameoutwearingastraitjacket.
Hegrinned.“Ipayattentiontoalotofthingsaboutyou,PercyFraser.”
THECANADADAYfireworkswereanimpressivedisplayforsuchasmalltown.Theywerelitfromthetowndock,explosionsilluminatingthenightskyandglitteringontheinkywaterbelow.
“DoyouthinkCharlie’sfriendsareascuteasheis?”Delilahasked,tossingclothesalloverthefloorwhilewegotready.TheplanwasforCharlie,Sam,andCharlie’sfriendstopickDelilahandmeupintheBananaBoatatdusksowecouldwatchfromthelake.
“KnowingCharlie,Ithinkhisfriendsareprobablyallgirls,”Ireplied,pullingonapairofsweatpants.
“Hmm…thenI’llhavetogoallout.”Shehelduparedhaltertopandablackminiskirt.“Whatdoyouthink?”
“Ithinkyou’llbecold.Itcangetchillywhenthesungoesdown.”
Shegavemeadevilishgrin.“I’llriskit.”
Thusclad—sheinclubwear,meinanavyUofTsweatshirtDadboughtattheuniversitygiftshop—wemadeourwaytothewater.WestoppeddeadassoonaswegottoourdockandlookedoverattheFloreks’.Charlieandanotherboywerehelpingthreegirlsintotheboat.ItookcomfortinthefactthattheyweredressedmorelikemethanDelilah,inleggingsandpullovers.
Charliebroughttheboatuptotheendofourdocksowecouldclimbaboardandintroducedustothegroup.Delilah’sfacefellwhenhereferredtoArtiashisgirlfriend,butshequicklycollectedherselfandplantedherbuttonthebenchnexttoSam.Isatacrossfromthem,myeyessticky-gluedtowhereDelilah’slegpressedagainsthis.
Charlieparkedjustoutfromthetownbeach,wheredozensofboatsdriftedonthewaterandcarslinedtheshoreallaroundthebay.Charlie’sfriendEvancrackedacoupleofcansofbeerandpassedthemaroundaswewaited.BothCharlieandSamdeclined,butDelilahtookasip,puckeringatthetaste.
“Youwon’tlikeit,Percy,”shesaid,handingitbacktoEvan.
ItookadvantageofthedimminglighttostudySam.HewaslisteningtoDelilahtalkabouthersummerplans:horseridingintheKawarthasandsuntanningataresortinMuskoka.Hishairwasthickandunruly,asusual,andhekeptpushingitbackonlyforittofalloverhiseyeagain.Hehadagoodmouth,Idecided.Hisnosewastheexactrightsizeforhisface,nottoosmallortoobig.Itwaskindofweirdlyperfect.Ialreadyknewhehadthebesteyes.Hiswholefacewasnice,really.Hewasskinny,buthiselbowsandkneesdidn’tlookasstabbyastheydidlastsummer.Delilahwasright;Samwascute.Ijusthadn’trealizedbeforenow.
IsatquietlywithmyrevelationashenoddedalongtoDelilah’sdescriptionoftheresortpool,largehandswrappedaroundhisknees,thighssquishedagainsthers.
“Youcold?”heaskedher.
“Abit,”sheadmitted.Shewasshivering,Icouldseethat,butwhenSamunzippedhisblackhoodieandpassedittoher,itfeltlikeabladehadbeenplungedintomybelly.
Itstruckmelikeabus:IhadnoideahowmuchtimeSamspentwithothergirlsduringtheyear.Ididn’tthinkhehadagirlfriend,butthenagain,thetopichadn’tcomeup.AndSamwascute.Andsmart.Andthoughtful.
“Youokay,Percy?”heasked,catchingmestaringwide-eyed.Delilahshotmeafunnylook.
“Uh-huh!”Itcameoutofmymouthasanoddsqueak.Ineededadiversion.“Hey,Evan?Iwouldn’tmindasipofthat,”Isaid,pointingtohisbeer.
“Yeah,sure.”Hepassedmethecan,andnope!Ididnotlikebeer.IgaveEvanasmileaftermyfirstgulp,thenforcedbacktwomorebeforehandingitback.Samleanedtowardme,hislipspinchedtogether.
“Youdrinkbeer?”heaskedwithcleardisbelief.
“Loveit,”Ilied.
Hefrowned.“Swearonit?”Hehelduphiswrist.
“Notachance.”Heshookhisheadandlaughed,andthesoundbroughtasmiletomyface.
Delilah’sgazeping-pongedbetweenus,andwhenthefireworksstarted,boomsechoingaroundthebay,shemovedontotheseatbesideme,linkedherarmthroughmine,andwhisperedinmyear,“Yoursecret’ssafewithme.”
THEWEATHERHADbeenperfectforDelilah’svisit:clearskies,notadropofrain,hotbutnotmuggy,asifMotherNaturehadknownDelilahwascoming,andputonhermostimpressiveoutfit.ToDelilah’sgreatdisappointment,Charliewasn’tascooperative,spendingmostofhistimeworkingattheTavernorhangingoutatArti’shouseintown.
HerlastdayatthelakewaswhatDadcalledascorcher,andwhenwecouldnolongerwalkonthedockwithoutburningourfeet,weheadedtotheFloreks’basement.
“What’sCharlieupto?”Delilahaskedasthethreeofustrudgeddownthestairswithsodasandabagofsalt-and-vinegarchips.
“Sleeping,probably,”saidSam,grabbingtheremote.“Whatdoyoufeellikewatching?”HeandItookourusualspotsattheoppositeendsofthecouch.
“I’vegotabetteridea,”Delilahsaidwithatossofredhair.“Let’splaytruthordare.”
Samgroaned.
“Idon’tknow…”Ihesitated,feelinguneasy.“I’mnotsurewehaveenoughpeopletoplay.”
“Ofcoursewedo!Youcanplaywithjusttwopeopleandthereareone,two,threeofus.”SameyedDelilahlikeshewasapoisonoussnake.“C’mon!It’smylastday.Let’sdosomethingfun.”
“Justforalittlewhile?”IdirectedmyquestionatSam.
“Okay,sure,”hesighedheavily.
Delilahclappedherhandsandpositionedusinacircleonthesisalcarpeting.“Wedon’thaveabottle,solet’sjustspintheremotetoseewhogoesfirst.Whoeverthetopendisfacingstarts,”shedirected.“Sam,whydon’tyougoforit?”
“IfImust,”hesaidfromunderaswoopoftawnyhair.Hespuntheremote,whichpointedvaguelyinDelilah’sdirection.
“Delilah:truthordare?”Samaskedwiththeenthusiasmofadeadtrout.
“Truth!”
Samlockedhisblueeyesonherlikeamissile:“Haveyoueverbulliedanyone?”Ishothimawarningglance,butDelilahwasoblivious.
“That’saweirdquestion,”shesaid,herbubblegumlipsinatwist.“But,no,Ihaven’t.”Samraisedoneeyebrow,butletitslide.
“Okay,myturntoaskone,”shesaidandrubbedherhandstogether.“Sam:Doyouhaveagirlfriend?”
“Idonot,”hereplied,soundingutterlyboredandabitcondescending.Ifoughtbackasmilethatstartedinmyfingertips,andletoutthebreathI’dbeenholdingsincethenightofthefireworks.
Afterfifteenotherwisedullminutesofansweringtruthquestions,Samrubbedhisfaceandmoaned,“CanweputanendtothisifIchoosedare?”
Delilahconsideredthisuntilalookofevilvictoryfellacrosshercreamyface.“Greatidea,Sam.”Shepretendedtothink,herindexfingeronherchin.Thenshenarrowedhereyesathim.“IdareyoutokissPercy.”
Myjawslowlydropped.I’dbeentryingtofigureouthowIfeltaboutSamfordays.ButtheglarehewasgivingDelilah,likehewantedtochopherupinitty-bittypieces,wasaflashingbillboardthatreadIwouldonlykissPercyFraserifshewerethelastgirlinthegalaxy,andmaybenoteventhen.Mystomachlurched.
“What,don’tyouthinkshe’scuteenoughforyou?”Delilahasked,hervoiceassweetasaspartame,justasfootstepscamedownthestairs.
“Who’snotcuteenoughforyou,Samuel?”Charlieasked,stalkingovertousinapairofblacktrackpants.Hestretchedupintoayawnthatdrewattentiontohisnakedtorso.
“Noone,”SamrepliedasDelilahsaid,“Percy.”
Charlietiltedhisheadtowardher,hisgreeneyestwinklingwithdelight.“Oh?”
“Idaredhimtokissherbutheobviouslywasn’tgoingto.I’dbeinsultedifitwereme,”shesaid,likeIwasn’tsittingrightbesideher.
“Isthatright?”Charliesmirked.“Howcome,Samuel?”
“Getlost,Charles,”hemuttered,ahightideofbloodredrisingpasthisneck.
“Well,Iwouldn’twantPercytofeelbadjustbecauseyoudon’thavetheballstokissher,”Charliesaid.Hebentdown,tookmyfaceinhishands,andmovedhismouthoverminebeforeIhadachancetoreact.Hislipsweresoftandwarmandtastedoforangejuice,andhepressedthemtomelongenoughthatIfeltawkwardwithmyeyesopen.Thenitwasover.Hepulledbackafewinches,hishandsstillonmyface.
“Yousnooze,youlose,Sam,”Charliesaid,lookingatmewithhiscateyes.Hewinkedandstraightenedtofullheight,thenheadedbackupstairs,leavingbehindthespicy-sharpsmellofhisdeodorant.
“Whoa,Percy!”Delilahgrabbedmyarm.Iranmytongueovermylips,thecitrustanglingeringonthem.“EarthtoPersephone!”shegiggled.Samwatchedmesilently,pinktothetipsofhisears.Iblinkedawayandbentmyhead,coveringmyfaceinadarkforcefieldofhair.
I’djusthadmyfirstkiss,butmymindwasstuckonthefactthatSamdidn’twanttokissme.Notevenonadare.
MOMDROVEDELILAHbacktothecitythenextmorning.Delilahgavemeahug,sayingshehadthe“besttimeever”andwasgoingtomissme“somuch.”Iwasrelievedshewasgone.IwantedSamtomyselfsothingscouldgobacktonormal,andIcouldforgetaboutCharliekissingmeandSamverymuchnotkissingme.
Thegoing-back-to-normalpartwaseasy.Weswam.Wefished.Weread.Wemadeourwaythrougheightieshorrormovies.Forgettingaboutthekissingstuff?Notsomuch.Atleastnotforme.ForCharlie,itwasn’taproblem.I’mnotsureherememberedputtinghislipsonmineatall—it’spossiblehewashalf-asleeporsleepwalkingatthetime—becausehedidn’tmentionit.
IwassittingintheBananaBoatmullingallthisoverwhileCharlieandSamdriedofffromourlatesttriptothejumpingrock(Istayedintheboatinamoresupervisorycapacity).It’snotthatIwantedCharlietomentionthekissagain.IjustkindofwantedsomereassurancethatIwasn’tacompletelycrappykisser.IwasstudyingCharlie’smouthwhenIfeltatugonmybracelet.ItwasSam,andIwasbusted.
WhenwegotbacktotheFloreks’,SamandIswamouttotheraftwhileCharliewenttogetreadyforhisshiftattherestaurant.Assoonasweclimbedon,Samlaydownwithhishandsbehindhisheadandfacetothesun,closinghiseyeswithoutaword.
Whatthehell?
He’dbarelyspokentomesincehecaughtmeleeringathisbrother,andsuddenlyIwasirrationallyannoyed.Ibackeduptogivemyselfarunningstartandcannonballedintothewaternexttowherehewaslying.HislegswerecoveredindropletswhenIemerged,buthehadn’tmovedaninch.
“You’requieterthanusual,”Isaid,onceI’dclimbedbackontotheraft,standingoverhimsowaterdrippedontohisarm.
“Ohyeah?”Hisvoicewasdispassionate.
“Areyoumadatme?”Iglaredathiseyelids.
“I’mnotmadatyou,Percy,”hesaid,slingingonearmoverhisface.Okaaaaay.
“Well,youseemkindamad,”Ibarked.“DidIdosomethingwrong?”Noresponse.“I’msorryforwhateveritwas,”Iaddedwithanedgeofsarcasm.Because—reminder!—hewastheonewhorejectedme.
Stillnothing.Frustrated,Isatdownandpulledthearmfromhisface.Hesquintedatme.
“Percy,I’mnot.Seriously,”hesaid.AndIcouldtellhemeantit.Icouldalsotellthatsomethingwasn’tright
“Thenwhat’sgoingonwithyou?”
Hepulledhisarmoutofmyhandandhoistedhimselfup,sothatwewerebothsittingcross-leggedacrossfromeachother,kneestouching.Hetiltedhisheadjustslightly.
“Wasthatyourfirstkiss?”heasked.
Istammeredatthesuddenchangeoftopic.Kissingwasnotsomethingwehaddiscussedbefore.
“Theotherday.Charlie?”heprodded.
Ilookedovermyshoulderforanescaperouteoutofthisconversation.“Technically,”Imurmured,stilllookingatthewaterbehindme.
“Technically?”
Isighedandfacedhimagain,cringing.“Dowehavetotalkaboutthis?Iknowfourteenisoldforafirstkiss,but…”
“Charlieissuchadick,”heinterruptedwithunusualsharpness.
“It’snotabigdeal,”Isaidquickly.“It’sjustakiss.It’snotlikeitmattersoranything,”Ilied.
“Yourfirstkissisabigdeal,Percy.”
“Ohmygod,”Igroaned,lookingdowntowhereourkneesweretouching.“Yousoundlikemymom.”Istudiedthelighthairthatsprinkledhisshinsandthighs.
“Doyouhaveyourperiod?”
Myeyespoppeduptohis.“Youcan’taskmethat!”Iscreeched.He’dsaiditsocasually,asifhe’daskedDoyoulikebutternutsquash?
“Whynot?Mostgirlsmenstruatearoundtwelve.You’refourteen,”hesaidmatter-of-factly.Iwantedtojumpofftheraftandnevercomeupforair.
“Ican’tbelieveyoujustsaid‘menstruate,’?”Imuttered,myneckburning.
Myperiodhadarrivedsmack-dabinthemiddleofaschoolday.IstaredattheredstainonmyfloralunderwearforafullminutebeforepullingDelilahintothebathroomstall.ForasmuchasIhadobsessedaboutgettingmyperiod,Ihadnoideawhattodo.Sherantoherlockerandbroughtbackazipperedpouchwithpadsandlongtubeswrappedinyellowpaper.Tampons.Icouldn’tbelievesheusedthem.Sheshowedmehowtoputonthepad,thensaid,“You’regoingtohavetodosomethingaboutthesegrannypanties.You’reawomannow.”
“So,doyou?”Samaskedagain.
“Doyouhavewetdreams?”Isnapped.
“I’mnottellingyouthat,”hesaid,hischeeksturningadeepmagenta.
Idugin.“Whynot?Youaskedmeaboutperiods.Ican’taskyouaboutwetdreams?”
“It’snotthesame,”hesaid,andhiseyesflashedtomychest.Westaredateachother.
“I’llansweryourquestionifyou’llanswermine,”Ihedgedafterseverallongsecondspassed.
Hestudiedme,hislipspressedtogether.“Swearonit?”heasked.
“Iswear,”Ipromisedandtuggedonhisbracelet.
“Yeah,Ihavewetdreams,”hesaidquickly.Hedidn’tevenbreakeyecontact.
“Whatdotheyfeellike?Doesithurt?”Thequestionssprangfrommylipswithoutmysay-so.
Hesmirked.“No,Percy,itdoesn’thurt.”
“Ican’timaginenothavingcontrolofmybodylikethat.”
Samshrugged.“Girlsdon’thavecontroloftheirperiods,either.”
“That’strue.I’dneverthoughtaboutthat.”
“Butyouhavethoughtaboutwetdreams.”Heeyedmeclosely.
“Well,theysoundprettygross,”Ilied.“Thoughnotasgrossasperiods.”
“Periodsaren’tgross.They’repartofhumanbiology,andthey’reactuallyprettycoolifyouthinkaboutit,”hesaid,hiseyeswidewithsincerity.“They’rebasicallythefoundationofhumanlife.”Igapedathim.IknewSamwassmart—I’dpeekedatthereportcardthatwastackedtotheFloreks’fridge—butsometimeshesaidthingslikePeriodsarethefoundationofhumanlifethatmademefeelyearsbehind.
“Youaresuchanerd,”Iscoffed.“Onlyyouwouldsayperiodsarecool,butbelieveme,they’regross.”
“Soyoudohaveyourperiod,”heconfirmed.
“Yourdeductionskillsareoutstanding,Doc,”Isaid,lyingdownonmybackandclosingmyeyestoputanendtotheconversation.
Butafterafewsecondshespokeagain.“Theydon’tfeelthesameeverytime.”Ipeeredupathim,buthisfacewassilhouettedbythesun.“SometimesIcanfeelithappeningduringadream,andsometimesIwakeupandit’salreadyhappened.”
Ishieldedmyeyeswithmyhand,tryingtomakeouthisface.“Whatdoyoudreamabout?”Iwhispered.
“Whatdoyouthink,Percy?”
Ihadageneralsenseofwhatboysfoundsexy.“Blondeswithbigboobs?”
“Sometimes,Iguess,”hesaid.“Sometimesgirlswithbrownhair,”headdedquietly.Thewayhelookeddownatmemademyinsidesfeellikehothoney.
“Whatwasyourfirstkisslike?”Iasked.Theanswersuddenlyfelturgent.
Hedidn’tspeakforseverallongseconds,andwhenhedid,itcameoutonasoftexhalation.“Idon’tknow.Ihaven’tkissedanyoneyet.”
THERUMORATDeerParkHighwasthatMs.Georgewasawitch.Theninth-gradeEnglishteacherwasanolder,unmarriedwomanwhosethinningrust-coloredhairwassobrittlelooking,Iwastemptedtotrytosnapoffapiece.Shedressedinflowinglayersofblackandocherthathidhertinybody,withpointy-toedhigh-heeledbootsthatlaceduparoundherskinnycalves.Andshehadthisresinbraceletwithadeadbeetleencasedinsidethatsheassureduswasreal.Shewasstrictandtoughandalittlebitscary.Ilovedher.
Onthefirstdayofclass,shehandedoutpastel-coloredworkbooksthatweretoserveasourjournals.Shetoldusjournalsweresacred,thatshewouldn’tjudgetheircontents.Ourfirstassignmentwastowriteaboutourmostmemorableexperiencefromthesummer.DelilahlookedatmeandmouthedthewordsCharlieshirtless.Holdingbackagiggle,Iopenedthepaleyellowbookandbegantodescribethejumpingrock.
Writinginthejournalquicklybecamemyfavoritepartofninthgrade—sometimesMs.Georgegaveusathemetoexplore;othertimessheleftituptous.Itfeltgoodtogiveshapeandordertomythoughts,andIlikedusingwordstopaintpicturesofthelakeandthebush.IwroteafullpageaboutSue’spierogies,butIalsoimaginedterrifyingtalesofvengefulghostsandmedicalexperimentsgonewrong.
Fourweeksintotheschoolyear,Ms.Georgeaskedmetostayafterclass.Oncetheotherstudentshadfiledout,shetoldmeIhadanaturaltalentforcreativewritingandencouragedmetoenterashort-storycompetitionbeingheldacrosstheschoolboard.Finalistswouldattendathree-daywriters’workshopatalocalcollegeduringMarchbreak.
“Polishuponeofyourhorrornarratives,dear,”shesaid,thenshooedmeoutthedoor.
ItookthejournaltothecottageThanksgivingweekendsoSamcouldhelpmedecidewhichideatoworkon.WesatonmybedwiththeHudson’sBayblanketpulledoverourlegs,Samflippingthroughthepagesandmyeyesstucktohimlikeatonguetoametalpoleinwinter.EversinceSamhadtoldmehehadn’tkissedanyone,Icouldn’tstopthinkingabouthowIwantedtoputmymouthonhisbeforesomeoneelsegotthere.
“Thesearereallygood,Percy,”hesaid.Hisfaceturnedserious,andhegavemeathere,therepatonmyleg.“You’resuchasweet,prettygirlontheoutside,butreallyyou’reatotalfreak.”Igrabbedtheworkbookfromhishandsandswattedhimwithit,butmybrainhadjammedonthewordpretty
“Imeanitasacompliment,”helaughed,holdinghishandsuptoshieldhimself.Iraisedmyarmtowhackhimagain,buthegrabbedmywristandyankedmeforwardsothatItumbledontopofhim.Webothwentstill.Myeyesmovedtothelittlecreaseinhisbottomlip.ButthenIheardfootstepscomingupstairsandIscrambledoffhim.Momappearedinthedoorway,frowningbehindheroversizedredframes.
“Everythingokayuphere,Persephone?”
“Ithinkyoushouldgowiththebrainbloodone,”Samcroakedaftersheleft
MOMANDDADsaidwecouldspendMarchbreakinBarry’sBayifIdidn’tgetintotheworkshop,andforasecondIwonderedifmaybeIshouldn’tbotherentering.IfloatedtheideatoDelilahaswewerewalkinghomefromschool,andshepinchedmyarm.
“You’vegotbetterthingstoworryaboutthantheSummerBoys,”shesaid.
Iclutchedherarm.“WhoareyouandwhathaveyoudonewithDelilahMason?”Iwailed.
Shepokedhertongueout.“I’mserious.Boysareforfun.Lotsoffun.Butdon’tletonestandinthewayofyourgreatness.”
Ittookeveryounceofmyself-controlnottodoubleoverwithlaughter.Butthatwasthat.
Iworkedonthestorythroughoutthefall.Itwasaboutanidyllic-seemingsuburbwherethesmartest,mostattractiveteenagersweresentawaytoaneliteacademy.Exceptthattheschoolwasactuallyanightmarishinstitutionwheretheirbrainbloodwasharvestedtoformulateayouth-givingserum.Samhelpedmeworkthroughthedetailsoveremail.Hepokedholesintheplotandthescienceandthenbrainstormedsolutionswithme.
OnceIfinished,Imailedhimacopywithasignedcoverpageandadedicationtohim“foralwaysknowingjusttherightamountofblood.”Icalledit“YoungBlood.”
Fivedayslater,hephonedthehouseaftersuppertime.“I’mgoingtostopthinkingaboutwhatwecandooverMarchbreak,”hesaid.“There’snowayyouaren’tgoingtowin.”
WEDROVETOBarry’sBayonBoxingDay.Thebushseemedlikeadifferentworldthanitwasinsummer—thebirchesandmapleswerebareandafootofsnowcoveredtheground,thesunbouncingoffthecrystalsintinyglitteringspecks.Thepineboughslookedasiftheywerecoatedindiamonddust.Oneoftheyear-roundresidentshadplowedourdrivewayandlitthefire,andthesmokebillowedfromthecottage’schimney.ItlookedlikeasceneonaChristmascard.
Assoonasweunpacked,Ibundledupinmyredwoolpeacoatandputonmywhitebootswiththefurrypom-pomsandaknithatandmatchingmittens.IgrabbedtheparcelI’dcarefullywrappedforSamandheadedoutthedoor.Mybreathhittheairinsilverypuffs,andthewindbitmyfingersthroughmymittens.IwasshiveringwhenIclimbeduptheFloreks’porch.
Sueopenedthedoor,surprisedtoseeme.
“Percy!It’ssogoodtoseeyou,honey,”shesaid,givingmeahug.“Comein,comein—it’sfreezing!”ThehousesmelledlikeitdidatThanksgiving—ofturkeyandwoodsmokeandvanillacandles.
“MerryChristmas,Mrs.Florek.Ihopeyoudon’tmindmecomingoverwithoutcalling.IhaveapresentforSamandwantedtosurprisehim.Ifiguredhe’dbehome?”
“Idon’tmindatall.You’rewelcomehereanytime—youknowthat.He’s…”Shewasinterruptedbyachorusofagonizedgroansandthenlaughter.“He’sinthebasementplayingvideogameswithacoupleoffriends.Takeyourthingsoffandheaddown.”Istaredatherblankly.Intheory,IknewSamhadotherfriends.He’dbegunmentioningthemmorethanwhenwefirstmet,andI’dbeenencouraginghimtoputthehomeworkasideandhangoutwiththem.I’djustnevermetthem.
DoIwanttomeetthem?Dotheywanttomeetme?DotheyevenknowIexist?
“Percy?”Suegavemeanencouragingsmile.“Hangyourcoatup,okay?They’renicekids,don’tworry.”
Iwalkeddownthestairsinmysockedfeet,andwhenIgottothebottom,Iwasmetwiththreesetsofsurprisedeyes
“Percy!”Samsaid,standingup.“Ididn’tthinkyouwerehereyet.”
“Ta-da!”Ireplied,dippingintoahalfcurtsyastheothertwoboysputtheircontrollersdownandgottotheirfeet.Samgavemeatighthug,justlikehewouldifitwereonlythetwoofus.Iclosedmyeyesbriefly—hesmelledlikefabricsoftenerandfreshair.Hefeltthicker,moresolid.
“Ohman,you’recold,”hesaid,pullingaway.“Yournoseisbrightred.”
“Yeah,Idon’tthinkmystuffiswarmenoughforupnorth.”
“Letmegrabyouablanket,”heoffered,thenleftmestandinginthemiddleoftheroomwhilehedugaroundinachest.
“Hi,”Isaid,wavingtoSam’sfriends.“SinceSamclearlydoesn’tknowhowtomakeintroductions,I’mPercy.”
“Oh,sorry,”Samsaid,handingmeamulticoloredpatchworkafghan.“ThisisFinn,”hesaid,pointingtotheonewithunkemptblackhairandroundglasses.FinnwasalmostastallasSam.“AndthisisJordie.”Jordiehaddarkskinandclose-croppedhair.Hewasshorterthantheothertwobutnotaswiry.Allthreeworejeansandsweatshirts.
“ThefamousPercy.Nicetomeetyou,”saidFinn,smiling.
Sotheydoknowaboutme.
“BraceletGirl,”saidJordiewithasmirk.“NowwecanfinallyseewhySamneverhangsoutwithusinthesummer.”
“BecauseI’mclearlymoreinteresting?”IjokedandcurledupintheleatherarmchairwhileFinnandJordieplunkedbackdownonthecouchandpickedupthecontrollers.Samsatdownonthearmofthechair.
“Exactly,”hesaid.
“Threeupdates?”Iasked.
HepushedhishairbackandgesturedtotheTV.“Newvideogame.”Andhisshirt.“Newhoodie.”Hepointedtoapileofhockeyskates.“Wemadearinkonthelake.You’regoingtoloveit.”Hepausedandadjustedtheblanketonmylap.“We’vegotextrawintergearyoucanborrow.Yourturn.”
“Umm,”Ibegan,likeIhadn’tplannedwhatI’dtellhim.“IgotalaptopforChristmas.Mombroughtanespressomachineupwithus,soifyouwanttogetintolatteart,we’vegotyoucovered.And”—Iheldbackasmile—“Igotintothewriters’workshop.”
Hisfacelitup,anexplosionofblueeyesandwhiteteeth.“That’samazing!NotthatI’msurprised,butstill.It’sahugedeal!Ibetitwasreallycompetitive.”Igrinnedupathim.
“Hey,congratulations,”Finnsaidfromthecouch,givingmeasalute.
“Yeah,”Jordiechimedin.“Samtoldusaboutyourstory.Wouldn’tshutupaboutit,actually.”
Iraisedmyeyebrows,feelinglighterthanpopcorn.
“ItoldyouIthoughtitwasgood,”Samsaid.Hetiltedhisheadtowardthelargegiftinmylap.“Isthatforme?”
“No,”Ireplied,innocently.“It’sforJordieandFinn.”
“She’sgood,”saidJordie,pointinghisindexfingeratmebeforegoingbacktothegame.
“It’sstupid,”Iaddedquietly,myeyesonSam’sfriends.Hefollowedmygaze.
“Igotsomethingforyou,too,”hesaid,andIsawJordieelbowFinn.
“Youdid?”
“It’supstairs,”hesaid.“Guys,we’llbebackinasec,”heannounced,andwepaddeduptothemainfloor.Sampointedtothestairsleadingtothesecondfloor.“Inmyroom.”
IhadbeeninsideSam’sbedroomonlyacoupleoftimes.Itwasacozyspacewithnavy-bluewallsandthickcarpeting.Samkeptittidy—thebedwasmadewithablueplaidduvet,andtherewerenopilesofclothesonthefloororstraypapersonhisdesk.Nexttothebedwasabookshelffilledwithcomics,secondhandbiologytextbooks,andfullsetsofJ.R.R.TolkienandHarryPotter.Alargeblack-and-whitepostershowingasketchofananatomicalheart,withlabelspointingtothevariousparts,hungonthewall.
Therewasanewframedphotoonhisdesk.Iputthegiftdownandpickeditup.ItwasapictureofSamandmefrommyfirstsummeratthelake.Weweresittingattheendofhisdock,towelswrappedaroundourshoulders,hairwet,bothsquintingintothesun,abarelydetectablegrinonSam’sfaceandatoothyoneonmine.
“Thisisagoodshot,”Isaid.
“Gladyouthinkso,”hereplied,openinguphistopdrawerandhandingmeasmallpresentcoveredinbrownpaperandtiedwitharedribbon.
Iopeneditcarefully,tuckingtheribboninthepocketofmysweatpants.Insidewasapewterframeholdingthesamephoto.“Soyoucantakethelakehomewithyou,”hesaid.
“Thankyou.”Ihuggedittomychestandthengroaned.“Ireallydon’twanttogiveyouyours.Thisissothoughtful.Mineis…silly.”
“Ilikesilly,”Samsaidwithashrugandpickedhispresentupfromthedesk.IbitmylipwhilehetoreoffthepaperandexaminedthecartoonnakedmanontheOperationboardgamelid.Hishairfelloverhisforehead,makingithardtoreadhisexpression,andwhenhelookedatmeitwaswithoneofhisunreadablestares.
“Becauseyouwanttobeadoctor?”Iexplained.
“Yeah,Igetthat.Geniusoverhere,remember?”Hesmiled.“DefinitelythebestgiftIgotthisyear.”
Iexhaledinrelief.“Swearonit?”Hepinchedmybraceletbetweenhisthumbandforefinger.
“Iswear.”Butthenhisfacescrunchedup.“Idon’twantthistosoundbad,butIthinkthatmaybesometimesyouworrytoomuchaboutwhatotherpeoplethink.”Herubbedthebackofhisneckandbenthisheadsothathisfacewaslevelwithmine.
Imumbledsomethingincoherent.Iknewhewasright,butIdidn’tlikethathesawmethatway.
“WhatI’mtryingtosayisthatitdoesn’tmatterwhatotherpeoplethinkaboutyou,becauseiftheydon’tlikeyou,they’reclearlymorons.”HewassocloseIcouldmakeoutthedarkerflecksofblueinhiseyes.
“Butyou’renototherpeople,”Iwhispered.Hiseyesflickeddowntomymouth,andIleanedatinybitcloser.“Idocarewhatyouthink.”
“SometimesIthinknoonegetsmethewayyoudo,”hesaid,thepinkofhischeeksdeepeningtoscarlet.“Doyouevergetthatfeeling?”MymouthfeltdryandIranmytongueovermytoplip.Hisgazefolloweditspath,andIcouldhearhimswallowthickly.
“Yeah,”Isaid,puttingashakinghandonhiswrist,surethathewouldclosethegapbetweenus.
Butthenheblinkedlikehehadrememberedsomethingimportantandstraightenedtohisfullheightandsaid,“Idon’teverwanttomessthatup.”7
Now
SamandIwalktotheTavernafterfinishingouricecreams,andwhenwearriveatthebackdoor,westandlookingateachotherawkwardly,unsureofhowtopart.
“It’sbeensogreattoseeyou,”Itellhim,tuggingatthehemofmydressandhatinghowphonymyvoicesounds.Sammusthearit,too,becauseheraiseshiseyebrowsandjerkshisheadbackjustslightly.“Iwasgoingtotrytohittheliquorstorebeforeitcloses,”Isay.“There’sabottleofwinewithmynameonit.It’skindofalotbeingbackhere.”Iwince.
WhydidIsaythat?HowisitthatI’veseenSamforallofanhourandthelockhascomeflyingoffmybigmouth?
Samrunshishandoverhisfaceandthenthroughhishair.“Whydon’tyoucomeinforadrink?Twelveyearsisalotoftimetocatchupon.”Itdoesn’tescapemynoticethathe’salreadydonethemath.
Ishiftonmyfeet.There’snothingmoreIwantthantospendtimewithSam,tojustbenearSam,butIneedsometimetofigureoutwhatI’mgoingtosaytohim.Iwanttotalkaboutthelasttimewesaweachother.TotellhimhowsorryIam.TotellhimwhyIdidwhatIdid.Tocomeclean.ButIcan’tgotheretonight.I’mnotprepared.Itwouldbelikegoingintothefightofmylifewithoutanyarmor.
Ilookaroundthequietsidestreet.
“C’mon,Percy.Saveyourmoney.”
“Okay,”Iagree.Istepintothedarkkitchenbehindhim,andwhenheflicksonthelights,myeyesslidedowntheslopeofhisbacktothecurveofhisbutt,whichisaverybigmistakebecauseitisastupidlygreatbutt.Itisatthisprecisemomentthatheturnsaround,catchingmemid-ass-ogle.
“Bar?”Iask,feigningignorance.Ibrushpasthimandthroughthediningroomdoors,turningonthelightsinthemainroom.Withmyhandstillontheswitch,Itakeinthespace.IhavetoblinkafewtimestoprocesswhatIseebecauseit’swildhowlittlehaschanged.Pineplankscoverthewallsandceiling;thefloorsaresomekindoftougherwood,maplemaybe.Theeffectisofbeinginacozycabin,despitethelargesizeoftheroom.HistoricphotosofBarry’sBayhangonthewallsalongwithantiqueloggingaxesandsawsandpaintingsfromlocalartists,includingafewoftheTavernitself.Thestonefireplacesitswhereitalwaysdid,andthesamefamilyphotoisplacedonthemantelwhereitalwayswas.ImakemywayovertoitwhileSamtakesacoupleofglassesfromtheshelfbehindthebar.
It’saframedshotoftheFloreksinfrontoftheTavern,whichIknowwastakenthedaytherestaurantopened.Sam’sparentsarewearingmassivesmiles.Hisdad,Chris,towersoverSuewithonearmwrappedaroundhershoulder,holdinghertighttohisside.AtoddlerCharlieclutcheshisfreehand.SueiscarryinganinfantSam;helooksabouteightmonthsold,hishairissofairit’salmostwhite,andhisarmsandlegsaredeliciouslydimpled.Istudiedthisphotocountlesstimesasateen.ItouchSue’sfacenow.She’syoungerthanIaminthisphoto.
“Ialwayslovedthisshot,”Isay,stillexaminingthepicture.IhearthegurgleofliquidbeingpouredintoglassesandturntoseeSam,adultSam,watchingmewithapainedexpression.
IwalktothebarandputmyhandsonthecounterasItakeaseatinfrontofhim.Hepassesmeageneroustumblerofwhisky.
“Youokay?”Iask.
“Youwererightearlier,”hesays,hisvoiceroughasgravel.“It’salothavingyouhere.ItkindoffeelslikeI’vebeenpunchedintheheart.”Mybreathhitches.Heliftshisglasstohislipsandtosseshisheadback,downingitscontents.
Iamsuddenlyonethousanddegreeshotterandhyperawareofthedampnessundermyarmpitsandhowmybangsarestucktomyforehead.There’sprobablyacowlickupthere.Itrytopushthemoffmyface.
“Sam…”Ibegin,thenstop,notsurewhatwordscomenext.
Idon’twanttodothisnow.Notyet.
Iraisemyglasstomymouthandtakealargesip.
Sam’sgazeisrelentless.HisabilitytomaintaineyecontactwassomethingIgotusedtoafterIfirstmethim.Andaswegotolder,thatbluestaresetfiretomyblood,butnowitspressureisoverwhelming.AndIknow,Iknow,thatIshouldn’tfindhimattractiverightnow,buthisdarkexpressionandhishardjawareunravelingme.Heisundeniablygorgeous,evenwhenhe’salittleintense.Maybeespeciallyso.
Itipbacktherestofthewhiskyandgaspattheburn.He’swaitingformetosaysomething,andI’veneverbeenabletoevadehim.I’mjustnotreadytoopenupourwoundsnow,notbeforeIknowwhetherwe’llsurvivethemasecondtime.
Ilookdownatmyemptyglass.“I’vespenttwelveyearsthinkingaboutwhatIwouldsayifIeversawyouagain.”Igrimaceatmyownhonesty.Ipause,countingfourbreathsinandout.“I’vemissedyousomuch.”Myvoicetrembles,butIkeepgoing.“Iwanttomakeitbetter.Iwanttofixthings.ButIdon’tknowwhattosaytodothatrightnow.Pleasejustgivemealittlemoretime.”
Ikeepmyattentiononmyemptyglass.Ihavebothhandswrappedarounditsohecan’tseethemshake.ThenIhearthesoftpopofthebottle’scork.Iglanceup,myeyeswidewithfear.Buthisaresoftnow,alittlesadeven.
“Haveanotherdrink,Percy,”hesaysgently,fillingtheglass.“Wedon’thavetotalkaboutitnow.”
Inodandtakeadeepbreath,grateful.
“Nazdrowie,”hesays,touchinghisglasstomineandraisingittohislips,waitingformetodothesame.Together,wegulpdownourdrinks.
Hisphonebuzzesinhispocket.It’snotthefirsttimeit’sgoneoffthisevening.Hechecksthescreenandshovesitbackinhisshorts.
“Doyouneedtogetthat?”Iask,thinkingofChantalandfeelingapangofguilt.“Idon’tmind.”
“No,theycanwait.I’llswitchitoff.”Heliftsthebottleofwhisky.“Another?”
“Whythehellnot?”Iattemptasmile
Hepoursmoreandthencomesaroundthebartositonthestoolbesideme.“Weshouldprobablytakethisoneslowly,”hesays,tiltinghisglass.Irufflemybangswithmyfingers,partlyfromnervesandpartlyinthehopeofmakingthemsomewhatpresentable.
“Youoncesworeyou’dnevergetbangsagain,”Samsays,lookingatmesideways.Iturninmyseattofacehim.
“These,”Ipronounce,“aremybreakupbangs!”And,wow,amIdrunkalready?
“Yourwhat?”heasks,swingingtofacemewithalopsidedgrin,brushingmylegswithhisintheprocess.Ilookdownwherehisthighsbracketmine,thenquicklybacktohisface.
“Youknow—breakupbangs,”Isay,tryingtoenunciateasclearlyaspossible.Helooksmystified.“Womengetnewhairstyleswhenwegetdumped.Orwhenwedumpsomeone.Orsometimesjustwhenweneedafreshstart.BangsareliketheNewYear’sEveofhair.”
“Isee,”Samsaysslowly,andit’sclearwhathemeansisIreallydon’tseeandalsoThat’scrazy.Butasmileplaysacrosshismouth.Itrynottofocusonthelittlecreaseinthemiddleofhisbottomlip.BoozeandSamareadangerouscombination,Irealize,becausemycheeksaretoastyandallIcanthinkishowmuchIwanttosuckonthatcrease.
“Sowereyouthedumperorthedumpee?”heasks.
“Igotdumped.Justrecently.”Itrytofocusonhiseyes.
“Ah,shit.Sorry,Percy.”Hemoveshisheaddowntomylevelsohe’srightinmyeyeline.Ohgod,didhenoticeIwasstaringathismouth?Iforcemyselftomeethiseyes.He’swearinganoddsternexpression.Myfaceisburning.Icanfeelbeadsofperspirationformingabovemyupperlip
“No,it’sokay,”Isay,tryingtosubtlydabatthesweat.“Itwasn’tthatserious.Weweren’ttogetherverylong.Imean,itwassevenmonths.Whichislongforme—thelongestforme,actually.But,like,notlongformostgrown-uppeople.”
Oh,good,I’mramblingnow.Andmaybeslurring?
“Anyway,it’sfine.Hewasn’ttheguyforme.”
“Ah,”hesays,andwhenIlookbacktohim,heseemsmorerelaxed.“Notahorrorfan?”
“Yourememberthat,huh?”Delighttinglesinmytoes.
“Ofcourse,”hesayswithopen,disarminghonesty.Ismile—ahuge,dopey,whisky-fueledsmile.“Whocouldforgetbeingsubjectedtoyearsofshittyscarymovies?”ThisisclassicSam,teasingbutalwaysgentleandneverunkind.
“Excuseme?!Youlovedmymovies!”Igivehimaplayfulpunchonthearm,and,Jesus,hisbicepislikeconcrete.Ishakemyfist,lookingathimindisbelief.HewearsasmallgrinasifheknowsexactlywhatI’mthinking.Itakeasipofwhiskytocutthetensionthat’sclosingin.
“Anyway,no.Sebastiandefinitelydidnotlikehorrormovies,”Isay,andthenIrethinkthis.“Actually,Idon’tknow.Ineverasked.Andweneverwatchedonetogether,sowhoknows?Maybehelovedthem.”IleaveoutthepartabouthowIhaven’ttoldanyoneI’vedatedaboutthisoddpassionofmine.ThatIdon’tevenwatchscarymoviesanymore.ToSam,myloveofclassichorrorfilmswasprobablyabasicbiographicalPercyfact.Buttome,itwasfartoointimateadetailtorevealtoanyofthemenIsaw.And,moretothepoint,afterthatfirstsummeratthelake,I’veassociatedthosefilmswithSam.Watchingthemnowwouldbetoopainful.
“You’rejoking?”Samasks,clearlyconfused.
Ishakemyhead.
“Well,you’reright,”hemurmurs.“He’sdefinitelynottheguyforyou.”
“Whataboutyou?”Iask.“Stillreadinganatomytextbooksforkicks?”
Hiseyesgrowwider,andIthinkhischeekshavegonedarkerunderthestubble.Ihadn’tmeanttobringupthatparticularmemory.Ofhishandsandmouthonmeinhisbedroom.
“Ididn’t…”Istart,butheinterjects.
“Ithinkmytextbook-readingdaysareover,”hesays,givingmeanout.Butthenheadds,“Calmdown,Percy.Youlooklikeyou’vebeenbustedwatchingporn.”
Iletoutarelievedsoundthatishalfwaybetweenalaughandasigh.
Wefinishourdrinksinahappysilence.Sampoursmore.It’sdarkoutsidenow,andIhavenoideahowlongwe’vebeenhere.
“We’regoingtoregretthistomorrow,”Isay,butit’salie.Iwouldendureatwo-dayhangoverifitmeantIcouldhaveanotherhourwithSam.
“DoyoustayintouchwithDelilah?”heasks,andIalmostchokeonmydrink.Ihaven’tspokentoDelilahinyears.We’refriendsonFacebook,soIknowshe’ssomekindofpoliticalPRaceinOttawa,butIpushedherawaynottoolongafterImessedeverythingupwithSam.Mytwobiggestfriendships:gonewithinmonths.Bothbecauseofme.
Irunmyfingeraroundtherimofmyglass.“Westoppedbeingcloseinuniversity,”Isay.Thetruthofthisstillstings,thoughit’snotthewholestory,notevenclose.IlookatSamtoseeifhecantell.
Heshiftshisweightonthestool,lookinguncomfortable,andtakesabigdrink.“I’msorrytohearthat.Youtwowerereallytightforawhilethere.”
“Wewere,”Iagree.“Actually,”Iadd,glancingupathim,“youprobablysawhermorethanIdidsinceyoubothwenttoQueen’s.”
Hescratchesthescruffonhisjaw.“It’sabigcampus,butyeah,Iranintoheronceortwice.”Hisvoiceiscoarse.
“She’dgetakickoutofseeinghowyou’vegrownup,”mystupidwhiskymouthblurts.Ilookdownatmydrink.
“Oh?”heasks,bumpingmykneewithhis.“AndhowdidIgrowup?”
“Cocky,apparently,”Imutter,squintingatmyglass,becausesomehowtherearetwoofthem.
Hechucklesandthenleanstowardmeandwhispersinmyear,“Yougrewupprettycocky,too.”
SAMSITSBACKandstudiesme.
“CanItellyousomething?”heasks,hiswordsrunningtogetherjustalittle.
“Ofcourse,”Ichokeout.
Hiseyesareslightlyunfocused,buthehasthemsetonmine.“TherewasthisincredibleusedbookandvideostoreinKingstonwhenIwaspremed,”hebegins.“Theyhadahugehorrorsection—allthegoodstuffyouloved.Butothermovies,too.ObscureonesthatIthoughtmaybeyouhadn’tseen.Ispentalotoftimethere,justbrowsingaround.Itremindedmeofyou.”Samshakeshishead,remembering.“Theownerwasthisgrumpyguywithtattoosandahugemustache.Onedayhegotsuperpissedatmecominginallthetimeandneverbuyinganything,soIgrabbedacopyofTheEvilDeadandplunkeditonthecounter.AndthenIjustkeptgoingback,butofcourseIhadtobuysomethingeachtime.IendedupwithCarrie,Psycho,TheExorcist,andallthoseterribleHalloweenmovies,”hesays.Hepauses,searchingmyface.“Ineverputthemon,though.MyroommatesthoughtIwasnutstohaveallthesemoviesIdidn’twatch.ButIjustcouldn’tbringmyselfto.Itfeltwrongwithoutyou.”
Thisshakesme.
I’vespenthours,days,entireyearswonderingifSamcouldpossiblylongformethewayIdidforhim.Insomeways,itseemedlikewishfulthinking.Inthemonthsfollowingourbreakup,Ileftcountlessmessagesonhisdormroomphone,senttextaftertext,andwroteemailafteremail,checkingtoseehowhewas,tellinghimhowmuchImissedhim,andaskingifwecouldpleasetalk.Hedidn’trespondtoasingleone.ByMay,someoneelseansweredthephone—anewstudenthadmovedintohisroom.IconsidereddrivinguptoBarry’sBay,tellinghimeverything,beggingforforgiveness,butIthoughthe’dprobablywipedme,myname,andallmemoryofusfromhismindbythatpoint.
There’salwaysbeenasmall,hopefulpartburiedinsidemethatfelthemustsometimesfindhisminddriftingtome,tous.Hewaseverythingtome,butIknowthesamewastrueforhim.Hearinghimtalkaboutthevideostoredislodgesthatdeeplyhiddensliverofhope,justalittle.
“Idon’twatchthem,either,”Iadmitinawhisper.
“No?”
“No.”Iclearmythroat.“Samereason.”
We’relookingateachother,unblinking.Thetightnessinmychestisalmostunbearable.Thetemptationtoleanintohim,toshowhimwhathemeanstomewithmyhandsandmymouthandmytongue,isalmostimpossibletoignore.ButIknowthatwouldn’tbefair.Myheartisastampedeofanimalsescapingthezoo,butIsitstill,waitingforhisresponse.
AndthenSamsmilesandhisblueeyesglint.Icanfeelwhat’scomingbeforehespeaks,andI’malreadysmiling.
Iknowyou,Ithink.
“Youmeanyoufinallygotdecenttasteinfilms?”
Hissmart-asscommentchasesawaytheheavinessloomingoverus,andwebothfallintoafitoflaughter.Clearlythewhiskyhastakenitsfulleffectbecausemycacklesarebrokenupwithhiccups,andtearsarestreamingdownmyface.IputmyhandonSam’skneetosteadymyselfwithoutrealizingthatI’vetouchedhim.We’restillcrackingup,andI’mtakingbiggaspingbreathstotrytocalmdown,whenawoman’svoicesilencesouroutburst.
“Sam?”
IlookupandSamturnstowardthekitchendoors,myhandfallingfromhiskneeasheshifts.Inthedoorwaystandsatallblonde.Shelookslikeshe’saroundourage,butshe’sdressedimmaculatelyinwhitesailor-styletrousersandamatchingsleevelesssilkblouse.She’sthinandcrisplooking,herhairpulledbackintoalowbunatthenapeofherlongneck.Iamsuddenlyfullyawareofhowcrumpledmyreddressisandhowdisheveledmyhairmustbe.
“Sorrytointerrupt,”shesays,walkingtowardus,carkeysclenchedinonehand.Herexpressioniscool,andIfeelratherthanseehersizingmeupbecauseI’mlookingtoSaminconfusion.
“Itriedcallingyouseveraltimes,”shesays,herhazeleyesoscillatingbetweenus.ImetsomeofSam’scousinswhenwewerekids,andI’mtryingtoplacethiswomanamongthem.
“Shit,sorry,”hesays,thewordsofhisapologyblurringtogether.“Wegotabitsidetracked.”
Shepursesherlips.“Areyougoingtointroduceus?”sheasks,wavingtowardme.ShehasthefairFlorekcoloringbutdefinitelynotthewarmth.
Samturnsandgivesmeacrookedsmilethatdoesn’treachhiseyes.
“Percy,thisisTaylor,”hesays.
“Cousin?”Iask,butTayloranswersforhim.
“Girlfriend.”
SAMISINTRODUCINGmetoTaylor.Hisgirlfriend.Nothiscousin.
Samhasagirlfriend.
Ofcoursehehasagirlfriend!
HowhadInotconsideredthis?Heisahotdoctor.He’stallandhe’sgotthoseeyes,andthemessyhairisworkingforhim.I’mprettysurewhateverhardsurfacehe’skeepingunderhisT-shirtwouldmakemeweep.TheSamIknewwasalsokindandfunnyandbrilliant—toosmartforhisowngood,really.Andhe’ssomuchmorethanallthat.He’sSam.
Taylorisstandinginfrontofus,herhandsonherhips,lookingfreshandstylishandimposinginherall-whiteoutfitwhileIamsittingwithmymouthhangingopen.Whatnormalpersonwearsallwhitewithoutgettingsomekindofstainonthefront,anyway?Cometothinkofit,whowearsdresspantsandamatchingsilktoponaThursdaynightinBarry’sBay?OnanynightinBarry’sBay?Iwanttosquirtherwithoneoftherestaurant’sketchupbottles.
“Taylor,thisisPercy,”Samsaysasthoughhe’smentionedmebefore,butTaylorlooksathimblankly.“Remember?I’vetoldyouaboutPercy,”heprods.“Shehadacottagenextdoor.Wehungoutallthetimewhenwewerekids.”
Hungout?Hungout?!
“Howcute,”Taylorsaysinawaythatmakesitsoundlikeshedoesn’tthinkourchildhoodhangoutsareverycuteatall.“Soyoutwoarejustcatchingup?”ShedirectsthequestiontoSam,buthereyesflashovertome,andIcanseetheassessmentshe’smaking:threatorno?Mydressiswrinkledandpossiblysweaty.There’sanicecreamstainonmyboob.Andthere’snowayIdon’tsmelllikewhisky.Hershouldersrelaxalittle—shedoesn’tthinkthere’sanythingtoworryabout.
SamissayingsomethinginresponsetoTaylor,butIhavenoideawhatbecauseI’msuddenlysonauseatedthatIhavetoholdontothecounter.
Ineedair.
Istarttakingdeepbreaths.Iiiinone,two,three,fourandouuutone,two,three,four.Thewhisky,whichwaswarmandhoney-sweetmomentsago,nowtastesstaleandsourinmymouth.Pukingisaveryrealpossibility.
“Youallright,Percy?”Samasks,andIrealizeI’vebeencountingoutloud.HeandTaylorarebothlookingatme.
“Mm-hmm,”Ihumtightly.“ButIthinkthewhiskyiscatchinguptome.Ishouldprobablygo.Itwasnicemeetingyou,Taylor.”Igetdownfrommyspotatthebarandtakeastepforward,andmyfootcatchesonthelegofSam’sstool.IstumblerightinfrontofTaylor,who,bytheway,smellslikeafuckingrosegarden.
“Percy.”Samgrabsmyarm,andIclosemyeyesforabriefmomenttosteadymyself.“Youcan’tdrive.”Iturnbacktohim,andhe’sgotthislookonhisfacelikehefeelssorryforme.Ihateit.
“It’sokay,”Istart.“No,Imean,IknowIcan’tdrive.Butit’sokaybecauseIdidn’tdrive.Iwalkedhere.”
“Walked?Whereareyoustaying?We’llgiveyouaride,”Samoffers.
We
We.
We.
IlookatTaylor,whoisnotdoingaverygoodjobathidingherannoyance.Thenagain,ifIfoundmyhotdoctorboyfrienddrunkwithastrange,clumsywomanwhothoughtIwashiscousin,Iwouldbeannoyed,too.AndifthatboyfriendwereSam,annoyancewouldn’tcoverit.Iwouldbemurderous.
“Clearlyyoubothneedadrive,”Taylorsays.“Let’sgo.Mycar’soutback.”
IfollowTaylorandSam.Icanpicturethemtogetheronadate—bothtallandfitandstupidgood-looking.Shecouldbeaballetdancer,withherwillowylimbsandherhairpulledbackinthatneatbun.He’sbuiltlikeaswimmer—broadthroughtheshoulders,narrowatthehips,withlegsthataremuscularbutnotbulky.Hiscalveslookcutfrommarble.Heprobablystillruns.Theyprobablyruntogether.Theyprobablyruntogetherandthenhavethekindofsweaty,post-runsexthatfit,happypeoplehave.
Taylorleadsthewayoutthekitchendoor,andSamholdsitopenformetopassthrough.IwaitforhimtolockupwhileTaylorslidesintoherwhiteBMW.Inoticethatherhandbagandloafersarealsowhite.Thiswomanprobablyshitswhite.
“Youokay?”hesaysquietly.
I’mtoodrunktothinkabouthowtoanswerhisquestionwithaconvincinglie,soIsmileathimweaklybeforewalkingtothecar.
Isitintheback,feelinglikeachildandathirdwheelandalsoverydizzy.
“Sohowdidyoutwomeet?”IaskeventhoughIreallydonotwanttoknowtheanswer.
Whatiswrongwithme?
“Atabar,ofallplaces,”saysTaylor,givingmealookintherearviewmirrorthattellsmeshedoesn’tspendalotoftimepickingupguysoverafewbeers.TheideaofSamjustbeingoutintheworld,outinbars,lookingforwomentomeet,issohorrifyingthatIneedamomenttocollectmyself.“Itwas,what,twoandahalfyearsago,Sam?”
Twoyears.Twoyearsisserious.
“Mmm,”Samoffersbywayofareply.
“Andwhatdoyoudo,Taylor?”Iask,quicklychangingthesubject.Samlooksoverhisshoulder,sendingmeafunnylook,whichItaketomean,Whatareyouupto?Ichoosetoignoreit.
“I’malawyer.Prosecutor.”
“Areyoukiddingme?!”Isqueak.Idon’tknowifit’sSamorthealcoholthathassothoroughlyremovedmyfilter.“Alawyeranddoctor?Thatshouldbeillegal.Youtwoare,like,takingalltherich,hotpeopleawayfromtherestofus.”
Oh,Iamsovery,verydrunk.
Sameruptswithabig,boominglaugh.ButTaylor,whoclearlydoesn’tappreciatemyinebriatedsenseofhumor,remainsquiet,givingmeapuzzledlookinthemirror.
Thedriveisshort,andwe’reatthemotelinunderfiveminutes.Ipointoutroom106,andTaylorpullsupinfrontofit.Ithankherforthedriveinacheery(possiblydemented-sounding)voiceand,withzerograce,tumbleoutofthecarandshuffletothedoor,gettingmykeyfrommybag.
“Percy!”Samcallsfrombehindme,andIclosemyeyesbrieflybeforeIturnaround,thefullweightofmyhumiliationpressingdownonmyshoulders.Iwanttocrawlintobedandneverwakeup.He’srolleddownthewindowandisleaningoverhismuscularforearmthat’srestingontheedge.Welookateachotherforasecond.
“What?”Isay,myvoiceflat.I’mdonepretendingtobeperkyPercy.
“I’llseeyousoon,okay?”
“Sure,”Ireplyandturnbacktothedoor.OnceI’vegotitunlocked,theheadlightsmove,butIdon’tlookbacktoseethecarpullaway.Instead,Iruntothebathroomandthrowmyheadintothetoiletbowl.
ILIEINbedblinkingupattheceiling.Iknowitmustbewellintothemorningbecausethesunisalreadyhigh.Ihaven’tturnedmyheadtolookattheclockbecauseIdon’twanttowakethebeastofaheadachethatlurksinmytemples.MymouthtasteslikeIspentthenightlickingthefloorofaroadhousepub.YetIsmiletomyself.
IfoundSam.
AndIfeltit.Thepullbetweenus.Theonethathadbeentheresincewewerethirteen,theonethatonlygotstrongeraswegotolder,theoneItriedtodenytwelveyearsago.
Ididn’tbreakit.Ibrokeus.Icanfixit.
Andthensheemergesthroughthefogofmyhangoverinawhitepantsuit:Taylor.Blech.Ifindasmallpettypleasureinhername.Taylorisoneofthoseused-to-be-trendynamesthatnowsounddatedandpedestrian.Mymotherwouldfinditvile
Wemet,what,twoandahalfyearsago,Sam?
IscrunchmynoseatthememoryofTaylor’sforcedcasualness.Iwouldbeshockedifshedidn’tknowhowlongthey’vebeentogetherdowntothesecond.
Samhasagirlfriend.Abeautiful,successful,presumablyintelligentgirlfriend.SomeonewhomI’dprobablylikeunderdifferentcircumstances.
Ineedadistraction.
Ichancetiltingmyheadtowardtheclockandamrelievedthatthepoundingdoesn’tgetworse.IspottwopurplechocolatebarwrappersonthebedbesidemeandremembertakingthemfromtheminibarafterIpuked.It’stentwenty-three.Igroan.Ishouldgetup.Ibookedtodayoff,soIdon’tneedtowork,butIneedtoshower.EvenIcansmellme.Taylorprobablywakesupinapressedpantsuit.Sheprobablykeepsabarof75percentfair-tradedarkchocolateinherkitchendrawerandeatsasinglesquareonspecialoccasions.AsmuchasIcanmixwithpretentiousinteriordesignersandarchitects,orrecommendatrendynewrestaurantthatactuallyhasgoodfoodandservice,orspendtheeveninginheelswithoutshowingpainonmyface,I’llalwaysbemessyunderneath.
UsuallyIdoagoodjobofkeepingthatsideofmyselfunderwraps.Butnowandthenit’llcomeout,likethetimeIcalledSebastian’sprogressive-seemingbeardedbestfriend“theworstkindofmisogynist”overdinnerafterhe’drepeatedlylookeddownourserver’sshirtandaskedmewhetherI’dgotopart-timeorquitworkentirelyafterIhadchildren.Sebastianlookedatmeslack-jawed,havingneverseenmesnaplikethat,andIapologizedformyoutburst,blamingitonthewine.
Stillinyesterday’ssundress,Ieaseoutofbedandinchtowardthebathroom.I’mstiff,butI’mnotnauseated.Iloosenmybeltandpullthedressovermyhead,takeoffmyunderwear,andthenstepunderthehotspray.Asthesoapandwaterliftthesmogfrommybrain,Imakeaplantoheadovertothepublicbeachafterbreakfast.SamandIneverswamatthebeachwhenwewereyoung.Onceortwicewebummedaroundthenearbyparkwithhisfriends,butthebeachwasreservedfortownkidswhodidn’tliveonthelake.Iknowthere’snodockandnoraft,butIamdesperateforaswim.
Aftermyshower,Itoweldrymyhairuntilit’sdampandrunacombthroughit.Ichancealookatmyphone.
There’sanothertextfromChantal:CALLME.
Instead,Iwriteherback:Hey!Can’ttalkrightnow.Noneedtocomehere.I’mOK.RanintoSamyesterday.
Icanpictureherrollinghereyesatmyresponse.IknowI’mprobablynotsneakinganythingbyher,andIfeelguiltyfornotcalling,butbeinghereandseeingSamyesterdayfeelssosurreal,Ican’timaginehavingtoputitinwords.
Ipresssendandthenputonmybathingsuit,abrightredtwo-piecethatIhaverareoccasiontouse,andapairofdenimshorts.I’mabouttothrowonashirtbeforeheadingtothemotelrestaurant,whenthere’saknockatthedoor.Ifreeze.It’stooearlyforhousekeeping.
“It’sme,Percy,”saysadeep,scratchyvoicefromoutside.
Iunlockthedoor.Samisloominginthedoorwaywithdamphairandafreshshave.He’swearingapairofjeansandawhiteT-shirt,acoffeecupandapaperbaginonehand.It’severystraighthungoverwoman’sfantasystandingattheentranceofmyroom.Heholdsthemoutandthenlooksmeover,slowingdownovertheone-shoulderedbathingsuittopI’mwearing.Hisblueeyesaresomehowbrightertoday.
“Wanttocometothelake?”
“WHATAREYOUdoinghere?”Iask,grabbingthecoffeeandthebag.“Nevermind,Idon’tcarewhy.You’remyhero.”
Samlaughs.“ItoldyouI’dseeyousoon.Ifiguredyou’dforgivemeforoverservingyouifIcamebearingfood,andIknowyoudon’tlikesweetsatbreakfast.Oratleastyoudidn’tusedto.”
“Nope,stilldon’t,”Iconfirm,stickingmynoseinthebag.“Cheeseandhamcroissant?”
“Brieandprosciutto—fromthenewcaféintown,”hereplies.“Andalatte.Barry’sBayisfancynow.”
“Inoticedamorerefinedairyesterday.”Igrin,takingasip.“Taylorwon’tmindifIcometothehouse?Shemightfeeluncomfortablesincewehungoutallthetimewhenwewerekids.”AndthisistheproblemwithseeingSambeforeI’vehadtimetofigureouthowtotalktohimoratleastbeforeI’vehadcoffee.Wordscomeintomyheadandthenoutofmymouthwithnolagtimebetween—itwasthatwaywhenwewereteenagers,andclearlythathasn’tchanged,nomatterhowmuchI’vegrown,nomatterwhatkindofsuccessfulwomanI’vebecome.Isoundpettyandchildishandjealous.
Samrubsthebackofhisneckandlooksoverhisshoulder,thinking.Inthetwosecondsittakesforhimtoshifthisgazebacktome,I’vemeltedintoastickypoolofembarrassmentandreassembledmyselfintowhatIhopeisanormal-seeminghuman.
“ThethingaboutTaylorandme—”Icuthimoffwithafranticshakeofmyheadbeforehefinishesthesentence.Idon’twanttoknowaboutthethingwithhimandTaylor.
“Youdon’tneedtoexplain,”Isay.
Hestaresatmeblankly,blinkingjustoncebeforepressinghislipstogetherandnoddinghishead—anagreementtomoveon.“Atanyrate,somethingurgentcameupwithacaseshe’sbeenworkingon.ShehadtogobacktoKingstonthismorning.”
“Butthefuneralistomorrow.”Thewordscomeoutinaburst,thicklycoatedwithjudgment.Sam,rightfully,lookstakenabackbymytone.
“KnowingTaylor,she’llfindawaytocomeback.”It’sanoddresponse,butIletitslide.
“Shallwe?”heasks,pointinghisthumboverhisshoulderataredpickuptruckIhadn’tnoticeduntilnow.Ilookathiminshock.There’snothingaboutSamthatsaysredpickuptruck,exceptforbeingbornandraisedinruralOntario.
“Iknow,”hesays.“It’sMom’s,andIstarteddrivingitwhenImoveduphere.It’salotmorepracticalthanmycar.”
“LivinginBarry’sBay.Drivingatruck.You’vechanged,SamFlorek,”Isaysolemnly.
“You’dbesurprisedbyhowlittleI’vechanged,PersephoneFraser,”hereplieswithalopsidedgrinthatsendsheatwhereitshouldnot.
Iturnaround,discombobulated,andthrowmytowelandachangeofclothesinabeachbag.Samtakesitfrommeandtossesitintothebackofthetruckbeforehelpingmeclimbin.Oncethedoorsareclosed,therichsmellofcoffeemixeswiththecleanscentofSam’ssoap.
Ashestartstheengine,mymindbeginsracing.Ineedastrategy,ASAP.ItoldSamlastnightI’dgivehimanexplanationforwhathappenedallthoseyearsago,butthatwasbeforeImetTaylor.He’smovedon.Hehasalong-termrelationship.Iowehimanapology,butIdon’thavetounloadmypastmistakesonhimtodoit.DoI?
“You’requiet,”Samsaysasweheadoutoftowntowardthelake.
“IguessI’mnervous,”Isayhonestly.“Ihaven’tbeenbacksincewesold.”
“ThatThanksgiving?”Heglancesatme,andInod.
Silencefallsoverus.IusedtotwistmybraceletwhenIwasanxious.NowIbobmykneeupanddown.
WhenweturnontoBareRockLane,Irolldownthewindowandtakeadeepinhale.
“God,Imissedthissmell,”Iwhisper.Samputshislargehandaroundmyknee,stoppingitsjitterbugging,andgivesitagentlesqueezebeforemovinghishandbacktothewheelandpullingintohisdriveway.8
Summer,FifteenYearsAgo
Myfeetcrunchedonthedriveway,theairheavywithdewandthelushsmellofmoss,fungi,anddampearth.Samhadtakenuprunninginthespring,andhewasdeterminedtoconvertmetohiscause.Hemappedoutanentirebeginner’sprogramtostarttoday,myfirstmorningatthecottage.Iwasinstructedtoeatalightbreakfastnolaterthansevena.m.andmeethimattheendofmydrivewayateighta.m.
IstoppedwhenIsawhim.
Hewasstretching,hisbackturnedtomewithheadphonesinhisears,pullingonearmoverhisheadandleaningtotheside.Atfifteen,hisbodywasalmostforeigntome.Somehow,he’dgrownatleastanothersixinchessinceI’dlastseenhimovertheChristmasbreak.I’dnoticedityesterday,whenheandCharliecametohelpusunload.(“It’sofficiallyanannualtradition,”IheardCharlietellDad.)ButIdidn’thavetimetoproperlyinspectSambeforebothheandCharliehadtoleavetogetreadyfortheirshiftsattheTavern.Samwasworkinginthekitchenthreenightsaweekthissummer,andIwasalreadydreadingthetimeapart.Now,hisblackrunningshirtliftedtoexposeasliceoftannedskin.Iwatched,mesmerized,aflushcreepingupmyneck.
Hishairwasthesamethicktangleandhestillworethefriendshipbraceletaroundhisleftwrist,buthemusthavebeenwelloversixfeettallnow,hislegsstretchedalmostendlesslypastthehemofhisshorts.Almostasimprobableashisheightwasthathewassomehowthicker,too.Hisshoulders,arms,andlegsallcarriedmorebulk,andhisbuttwas…well,itcouldnolongerbemistakenforaFrisbee.
Itappedhimontheshoulder.
“Jesus,Percy,”hesaid,spinningaroundandtakingoffhisheadphones.
“Goodmorningtoyou,too,stranger.”Iwrappedmyarmsaroundhiswaist.“Sixmonthsistoolong,”Isaidintohischest.Hesqueezedmetightly.
“Yousmelllikesummer,”hesaid,thenputhishandsonmyarmsandsteppedback.Hisgazetraveledovermyspandex-cladform.“Youlooklikearunner.”
Thatwashisdoing.Ihadadrawerfullofexercisegearbasedonthelistofitemshe’dsuggested.Ihadputonshortsandatanktopaswellasasportsbra,whichSamhadembarrassinglyincludedonhislist,andoneofthecottonthongsDelilahgavemebeforesheleftforhermother-daughterEuropeanvacation,whichhehadnotincluded.Myhair,nowwellpastmyshoulders,wasgatheredintoathickponytailhighonmyhead.
“Fakeittillyoumakeit,right?”
Hehummedandthenturnedseriousandtookmethroughaseriesofstretches.Duringmyfirstsquat,hestoodbehindmeandputhishandsonmyhips.Ialmosttumbledbackwardwiththeshockofhisgrip.
WhenIwassuitablylimber,heranhishandthroughhishairandwentovertheplan:“Okay,let’sstartwiththebasics.Themostimportantpartoflearningtorunis…”Hedriftedoff,waitingformetofillintheblank.
“Goodshoes?”Iguessed,lookingdownatmynewNikes.Heshookhishead,disappointed.
“Didn’tyoureadthecouchto5KarticleImailedyou?”He’dclippeditfromarunningmagazine,completewithsomekindofcomplicatedtimeanddistancechart.Ireadit…once…ish.
“Themostimportantpartoflearningtoruniswalking,”hesaidwithhishandsonhiships.Ismotheredagiggle.Thisbossythingwasentirelynewandsortofadorableanddefinitelyfunny.“Sowe’llspendthefirstweekdoinga3Koutandback,increasingthedistanceyouspendrunningeachdayuntilyou’rerunningthewhole3Kbytheendoftheweek.You’lltaketworestdaysaweek,andbytheendofweektwo,youshouldberunningafull5K.”
Ibarelyunderstoodawordhe’dsaid,butfivekilometerssoundedprettyfar.“Howfardoyouusuallygo?”
“Totownandback.It’sabout12K.”Myjawdropped.“Iworkedmywayuptoit.Youwill,too.”
“Nope.Noway!”Icried.“Therearetoomanyhills!”
“Calmdown.We’lltakeitdaybyday.”Hegestureddowntheroadandstartedwalking.“C’mon.We’llwalkforthefirstfiveminutes.”Ilookedathimdubiously,butpickedupmypacetomatchhis.
Ifmyelementaryschool’sannualtrack-and-fielddayofhellhadn’talreadymadeitobviousyearsago,itwasnow:Iwasnotanaturalrunner.Tenminutesin,Iwasbrushingsweatoffmyfaceandtryingtoignorethefireinmylungsandthighs.
“Threeupdates?”Samaskedwithoutahintofbreathlessness.
Iscowled.“Notalking.”
Heslowedhisstrideafterthat.Atthehalfwaypoint,Itookmytopoff,wipedmyfacewithit,andtuckeditintothebackofmyshorts.Wewalkedthelastlegoftheroute,mylegsasshakyasababydeer’s.
“Ineverknewyouweresuchasweater,”SamsaidwhenItoweledoffwithmytopagain.
“Ineverknewyouweresuchamasochist.”Thisrunningthingwasnotadorableanymore.
“Thatwriters’workshopreallyimprovedyourvocabulary.”Icouldhearthesmirkinhisvoice.Ihithimacrossthechest.
TheFloreks’drivecamebeforeours,andIturneddownit.“Ineedtojumpinthelake,like,rightnow,”Isaid,cuttingaroundthehouseandheadingdownthehilltothewaterwithSambesideme,alopsidedgrinonhisface.
“Idon’tknowwhatyoufindsofunny,”Ihuffed.
“I’mnotlaughing.”Heraisedhishands.
Itookoffmyshoesandsocksassoonaswereachedthedock,thenpeeledmyshortsdownandtossedthemaside.
“Geez!”Samcriedfrombehindme.Ispunaround.
“What?”IsnappedjustasIrealizedIwaswearingapinkthongandthatSamwasstaringatmyextremelybareass.Iwastoohotandpissytocare.
“Problem?”Iasked,andhiseyesflashedtomine,thendowntomybum,andthenuptomyfaceagain.Hemutteredafuckunderhisbreathandlookedskyward.Hewasholdingbothhandsoverhiscrotch.Myeyebrowsshotup.Notknowingwhattodo,Irandownthedockandcannonballedintothewater,swimmingunderthesurfaceforaslongasIcould.
“Youcomingin?”IholleredbacktohimwhenIcameupforair,acockygrinplasteredonmyface.“Thewatermightcoolyouoff.”
“I’mgoingtoneedyoutofacetheotherdirectionbeforeIdothat,”hecalledback,stillshieldinghimself.
“AndifIdon’t?”Iswamcloser.
“C’mon,Percy.Domeafavor.”Helookedtrulypained,whichservedhimrightforsubjectingmetohisworkoutroutine.ButinsideIwasecstatic.Ipaddledouttogivehimspacewhilehejumpedin.Wewereaboutsixfeetapart,treadingwater,andstaringateachother
“I’msorry,”hesaid,movingabitcloser.“It’sjustmybody’sreaction.”
Body’sreaction?
“Gotit,”Isaid,morethanalittledeflated.“Half-nakedchickequalserection.Basicbiology.”
Afterourswim,SamturnedawaywhenIclimbedontothedock.Ilayonmyback,lettingthesundrymeoff,myhandsformingacushionbehindmyhead.Samspreadoutbesidemeinthesameposition,hisshortssoppingwet.
Islantedmyheadtowardhim,andsaid,“IthinkIshouldkeepabathingsuitherefornexttime.”
ILEFTONEofmybikinisattheFloreks’,alongwithanextratowel,soIcouldjumpintothelakeassoonaswereturnedfromthetortureSamcalledrunning.HesworeIwouldgrowtoloveit,butbytheendofoursecondweek,theonlythingIhadgrownwasasprinklingoffrecklesacrossmynoseandchest.
Wehadjustgotbackfromasluggish5K,andIhadgrabbedmysuitofftheline,wavedtoSue,whowasweedingthegarden,andpoppedinsidetothebathroomtochangewhileSamdidthesameinhisroom.ItuggedoffmysweatygearandtiedonthestringbikiniMomhadfinallyokayed,yellowwithwhitedaisies,thenheadedtothekitchentowaitforSam.Iwasgulpingdownaglassofwateratthesinkwhensomeoneclearedtheirthroatbehindme.
“Goodmorning,sunshine!”Charliewasleaningagainstthedoorwaywearingsweatpantsandnoshirt,hisstandarduniform.NotthatIminded.Charliewasrippedforaseventeen-year-old.
“It’snotevenninea.m.,”Ipanted,stilloutofbreath.“Whatareyoudoingup?”
“Goodquestion,”Samsaid,comingintothekitchen.Hetooktheglassfrommyhandsandrefilledit.WhileSamdrank,Charlielookedmeupanddownwithoutshame,lingeringonmychest.Whenhisgazereachedmyfaceagain,hisbrowsdrewtogetheroverhisgreeneyes.
“Youlooklikeatomato,Pers,”hesaid,thenturnedtoSam.“Whydoyoukeepforcingyourcardioonher?Badheartsruninourfamily,nothers.”Sampushedhishairback.
“I’mnotforcingher.AmI,Percy?”Helookedatmeforbackup,andIcringed.
“No…technically,you’renotforcingme…”IdriftedoffwhenSam’sexpressioncrumpled.
“Butyoudon’tlikeit,”Charliefinished,eyesnarrowedatme.
“Ilikehowitfeelsafterward,whenit’sover,”Isaid,tryingtofindsomethingpositivetosay.Charliegrabbedanapplefromthefruitbasketonthekitchentableandtookabigbite.
“Youshouldtryswimming,Pers,”hesaid,hismouthfull.
“Weswimeveryday,”Samsaidinthemonotonehereservedforwhenhisbrotherannoyedhim.
“No,likerealdistanceswimming.Acrossthelake,”Charlieclarified.Samlookedoveratme,andItriednottolooktooexcited.Icouldn’tcountthenumberoftimesI’dstaredatthefarshoreandwonderedwhetherIcouldevermakeitacross.Itsoundedawesome.
“Thatsoundsinteresting,”Isaid.
“Icanhelpyoutrainifyouwant,”Charlieoffered.ButbeforeIcouldrespond,Samcutin:“No,we’regood.”
Charlielookedmeoveragain,slowly.“You’llneedadifferentbathingsuit.”
TRAININGFORSWIMMINGwaswaymorefunthanrunning.ItwasalsoalotharderthanIthoughtitwouldbe.Samcollectedmefromthecottageeverymorningafterhisrun,andwe’dwalkbacktohisplacetogethersohecouldchangeintohissuit.Wedevisedawarm-uproutine,involvingaseriesofstretchesonthedockandlapstoandfromtheraft.SometimesSamswambesideme,givingpointersonmyform,butusuallyhebobbedonapoolnoodle.
Charliehadbeenrightaboutthebathingsuit,too.Duringmyfirstwarm-up,Ihadtokeepadjustingthetoptokeepeverythingfromfallingout.Thatafternoon,SamdroveusinthelittleboattothetowndockandwewalkedtoStedmans.Itwashalfgeneralstore,halfdollarstore,andithadalittlebitofeverything,buttherewasnoguaranteethey’dhavewhatyouwerelookingfor.
Asluckwouldhaveit,therewasarackofwomen’ssuitsrightatthefront.Somehadthoseold-ladyskirtsattachedtothem,buttherewasalsoahandfulofplainone-piecesincherryred.Practical,cheap,andcuteenough:theperfectStedmansfind.Samfoundapairofswimgogglesinthesportingsection,andIpaidforbothwithoneofDad’sfifties.WespentthechangeonicecreamsattheDairyBar—MooseTracksforSamandcottoncandyforme—andwalkedbacktothedock,takingaseatonabenchbythewatertofinishthecones.WewerelookingoverthelakequietlywhenSamleanedoverandcircledhistonguearoundthetopofmyconewhereitwasmeltinginrivuletsofpinkandblue.
“Idon’tgetwhyyoulikethissomuch—ittasteslikesugar,”Samsaid,beforehenoticedtheshockonmyface.
“Whatwasthat?”Iasked.Myvoicecameoutanoctavehigherthanusual.
“Itriedyouricecream,”hesaid.Which,okay,Iknowwasobvious,butthewayacurrentbuzzedacrossmyskin,hemightaswellhavelickedmyearlobe.
ASMYDISTANCESincreased,SamrowedbesidemeincaseIranintotroubleandasprotectionfromotherboaters.WhenIsuggestedheturnonthemotorsohecouldrelax,hebrushedmeoff,sayingIdidn’tneedgasolineinmylungswhileIswam.Ipracticeddaily,deadsetonmakingittotheothersideofthelakebytheendofAugust.
Theweekbeforemybigswim,IwaitedintheFloreks’kitchenforSamtochangeintohisbathingsuit,helpingSueunloadthedishwasher.
“Didhetellyouhe’sliftinghisdad’soldweightseverymorningbeforehisrun?”Sueaskedmeassheputapairofglassesintothecupboard.Ishookmyhead.
“He’sreallyintothewholefitnessthing,huh?”
Suehummed.“Ithinkhewantstomakesurehecanpullyououtifheneedsto,”shesaid,squeezingmyshoulder.
Onthemorningoftheswim,Imademywaydowntothewater,MomandDadfollowingwithmugsofcoffeeandanold-schoolcamera.WhenSamcamedowntothedock,Iwalkedoverinmybarefeet,holdingmytowelandgoggles.
“Today’stheday.Howareyoufeeling?”SamaskedfromtheboatwhenIpaddedontothedock.
“Good,actually.Icandothis.”Ibeamedandthrewmytowelinwithhim.
“Good,good,”hemuttered,checkingaroundtheboatforsomething.Heseemed…nervous.
“Howareyoufeeling?”Iasked.Helookedupatmeandscrunchedhisnose.
“Iknowyou’lldogreat,butIgottaadmitI’malittleworriedifsomethinggoeswrong.”Ihadn’theardSamsoundpanickedbefore.Buttodayhewaspanicked.Isteppeddownintotheboat.
“Thewater’scalm,youknowCPR,youhaveanextralifejacketaswellasalifepreserver,there’sawhistleintheboattocallforhelp,notthatyou’llneeditsincewehaveanaudience.”IpointeduptowheremyparentshadjoinedCharlieandSueonthedeck,andwavedatthem.
“We’rerootingforyou,Percy,”Suecalleddown.
“And,”Icontinued,“I’manexcellentswimmer.There’snothingtoworryabout.”Samtookadeepbreath.Helookedabitpale.Iwrappedmyfingeraroundhisbracelet.“Iswear,okay?”
“You’reright,”hesighed.“Justremembertotakeabreakifyouneedto—youcanalwaysfloatforabit.”
Ipattedhimontheshoulder.“So,shouldwedothisthing?”
“Let’s,”Samsaid.“I’dwishyouluck,butyoudon’tneedit.”
OnceIwasinthewater,Ipulledmygoggleson,gaveSamathumbs-up,andthenturnedmyattentiontothefarshore—asmall,rockybeachwasmytargetdestination.Itookthreedeepbreaths,thenpushedofffromthelakebottomwithmyfeetandsetoffinasteadyfrontcrawl,myarmsandfeetworkingintandemtopropelmeforward.Ididn’trushmystrokes,andsoontherhythmbecamealmostautomatic,mybodytakingoverfrommymind.IcouldseethesideoftheboatwhenItiltedmyheadforair,butIdidn’tpayitmuchattention.Iwasdoingit!Iwasswimmingacrossthelake.Mylake.WithSambesideme.Arushofprideranthroughme,poweringmeonanddistractingmefromtheburninginmylegsandtheacheinmyneck.Ikeptgoing,slowingdownwhenIneededtocatchmybreath.
Iswitchedtobreaststrokesforseveralminutestorelievethetensionbuildinginmyshoulders,thenresumedthecrawl.Attimes,IcouldhearSamcheeringmeon,butIhadnoideawhathewassaying.EverysooftenI’draiseathumbs-upinhisdirectiontolethimknowIwasokay.
ThecloserIgot,thestiffermylimbsbegantofeel.Theacheinmyneckandshouldersgrewintensely,andIstruggledtokeepmyfocusonmybreathing.Iclenchedmyjawagainstthepain,butIdidn’tstop.IknewIwouldn’t.Iwasgoingtomakeit.AndwhenIdid,Ipulledmybodyuponthesandyshore,flungmygogglesaside,andlaywithmyheadonmyhands,mylegsstillinthewater,breathingfirethroughmylungs.Ididn’tevenhearSampulltheboatuponthebeach—didn’tnoticehimuntilhewascrouchedbesidemewithhishandonmyback.
“Percy,areyouokay?”Heshookmegently,butIcouldn’tmove.ItwaslikemybodywascoveredbytheleadblankettheymakeyouwearforanX-ray.Sam’svoicewassuddenlyrightinmyear.“Percy?Percy?Letmeknowifyou’reokay.”Iturnedmyheadtohimandopenedoneeye.Hewasinchesaway,hisfacelinedwithworry.
“Mmmm,”Igroaned.“Needtoliehere.”
Samletoutanenormousbreath,andhisexpressiontransformedtoglee.“Percy,youdidit!Youactuallydidit!Youwereamazing!”Wordskepttumblingfromhismouth,butIstruggledtocomprehendthem.Ifeltdelirious.“Ican’tbelievehowyoujustkeptgoingandgoing,withnobreaks.Youwerelikesomekindofmachine!”Hewaswearingthemostgiganticsmile.Samonlyseemedtogetbetterandbetterlooking,likehewasgrowingintohimself,andwhenhesmiledlikethat,itwascompletelydisarming.Heispretty.Ifoundmyselfsmilingattherealization.
“DidyoujustsaythatI’mpretty?”Samasked,laughing.
Ohgod,Imusthavesaidthatbitoutloud.
“Youmustreallybeoutofit.”Hetookoffhisshirtandlaydownbesidemewithhislowerhalfinthewater,hishandonmyback.Hesmelledlikesunandsweat.Iclosedmyeyesandinhaleddeeply.
“Ilikehowyousmell,too,”Iwhispered,butthistimehedidn’trespond.
Afteraboutfiveminutesorfivehours,Samannouncedthatweshouldprobablyheadbacksonooneworried.Islowlycrawledtomyhandsandkneesand,withSam’shelp,madeitintotheboatonlegsthatwobbledasthoughtheywerefilledwithlakewaterJell-O.“Drinkthis,”heordered,passingmeablueGatoradeandwrappingatowelaroundme.OnceI’dhadafewgulps,asmileburstacrosshisfaceagain.“I’msoproudofyou,”hesaid.
“Toldyoushewasaswimmer,”CharliesaidtoSamashepulledmeoutoftheboat,givingmyshoulderasqueeze.
“Shereallyis,”Samreplied.Thesmileseemedpermanentlyattachedtohisface,somuchbiggerandmoreopenthanthelopsidedhalfgrinheusuallywore.TherewasanassemblylineofhugswhenIgotoutoftheboat.FirstMom(“Youlookedgreatoutthere,honey”),thenDad(“Didn’tknowyouhaditinyou,kiddo”),andfinallySue,whosqueezedmetightestofall.Iwasaninchorsotallerthanhernow,andshefeltsoftandsmall.Sheheldontomyhandswhenwepulledaway.
“You’reanawesomekid,youknowthat?”Herpaleblueeyescrinkledatthecorners.“Let’sgetsomefoodinyou.I’mmakingbreakfast.”
Tothisday,Idon’tthinkI’veevereatenasmuchbaconasIdidthatmorning.Myparentshadgonebacktothecottage,butSuemadeenoughfoodtofeedtenpeople.ShecookedCanadianandregularbacon,andtheboyswatchedwithfascinatedstaresasIdugintopieceafterpiece,alongwithscrambledeggs,toast,andfriedtomato.
Attheendofthemeal,Suelookedeachofusintheeye,andsaid,“I’msoimpressedbyeachofyouthissummer.You’rereallygrowingup.Charlie,you’vebeensuchahelpinthekitchen,and,Sam,I’mgratefulthatyou’reworkingwithmenow,too.Idon’tknowwhatI’ddowithoutmyboys.”Shesaidthiswithtotalconviction,hervoicesteadydespitethesentiment.
“You’dprobablychainsomeotherpoorteenagertothedishwasher,”Charliereplied.
Suelaughed.“Absolutely.Hardworkisgoodforthesoul.And,Percy,”shecontinued,“ittakesalotofdedicationtodowhatyoudidtoday—nottomentionwinningthatwritingprizeofyours.I’masproudasifyouweremyowndaughter.”Shepattedmyhand,thenwentbacktoeatingherbreakfast,asthoughshehadn’tjustgivenmethegreatestcomplimentI’deverreceivedfromagrown-up.WhenIlookedoveratSam,hewasbeaming.
Itwastheperfectendtosummer.
HiPercy,
IknowThanksgivingwasjustthisweekend(stillprettygrossedoutbyhowDelilahdrooledoverCharlie,bytheway),butguesswhat?MomisgoingtoletmetakeNewYear’sEveoff,sowecanspendithangingout.
Sam
Sam,
DelilahthinksCharlieiscute,butdon’tworry,shehasacrushonhercousin’sbestfriend.She’sevenforcingmetogoonadoubledatewiththem,soshe’llprobablyforgetallaboutCharlie.Jealous?
Momfoundanoldfonduesetatayardsale,andisdoinga’70s-themedNewYear’sdinner.Ihopeyoulikemeltedcheese.
Percy
Percy,
Whatkindofterriblepersondoesn’tlikemeltedcheese?
Idon’tlikeDelilahlikethatifthat’swhatyoumean.Haveyoumethercousinbefore?
Sam
Sam,
Ihaven’tmetDelilah’scousinyet.He’sin12thgradelikeCharlie,buthegoestoadifferentschool.HisnameisBuckley!!!ButeveryonecallshimMasonbecausethat’shislastname,andIguesshedoesn’tlikeBuckley.Whowould?
CountdowntoNYEison!
Percy
ASPROMISED,MOMwentallinforher’70sNewYear’sEve.ShemadefondueandCaesarsalad,andthefourofussatonthefloornearthefiredippinghunksofcrustybreadintotheyellowgoo,listeningtoJoniMitchellandFleetwoodMacalbumsontheoldrecordplayerofDad’sthatMomhadrepairedasaChristmasgift.
“Thisisactuallyalittlegross,allofusputtingourforksbackintothecheese,”Isaid,andMomgavemealook
“Butit’ssodelicious,”saidSam,wavingapieceofdrippybreadinmyface.
“Couldn’tagreewithyoumore,Sam,”Dadsaid,andpluckedthebreadfromSam’sforkandthenpoppeditintohismouth.
Momservedcarrotcakefordessert,andthenweplayedpokerwithwoodenmatchsticksuntilSambankruptedusall.
“I’mnotsurewhethertobedisturbedorimpressedthatafifteen-year-oldcankeepsuchastraightface,”mydadcommentedwhenhehandedoverthelastofhismatchestoSam.
Atmidnight,MomletSamandmehaveaglassofchampagneeach,andthebubblesmademyhandsandfacewarm.Notlongafter,myparentsmadeupthecouchforSamwithsheetstuckedaroundthecushions,pouredtheremainingchampagneintoourglasses,thenwenttobed.
SamandIsatfacingeachotheronoppositeendsofthecouch,thequiltspreadoverourlegs.Iwasbummedaboutgoingbacktothecityintwodays’timeandwantedtostayupallnighttalking.Hetappedmylegwithhisfootundertheblanket.
“AreyougoingtotellmeabouthowyourdatewithBuckleywent?”Wehadn’tdiscussedDelilah’scousinMasonsinceIfirstmentionedhiminanemail,hopingitwouldpromptSamtoconfesshislove.Itdidn’tquiteworkoutaccordingtoplan,andIfiguredSamhadforgottenallaboutit.
ThetruthwasthatDelilahandIhadbeenonacoupleofdoubledateswithMasonandhisfriend,Patel.Lastnamesasfirstnamesseemedtobeathingintheircircle—theybothwenttoaboys’privateschoolnotfarfromwhereIlived,andplayedonthesamehockeyteam.
IwassurprisedthatDelilahwoulddatesomeoneasquietandsoft-spokenasPatel,buthehadthesehugebrowneyesandanevenbiggersmile.
“Icantellhe’sdeep,”sheexplainedwhenIaskedheraboutit.“Goaliesaresexy,andIbethe’sanamazingkisser.”
Masonwasobsessedwithhockeyandbuildingmuscleforhockeyandgrowingouthisdarkhairsoitwouldcurljustrightfromunderhishockeyhelmet.HehadblueeyeslikeDelilahandwasgorgeouslikeDelilah,andIthinkheprobablyknewitlikeDelilahdid,too,buthewasactuallyaprettyniceguy.Ijustdidn’tthinkofhimconstantlylikeIdidSam.
“It’sMason,”IcorrectedSam.“Andthere’snotmuchtotell.”
“Let’sstartwiththebasics:DoyoulikeBuckley?”Hesmirked.
Ikickedhim.Thenshrugged.“He’sokay.”
“Justokay,huh?Soundsserious.”Afteramoment,heasked,“Don’tyouthinkhe’sabittoooldforyou?”
“He’sturningeighteeninafewweeks,andI’llbesixteeninFebruary.Besides,we’veonlybeenontwodates.”
“Youdidn’ttellmeaboutthesecondone.”
WasIsupposedtotellhimaboutotherboys?Hedidn’ttalktomeaboutgirls
“Ididn’tthinkyouwouldcare,andit’snotlikehe’smyboyfriendoranything,”Isaiddefensively.
“Buthewantstobe.”Itwasn’taquestion.
“I’mnotsure.Idon’tthinkboysthinkofmelikethat.”
“Likewhat,Percy?”Washeteasingme?OrdidhenotknowwhatImeant?Myheadwasfuzzywithconfusionandchampagne.
“They’renotinterestedinkissingme,”Isaid,lookingdownatourlegs.
Hetappedmewithhisfootagain.“That’snottrue.Andfortherecord,Idocare.”
SAMWASRIGHT:Masonwasinterested.DelilahandIwenttotwoofhisandPatel’shockeygamesinJanuary.Wesatinthestandsclutchingfoamcupsofbadhotchocolatetokeepourhandswarminthefrigidarena.Ateachgame,Masonwavedtomefromtheicebeforetakinghispositionatrightwingforthepuckdrop.
Icouldseewhyhelovedhockey:Hewasthebestplayerontheteambyfar.Eachtimehescored,he’dlookuptomeinthestandswithabigsmileonhisface.Afterthesecondgame,DelilahandIwaitedfortheguysoutsidethelockerroomsowecouldallgoforapizza.Masoncameout,hairdampandsmellingofshampoo,withahugegymbagslungoverhisshoulder.Heworejeansandatightlong-sleevedcrewneckthatstretchedoverhischestandarms.HewasevenmoremuscularthanCharlie,andIhadtoadmitthathelookedprettyhot.WhenPatelandDelilahwalkedahead,Masonpulledmeintoadoorway,toldmehethoughtIwaspretty,andgavemeasoftpeckonthelips.Isaid,“Thankyou,”andsmiledathimalittledazed,unsureofwhatcamenextorwhatheexpectedofme.
“Ilikehowfreshyouare,”helaughed.
BothDelilahandIwereinvitedtoMason’seighteenthbirthdayparty,whichwasbeingheldataswankyhotelinYorkvilleattheendofthemonth,completewithaDJ,sushibar,anda120-person-longguestlist.Delilahhadmadesurethatpracticallyallthegirlsinourgradeknewweweregoing,andwehadbeengiventheappropriatelevelofawedrespect.
Thenightoftheparty,wegotreadyatDelilah’s—curlingourhairwithhotrollersanddabbingonmascaraandlipgloss—butwhenIputonmydress,aslinkyredfloor-lengthgownDelilahsaidshowedoffmy“killerbody,”sheletoutahorrified,“Noway!Youcannotwearthose!”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Ilookeddownatmygoldballetflats,confused.
“Thosegrannypanties!HaveItaughtyounothing?Don’tyouhaveathong?”
Ilookedatherincredulously.“Notonme!”
“You’rehopeless,”shesighed,andflungtheskimpiestpairofredunderwearIhadeverseenatme.
“Idon’tthinkmymomwouldbehappyaboutthese,”Isaid,holdingthemup.
“Well,shewouldn’tbehappyaboutthatpantyline,either,believeme,”saidDelilah.
Ishimmiedoutofmyunderwearandslippedonthethong.
“Muchbetter!”Delilahsaidandgavemybuttasqueeze.“Masonwon’tbeabletokeephishandsoffthis.”Thethoughtmademejittery.
Delilah’sparentsdroveustothehotel,slippedDelilahafiftyforacabridehome,andleftusatthecoatchecktomingle.
“Ididn’tthinkthere’dbesomanygrown-upshere,”IwhisperedtoDelilah,lookingaroundtheballroom—morethanhalftheguestsweremiddle-agedorolder.
“MyuncleiskindofabigdealonBayStreet.Somethingtodowiththestockmarket,”shehissedback.
Wedancedtogetherwithsomeoftheoldergirlswhiletheboyswatchedfromslipcoveredchairs.Ateightp.m.,Mason’sdad,atall,soft-lookingwhite-hairedman,whoDelilahsaidwas“almostdonewithwifenumbertwo,”gaveatoasttohisson,andthen,togaspsfromthecrowd,threwhimasetofkeys.Weallshuffledoutside,huddlingagainstthecold,whereMason’snewAudiwasparkedattheentrance.“I’lltakeithomeforyoutonight,”hisdadtoldhimwithawinkandslippedhimaflask.Inlessthantwentyminutes,theremainingadultshadallsnuckaway.
WhenthetelltalepanfluteofaCelineDionballadwarbledoverthespeakers,Masonpointedatme,thenhimselfwithasmile.IwalkedoverandheputhishandsaroundmywaistwhileIrestedmineontheshouldersofhisblacksuitjacket.Weswayedbackandforth,shufflingaroundinacircle,andMasonleaneddown,pressinghismouthuptomyear.
“Youlookbeautifultonight,Percy.”Ilookedupathiseyes,whichwerebluebutadarker,muddierbluethanSam’s,andhepulledmeflushagainsthisbodysothatmycheekrestedatthetopofhischest.“Ican’tstopthinkingofyou,”hewhispered.
Afterthesongfinished,hepulledmeouttothehallway,whereDelilah,Patel,threeotherboys,andanoldergirljoinedus.Oneoftheguys,whointroducedhimselfasDaniels,flashedusabottleofwhathesaidwasvodkafromunderhissuitjacket.
“Shallwerelocatethefestivities?”hesaid,wigglinghiseyebrowsandputtinghisarmaroundthegirl,whowascalledAshleigh.
Theboysallhadroomsupstairs,andwecongregatedinthelivingareaofMasonandPatel’ssuite.DanielssatinanarmchairwithAshleighonhislap,DelilahandPateltookthesofa,andthetwoguyssatonthefloor,leavingachairforMasonandme.Iperchedontheside,butMasonpulledmeontohislapandputanarmaroundme,restingitonmyhip.Danielspassedeachofusaglassofvodkaandice.ItsmelledlikenailpolishremoverandburnedmylipsevenbeforeItookatinysip.
“Don’tdrinkitifyoudon’tlikeit,”Masonwhisperedinmyearsonoonecouldhear,andIsmiledgratefullyathim,thenpouredmineintohisglass.“Worksforme.”Hesmiledback.Histhumbmovedbackandforthonmyhipwhilethegrouptalkedabouthisnewcarandhockeyseason.Itwasprettytame,consideringwewereagroupofunsupervisedteenswithabottleofalcohol,andInoticedthat,otherthanDaniels,whowaskneadingAshleigh’sbuttlikepizzadough,noonehadarefill.Byeleven,theothersleftfortheirrooms,andDelilahandIstoodtogetourcoatson.
“Beforeyouleave,Percy,there’ssomethingIwanttoshowyou,”Masonsaid,runninghishandsthroughhishairandsoundingalittlenervous.
“Yeah,Ibet,”Patelmuttered,andDelilahwhackedhiminthearm.
Masonledmedownashorthalltoasleek-lookingbedroom,alltaupesandbrowns,withaking-sizedbedandsuedeheadboard.Heclosedthedoorbehindusandslidtheclosetopen,kneltdown,andpunchedanumberintoasmallsafe.Whenhestood,hewasholdingalittleturquoisebox.
“What’sthis?”Iasked.“It’snotmybirthday.”
“Iknow,”hesaid,movingcloser.“Iwasgoingtosaveitforyoursixteenth,butIcouldn’twait.Openit.”Hiseyesmovedexpectantlyovermyface.Iliftedoffthelidtofindaturquoisevelvetpouch.Insidewasasilverbraceletwithachunky,modernclasp.
“Iwasthinkingyoumightwanttobemygirlfriend,”hesaidandsmiled,“andthatmaybeyouneededsomethingalittlemorespecialthanthis.”Heheldupthearmthatworemyfriendshipbracelet.Ihadnotseenthiscoming.
“It’sgorgeous…um…wow!I’mnotsurewhattosay!”Istammered.Masonfastenedthebraceletaroundmywrist.
“Youcanthinkaboutit,butIwantyoutoknowthatIreallylikeyou.”Heputhishandsonmyhipsandpulledmetowardhim,thenbroughthislipsdownontomine.Theyweresoftashemovedthemgentlyovermymouth.Hepulledbackenoughtolookintomyeyesandsaid,“You’resosmartandfunnyandsobeautifulandyoudon’tevenknowit.”Hekissedmeagain,harderthistime,andIclosedmyeyes.ImagesofSamflashedthroughmymind,andwhenMasonranhistongueovertheseamofmylips,mykneesfeltasthoughtheymightbuckle,andIgraspedhisbiceps.Heplacedastringoflightkissesonthecornerofmymouth,thenmynose,andthenbackonmymouth,andranhistongueovermylipsagain.ThistimeIopenedtohim,andIimagineditwasSam’stongueswirlingwithmyown.Masongroanedandmovedhishandsdowntomybackside,pressinghimselfagainstmyhip.Ipulledaway.
“Ishouldgo;we’llbelatebacktoDelilah’s.”
Masondidn’tprotest,justranhishandsupmybackandgavemeanotherquickkiss,thentookmyhandinhis.
Nexttomyembroideredbracelet,thesilveronelookedgarish,andItookitoffbeforeMompickedmeupthenextmorningsoshewouldn’taskquestions.Delilahwassurprisedbythegift,whichshecalled“excessive,”butshedidn’tthinkitmeantthatMasonwantedtomakethingsmoreofficial.
“Ofcoursehelikesyou,Percy.You’reacatch.Andyourtitshavereallycomeinthisyear,”shesaidinastagewhisper.“KeepthingslightwithMason.Icantellyoudon’tlikehimthewayyoulikeyourSummerBoy,butmaybeyoucanjustthinkofitaspracticeifSamevercomesaround.”
IemailedSamassoonIgothome.
HiSam,
I’vebeenthinkingaboutmynewstorymore.Whatdoyouthinkaboutalakethat’shauntedbyayounggirlwhofellthroughtheiceinthewinter,leavinghertwinsisterbehind?Whenthesisterisateenager,shecomesbacktothelakeonacampingtripandsheseesastrangefigureinthewoods,whichwillturnouttobeherdeadtwinwho’stryingtokillhersoshewon’tbealone.Itcouldbescaryandmaybealittlesad.Thoughts?
Also:DelilahandIwenttoMason’sbirthdaypartylastnight,andheaskedmetobehisgirlfriend.Iknowyouwon’tbesurprisedsinceyouguessedthatatNewYear’s,butIwas.WhatdoyouthinkIshoulddo?
Percy
Percy,
Istillthinkalakefullofzombiefishisthewaytogo.Justkidding.Creepydeadgirlisdefinitelythebestideayet.Areyougoingtogivethesistersobnoxioustwinnames,likeLilahandLayla,orJessicaandBessica?
Iaskedyouthisbefore,butIthinkit’stimetoaskagain:DoyoulikeBuckley?
Sam
Sam,
Whyhadn’tIthoughtofJessicaandBessicabefore?Genius!!!
Mason’sactuallyaniceguy,butIlikesomeoneelsemore.
Percy
Percy,
Ithinkyouhaveyouranswer.
Sam9
Now
WesitinthetruckstaringatTHEFloreks’house.OratleastIstareatthehouse.Samiswatchingme.
“Itlooksamazing,”Isay.Anditdoes.Thelawnsaregreenandmowed,theflowerbedsarebloomingandtidy,andthesidingandtrimonthehousearefreshlypainted.Thebasketballnetstillhangsonthegarage.Thereareterra-cottapotsofhappyredgeraniumsontheporch—Samprobablyplantedthemhimself.Thethoughtmakesmesquishy.
“Thanks,”Samsays.“I’vebeentryingtokeepitup.Momwouldhatetoseehergardenstakenoverbyweeds.”Hepauses,thenadds,“Butit’salsobeenagooddistractionfromeverything.”
“Howhaveyoubeenmanagingallthisontopoftherestaurantandwork?”Iask,turningtofacehimandwavingmyhandatthehouse.“It’sahugepropertyforonepersontomaintain.”God,howdidSuedoit?AndraisetwokidsandruntheTavern?
Samrunsahandoverhissmoothcheek.Shavingonlymadehischeekbonesmoreprominent,hisjawmoreangled.“IguessIdon’tsleepmuch,”hesays.“Don’tlooksohorrified.IgotusedtostayingupforlongstretcheswhenIwasaresident.Anyway,I’mgratefulI’vehadsomethingtodo.Iwouldhavegonecrazysittingaroundthepastyear.”
Guiltcurlsaroundmyheart.Ihatethathedidthisalone.Withoutme.
“DoesCharliehelpmuch?”
“Nah.Heofferedtocomeback,buthe’sbusyinToronto.”Icockmyhead,notfollowing.“Heworksinfinance,onBayStreet,”Samexplains.“Hewasupforabigpromotion—Itoldhimtostayinthecity.”
“Ihadnoidea,”Imurmur.“Iguesshisbosshasbetterluckgettinghimtowearashirtthanyourmomdid.”
Samchuckles.“Prettysurehewearsasuitandeverything.”
IclearmythroatandaskthequestionI’vebeenwonderingallmorning,“AndTaylor?ShelivesinKingston?”
“Yeah,herfirmisthere.She’snotexactlyaBarry’sBaygirl.”
“Didn’tnotice,”Imutter,lookingoutthewindow.IcanseeSamsmilefromthecornerofmyeyebeforehegetsoutofthetruckandwalksaroundtomyside.Openingthedoor,heoffersmeahandtohopdown.
“Iknowhowtogetoutofatruck,youknow?”Isay,takinghishandanyway.
“Well,you’vebeengonealongtime,cityslicker.”HegrinswhileIgetout.He’sgotonearmonthedoorofthetruckandtheotherontheside,cagingmewithhisbody.Hisfaceturnsserious.“Charlieshouldbehomelater,”hesays,eyeingmeclosely.“HewentintotherestaurantthismorningtohelpJulienwithafewlast-minutethingsfortomorrow.”
“It’llbegreattoseehimagain,”Isaywithasmile,butmymouthhasgonedry.“AndJulien.He’sstillthere,huh?”JulienChenwasthelong-sufferingchefattheTavern.HewasterseandfunnyandkindoflikeabigbrothertoSamandCharlie.
“Julien’sstillthere.He’sbeenabighelptomeandMom.HetookhertochemowhenIhadshiftsatthehospital,andwhenshewasinthereforthelastfewmonths,hestayedwithheralmostasmuchasIdid.He’stakingitprettyhard.”
“Icanimagine,”Isay.“Doyoueverthinkheandyourmom…youknow?”Theideahadn’tcrossedmymindasateen,butasIgotolder,Ithoughtitmightexplainwhyayoung,singlemanwhosecookingskillsfarsurpassedboilingpierogiesandcookingsausageswouldliveinasmalltownforsolong.
“Idon’tknow.”Herunshishandthroughhishair.“Ialwayswonderedwhyhestuckaroundforsolong.Hedidn’tplanonspendinghislifeuphere—itwasjustasummerjobforhim.Ithinkhehadbigdreamsofopeninghisownplaceinthecity.MomsaidhestayedformeandCharlie.Thelastcoupleofyears,though,Iwonderedifitwasforher.”
Helooksbackdowntomewithasadsmile,andwithoutsayingaword,webothwalkaroundthesideofthehouseandheadtothewater.Itfeelsinstinctive,likeIhadwalkeddownthishillonlydaysagoratherthanmorethanadecadeearlier.Theoldrowboatistiedtoonesideofthedock,anewmotorattachedtothestern,andtheraftfloatsoutfromthedockjustasitusedto.Mythroatisthick,butmywholebodyrelaxesattheview.Iclosemyeyeswhenwegettothedockandbreathe.
“Wehaven’tputtheBananaBoatinthisyear,”Samsays,andmyeyespopopen.
“Youstillhaveit?”Imarvel.
“Inthegarage.”Samsmiles,aflashofwhiteteethandsoftlips.WewalkouttotheendofthedockandIsteadymyselfbeforelookingdowntheshore.There’sawhitespeedboatattachedtoanew,largerdockwhereoursusedtobe.
“Yourcottagelooksprettymuchthesamefromthewater,”Samsays.“Butthey’veputanotherroomontheback.It’safamilyoffour—thekidsareprobablyeightandtenbynow.Weletthemswimoverandusetheraft.”
Ihaveanoddsensationlookingoutoverthewaterandtheraftandthefarshore—it’sallsofamiliar,likeI’mwatchinganoldfamilyvideoexceptthepeoplehavebeenscrubbedoutsoIcanonlymakeoutfaintsilhouetteswheretheyoncewere.Ilongforthosepeople—andthegirlIusedtobe.
“Percy?”Idon’thearSamuntilheputsahandonmyshoulder.He’slookingatmefunny,andIrealizeafewtearshavemanagedtosneakoutoftheirholdingcells.Iwipethemawayandtrytosmile.
“Sorry…IfeellikeIwasjusttransportedbackintimeforasecond.”
“Igetthat.”Samisquietandthencrosseshisarmsacrosshischest.“Speakingofgoingbackintime…thinkyoucouldstilldoit?”Henodstotheothersideofthelake.
“Swimacross?”Iscoff.
“That’swhatIthought.Toooldandoutofshapeforitnow,”hesayswithatut.
“Areyouscrewingwithme?”Sam’smouthticksupononeside.“Youbroughtmeheretoinsultmyageandmybody?That’slow,evenforyou,Dr.Florek.”Theothersideofhismouthmovesupward.
“YourbodylooksgoodfromwhereI’mstanding,”Samsays,lookingmeupanddown.
“Perv.”Iunsuccessfullyfightbackagrin.“Yousoundlikeyourbrother.”MyeyesgowideatwhatI’vejustsaid,buthedoesn’tseemtonotice.
“It’sbeenalongtime,”hecontinues.“I’mjustsayingwearen’tasspryasweusedtobe.”
“Spry?Whosays‘spry’?Whatareyou,seventy-fiveyearsold?”Itease.“Andspeakforyourself,oldman.Iamplentyspry.Notallofushavegonesoft.”Ipokehisstomach,whichissohardit’slikenegativepercentbodyfat.Hesmirksatme.Inarrowmyeyes,thenstudythefarshore.
“Let’ssayIdoit:swimacrossthelake.What’sinitforme?”
“Otherthanbraggingrights?Hmm…”Herubshischin,andIstareatthetendonssnakingalonginhisforearm.“I’llgiveyouapresent.”
“Apresent?”
“Agoodone.YouknowI’manexcellentpresentgiver.”It’strue:Samusedtogivethebestgifts.Once,hemailedmeaworncopyofStephenKing’smemoir,OnWriting.Itwasn’taspecialoccasion,buthe’dwrappeditupandleftanoteontheinsidecover:Foundthisatthesecondhandstore.Ithinkitwaswaitingforyou.
“Humbleasalways,Sam.Anyideawhatthisexcellentgiftwillbe?”
“Nonewhatsoever.”Ican’thelpthelaughthatbubblesoutofmeorthebiggrinacrossmyface.
“Well,inthatcase,”Isay,unbuttoningmyshorts,“howcouldIrefuse?”Samgapesatme.Hedidn’tthinkI’ddoit.“Youbetterstillknowhowtorow.”
ILIFTMYshirtovermyheadandstandwithmyhandsonmyhips.Sam’smouthisstillhangingopen,andwhilemytwo-pieceishardlyskimpy,Isuddenlyfeelextremelyexposed.Ihavenoissueswithmybody.Okay,yes,Ihaveplentyofissues,butIrecognizethemasinsecuritiesanddon’ttendtoworrytoomuchaboutmysoftbellyorbumpythighs.MyrelationshipwithmybodyisoneofthefewhealthyonesIhave.Igotoaregularspinclassanddoaweightcircuitacoupleoftimesaweek,butit’smostlybecauseIcanmanagemystressbetterwhenIexercise.I’mbynomeansastonedastheinsufferablewomenwhodospinninginshortshortsandsportsbras,butthat’snotthegoal.I’mfitish—therearejustsomejigglesinplacesIliketothinkarefinetobeabitjiggly.Sam’sgazerunsdowntomychestandbacktomyface.
“Icanrow,”hesays,asuspiciousglimmerinhiseye.HepullshisT-shirtoverhisheadanddropsitonthedock.NowI’mtheonegaping.
“Areyouserious?”Isquawk,flailingathistorso,myverbalfiltercompletelyremoved.Eighteen-year-oldSamwasingreatshape,butadultSamhasafreakingsix-pack.Hisskinisgoldenandsoisthehairthatdustshisbroadchest.Itgetsdarkerasitformsalinefromhisbellybuttontobelowhisjeans.Hisshouldersandarmsaremuscularbutnotinaweirdlythickway.
Sambendsovertotakeoffhissocksandsneakers,thenrollsuphisjeanssohisanklesandthebottomsofhiscalvesarebare.
“Iknow,I’vegonesoft,”hesays,hisblueeyesglitteringlikesunonwater.
Igivehimmymostunimpressedlook.“I’mnotsuretheshirtlessnessisnecessary.”
“It’ssunnyout.It’sgoingtobehotintheboat.”Heshrugs.
“You’retrouble.”Iscowl.“I’mgoingtoassumethosearen’tjustdecorative”—Imotionathisarms—“andthatyou’llbeabletokeepupwithme.”
“I’lldomybest,”hesaysandstepsintotheboat.
Irollmyshouldersandthencirclemyarmstoloosenthemup.WhatthehellamIdoing?It’snotlikeI’vekeptupwithswimming.Sampushesofffromthedock,turnstheboatwiththeoarssothebowisfacingthefarshore,andwaitsformetodivein.Istandattheedgeofthedockwatchinghim,hisbarefeetproppedonthebenchinfrontofhim.Ilookatthewaterinfrontofme,thenbackathim.I’mnotsureifit’sdéjàvuthathitsmeortheweightofstandinginthisveryspotwhileSamdriftsinthatveryboat,butmyhandsareshaking.
“Howoldarewe?”Icallout.Ittakeshimamomenttorespond.
“Fifteen?”
Istudytherockybeachattheothersideofthelake.Adrenalinesurgesundermyskin.Itakeadeepbreaththroughmynose,thendivein.AsobvibratesthroughmeasIswimunderthecoolwater.IfI’mcryingwhenIsurface,Ihavenoidea,andIstartswimmingslowly.
IcanseetheedgeoftheboatwhenItiltmyheadforair,andItrytoconcentrateonhowSamisbackbesidemeandnotalltheyearshewasn’t.Itdoesn’ttakelongbeforemyshouldersaretightwithknotsandmylegsbegintoburn,butIkeepkickingandslicingmyarmsthroughthewater.
I’minamindlessrhythmwhenacrampseizesmybigtoe.Islowdownandtrycurlingituptoeasethemuscle,butanagonizingpainshootsupmycalf.Itrytokeepkickingbutthespasmgetsworse,andIhavetostopswimming.Igritmyteethtryingtotreadwaterandyelpwhenthecrampdoesn’trelease.IcanbarelyhearSamshoutinguntilIseethesideoftheboatrightnexttome
“Areyouokay?”Helookspanicked.Ishakemyhead,andthenIfeelhishandsundermyarmpits,haulingmeoutofthewater.Mystomachscrapesonthesideoftheboatashepullsmein,handsatmywaistandthenundermybutt.Ifallontopofhiminasoppingpileoflimbs.
I’mlyingwithmyheadonhisbarechest,tryingtocatchmybreath.ThepainsubsidesifIstaystill,butwhenIwigglemytoe,itshootsthroughmylegagain,andIhiss.
OnlythenamIawareofSam’shands,whichtightenonmyhips.I’mfullypressedtohim,myforehead,mynose,mychest,mystomach—allIwanttodoisrunmytongueacrosshiswarmchestandrollmyhipsagainsthisjeanstorelievewhat’shappeningbetweenmythighs.It’stotallyinappropriate,consideringtheamountofpainI’min.
“Youokay,Percy?”Hisvoiceisstrained.
“Cramp,”Ibreatheintohischest.“Inmytoeandcalf.Hurtstomove.”
“Whichleg?”
“Left.”IfeelSam’shandmovedownmythightomycalftothemuscle.Goosebumpsradiatefromunderhisfingers,andashudderrunsthroughme.Hepausesforasecond,andIliftmyheadtolookathim.Hiseyesaredarkandunblinking.
“Sorry,”Iwhisper.Heshakeshisheadsoslightlyit’salmostimperceptible.
“Ithelpstorelaxthemuscle,”hesaysandwrapshiswholehandovermycalf,applyingpressure,thenmovinginslowcircles,kneadinggently.MyheartisbeatingsofiercelyIwonderifhecanfeelit,too.Ishutmyeyesandinvoluntarilysqueezemythighstogether.Hemustfeelthemovementbecausehislefthandincreasesitsgriponmyhip.I
“Better?”Thequestioncomesoutinarasp.Ishiftmylegslightly,anditdoesfeelbetter.
“Yeah.”Ipushmyselfup,butnowI’mstraddlinghimawkwardlyontheflooroftheboat.Hischestisslickwiththewater.Istartbrushingitoff,butheputshishandaroundmywrist.He’slookingupatme,eyelidsheavy.
“You’retrouble,”hesays,echoingmywordsfromearlier.Theairbetweenuspullstightlikearubberband.Itakeadeepbreath,andSam’sgazefollowstheriseofmychest,andyep,mynipplesareobsceneundermytop.Tobefair,I’mcoldandwet.
Samswallowsandmeetsmyeyesagain.I’veseenthislookfromhimbefore,stormyandfocusedandcompletelyconsuming,likeIcouldfallintohiseyesandnevergetout.Hisfingersmoveslightlyatthebackofmyhip,justundertheedgeofmybathingsuit.Hisotherhandrunsupanddownthebackofmythigh.Whatishappening?
Taylor,Ithink.SamhasTaylor.Sam’shandleavesmythighandherubshisthumboverthecreasesbetweenmyeyes,smoothingoutthefrownlines,thenrunsitdownovermycheek,cuppingmyface.
“You’restillthemostbeautifulwomanI’veeverknown,”hesays,anditsoundslikecoarsesandpaper.Iblinkathim.Hiswordsareconfusingandwonderful,andIfeelalittlehighandalotturnedon.ButIknowweshouldn’tbedoingthis.Ishouldn’twantthis.Hetracesmylipswithhisthumb,andthefingersofhisotherhanddigmoredeeplyintothefleshatthebackofmyhip.
“Thisisabadidea.”Ichokethewordsout.
Hiseyesmoverapidlyacrossmyface,andhesitsupbeneathmesothatI’monhislap.Herestshisforeheadonmineandcloseshiseyes,takingshallowbreaths.Isheshaking?Ithinkhe’sshaking.Imovemyhandstohisshouldersandrubthemupanddownhisarms.
“Hey,it’sokay.Oldhabits,right?”Isay,tryingtolightenthemood,butmyheartisscreamingatme.“Whydon’tweheadbackandhaveaswimtocooloff,”Isay,lookingaround,seeingnowthatIhadn’tevenmadeithalfwayacrossthelake.
WhenIlookbacktoSam,hisjawisclenchedasthoughhe’stryingtodecidesomething,butheonlysays,“Yeah,okay.”
SAMHEADSUPtothehousetochangewhenwegetbackfromourveryshort,veryquietboatride.Ihadgottenaquickglimpseofmycottagefromthewater,aflashbackofmyparentssittingonthedeckwithcoldglassesofwine.NowIsitattheedgeofthedockwaitingforSamwithmyfeetinthewater,replayingwhatjusthappened,lingeringonthemomentwhenhisfingersslippedundermysuit.Myhipsstilltinglewherehishandsgrippedthem.IoncewantedSamineverywayIcouldhavehim—thathasn’tchanged.Andifhehadkeptgoing,Iwouldhave,too.I’mashamedbythattruth,butitisthetruth.Iknowmyself.Myself-controlisonicewhenI’maroundhim.Iwonderifthatwouldbeagoodpremiseforabook,awomanwithnoself-control.Ismiletomyself—Ihaven’tdaydreamedaboutstoriesinalongtime.
IhearSam’sfootstepsbehindme,andIlookovermyshoulder.He’swearingapairofcoral-coloredswimtrunksthatlookamazingagainsthistannedskinandholdingapairoftowelsandawaterbottle.
“Whatareyouthinkingabout?”Heputsthetowelsdownandsitsbesideme,hisshouldertouchingmine,andpassesmethebottle.
“Justanideaforastory.”
“Youstillwritelikethat?”
“No,”Iadmit.“Idon’treallywriteatall.”
“Youshould,”hesaysgently,afteramoment.“Youwerereallygood.I’mprettysureIstillhaveanautographedcopyof‘YoungBlood’inthedeskdrawerofmyoldbedroom.”
Ilookathimwide-eyed.“Youdon’t.”
“Yeah.Actually,IknowIdo.Itholdsup.”Hemustseethequestionwrittenonmyface,becauseheanswersitwithoutmeasking.“I’vebeenstayinginmyoldroomforayear—Iwentthroughmythingsawhileback.”
“Ican’tbelieveyoustillhaveit.Idon’tthinkIevenhaveacopyanymore,”Isaywithdisbelief.
“Well,youcan’thavemine.”Hegrins.“It’sdedicatedtome,ifyou’llremember.”
“Ofcourse,”Imurmurasmyminddriftsintonostalgia.IwishSuewerehere.Shewouldhavegotakickoutofwatchingthirty-year-oldmeattempttoswimacrossthelakewithoutanytraining.
Thequestionleavesmythroatassoonasitentersmyhead:“Didyourmomhateme?”IturntoSamandwatchhimpuzzleouthowtoanswer.He’ssilentforalongmoment.
“No,shedidn’thateyou,Percy,”hesaysfinally.“Shewasconcernedthatwestoppedspeakingsosuddenly.Sheaskedalotofquestions—someofthemIhadanswersfor,andothersIdidn’t.And,Idon’tknow,Ithinkshewashurt,too.”Hisblueeyesfixonme.“Shelovedyou.Youwerefamily.”Ipressmylipstogether,hard,andtiltmyfaceskyward.
Thisisthemoment,Ithink.ThisisthemomentwhereItellhim.
ButthenSamspeaksagain.“Idon’t,either,bytheway.”
“Youdon’twhat?”Iask,lookingathim.
“Idon’thateyou,”hesayssimply.Ihadn’tknownhowbadlyIneededtohearthosewordsuntiltheylefthislips.MybottomlipbeginstotrembleandIbitedownonit,concentratingonthesharpnessofmyteeth.Mycouragehasvanished.I’masbrittleasdrystraw.
“Thanks,”IsaywhenI’mcertainmyvoicewon’tbreak.Sambumpsmegentlywithhisshoulder.“Shallwe?”Heslantshisheadtowardtheraft.“Maybewecangetsomemorefrecklesonthatnoseofyours.”Iexhaleanervouslaugh.Hestandsupfirst,thenholdsoutahand,pullingmeup.
“Iwouldapologizeinadvance,Percy,butIknowIwon’tbesorry,”hesayswithasmirk,andbeforeIcanaskwhatthehellhemeans,hepicksmeuplikeasackofflour,andtossesmeintothewater.10
Summer,FourteenYearsAgo
ItwaseasytopersuadeSuetoletmeworkattheTavern.Butmyparentsneededmoreconvincing.Theydidn’tunderstandwhyI’dwanttospendeveningsattherestaurantwhenfinancesweren’tanissue.ItoldthemthatIwantedtoearnmyownmoneyand,rookiemistake,thatIwantedtohangoutwithSam.Consideringhowmuchtimewealreadyspenttogether,theyfoundthisinformationdisturbingand,beingacunningpairofPhDs,tookadvantageofthedrivetoBarry’sBayatthebeginningofthesummertostageanintervention.
IshouldhaveknownsomethingwasupwhenDadcamebackfromourbathroombreakholdingatwenty-packofTimbits(araretreat)thatwasheavyonthechocolateglazed(myfavorite)andthenpassedtheentireboxtometoholdonto.(Redflag!Redflag!)
Myparentslecturedmesorarely,theymuddledthroughitawkwardly.Thisonewasclassic:
Dad:“Persephone,youknowhowmuchwelikeSam.He’s…”
Mom:“He’salovelyboy.Ican’timaginewhatit’sbeenlikeforSuetoraisethosetwoboysonherown,butshe’sdoneanimpressivejob.”
Dad:“Right.Well,yes.He’sagreatkid.Andwe’rehappyyouhaveafriendatthecottage,kiddo.It’simportanttoexpandyoursocialcirclesbeyondToronto’supper-middleclass.”
Mom:“Notthatthere’sanythingwrongwithourcircle.Youknow,Delilah’sparentssaythatBuckleyMasonisaverypromisingyoungman.”
Dad:“ThoughIdon’tknowabouthockeyplayers.”
Mom:“Thepointisthatwe’reconcernedyou’respendingtoomuchtimewithSam.You’repracticallyjoinedatthehip,andnowwiththerestaurant…Wedon’twantyouto…”
Dad:“Togettooattachedatsuchayoungage.”
ItoldmyparentsthatSamwasmybestfriend,thatheunderstoodmelikenobodyelsedid,andthathewasalwaysgoingtobeinmylife,sotheybettergetusedtoit.Isaidhavingajobwouldteachmetobemoreresponsible.Ileftouttheunrequitedcrushpart.
Workingattherestaurantfeltlikebeingapartofahighlychoreographeddance,alltheperformersworkingtogethertoexecuteanear-flawlessroutinethatlookedawholeloteasierthanitwas.Suewasagreatboss.Shewasdirectbutnotcondescendingorshort-tempered.Shelaughedeasilyandknewatleasthalfoftheguestsbyname,andshemanagedthecrowdswithease.
Juliencontrolledthebackofthehousewithunspokenpowerandaglarethatcouldturnyourskinicyeveninthekitchen’sinferno.HewasyoungerthanSue,maybeinhisearlythirties,buthisbackwasshotfromyearsofluggingsidesofpigsandkegsofPolishpilsner.IwasterrifiedofhimuntilIoverheardhimteasingCharlieonhisafter-dinner-rushcigarettebreak:“Goodthingyou’regoingtouniversitysoonbecauseyou’reaboutthreegirlsawayfromrunningthroughthewholetown.”AnyonewhopokedfunatCharliewasokayinmybook.
CharlieandJulienmannedthestoves,grill,anddeepfryertogether.Theyhadasilentwayofcommunicating,workingofftheordersheetsinasystemJulienfirstlearnedfromCharlie’sdad.Itwasunsettlingatfirst,seeingCharlielikehewasattherestaurant,sweatyandserious,hisforeheadtightwithconcentration.EveryonceinawhileI’dcatchhiseye,andhe’dtossmeaquicksmile,butjustasfast,hewasbacktofocusingonthefood.
Sam,beingtheyoungeroftheboys,wasrelegatedtothedishwasherandtobreakingouteachorder.He’dpassthesheetstoJulien,who’dshoutouttheseriesofdishes,andSamwouldgatherthenecessarysupplies,runningupanddowntothebasementwalk-inswhenneeded
ThebestpartofallofitwasthatSueputSamandmeonthesameschedule:Thursday,Friday,andSaturdaynights.IlikedcatchinghiseyewhenIbroughtbackthedirtydishesandhowthekitchensteamturnedhiswavesintocurls.AndIlikedcleaningupattheendofthenightwithhim,eventhoughSam’sdishwashingskillsoftenmeantrunningarackofcutlerythroughthemachinetwice.ButIlikedthat,too:Samwasperfectatalmosteverythingbutwashingup
ITWASAdrysummerwithfirebansacrossthecounty,andIwasatightlywoundballoffrustratedteenagesexualenergy.Sampickedmeuponthewaybackfromhismorningrunstoswimjustliketheyearbefore,andonthewalkovertohisplace,Icouldn’tstopstaringatthewayhisshirtclungtohisstomachorthedropsofsweatrunningdownhisforeheadandneck.
Nowthathewassixteen,SamwasallowedtodrivetheBananaBoat,andwetookittothetowndockforacoupleoficecreamsearlyoneeveninginJuly.Wesatonabenchbythewater,finishingourcones,debatingthemeritsofanimaldissectioninbiologyclass,whenSamleanedoverandranhistonguearoundtherimofmycone,catchingthedripsofpinkandblue.He’ddonethesamethinglastsummer,butthiswasthesexiestthingI’deverseen.
“You’vegotthetastebudsofafive-year-old,”hesaidasIstaredathimwithwideeyes.
“Youlickedmyicecream.”
“Yeah…what’sthebigdeal?”Hefrowned.
“Like,withyourtongue.You’vegottostopdoingthat.”
“Why?Areyouworriedyourboyfriendwillbemadorsomething?”Hesoundedalittleangry.DelilahhadbeentheonetoconvincemetokeepseeingMason,sayingtherewasnopointwaitingaroundformySummerBoytogetaclue.ButIhadexplainedtoSamonmultipleoccasionsthatMasonwasnotmyboyfriend,thatweweredatingbutthatitwasn’tserious.NeitherSamnorMasonseemedtounderstandthedistinction.
“Forthemillionthtime,Masonisnotmyboyfriend.”
“Butyoukisshim,”Samsaid.
“Yeah,sure.It’snobigdeal,”Ireplied,notsurewherehewasgoing.
Hetookabiteoutofhiscone,thensquintedatme.“WouldyouthinkitwasabigdealifItoldyouIkissedsomeone?”
Myheartexplodedintotinyparticles.“Youkissedsomeone?”Iwhispered.
IcouldtellSamwasnervousbecausehebrokeeyecontactandlookedoutatthebay.“Yeah,MaeveO’Conorattheend-of-yeardance,”hesaid.
IhatedMaeveO’Conor.IwantedtomurderMaeveO’Conor.
“Maeveisaprettyname,”Ichokedout.
Hisblueeyesmetmineagain,andhepushedhishairoffhisface.“Itwasnobigdeal.”
THECIVICHOLIDAYloomedlargethatsummer.Forthefirsttime,MomandDadwereleavingmealoneatthecottage.ItwasalsotheweekendI’dchosentoswimacrossthelakeagain.Myparentsdidn’twanttomissmynow-annualfeatofathleticism,buttheywereheadedtoapartyinPrinceEdwardCounty,whereadeanattheuniversityhadpurchasedafarmtoturnitintoasmallwinery.Itwasamust-attendeventandalmostalltheycouldtalkaboutuntiltheywavedgoodbyeearlySaturdaymorning.
Theairwassticky,promisingarainthatprobablywouldn’tfallifthefirsthalfofsummerwasanyindication.ThegrassaroundtheFloreks’househadlongagoturnedbrown,butSuewasdeterminedtokeeptheflowerbedsinshape.Shewentintotherestaurantearlierthanusualtomakeextrabatchesofpierogiesforthelongweekendcrowds,andSam,Charlie,andIweretaskedwithwateringallthegardensinthebakingheatbeforeweleftforourshifts.
Likemostevenings,wetooktheBananaBoattothetowndockandwalkedtotherestaurant.Iworemyusual—adarkdenimskirtandasleevelessblouse—andIwasslickwithsweatbythetimewegotthere.Isplashedmyfacewithcoldwaterinthebathroomandredidmyponytail,smoothingdownthestrandsthathadfrizzedinthehumidity,thenappliedalittlemascaraandpinklipgloss,thesumtotalofmymakeuproutine.
Thetableswerefullfromthemomentweopenedthedoors,andbythetimethelastcustomershadbeenserved,Suewasexhausted.Julientoldhershelookedlikeshitandforcedheroutthedoorwhiletherestofusclosedup.
“IfeellikeI’vebeenboilinginpierogiwaterallnight,”ItoldCharlieandSamwhenIwasdone,joiningthemoutsidethebackdoor,wheretheyalwayswaitedforme,sittingwiththeirbacksagainstthewall,oncetheyhadfinishedinthekitchen.Ihandedthemtheirtip-outs.
“I’vebeenstandingoverpierogiwaterallnight,”Charliesaid,standingtotuckthemoneyinhispocketandpullingonhisshirttoshowmehowdampitwas.“You’vegotnothingtocomplainabout.I’mjumpinginthelakewhenwegethome.”
Hewasn’tjoking.Assoonaswetieduptheboat,hejumpedontothedock,unbuttonedhisshorts,andpeeledoffhisshirt.Suehadlefttheporchlighton,butitwasdarkatthewater,themooncastingenoughofapaleglowthatIcouldjustmakeoutCharlie’sbareasswhenhepulleddownhisbriefsandjumpedintothelake.
“Shit,Charlie,”Samsaidwhenhisheadbobbedbackup.“Giveussomewarning.”
“JustdoingPercyafavor,”helaughed.“Youkidscomingin?”I’dskinny-dippedonhot-hotnightswhenIcouldn’tfallasleepbutneverwhenanyoneelsewasaround.Ismelledlikecabbageandsausage,andmyclotheswereplasteredtomybody.Aswimsoundedamazing.
“Iam,”Isaid,unbuttoningmyblouse,ignoringtheknotsinmystomach.“TurnaroundwhileIgetundressed.”Idroppedmyshirtonthedock.Charlieswamoutfarther,andIcheckedbehindme,findingSamstaringatmeinmywhitecottonbra.
“Sorry,”hemumbled,thenturnedaway,pullingoffhisownT-shirt.
Isteppedoutofmyskirt,slidoffmyunderwear,unfastenedmybra,andthendoveintothewater.Samjumpedinsecondslater,aflashofwhitelimbs.Wekeptourdistancefromeachother,butIpaddledawayfurtherstillandturnedontomyback,spreadingmyarmsandlegs,floatingundertheopensky.Myfeettingledwithrelief.Thewaterswirledaroundme,andmyeyesgrewheavy.Eventuallysomeonesplashedme,andCharliesaid,“Ithinkit’stimetogetPercytobed.”
Heranuptothehouseinhisunderwearandcamebackwithtowels,andSamwalkedmehomethroughthepath.
“Readyfortheswimtomorrow?”heaskedwhenwegottothebottomofthesteps.
Ihummedinresponse.“Youmighthavetogivemeawake-upcall.”Isaidgoodnight,climbedthestairsuptothecottage,andsprawledoutnakedonmybed.
THESOUNDOFknockingwokemesuddenly.Iglancedattheclock:8:01a.m.
“Aphonecallwouldhavebeenfine,”IgrumbledafterIthrewonacottonrobeandtrudgeddownstairstoopenthedoor.Samgavemeaguiltyhalfgrin,andImotionedforhimtocomein.
“Thoughtanin-personalarmwouldbemoreeffective.Youseemedreallytiredlastnight.”Heshrugged.Hewaswearingabathingsuitandahoodie.Hislightbrownhairfelloverhisfaceinatumble.
“Youknow,forsuchananalguy,yourhairisextremelymessy.”Iglowered.
“Someone’sgrumpythismorning,”hesaid,slippingoffhissneakers.
“Ijustwokeup,andI’vereallygottopee.”Iwalkedtothebathroom.“ThereareCheeriosinthecupboardandbagelsinthebreaddrawerifyouhaven’teatenyet.”
Thephonestartedringingmid-pee.“Youmindgettingthat?”IyelledtoSam.“It’sprobablyMomorDad.”
WhenIcameout,heheldthereceiverinmydirection.
“Hello?”
“Percy,it’sMason.”MyeyesskippedtoSam’s.
“Hey.Ididn’tthinkyouwokeupthisearly,”IrepliedasSamturnedandbusiedhimselfwiththetoaster.Therewasnoprivacyonthemainfloorofthecottage,andSamwasgoingtoheareveryword.
“It’syourswimtoday,right?Iwantedtowishyougoodluck.”Masoncalledthecottagetotalkaboutonceaweek.Ifhehadn’t,IthinkIwouldhaveforgottenabouthimalmostentirely,thesamewayIforgotaboutnearlyeverythingtodowithmylifebackinthecitywhenIwasatthelake.
“Itis,thanks.It’slookingalittlegrayoutside,”Isaid,peeringoutthewindow,“butitdoesn’tseemlikethere’swind,soIshouldbegood.”
“Whowasthatwhoansweredthephone?”
“Oh,that’sSam.”Samglancedoverhisshoulder.I’dmentionedhimtoMasonbefore,andheknewthatwewerefriends—Ijusthadn’ttoldhimSamandIwerebestfriendsorthatIwasharboringanot-insignificantcrushonhim.“He’sspottingmewhileIswim,remember?”Sampointedtohimselflike,Whome?andIbitbackalaugh.
“He’sthereearly.”Itwasn’tanaccusation.Masonwastoosureofhimselfforjealousy.
“Yeah.”Ilaughednervously.“HewantedtomakesureIgotoutofbed.Busynightlastnight.”
“Well,Iwon’tkeepyou.Ijustwantedtocheckinbeforeyourswim.And”—heclearedhisthroat—“totellyouthatImissyou.Ican’twaittoseeyouwhenyoucomeback.Iwanttoholdyou,Percy.”IwatchedSamsmearcreamcheeseonabagel.Hisforearmswerethickandcoveredinfine,fairhairthatglowedinthesun.Helookedbiginoursmallkitchen.Therewasn’tahintleftofthegawkythirteen-year-oldboyImetthreeyearsago.
“Metoo,”Ireplied,feelingguiltyforthelieasitleftmymouth.Ihadn’treallymissedMasonatall.
WhenIhungup,Samhandedmethebagelonaplate.
Ithankedhimandsatonastoolchewingwhilehepreparedoneforhimself.Whenhewasdone,hestoodontheothersideofthecounterandtookabiteoutofhisbreakfast,watchingmewhileheate.
“WasthatthefamousBuckley?”heasked,hismouthfull.Igavehimaflatlook.
“Mason.”
“Doeshecallalot?”
Itookabigbiteofmybageltostall.“Everyweek,”Isaidafteraminute.“It’sprobablygoodhedoes,otherwiseImightforgetheexists.”
Samstoppedmidchew,hiseyebrowsliftedinsurprise.
“What’swiththeface?”Iasked.
Heswallowedandthenclearedhisthroatbeforeanswering.“Nothing.Itjustdoesn’tsoundlikeyou’rethatintohim.”
“It’snotthatIdon’tlikehim—he’sbeensweet.”
“Good,Percy.Heshouldbe,”hesaidwithahintofexasperation.
“Iknow.That’snottheissue.”Ilookeddownatmyhalf-eatenbagel.“Itoldyoubefore—Ilikesomeoneelsemore.”
“Thesameguyyouemailedabout?”SamaskedquietlyasImovedsesameseedsscatteredonmyplatewithmyfinger.“Percy?”
“Yep,sameone,”Irepliedwithoutlookingup.
“Doesheknow?”IlookedupatSam.Icouldn’ttellifheknewweweretalkingabouthim.Hisexpressionwasimpassive.
“I’mnotsure,”Isaid.“Hecanbehardtoread.”
Wefinishedbreakfastinsilence,andthenIchangedintoaracer-backswimsuitMomhadbought.Shehaddecidedswimmingwastheperfecthobbyandwantedmetotryoutfortheswimteaminthefall.Iwasconsideringit.
Youcouldn’tcallitaniceday—itwasmuggyandovercast,butatleastthelakewasflat.
“Youseemalotlessantsytodaythanyoudidlastyear,”IsaidaswesteppedontotheFloreks’dock.
“Iactuallyhadnightmaresaboutitforafullweekbeforeyoudidthatswim,”hesaid.“IthoughtyouweregoingtodrownandthatIwouldn’tbeabletosaveyou.NowIknowyoucandoitwithoutbreakingasweat.”Hekickedoffhisshoesandpulledhisshirtoverhishead,leavingbothonthedock.Herolledhisshouldersinbackwardcirclesafewtimes.
“Andnowyou’vegotallthat,”Isaid,motioningathisbaretorso,theshadowsplayingofftheridgesofhischestandstomach.Hechuckled.
“I’lldoacoupleofwarm-uplapswithyou,andthenwe’llheadout?”
“Whateveryousay,Coach.”
Sometimewhilewewereatthewater,SueandCharliehadcomeoutontothedeckwithcoffees.IwavedatthemfromthewaterwhileSamgottheboatready.Andthen,givingeachotherathumbs-up,wesetoff.
Itwasn’teasy,butitwasn’tashardaslastsummer,either.Ididn’tneedtoswitchstrokesorslowdown—Ikeptasteady,rhythmicpace.Mylegsweretiredbutdidn’tfeelasthoughtheyweregoingtodragmetothebottomofthelakewiththeirweight,andmyshouldersachedbutthepaindidn’tconsumeme.WhenIreachedtheshore,IsatintheshallowwatercatchingmybreathwhileSampulledtheboatuponthebeach.
“Sevenminutesfasterthanlastyear!”heannounced,hoppingoutoftheboat,droppingacoolerbagonthesand,andsittinginthewaterbesideme,hisskinslickwithsweat.“Ithinkyourmom’sright;youshouldjointheswimteam.Youdidn’tevenstoptocatchyourbreath!”
“Saystheguywhopracticallyrunsamarathoneverymorning,”Ipanted.
“Exactly.”Samgrinned.“Ishouldknow.”Hepassedmeacoldbottleofwater,andIchuggedhalf,handingtheresttohimtofinishoff.Thewindwasstartingtopickupandtheairsmelledthick.
“Lookslikeitcouldfinallyrain,”Isaid,watchingthebreezedancethroughtheleavesofapoplar.
“That’stherumor.Momsaysabigstormissupposedtohit,”Samsaid,wrappinghisarmsaroundhisknees.“Toobadsheneedsmetoworkanextrashift,otherwisewecoulddoascarymovienight.”
“BlairWitch!”Isuggested.
“Totally.Howhavewenotdonethatoneyet?”
“Well,Ihave,manytimes,”Isaid.
“Obviously.”
“Butneverwithyou,”Iadded.
“Ahugeoversight,”Samreplied.
“Thehugest.”Wegrinned.
IwasalmostcatatonicbythetimeIgotbacktothecottage,mybellybloatedfromoneofSue’sepicbreakfastsandmybodycompletelydrained.Ipassedoutonthecouchanddidn’twakeupuntilwellafterfive,whichmeantSamwouldalreadybeattheTavern,whereasIhadthenightoff.Myparentsleftmehomealoneallthetimeinthecity,buttheywerealwaysaroundwhenwewereatthelake.Ihadfallenasleepsoquicklythenightbeforethatithadbarelyregisteredthattheyweregone.NowIwasn’tquitesurewhattodowithmyself.
Groggy,Ishuffledintothebathroomandsplashedwateronmyface,thenslurpedthecoldliquidfrommyhands.IheadeddowntothelakewithanotebookandsatononeoftheMuskokachairsatthefootofthedock.Thewindhadpickedupsincemorningandwasthrowingwhitecapsoverthegraywater.Ijotteddownafewideasformynextstory,butsoonraindropsbegantofallonthepages,andIwaschasedinside.
IboiledahotdogfordinnerandateitwithsomeofthericeandbeansaladMomhadleft.Bored,IriffledthroughourDVDcollectionuntilIfoundTheBlairWitchProject.
Itwasaterriblechoice.ItscaredmeeverysingletimeI’dseenit,andIhadneverwatcheditalone.Inacabin.Inthewoods.Onadarkandstormynight.Halfwaythrough,Ipausedthemovie,lockedthedoors,anddidasweepofthecottage,checkingtheclosets,beneaththebeds,andbehindtheshowercurtain.JustasIpressedplayagain,aloudcrackofthundershookthecottage,andlightningquicklyfollowed.Witheveryflash,Iexpectedtoseeagruesomefacepressedupagainstthebackdoorwindow.Bythetimethemovieended,thestormhadpassed,butitwasdarkandrainy,andIwastotallyfreakingout.
ImademyselfpopcornandputonUncleBuck,hopingforacomedicdistraction,butnotevenJohnCandyandMacaulayCulkincouldcalmmedown.Thewindwasn’thelpingthings,sendingbitsofbarkandsmallbranchesflyingontotheroofinasymphonyofscratchesandthunks.And,wow,Ihadnevernoticedhowmuchthecottagecreaked.ItwasjustafterelevenwhenIbrokedownandcalledtheFloreks’number.
ThephonehadbarelyrungwhenSampickedup.
“Hey,sorrytocallsolate,butI’mkindoflosingithere—thewindismakingweirdnoises,andIjustwatchedBlairWitch,whichIguesswasprettystupid.There’slikenowayIcansleepherebymyselftonight.CanIstayoverthere?”
“Youcanstayoverme.Youcanstayunderme,”thevoiceontheotherenddrawled.“Anywayyouwant,Pers.”
“Charlie?”Iasked.
“Theoneandonly,”hereplied.“Disappointed?”
“Notatall.I’veneverbeenmoreturnedon,”Ideadpanned.
“You’reacruelwoman,PercyFraser.Letmehangupontheotherline,andI’llgetSamforyou.”
Samwasatthedoorinlessthanfiveminutes,standingunderanumbrella.Ithankedhimforwalkingoverandapologizedforbeingsochildish.
“Idon’tmind,Percy,”hesaid,thentookthetoteI’dthrownmytoothbrushandpj’sinto.
HerolledhiseyeswhenIaskedifhe’dbroughtaflashlight,becausewhenhadheeverneededaflashlight,andaswesetout,Ilinkedmyarmthroughhis,stayingasclosetohimaspossible.IalmostscreamedwhenIheardrustlinginthebushandthenthesnapofatwig,andIwrappedmyfreearmaroundSam’swaist,gluingmyselftohisside.
“It’sprobablyaraccoonoraporcupine,”hesaid,laughing,butIkeptatightgriponhimuntilwesteppedontotheporch.
“We’llhavetobequiet,”hewhisperedaswecreptinside.“Mom’salreadyasleep.Busynight.”
“You’renotgoingtolockthat?”IpointedtothedoorbehindusasSammovedtowardthekitchen.
“Weneverlockit.Notevenwhenwegoout,”hesaid,thenseeingthesheerterrorinmyeyes,walkedbackoverandturnedthedeadbolt.
Themainfloorwasindarkness,andthefaintsoundofCharliewatchingTVinthebasementdriftedupthestairs.Sampouredtwoglassesofwater,andIstudiedtheshadowsthatfilledthehollowsbeneathhischeekbones.Icouldn’trememberwhentheyhadgottensoprominent.
“I’lltakethecouchdownhere,andyoucansleepinmybed,”hesaid,handingmeaglass.
“Ireallydon’twanttosleepalone,”Iwhispered.“Can’twebothjustsleepinyourroom?”
Samranhishandthroughhishair,thinking.“Yeah.Wehaveanairmattresssomewhereinthebasement.Takesawhiletoinflate,butI’llgogetit.”Itwaslate,andIdidn’twanttoputSamoutmorethanIalreadyhad,butwhenIsuggestedwesharehisbed,hesputtered.
“IswearIdon’tkickinmysleep,”Ipromised.Hisjawtwitchedandheruffledhishairagain.
“Yeah,okay,”hesaiduneasily.“ButIneedtoshower.Ismelllikeonionsanddeepfryergrease.”
IBRUSHEDMYteethinthemainfloorbathroomandchangedintothecottonshortsandtanktopIusuallysleptin,arrangedmyhairinathickbraid,andthenwaitedforSaminhisbedroom,whichwasneatandorderlyeventhoughhehadn’tplannedonhavingaguestover.Thephotoofussatonhisdesk,andOperationstooduprightonthetopofhisbookshelfnexttoaphotoofhimwithhisdad.IhadkneltdowntogetabetterlookathissetofTolkienswhenhecamein,softlyclosingthedoor.
“I’veneverreadthese,”Isaidwithoutlookingup.HecroucheddownbesidemeandtookoutTheHobbit.Hishairwasdampandneatlycombedoffhisface.Hesmelledsoapy.
“I’mprettysureyou’dhateit,butyou’rewelcometoborrowit.”Hehandedmethebook.“There’salotofsinging.”
“Huh…I’llgiveitatry,thanks.”Westoodatthesametime,andSamloomedoverme.WhenIlookedupathim,hewasturningaverypinkshadeofpink.
“That’stheshirtyouweartobed?”heasked.Ilookeddown,confused.“It’salittlelowfromuphere,”hecroaked.Thetanktopwaswhitewiththinstrapsand,cometothinkofit,waskindofontherevealingside.Apricklyheatclimbedupmychestandneck.
“Youcouldsolvethatproblembynotlookingdownit,”Imuttered,thoughapartofme—abig,hungrypart—wasthrilled.Heranhishandthroughhishair,messingitup.
“Yeah,sorry.Theywerejust…there.”
IeyedhiscozypantsandT-shirt.Itseemedlikealotofclothesforsuchawarmnight.“Isthatwhatyouusuallyweartobed?”
“Yeah…inthewinteritis.”
“Youdoknowit’sthemiddleofsummer,right?”Heshiftedonhisfeet.IthitmethenthatSamwasnervous.Samwasalmostnevernervous.
“I’maware.Whenit’shot,I,uh”—herubbedhisneck—“Iusually,youknow,sleepinmyboxers.”
“Okaaaay,”Imurmured.“Sweatsitis.”
Webothlookedoveratthesinglebed.“Thisisn’tgoingtobeweird,right?”Iasked.
“Nope,”hesaidwithoutconfidence.
Samfoldedbackthenavy-bluetopsheet,andIclimbedin.Iwasn’tsurewhattheprotocolwashere.ShouldIfacethewall?Orwasthatrude?MaybeIshouldlieonmyback?Ihadn’tmadeadecisionwhenSamsatdownbesideme,ourbodiestouchingfromshouldertohip.Icouldsmellhispepperminttoothpaste.
“Doyouwantthelightontoread?”HeeyedthebookIwasstillholding.
“I’mstillprettytiredfromtheswimtoday,actually.”Ipassedhimthepaperback,andheplaceditonthenightstandandshutoffthelamp.
Idecidedlyingonmybackwasbest,andshuffleddownthebedsomyheadwasonthepillow.Samfollowedsuit.Weweresquishedupagainsteachother.Ilaytherewithmyeyesopenforagoodtenminutes,myheartracingandmyskinsizzlingeverywhereittouchedhis.
“I’mreallyhot,”hewhispered.Apparentlyneitheroneofuswassleeping.
“Justtakeoffyoursweatsandtheshirt,”Ihissed.“It’sfine.I’veseenyouinyourbathingsuit.Boxersaren’ttoodifferent.”Hehesitatedforafewseconds,thenwiggledhispantsoffandpulledhisT-shirtoverhishead.Icouldn’ttell,butIthinkhefoldedthembeforeputtingthemonthefloor.WewerestillbothawakewhenSamturnedhisheadtowardme,hisbreathhittingmycheek.
“I’mgladthisisn’tweird,”hesaid.Iburstoutlaughing.Hetriedtoshushmethroughhisownlaughter,butthatjustsetmeoffevenmore.Herolledovertofaceme,puttinghishandovermymouth.Everycellinmybodycametoahalt.
“You’llwakeMom,and,believeme,youdon’twanttodothat,”hewhispered.“Shewassotiredshetookherwineglasstobedwithher.”Heslowlytookhishandaway,andIfoughttheurgetoputitbackonmyface.Welaytheresilently,himturnedtowardme,untilhespoke.
“Percy?”heasked,andIrolledontomyside.Icouldbarelymakeouttheshapeofhisbody—thenightsupnorthgavenewmeaningtotheworddark.“DoyourememberwhenItoldyouaboutkissingMaeve?”
Myheartpickedupapairofdrumsticks
“Yeah,”Imurmured,notsureIwantedtohearwhatcamenext.
“Itdidn’tmeananything.Imean,Idon’tlikeherlikethat.”
Thequestionflewoutlikeareflex:“Whydidyoukissherthen?”
“Wewenttotheend-of-yeardancetogether,andthelastslowsongofthenightwasplaying…and,Idon’tknow,itjustseemedliketheobviousmove.”
“Youaskedhertothedance?”Hehadtoldmehewent,buthedidn’tsayhehadgonewithadate.
“Sheaskedme,”heclarified.“IknowIdidn’ttellyou,butIfiguredwedon’treallytalkaboutthisstuff.Iwasn’tsure.”
Ichewedonthisforasecond,thenasked,“Wasthatyourfirstkiss?”Samwasquiet.“You’renotgoingtotellme?Youwerethereformine.”
“No,”hereplied.
“No,itwasn’tyourfirstkiss,orno,youaren’tgoingtotellme?”
“Itwasn’tmyfirstkiss.I’msixteen,Percy.”
“When?”Myvoicewashoarse.
“Yousureyouwanttoknow?”heasked.“Becauseyousoundalittleweird.”
“Yes,”Ihissed.Iwantedtoscream.“Justtellme.”
“Itwaslastyear—agirlfromschool.Sheaskedmetogoskating,andshepushedmeinthepenaltyboxandthenkissedme.Itwaskindofcrazy.”
“Shesoundspsycho.”
“Yeah,wedidn’tgooutagain.”Hepaused.“ButIwentoutacoupletimeswithJordie’ssister’sfriend,Olivia.”Jordie’ssisterisayearolderthanus.
“Andyoukissedher?”Myvoicewasstrangled.Myheadwasspinning.Threegirls.Samhadkissedthreegirls.Samhadkissedaneleventh-gradegirl.Itshouldn’thavesurprisedme.Hewascuteandsweetandsmart,buthewasalsomine,mine,allmine.Thethoughtofanothergirlspendingtimewithhim,letalonekissinghim,mademenauseated.
“Um,yeah.Wekissed.”Hehesitated.“Andwefooledaroundabit.”
“Youfooledaroundwithaneleventh-gradegirl?”Isqueaked.
“Yeah,Percy.Isthatsosurprising?”Hesoundedoffended.“Youdon’tmakeoutwithyourboyfriend?”Itookadeepbreath.
“He.Is.Not.My.Boyfriend.”Iwaswhisper-yelling.IshovedSam’sshoulderonce,thenagain,andhegrabbedmywrist,holdingitagainsthisbarechest
“Andyoudon’tmakeoutwithyournon-boyfriend?”heasked.
“I’drathermakeoutwithsomeoneelse,”Iblurted,immediatelywantingtosuckthewordsbackintomythroat.
“Who?”Samasked.Myskinwenttightwithadrenaline,butIkeptmymouthshut.Hesqueezedmywristslightly,andIwonderedifhecouldfeelhowquicklymypulseraced.“Who,Percy?”heaskedagain.Igroaned.
“Don’tmakemetellyou,”IsaidsoquietlyIwasn’tsureifI’dsaiditoutloud,butthenIfeltSam’shotbreathonmyfaceandthepressofhisnoseandforeheadagainstmine.
“Pleasetellme,”hepleadedsoftly.Iwasoverwhelmedbyhim—thissmellofhisshampoo,hisdamphair,theheatcomingfromhisbody.
Iswallowedthickly,thenwhispered,“Ithinkyouknow.”
Samstayedsilent,hismouthinchesfrommyown,buthisthumbbegantomoveinback-and-forthstrokesacrossmywrist.
“Iwanttobesure,”hemurmured.
Iclosedmyeyes,tookadeepbreath,andletthewordsfallfromme.
“I’dratherkissyou.”
Assoonastheadmissionleftmymouth,Sam’slipswereonmylips,pressingandurgent.Itfeltlikejumpingoffacliffintowarmhoney.Justasquickly,hepulledbackandrestedhisforeheadagainstmine,takingquick,shallowbreaths.
“Okay?”hewhispered.
Ishookmyhead.“More.”
Heclosedthegapbetweenus,pepperingkissesonmylips,sweetandsoft,butnotnearlyenough,andwhenheletgoofmywrist,Iputmyhandinhishair,holdinghimcloser.Iranmytongueoverthecreaseofhisbottomlip,thenpulleditintomymouth.Hemoanedandsuddenlyhishandswereeverywhereallatonce,onmyback,overmyhips,acrossmystomach.Andthenhistonguemetmine,mintyandteasing.Iwrappedalegaroundhisandpulledourhipstogether.Apained,desperatenoisevibratedfromthebackofSam’sthroat,andhegrippedmyside,puttingasliverofspacebetweenus.
“Youallright?”Iasked.Hedidn’trespond.“Sam?”
“I’mnodding,”hesaid.
“Sorry,”Iwhispered.“Igotalittlecarriedaway.”
“Don’tbesorry.Ilikedit.”Hetookadeepbreath,thenpausedbeforeadding,“ButIthinkweshouldprobablytrytosleep.OtherwiseI’llgetcarriedaway.”
Inodded.
“Percy?”heasked.
“I’mnodding.”
Andthenhekissedmeagain.Atfirstitwasslow,allhottongueandgentlesucking.Iwhimpered,wantingmore,more,more,andmovedmyhandsdownhisbackandintothewaistbandofhisboxers.Inreply,hegrabbedmybuttandpulledmeagainsthim.Icouldfeelhisexcitement,andIpressedintohim.Hesuckedinhisbreathandfroze.
“Weneedtostop,Percy.”BeforeIcouldaskifI’ddonesomethingwrong,herasped,“I’mlikereallyclose.”
Iexhaledinrelief.“Okay.”
Hebrushedmyfacewithhisfingertips.“So…sleep?”
“Orsomethinglikethat,”Ilaughedquietly.Eventually,Iturnedtofacethewall,asmileonmyface.SomehowIdidfallasleep,andjustbeforeIdriftedoff,IheardSamwhisper,“I’dratherkissyou,too.”
SOMETHINGWOKEMEsuddenly.Iopenedmyeyes,notsurewhereIwas,feelingaweightacrossmymiddle.Iblinkedatthewallafewtimesbeforeremembering.
IwasinSam’sbed.
WithSam.
Whohadkissedme.
Whohadhisarmwrappedaroundme.
Twohardknockssoundedonthedoor.Igasped.Sam’shandmovedovermymouth
“Sam,it’snineo’clock,”Suecalled.“Ijustwantedtomakesureyoudidn’twanttogetoutforarun.”
“Thanks,Mom.Bedowninabit,”hecalledback.Welaystillasherfootstepsmovedawayfromthedoor,thenSamtookhishandfrommymouth,keepinghisarmsnugaroundme.Iwiggledbackintohim,andIfelthimhardagainstmybackside.
“Sorry,”hewhispered.“ItjusthappenswhenIwakeup.”
“SoIhavenothingtodowithit?Myegomighttakeoffenseatthat.”
“Sorry,”hesaidagain.
“Stopapologizing,”Ihissed.
“Right,sor…”Heleanedhisheadonmybackandshookitbackandforth.“I’mnervous.”Thewordsweremuffledagainstmyskin.
“Me,too,”Iadmitted.“ButIdon’tmind.It’skindofnice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”Ipressedbackintohimagain.Hesworeunderhisbreath.
“Percy.”Heheldmyhipawayfromhim.“Wehavetogohavebreakfastwithmymom,andI’mgoingtoneedaminute.”
Ismiledtomyself,thenturnedovertofacehim.Hishairwasmorerumpledthanusual,andhisblueeyeswerehoodedwithsleep.Helookedcute.Samwasdoingasimilarinspectionofme,hiseyesmovingbackandforthovermyfaceandquicklydowntomytop.
“Goodmorning,”Isaid.
“Ilikethisshirt.”Hegrinnedlazilyandranhisfingeroverthestrap.
“Perv,”Ilaughed,andhekissedme,hardanddeepandlong,sothatIwasoutofbreathwhenhepulledaway.
“Onefortheroad,”hesaid,thenadded,“I’mgettingyouasweatshirt.Charliedoesn’tneedtoenjoyyourpj’s.”
IfollowedSamdownstairs,wearingoneofhishoodies,whichcamedowntomythighs.Suewassittinginherspotatthekitchentableinafloralrobe,drinkingacoffee,herhairpulledintoahaphazardbunatopherhead,readingaromancenovel.Therewasafaintsmileacrossherlips.Itdisappearedassoonasshesawushoveringatthedoorway.
“Percysleptoverlastnight,”Samexplained.“Shecalledafteryouwenttosleep—freakedherselfoutwatchinghorrormovies.”
“Ihopethat’sokay,Sue.Ididn’twanttobealone.”
Suelookedbetweenus.“Andwheredidshesleep?”
“Inmybed,”Samreplied.Iwouldhaveliedtomyparentsbeforeadmittingaboysleptinmybed.ButSamwasn’tmuchforlying.
“Sam,fixtwobowlsofcereal,”Sueordered.Hedidashewastold,andIsatacrossfromher,makinguncomfortablesmalltalkaboutmyparents’trip.OnceSamcametothetable,sheclearedherthroat.
“Percy,youknowyou’realwayswelcomehere.And,Sam,youknowItrustyou.However,givenhowmuchtimeyoutwospendtogetherandnowthatyou’regettingolder,Ithinkit’stimewehadaserioustalk.”IglancedatSam;hisjawhungopen.Itwistedmybraceletunderneaththetable.
“Mom,that’sreallynotnecess—”Suecuthimoff.
“Youarefartooyoungforanyofit,”shebegan,lookingateachofus.“ButIwanttomakesureifanythingeverhappensbetweenthetwoofyou—orwithanyoneelse,”sheaddedwithherhandsraisedwhenSamtriedtointerrupt,“thatyouarebeingsafeandthatyouarebeingrespectfultowardoneanother.”
Ilookeddownatmycereal.Therewasnothingtodisagreewith.
“Percy,Samtoldmeyou’reseeinganolderboyinToronto.”Iliftedmyeyestomeethers.
“Yeah,sortof,”Imurmured.
Shepinchedherlipstogether,disappointmentflickeredinhereyes.“Doyoulikethisboy?”
“Mom!”Samwasredwithembarrassment.Sueleveledhimwithalook,thenturnedbacktome.IcouldfeelSam’seyesonme,too.
“He’snice,”Ioffered,butSuewaitedformore.“I’mprettysurehelikesmemorethanIlikehim.”
Suereachedoverandputherhandonmine,fixingmewithhereyes.IknewwhereSamgotthatfrom.“I’mnotsurprised.You’reakind,smartgirl.”Shesqueezedmyhandandthenleanedback.Shewentoninasternervoice,“Idon’twantyoutoeverfeellikeyouhavetodoanythingyoudon’twanttowithanyboy,nomatterhowniceheis.There’snorush.Andanyonewhowantstorushisn’tworthrushingfor.Doesthatmakesense?”
Itoldheritdid.
“Don’ttakeanycrapfromanyboy—notevenmyownsons,okay?”
“Okay,”Iwhispered.
“Andyou,”shesaid,lookingtoSam.“Thebestgirlsareworthwaitingfor.Trustandfriendshipcomefirst,thentheotherstuff.You’reonlysixteen,justabouttostarteleventhgrade.Andlife,hopefully,islong.”Shesmiledsadly.“Okay,that’senoughmomtalk,”shesaid,puttingbothhandsonthetableandpushingherselfoutofthechair.
“Oh!Onemorething:IfPercywantstosleepoveragain,you,mydearson,willbeonthecouch.”
MYPARENTSRETURNEDandsodidthehot,drydays,turningtheairthinanddusty.Asmallbrushfirestartedontherockypointacrossfromthecottage.Wesawsmokebillowingfromthescrubandthenwatchedboaterspulluptohelpputitout.Sam,Charlie,andItooktheBananaBoatoverandanchoreditjustoutfromshore.Iwaitedwhiletheboysjoinedthewater-bucketchain.Theflameswereonlyankleheight,butwhenSamandCharlieclimbedbackintotheboatafterithadbeenputout,theyweresochuffedwiththemselvesyou’dhavethoughttheyhadrescuedababyfromaburningbuilding.
SamandIswamandworkedandtalkedaboutprettymucheverything—howtiredhewasofsmall-townlifeandsmall-townthinking,howIwasconsideringtryingoutfortheswimteam,thefinerpointsoftheSawmovies—butwenevertalkedaboutthenightwekissed.Iwasn’tsurehowtobringitup.Iwaswaitingfortheperfectmoment.
Masonphonedthecottagelandlinenowandthen,butweonlytalkedforafewminutesuntiltheconversationfizzledout.Afteroneofourcalls,Dadlookedatmeoverthetopofhisglassesandsaid,“Everytimeyoutalktothatkid,youlooklikeyou’retryingtogotothebathroomaftereatingtoomuchcheese.”Gross.Buthehadapoint.Ijustdidn’twanttobreakthingsoffwithMasononthephone.IwaswaitinguntilIgotbacktothecity.
TheweatherchangedthethirdweekofAugust.Athickcoverofdarkcloudssettledovertheprovince,theiroverstuffedbelliesdrenchingeverythingfromAlgonquinParktoOttawa.Cottagerspackedupearlyandleftforthecity.Alightmistmovedinoverthelake,makingeverythinglookblackandwhite.Eventhegreenhillsonthefarshorelookedgray,asthoughtheyhadbeenshroudedingauze.Dadwasn’tmuchofanoutdoorsmanandwashappytohaveusallinside,keepingthefirefedtowardoffthedamp.MomandIsnuggleduponthecouch.Iworkedonmystorywhileshemadeherwaythroughahalf-dozenbooksshewasconsideringaddingtohergender-relationscoursesyllabus.Samsatatthetableworkingonaone-thousand-piecepuzzleoffishinglureswithDad,whotalkedanimatedlytohimaboutHippocratesandancientGreekmedicine.Ituneditout,butSamwascaptivated.Justlikeworkingattherestaurantgavemeatasteoffreedomintheformofapaycheck,IgotthesensethattalkingwithmydadgaveSamawindowintoalargerworldofpossibilities.IthinkIgavehimthat,too,inaway.HeloveditwhenItalkedaboutthecityandthedifferentplacesI’dvisited—themuseums,thehugemovietheatersandconcerthalls.
Aftersixstraightdaysofheavyrain,Iwokeuptothesunbeaminginthroughthetrianglesofglassinmybedroom,thereflectionoffthelakedapplingthewallsandceiling.Samtookmeonahikethroughthebush,followingastreambedthathadbeendryallseasonbutwasnowbubblingovertherocksandbranchesinitsway.Theweatherhadturnedcoolaftertherain,andIworebluejeansandmyoldUofTsweatshirt;Samhadthrownonaplaidflannelbutton-up,rollingthesleevespasthisforearms.Itwasdampunderfootandmushroomshadsproutedupallovertheforestfloor,somewithjollyyellow-and-whitedomedcapsandotherswithflatpancaketops.
“Hereweare,”Samannouncedafterwe’dwalkedthroughdensebushforaboutfifteenminutes.Ipeeredaroundhisshoulderandsawthatthegentleslopewe’dbeenclimbinghadflattened,makingasmallpoolofwater.Afallentree,coveredinemeraldmossandpalelichen,layacrossitsmiddle.
“Iliketocomehereinthespringwhenthesnowhasjustmelted,”hesaid.“Youwouldn’tbelievehowloudlythewaterinthisstreamrushes.”Heclimbedontothetreeandscooteddown,pattingthespotbesidehim.Ishimmiedovertillwewerebothsittingwithourlegsdanglingabovethepond.
“It’sbeautiful,”Isaid.“I’mkindofwaitingforagnomeorfairytoappearfromoverthere.”Ipointedtoathick,rottingtreestumpwithbrownmushroomsgrowingatitsbase.Samchuckled.
“Ican’tbelievewe’regoingbacktothecitynextweekend,”Imurmured.“Idon’twanttoleave.”
“Idon’twantyouto,either.”Welistenedtothegurgleofthestream,swattingawaymosquitoes,untilSamspokeagain.
“I’vebeenthinking,”hebegan,hisvoicequietandshakybuthiseyesdirect.
Iknewwhatwascoming.MaybeI’dbeenwaitingforit.Itiltedmyheaddownsomydarkhairfellaroundmyface,andstudiedourfeet.
“Aboutus.I’vebeenthinkingaboutus,”hesaid,thennudgedmyfootwithhis.Ipeeredoverathim—thehumidityhadmadehishaircurlattheends—andsmiledweakly.
“Ican’ttellyouhowmanytimesI’vethoughtaboutkissingyouthatnightinmyroom.”Hegavemeashygrin,andIlookedtowardthegroundagain.
“Youthinkitwasamistake,don’tyou?”
“No!That’snotitatall,”hesaidquicklyandputhishandovermine,lacingourfingerstogether.“Itwasincredible.Iknowitsoundscorny,butitwasthebestnightofmylife.Ithinkaboutitallthetime.”
“Metoo,”Iwhispered,lookingatourreflectionsinthepoolbelow.
“Youandmearespecial,”hestarted.“There’snooneelseI’dratherspendtimewiththanyou.There’snooneelseI’drathertalktothanyou.Andthere’snooneelseI’dratherkissthanyou.”Hepaused,andmystomachswooped.“Butyou’remoreimportanttomethankissing.AndI’mworriedthatifwerushthatsideofthingswe’llfuckupeverythingelse.”
“Sowhatareyousaying?”Iasked,lookingathim.“Youjustwanttobefriends?”
Hetookadeepbreath.
“Idon’tthinkI’msayingthisright.”Hesoundedfrustratedwithhimself.“WhatImeanisthatyou’renotjustanyfriendtome…you’remybestfriend.Butwegoformonthswithoutseeingeachother,andwe’rereallyyoung,andI’veneverhadagirlfriendbefore.Idon’tknowhowtodorelationships,andIdon’twanttoscrewitupwithyou.Iwanttobeeverything,Percy.Whenwe’reready.”
Ifoughtthestinginginmyeyes.Iwasready.Iwantedeverythingnow.Atsixteen,Samwasitforme.Iknewitthen,andIthinkIknewitthatnightthreeyearsagowhenSamandIsatonmybedroomflooreatingOreosandheaskedmetomakehimabracelet.Imovedmyeyestohiswrist.
Hepulledmyhairbackfromthesideofmyface,andIsqueezedmyeyesshut.“Canyoulookatme,please?”
Ishookmyhead.
“Percy,”hepleadedwhileIwipedatearwithmysleeve.“Idon’twanttoputpressureonyouandmethatwecan’thandle.We’vebothgotbigplans—eleventhandtwelfthgradewilldecidewhatschoolswecangetintoandwhetherIcangetascholarship.”IknewhowimportantgradesweretoSam,howexpensivehisschoolingwouldbe,andhowhewascountingonanacademicprizetohelpwithtuition.
“Sowejustgobacktobeingfriendslikenothinghappened,andthenwhat?Wefindotherboyfriendsandgirlfriends?”Iglancedathim.Icouldseetheagonyandworryonhisface,butIwasangryandembarrassed,eventhough,somewheredeep,Iknewwhathewassayingmadesense.Ididn’twanttoscrewthingsup,either.Ijustfiguredwecouldhandleit.SamwasthemostmatureboyIknew.Hewasperfect.
“I’mnotlookingforanothergirlfriend,”hesaid,whichmademefeelateeny-tinybitbetter.“ButIrealizeI’dbeahugejerkifItoldyouIdon’tthinkweshouldbetogetherrightnowandthenaskedyounottoseeanyone.”
“You’reahugejerkeitherway,”Isaid.Imeantitasajoke,butittastedlikeburnedcoffeeonmytongue.
“Doyoureallymeanthat?”
Ishookmyhead,attemptingasmile.“Ithinkyou’reprettygreat,”Isaid,myvoicebreaking.Sam’sarmencircledmyshoulders,andhesqueezedtight.Hesmelledlikefabricsofteneranddampsoilandrain.
“Swearonit?”hesaid,hiswordsmuffledbyhair.Ifeltforhisbraceletblindlyandtugged.
“Ithinkyou’reprettygreat,too,”hewhispered.“Youhavenoideahowmuch.”11
Now
SamandIarelyingontheraft,eyesshuttothesun.I’mdriftinginahaze—ofhishandsonmyhipsandhisfingersonmycalfandYou’restillthemostbeautifulwomanI’veeverknown—whenashoutcomesfromtheshore.
“Thisisasightforsoreeyes.”Isitup,shieldingmyface.Charlieisstandingonthehill.Icanseehisdimplesfromthewater,andIcan’thelpbutgrinback.Iwave.“Youkidshungry?”hecallsdown.“Iwasthinkingofturningonthebarbecue.”IlookatSam,who’snowsittingupbesideme.
“Idon’tneedtostay,”Ioffer.Samscansmyfacebriefly.
“Don’tbeweird,”hesays.“Foodsoundsgreat,”heyellsbacktoCharlie.“We’llbeupinasec.”
Charlieisonthefrontdecklightingthebarbecuewhenwejoinhim.I’mwearingatowelwrappedaroundmyshouldersandSamisrubbinghishairdry.IsneakapeekatthemusclesthatrunupthesideofhistorsobeforeCharlieturnstofaceus.Whenhedoes,hiseyeslightuplikefireflies.Hishairiscroppedsoclosetohisheadit’sonlyalittlelongerthanabuzzcut.Hissquarejawlookslikeit’smadefromsteel.It’sindirectcontrasttothesweetnessofhisdimplesandhisprettyplushlips.He’sbarefootandwearingapairofolive-coloredshortsandawhitelinenshirt,thesleevesrolledupandthetopthreebuttonsundone.He’snotastallasSam,andhe’sbuiltlikeafirefighter,notabanker.He’sstillmovie-stargood-looking.
ThoseSummerBoysdidanexceptionaljobofgrowingup.DelilahMason’ssquealringsinmyears,andherabsencegnawsatmygut.
CharlieglancesatSambeforeembracingmetightly,apparentlynotworriedaboutmywetbathingsuit.“PersephoneFraser,”hesayswhenhepullsaway,shakinghishead.“It’saboutfuckingtime.”
CharliemakessausageshegrabbedfromtheTavernwithgrilledpeppers,sauerkraut,andmustard,andaGreek-stylesaladthatlookslikeitcouldbephotographedforafoodmagazine.There’ssomethingdifferentaboutCharlie.He’spayingcloserattentiontoSamthanheeverdidwhenwewerekids.Everysooften,hesneaksalonglookatSamasifhe’scheckingonhim,andhe’sbeenping-pongingbetweenuslikewe’resomekindofriddlehe’stryingtounravel.Hiseyesstilldancelikespringleavesinthesunlight,andhewearshissmileeasily,buthe’slostthelightnesshehadwhenwewereyounger.Heseemssadandmaybeabitonedge,whichIguessmakessensegiventhecircumstances.
“So,Charlie,”Isaywithagrinasweeat,“I’vemetTayloralready.Tellmeaboutthewomanyou’reseeingthismonth.”Itsoundedfunnyenoughinmyhead,butCharlieisgivingSamatenseglare.IseeSamshakehisheadeversoslightly,andCharlie’sjawflexes.
“You’vegottobekiddingme,”Charliemumbles.
Theyeyeeachothersilently,thenCharlieturnstome.“Nogirlfriendrightnow,Pers.Youinterested?”Hewinks,buthisvoiceisflat.Myfaceflusheshot.
“Sure.Justletmedrinkaboutfiftymoreofthese,”Isay,pickingupmyemptybeerbottle.Charlie’sfacesplitsintoasmile,arealone.
“Youhaven’tchangedabit,youknowthat?It’skindoffreakingmeout.”
“I’lltakethatasacompliment.”Iholdupmybeer.“Whowantsanother?”
“Sure,”Samsays,buthe’sstillshootingdaggersatCharlie.
Igatherupthedirtyplates,rinsethemoff,andstacktheminthewasher.ThehouseisprettymuchthesameaswhenIwasateenager—thewallshavebeenpaintedandthereareafewnewpiecesoffurniture,butthat’saboutit.ItstillfeelslikeSue.ItstillsmellslikeSue.Igrabthreemorebeers,andjustasI’mabouttoheadbackout,IhearCharlie’sraisedvoice.
“Youneverlearn,Sam!It’sthesameshitalloveragain.”
Sammurmurssomethingharshly,andwhenCharliespeaksagain,he’squieter.Ican’tmakeoutwhathesays,buthe’sobviouslyupset.Ileavethebeersonthecounterandslipawaytothebathroom.Whatever’sgoingon,IknowI’mnotsupposedtohearit.Isplashwateronmyface,counttothirty,thenheadbacktothekitchen.Charlieisgrabbinghiswalletoffthetopofthefridge
“You’releavingalready?”Iask.“DidIsaysomethingwrong?”Charliewalksaroundthecountertome.
“No,you’reperfect,Pers.”Hispalegreeneyesmoveacrossmyface,andIfeelalittlelight-headed.Hetucksastrandofhairbehindmyear.“Imadeplanstocatchupwithsomeoldfriends.Idon’tgetbackhereasmuchasI’dlike.”
“SamsaidyouliveinToronto.Youneverlookedmeup.”
Heshakeshishead.“Didn’tthinkthatwouldbeagoodidea.”Helooksoverhisshoulderattheslidingdoorthatleadstothedeck.“Iknowheseemslikehe’sgotitalltogether,butdon’tletthatbigbrainofhisfoolyou—he’samoronalotofthetime.”
“Spokenlikeatruebrother,”Isay,notsurewhathe’sgettingat.“Listen,beforeyouheadout,Ijustwantedtosaythankyouforcallingme.”
“LikeIsaid,Ithoughtyoushouldbehere.Itfeelsright.”Hestepstowardthedoorway,thenturnsaround.“I’llseeyoutomorrow,okay?I’llsaveyouaseat.”
“Oh,”Isay,takenaback.“Youdon’thavetodothat.”Ishouldn’tsitwiththeFlorekfamily.I’mnotfamily.MaybeIwasoncebutnotnow.
“Don’tbesilly.Besides,Icoulduseafriend.SamwillhaveTaylor.”
Iblinkathowsharplythatsentencehitsme,thennod.
“Sure.Ofcourse.”
AfterCharlieclosesthefrontdoorbehindhim,Iheadouttothedeckwithacoupleofbeers.It’searlyeveningnowandthesunisstartingitsslowdescentintothewesternsky.Samisstanding,hisforearmsontherailing,staringoutoverthewater.
“Youokay?”Iask,movingbesidehimandhandinghimabeer.
“Yeah.Believeitornot,”hesays,lookingatmefromthecornerofhiseye,“CharlieandIgetalongwaybetterthanweusedto.Buthestillknowshowtopushmybuttons.”
Wefinishourbeersinsilence.Thesunishittingthehillsonthefarsideofthelakewithamagicalgoldenlight.Iletoutasigh—thiswasalwaysmyfavoritetimeofdayatthecottage.Aboatfullofcheeringteensroarspast,pullingayoungwomanonwaterskis.Afewsecondslater,wavesfromthelakecrashagainsttheshore.
“Ihaven’tbeensleeping,”Samsays,stillstaringahead.
“Youmentionedthat,”Ireply.“Itmakessense—you’regoingthroughalotrightnow.”
“I’musedtofunctioningwithhardlyanysleepbecauseofwork,butIcouldalwayscrashwhenIhadthechance.NowIjustliethere,wideawake,eventhoughI’mexhausted.Doyoueverhavethat?”IthinkaboutallthenightsIusedtolieinmybed,thinkingaboutSamforhoursonend.Wonderingwherehewas.Wonderingwhohewaswith.CountingtheyearsanddayssinceI’dseenhimlast.
“Yeah,I’vehadthat,”Isay,glancingathim.Thesettingsuniskissingthehighpointsofhischeekbonesandthetipsofhiseyelashes.
“I’dblameitonmyoldbed,butI’vebeenusingitforthepastyear.”
“Waitasec.Thesamebedyouusedtohave?Itmustbehalfyoursize!”
Helaughssoftly.“It’snotthatbad.IthoughtaboutmovingintoMom’sroomafewmonthsago,whenitwasclearshewasn’tcomingbackfromthehospital,butthethoughtjustdepressedme.”
“AndwhataboutCharlie’sroom?”Charliehadadoublebedgrowingup.
“Areyoukidding?I’mfullyawareofhowmanygirlshehadinthatroom.Idefinitelywouldn’thavegotanysleep.”
“Well,presumablythesheetshavebeenwashedatleastonceinthelastdecade,”Isay,laughingandwatchingtheskiertakeanotherlaparoundthelake.IcanfeelSamlookingatme.
“Whatchathinkingabout?”Isay,notmovingmygazefromthewater.
“Ihaveanidea,”Samsays.“Comewithme.”Hisvoiceissoft,alownuzzle.
Ifollowhimthroughtheslidingdoor,intothekitchen,andthenheopensthedoortothebasement,flickingonthelightinthestairwell.Heholdshisarmoutformetodescendfirst.IwalkdownthecreakystairsandstopsuddenlywhenIgettothebottomlanding.
Otherthananewflat-screen,it’sexactlythesame.Sameredplaidcouch,samebrownleatherarmchair,samecoffeetable,allintheexactsamespot.Thepatchworkafghanhangsoverthebackofthecouch,andthefloorisstillcoveredwithscratchysisalcarpeting.Thesamefamilyphotoshangonthewall.SueandChrisontheirweddingday.BabyCharlie.BabySamwithtoddlerCharlie.Theboyssittinginagiganticsnowbank,theircheeksandnosespinkfromthecold.Awkwardschoolpictures.
Samstandsbehindmeonthelanding,andhisclosenessmakesthebackofmyneckprick.
“Isthisatimemachine?”
“Somethinglikethat.”Hemovesaroundmeandcrouchesbesidealargecardboardboxinthecorneroftheroom.“I’mnotsureifyou’llthinkthisisawesomeorifyou’llthinkI’mnuts.”
“Can’titbeboth?”Iaskandkneeldownbesidehim.
“It’sdefinitelyboth,”heagrees.Heliftsthecornerofthelidandthenpauses,hiseyesmeetingmine.“IthinkIboughttheseforyou.”HeuntucksthefourflapsoverthetopoftheboxandholdsthemopensoIcanseeinside.IlookbackupatSam.
“Aretheseall…”
“Yep,”hesaysbeforeIfinishmyquestion.
“Theremustbedozens.”
“Ninety-three,tobeprecise.”IbeginpullingouttheDVDs.There’sCarrieandTheShiningandAliens.TheJapaneseandAmericanversionsofTheRingTheEvilDeadMiseryPoltergeistScreamCreaturefromtheBlackLagoonTheSilenceoftheLambsANightmareonElmStreet.Leprechaun.AlienLandoftheDeadItTheChangeling
“Andyou’veneverwatchedthem?”
“Toldyouyou’dthinkIwascrazy.”That’snotwhatI’mthinking.I’mthinkingthatmaybeSammissedmeasmuchasImissedhim.
“IthinkIrubbedoffonyou,SamFlorek.”
“Youhavenoidea,”hereplies.
“IthinkIdo.”IholdupthefirstandsecondHalloweenmoviesandsmile.Hechucklesandrubshisforehead.
“It’syourturntopick,”heannounces.
“Youwanttowatchone?”SomehowIdidn’tseethatcoming.
“Yeah,Ithoughtwecould.”Samnarrowshiseyes.
“Likerightnow?”Thisalmostfeelsmoreintimatethanwhathappenedintheboatearlier.
“That’stheidea,”hesays,thenadds,“Iwouldn’tmindthedistraction.”
“Doyouevenhavesomethingtowatchthesethingson?”HepointsatthePlayStation.Iscrewmymouthup.Lookslikewe’rewatchingamovie.
“Doyouhavepopcorn?”
Samsmiles.“Ofcourse.”
“Okay.Yougomakesome,andI’llchooseamovie.”Igivetheorderwithconfidence,butreallyIjustneedaminutealone,awayfromSam.BecauseIfeellikeI’vebeenscrapedoveracheesegrater.
OnceSamheadsupstairs,Itakemyphoneoutofmybackpocket.There’samissedcallfromChantalandseveraltextswantingtoknowhowmyrun-inwithSamwent.IcringeandshovethephonebackinmypocketandthenrifflethroughtheDVDbox.
Icandothis,Ithink.IcanbefriendswithSam.Idon’tknowhowtodothatanymore,butIamdeterminednottoleavehereonMondayandneverseehimagain.Evenifitmeansdealingwithhimbeinginarelationshipwithsomeoneelse.Evenifitmeansplanninghisfuckingwedding.
I’mstandinginfrontoftheTVholdingthemoviebehindmybackwhenSamreturnstothebasement,alargebowlofpopcorninonehandandtwomorebeersintheother.
“WanttoguesswhichoneIpicked?”Samputsthebowlanddrinksonthecoffeetableandfacesmewithhishandsonhiships.Hiseyesscanmyfaceandthenagrintoucheshismouth.
“Nuh-uh,”Isaybeforehespeaks.
“TheEvilDead.”
“Areyoukiddingme?”IwavetheDVDintheair.“Howdidyoudothat?”
Samstalksaroundthecoffeetabletome,andIholdthemovieabovemyhead,likeI’mplayingkeep-away.Hereachesaroundmetotakethemoviefrommyhand,brushinghischestagainstmineintheprocess.HepullstheDVD,andmyarmalongwithit,downtooursides,hisfingersoverlappingmine.Weareafewinchesapart.EverythinggoesblurryexceptforthedetailsofSam’sface.Icanseethedarkerspecksofbluethatencirclehisirisesandthepurplishringsunderhiseyes.Iglancedownathismouthandstoponthecreasethatpartshisbottomlip.Friends.Friends.Friends.
“Oldhabits,right?”Samasks,anditsoundslikevelvet.
“Huh?”Iblinkupathim.
“Themovie—youwanttowatchitforoldtimes’sake.”
“Right,”IsayandletgooftheDVD.
“Didyoumeanwhatyousaidearlier?”heasks.“Thatyoudon’twanttoknowaboutTaylorandme?Icanrespectthat,ifit’snotsomethingyouwanttotalkabout.Charliehasotheropinions,but…”Hedriftsoff.“Percy?”Ihavemyeyesclosed,bracingmyselfforimpact.Icanhearhimannouncingthatthey’regettingengagedsoclearlyinmymind,itseemslikeaforegoneconclusion.
“Youcantellme,”Isay,lookingupathim.“Wecantalkaboutit…abouther.”Hisshouldersseemtorelaxalittle,andhemotionsformetogositonthecouch.HepopstheDVDin,lowersthelight,andsitsdownonthecouch,placingthepopcornbetweenus.We’reinouroldpositions,curledupateitherendofthecouch.
“Sowe’vebeenseeingeachotherforalittleovertwoyears,”hesays.
“Twoandahalfyears,”Icorrectforsomegoddamnunknownreason,andeveninthedimlightIcanseethecornerofhismouthflitupwardalittle.
“Right.Butthethingiswehaven’tbeentogetherthatwholetime.Wewereactuallybrokenupfor,like,sixmonthsofit.AndIfeltlikeitwasdone.Iknewthatitwasdone,butTaylorhasthiswayoftalkingyouintosomething.It’sprobablywhyshe’sagreatlawyer.Anyway,wegotbacktogetheraboutamonthago,butitwasn’tworking.Ithasn’tbeenworking.”Hepauses,runninghishandthroughhishair.“Idon’twantyoutothinkwhathappenedearlierintheboat…”Hestopshimselfandstartsagain.“WhatI’mtryingtosayisthatwe’renottogether.”
“Doessheknowthat?”Iask.“Sheintroducedherselfasyourgirlfriendlastnight,”Iremindhim.
“Yeah,shewasthen,”hesays.“Butshe’snotnow.Webrokeup.Iendedthings.Afterwedroppedyouoff.”
“Oh.”It’sallIcanmanagetogetoutofthenoisethat’swhirlingaroundmyhead.
Isthisbecauseofme?Itcan’tbebecauseofme.
AsmuchasIwouldliketoinsinuatemyselfintoSam’slifelikethepasttwelveyearshaven’thappened,likeIdidn’tcompletelybetrayhim,IknowIdon’tdeservethat.Istareintothebowlofpopcorn.He’swaitingformetosaymore,butIcan’tgraspanyofthewordsfloatingaroundinmyheadandsmooshthemintoasentence.
“She’sgoingtobetheretomorrow,”hesays.Thefuneral,hemeans.“Ididn’twantyoutogetthewrongidea.Ijustwantedtobehonestwithyou.”
Iholdmyfacestillsohecan’ttellthathe’sdeliveredadirectblow,slammingintomyweakestspotwithprecision.Hekeepstalking.“IalsowantedtomakesureyouknewIwasn’tbeingtotallyinappropriateearlier.”Iventureapeekupathim.“Maybejustalittleoutofline.”Hismouthmovesintoaone-sidedsmirk,buthiseyesarewide,waitingforreassurance.AndattheveryleastIowehimthat,soIreachforajoke.
“Igetit.You’reobsessedwithme.”Exceptitdoesn’tsoundfunnywhenitleavesmymouth,doesn’tdripwiththesarcasmI’dintended.
Heblinksatme.IftheTVwasn’tcastingabluelightoverhisface,IfeelcertainI’dseeaflushmovingacrossit.
Iopenmymouthtoapologize,buthepicksuptheremote.
“Shallwe?”heasks.
Throughoutthemovie,IkeepsneakingglimpsesofSaminsteadofwatching.Aboutanhourin,hestartsyawning.Alot.Imovethepopcornbowlontothecoffeetableandpulloutthethrowpillowfrombehindme.
“Hey.”InudgeSam’sfootwithmine.“Whydon’tyoustretchoutandshutyoureyesforabit?”Helooksoveratmewithheavylids.“Takethis.”Ipasshimthepillow.
“Allright,”hesays.“Justforabit.”Hetuckshisarmunderthepillowandliesonhisside,hislegsextendingwellontomysideofthecouchandhisfeetbumpingupagainstmine.
“Thisokay?”hewhispers.
“Ofcourse,”Isayandpulltheafghanoverourlegsanduptohiswaist.Isnuggledownintothecouch.
“Goodnight,Sam,”Iwhisper.
“Justafewminutes,”hemurmurs.
Andthenhefallsasleep.
SAMANDIareatangleoflimbswhenIwakeup.We’restilloneitherendofthecouch,butmylegisacrosshisleg,andhishandiswrappedaroundoneofmyankles.Myneckaches,butIdon’twanttomove.Iwanttostayhereallday,withSamsleepingsoundly,ahintofasmileacrosshislips.Butthefuneralstartsateleventhismorning,andlightisstreaminginfromthesmallbasementwindows.It’stimetowakeup.
IunfurlmyselffromSamandgentlyshakehisshoulders.Hegroansatthedisruption,andIwhisperhisname.Heblinksupatmeinconfusionandthenacrookedgrinslowlyspreadsacrosshismouth.
“Hey,”hecroaks.
“Hey.”Igrinback.“Youslept.”
“Islept,”hesays,rubbinghisface.
“Ididn’twanttowakeyou,butIfiguredIshouldsoyouweren’trushingaroundbeforethefuneral.”
Sam’sgrinfades,andhesitsupandleansforward,hiselbowsonhiskneesandhisheadrestinginhishands.
“IsthereanythingIcandotohelp?IcangototheTaverntosetupor…Idon’tknow…”Samstraightens,andthenrestshisheadonthebackofthecouch.Isitfacinghim,mylegscrossedbeneathme.
“It’salltakencareof.JulienwillbeattheTavernthismorningfinishingup.Hetoldustostayawaytillaftertheservice.”Hepinchesthebridgeofhisnose.“Butthankyou.Ishouldprobablyjustgetyoubacktothemotel.”
Sambrewsapotofcoffeeandpoursuseachatraveler’smug.Itrytomakesmalltalk,buthegivesone-wordanswers,soafterweclimbintothetruck,IdecideIshouldjustkeepmymouthshut.Wedon’tspeakduringtheshortdrivetothemotel,butIcanseethetensioninSam’sjaw.It’salmosteightwhenwepullintotheparkinglot,andasidefromafewcars,it’sdeserted.Iunbucklemyseatbeltbutdon’tmove.Iknowsomethingiswrong.
“Youokay?”Iask.
“Believeitornot,”hesays,lookingoutthefrontwindow,“Iwaskindofhopingtodaywouldsomehownevercome.”Ireachoutandputmyhandoverhis,rubbingmythumbbackandforth.Slowly,heturnshishandover,andIwatchashecurlshisfingersthroughmine.
Wesitthere,sayingnothing,andwhenIlookupatSam,he’sstaringoutthewindshield,tearsstreamingdownhisface.Imoveoverontheseatandleanagainsthim,placingourclaspedhandsontomylapandwrappingmyfreehandaroundthemboth.Hisbodyisshakingwithsilentsobs.Iplaceakissonhisshoulderandsqueezehishandtighter.
Myinstinctistotellhimit’sgoingtobeokay,tosoothehim,butIletthegriefwashoverhiminstead.Waitingitoutwithhim.Oncehisbodyisstillandhisbreathsaresteady,Ipullmyheadbackandbrushawaysomeofhislingeringtears.
“Sorry.”Hemouthstheword,barelyathreadofawhisper.Iholdontohiseyeswithmyown.
“Youhavenothingtobesorryfor.”
“IkeepthinkingabouthowI’malmostthesameageasDadwaswhenhedied.IalwayshopedIhadMom’sgenes,thatIwasn’tcursedwithhisbadheartandhisshortlife.ButMomwasn’tevenfiftywhenshegotsick.”Hisvoicebreaksandheswallows.“Ican’tbelievehowselfishIamforthinkingaboutthiswhenherfuneralistoday.ButIdon’twantthat.IfeellikeIhaven’tevenstartedtoliveyet.Idon’twanttodieyoung.”
“Youwon’t.”Icuthimoff,buthekeepsgoing.
“Imight.Youdon’t…”
Iputmyhandoverhismouth.“Youwon’t.”Isayitagain,hard.“Notallowed.”Ishakemyhead,feelingmyeyesgowatery.
Heblinksonce,looksdownatwheremyhandispressedagainsthismouth,andthenbacktomyeyes.Hestaresatmeforseverallongseconds,andthenhiseyesdarken,blackpupilsengulfingtheblue.Ican’tmove.OrIwon’tmove.I’mnotsurewhichitis.Bothmyhands,theoneclutchingSam’sandtheoneoverhislips,feellikethey’vebeendippedingasolineandlitonfire.Hischestrisesandfallsinfastbreaths.I’mnotsureI’mbreathingatall.
Samgripsmywrist,andIthinkhe’sgoingtopullmyhandawayfromhismouth,buthedoesn’t.Hecloseshiseyes.Andthenheplantsakissinthecenterofmypalm.Once.Andthenagain.
Heopenshiseyesandkeepsthemonmineashekissesmypalmoncemoreandthenslowlyrunsthetipofhistongueupthemiddleofmyhand,sendingamoltenwavethroughmybodyandbetweenmylegs.Thesoundofmygaspfillsthesilenceofthetruck,andsuddenlySamisliftingmeontopofhislapsomythighsstraddlehis,andIclutchhisshouldersforbalance.Hishandsskimupanddownthebacksofmylegs,hisfingersbrushingunderthehemofmyshorts.He’slookingatmewithanopenkindofawe.
Idon’tnoticethatI’mbitingmylipuntilheuseshisthumbtoreleaseitfrommyteeth.HeplaceshishandonmycheekandIturnintoit,kissinghispalm.Hisotherhandmovesfurtherupthebackofmyshorts,slidingundertheedgeofmypanties.Iwhimperintohishand.
“Imissedyou,”herasps.Awoundedkindofsobspillsoutfromme,andthenhismouthisonmine,takingthesoundintohim,swirlinghistonguearoundmine.Hetasteslikecoffeeandcomfortandwarmmaplesyrup.Hemovestomyneck,leavingatrailofhotkissesuptomyjaw.Itiltmyheadbacktogivehimfullaccess,archingtowardhim,butthekissesstop.Andhismouthisonmynipple,suckingthepeakedfleshthroughmytanktop,gentlybitingdownbeforesuckingagain.ThenoisethatescapesmeisunlikeanyI’veheardmyselfmakebefore,andhelooksupatmewithacockyhalfgrinonhisface.
Somethinginmesnaps,andIpulluphisT-shirt,tracingmyhandsoverthehardcurvesofhisstomachandchest.HeshiftstowardthecenteroftheseatandthenspreadsmykneeswidersothatI’msittingflushagainsthim.Irollmyhipsagainstthehardnessbeneathme,andhehissesandthengripsontomysides,holdingmestill.Myeyesflashuptohis.
“Iwon’tlast,”hewhispers.
“Idon’twantyouto,”Isayback.He’sbreathingheavily.Hischeeksaredampfromtears,andIkisseachone.Hishandscometobothsidesofmyfaceandhebringsmyforeheadtohis,hisnosemovingalongthesideofmine.Icanfeeleachofhisexhalationsonmymouth.Hetraceshisthumbacrossmylipagainandthensoftlypresseshismouthagainstmine.Ipushmyhandsunderneathhisshirtanduphisback,tryingtopullhimcloser,butheholdsmyheadandplantsgentlekissesagainstmymouth,watchingmyreactiontoeachone.Afrustratedhumsoundsinthebackofmythroatbecauseit’snotnearlyenough.Helaughsgently,sendinggoosebumpsdownmyarms.ItrytosituptalleronmykneessoIcantakemorecontrolofthekiss,butSam’shandscomebacktomyhipsandkeepmepushedagainsthim.Hishandsareunderthebackofmyshorts,hisfingersdiggingintomyass,andthenhethrustsupagainstme,andImoan.An“ohgod”escapesme,andmythighsshakewhenhebringshislipslightlyagainstmyearandwhispers,“MaybeIdon’twantyoutolast,either.”
Hismouthcoversmine,andhisteethpullatmybottomlipandthenhelapshistongueoverthesamespot.Whenhistonguemovesinsidemymouth,Ifeelthevibrationofhisgroanandrollmyhipsoverhimagain.Oneofhishandsleavesmyassandcupsmybreast,thenpullsthetanktopdown,hookingitunderneath.Hisfingerspinchmynipple,andIfeelitbetweenmylegs.
“Fuck,Percy,”hegasps.“Youfeelsoamazing.YouhavenoideahowoftenI’vethoughtaboutthis.”Hiswordswraparoundmyheart,sendingmeltedbutterdownmylimbs.
“Ido,”Iwhisper.Hismouthmovestomyneckandhelightlypresseshistonguealongmycollarboneuptomyear,andIrubagainsthim,tryingtofindthetopofmydelight.
“Ido,”Isayagain.“Ithinkaboutyou,too.”Theconfessionslipsfrommymouth,andSamgrowlsandmovesmeagainsthim,onehandundermyshorts,freeingmybreastfrommybrawiththeother.Whenhetakesmynipplehungrilyintohismouthandlooksupintomyeyes,theorgasmbeginstorisequickly.I’mmurmuringincoherently,aninarticulatejumbleof“Sam”and“keepgoing”and“almost.”Hemovesmefasterandharderoverhimandsucksmedeeperintothewetheatofhismouth,andwhenhisteethpressintomyflesh,azipperpullsupmyspine,andIshudderviolently.Hismouthisbackonmine,swallowingmymoans,histongueeagerlymovingagainstmine,untilmybodygoesliquid,andIleanagainsthim,littlequakesstillripplingthroughme.
“Iwantyou.I’vealwayswantedyou,”hemurmursasIpant.Ileanback,mybarebreastcoolfromthedampnessofhismouth.
“You’resofuckinggorgeous,”hesays.Imovemyhanduphisthigh,overthethinmaterialofhissweatpants,untilIfindthehardridgeofhiserection
Ikissthecreaseonhisbottomlip,thencoveritwithmymouth,suckingandbitingwhileImovemyhandunderhiswaistbandandaroundthewarmlengthofhim,movingmyhandbackandforth.WhenIrunmytongueflatuphisnecktohisear,pullingthelobewithmyteeth,andwhisper,“You’rethemostbeautifulmanI’veeverknown,”hegrabsmyhandandpullsitoutofhispants,thensqueezesmyhipsandbringsmedownagainsthim,andhispelvisbucksunderneathme.Aloud,strangledcryleaveshismouth.Hisorgasmripsthroughhiminthreewaves,andIleavekissesonhisneckuntilitebbsandthenIcurlagainsthischestandlistentothesoundofhisheavybreathing.Hisarmsfoldaroundme,andwestaylikethatforseveralquietminutes.
ButwhenIsitbacktolookupathim,hisbrowsarefurrowed.
“Ilovedyou,”hewhispers.
“Iknow,”Isay.
Hurteyesmoveacrossmyface.“Youbrokemyheart.”
“Iknowthat,too.”12
Summer,ThirteenYearsAgo
“SamFlorekisafuckinglunatic,anddon’tyouforgetit.”Delilahwassittingonmybed,herpalelegsfoldedunderneathher,deliveringapeptalkasIpackedforthecottage.“Youareasmart,sexy,seventeen-year-oldwomanwitharidiculouslyhotboyfriend,andyoudon’tneedsomesmall-townloserwhodoesn’tappreciatehowincredibleyouarebringingyoudown!”
Delilahwasonananti-mankick.ShebrokeupwithPatelwhenhewentawaytoMcGill,andthreweverythingshehadatschool.Shehadgottenitinherheadthatshewasdestinedtochangetheworld,andshewasn’tgoingtoletanyguystandinherway.Hergradeswerebetterthanmine.ThoughsheandPatelwerenow“onagain”forthesummer.
“Youknowit’sweirdtocallyourcousinridiculouslyhot,right?”Isaid,crammingbathingsuitsintomyoverstuffedsuitcase.
“It’snotweirdifI’mjuststatingafact,”shereplied.“Butyou’remissingmymainpoint,whichisthatIdon’twantyoutogethurtagain.You’retoogoodforSam.”
“That’snottrue.”ImayhavespentthepasttenmonthsconvincingmyselfthatIwasoverhimandthathewasrighttowanttokeepourrelationshippurelyplatonic,butIdidn’tbelieveforasecondthatIwastoogoodforhim.“Andhe’snotaloser,”Iadded.
SometimesIwonderedifSamcalledthingsofflastsummerbecausehedidn’twanttoattachhimselftomewhenhehadallthesebigplanstogoawaytoschoolandbecomeadoctorandneverlookback.Hedidn’twanttogetstuckinBarry’sBay,butatmymostanxiousIthoughtthatmaybehedidn’twanttogetstuckwithme,either.
Ihadjoinedtheswimteam,tomymother’sdelight,andhaddistractedmyselfwithpractice,writing,andMason’shockeygames,whileSamhadspenttheyearstudyingorworkingtosaveforuniversity.Hebarelytookabreak.IhadtoconvincehimtogotopartiesorspendanightplayingvideogameswithFinnandJordie.Henevermentionedgirls,butIknewhewouldn’twastetimedating—notthatIcared.Okay,Icared.Hewasstillmybestfriend.Butthatwasit.Bestfriend.Nothingmore.
“I’llbethejudgeofthatonceandforallwhenwecomeuptovisit,”Delilahsaid,reachingintothesuitcaseandpullingoutmyteamsuit.“Igetthatyouactuallyswimwhenyou’reupthere,butpleasetellmeyou’repackingsomethingalittlemoreexcitingthanthis,”shesaid,holdingupthenavyone-piece.Ismiled:Delilahwasnothingifnotpredictable.Igrabbedagoldstringbikiniandthrewitather.
“Happy?”
“Thankgod.What’sthepointofallthattimeyouspendpicklingyourselfinchlorineifyouaren’tgoingtoshowofftheresults?”
“Somepeoplecallitexercise,”Ilaughed.“Youknow,forhealth?”
“Pfff…asifyouandMasondon’tliearoundnakedtalkingabouthowhotyourhotathleticbodiesare,”shescoffed.
“Again,he’syourcousin.”
DelilahandPatelstartedhavingsexawhileagoandsheassumedthesamewastrueofMasonandme.Tocorrectherwouldmeanhavingadetailedconversationaboutexactlywhatwashappeningbetweenus,whichIpreferredtokeeptomyself.
“Ican’thelpitiftheMasonfamilygenepoolispronetoextremegoodlooks.”Delilahtossedherhairoverhershoulder.Shewasn’twrong.Evenwithherredhairandexplosivepersonality,shelookedsofterthanme,withroller-coastercurvesthatwereirresistibletotheboysinourhighschool,whoconstantlystoppedbyourlunchtabletoflirt.Shedismissedthemallwithaflickofherwrist.
Igatheredupacoupleofnotebooksandpaperbacksandplacedthemontopofthepilesofclothing.
“I’llnevergetthiszippedup,”Isaid,tryingtoshoveeverythingdowninmysuitcase.
“Good,thenyou’llhavetostay!”
“I’llseeyouinamonth,D.It’llflyby.Givemeahandhere?”DelilahpusheddownonthebulgingcasewhileIzippeditup.
“IsCharliestillashotasIremember?”Shewiggledhereyebrows.Delilah’sversionofmanhatingwasadmittedlyprettythirsty.CharliehadstartedschoolatWesterninthefall,andIhadn’tseenhimsincetheChristmasbreak.
“He’snotugly,”Itoldher.“Butyoucanbethejudgeofthat,too.”MyparentshadagreedtoletmehaveMason,Delilah,andPatelupfortheCivicHoliday,whichtheywouldbespendinginPrinceEdwardCountyforasecondyear
MasonhadstayedinTorontoforuniversity,andwehadmadeitofficialinthefall.I’dbeenholdingouthopethatSamwouldchangehismindaboutus,butwhenIsawhimoverThanksgiving,itwaslikethenightwespentinhisbedhadneverhappened.Thenextweekend,IletMasonfeelmeupundermyskirtatthemovietheater.“Ihopeyoustartcallingmeyourboyfriendnow,”hehadwhisperedinmyear,andIagreedthatIwould,revelinginthefeelingofbeingwanted.
SamhadspottedthesilverbraceletaroundmywristassoonashewalkedthroughthedoortothecottageonChristmasEve.MyparentshadinvitedtheFloreksforholidaycocktails,andhepulledmeasideandheldupmywristthatworethefriendshipbraceletaswellastheoneMasonhadgivenme.
“Haveanyupdatesforme,Percy?”heasked,hiseyesnarrowed.Itwasn’texactlyhowIplannedtotellhimaboutourrelationship,withourparentsstandingnearbyandCharliewithinearshot,butIdidn’twanttolietohim,either.
“Thesilverdoesn’treallygowithours,”washisonlyresponse.
THATSUMMER,THEtensionbetweenSamandCharliewasobviousalmostassoonasIgotoutofthecar.TheFlorekbrothersstoodtoweringbythebackdoorofthecottageafullmeterapart.
“You’relookingmoregorgeousthanever,Pers,”Charlietoldme,hiseyesonSam,beforepullingmeintoalonghug.
“Subtle,”Sammumbled.
Charliehelpedunloadbuthadtoleaveearlytogetreadyforhisshift,givingmeanotherlingeringembracebeforehedeparted.
“Fortherecord,”hewhisperedinmyearsonooneelsecouldhear,“mybrotherisafuckingidiot.”
“What’sgoingonwithCharlie?”IaskedSamwhenwewerelyingontheraftlaterthatafternoon.
“We’renotexactlyseeingeyetoeyeonacoupleofthings,”hesaidvaguely.Irolledontomystomachandrestedmyfaceonmyhands.
“Caretoelaborate,Dr.Florek?”
“Nah,”saidSam.“It’snothing.”
Thatnight,Saminvitedmetocomeoverafterdinner.Ishowedupinmysweatswithacopyofmylateststoryforhim
“Ibroughthomework,”Isaidwhenheopenedthedoor,holdingupthepages.
“I’vegotsomethingforyou,too.”Hesmiled.Ifollowedhimtohisroom,tryingnottothinkaboutwhathappenedthelasttimewewereinthere.
Hepulledoutastackofthreesomewhatwornbooks,tiedupwithwhiteribbon,fromthetopshelfofhiscloset:Rosemary’sBaby,Misery,andTheHandmaid’sTale.“Ispentmonthstrackingthesedownatyardsalesandthesecondhandstore,”hesaid,soundingabitnervous.“TheAtwoodisn’treallyhorror,it’sdystopian,butwereaditinEnglishandIthinkyou’llloveit.AndIgottheothertwobecauseIthoughtyoumightwanttoseethewordsthatcreatedsomeofyourfavoritemovies.”
“Wow,”Isaid.“Sam,thesearesoamazing.”
“Yeah?”Heseemedunsure.“Notasfancyasasilverbracelet,though.”
Iwasn’tevenwearingthebracelet.Wasitjealousy?Ihadn’tknownSamtobeinsecureaboutmoneybefore,butmaybethatwasit.
“Notasfancy,butwaybetter,”Isaid,andhelookedrelieved.IpassedhimtherevisedversionoftheghoststoryI’dlongbeentinkeringwith.
“Readingtime?”heasked,floppingontotheendofhisbed.Hepattedthespotbesidehim.
“You’regoingtoreaditinfrontofme?”
“Uh-huh,”hesaid,notlookingupfromthepageandholdinghisindexfingeroverhismouthtoshushme.IsettledontothebedbesidehimanddugintoTheHandmaid’sTale.Abouthalfanhourlater,Samputthepagesdownandranhishandthroughhishair.He’dcutitalittleshortersinceI’dseenhimlast.Helookedolder.
“Thisisreallygreat,Percy,”hesaid.
“Swearonit?”Iasked,puttingmybookdown.
“Ofcourse.”HesoundedsurprisedI’daskedandpulledonmybraceletabsentmindedly.“I’mnotsureifI’mterrifiedofthedeadsisterorifIfeelsorryforher—orboth.”
“Really?That’sexactlywhatIwasgoingfor!”
“Really.I’mgoingtoreaditagainandmakenotes,okay?”Itwasmorethanokay.Samwasmybestreader.Healwayshadideastomakethecharactersstrongerorquestionsthatpointedoutaholeinthestory’slogic.
“Yes,please.Delilah’scritiquewasveryDelilahandtotallyuseless,asalways.”
“Moresex?”
“Exactly,”Ilaughed.Anawkwardsilencefelluponus,andIrackedmybrainforsomethingnotsexrelatedtosay,butSamspokeup.
“SowhendidyouandBuckleygetserious?”heasked,squintingatme.
“AreyouevergoingtocallhimMason?”
“Probablynot,”Samdeadpanned.
“Well,I’mnotsureifI’dsaywe’reserious,”Isaid.
“Buthe’syourboyfriendnow.”
“Yeah,heis.”Iplayedwiththefrayedholeinthekneeofmyjeans.
“SoIthinkIknowthebasics:He’sDelilah’scousin,playshockey,wenttoa—shudder—privateschoolforboysandisnowatUofT,buyshisgirlfriendexpensive-lookingjewelry,hasaterriblename.”Iwassurprisedbyhowmuchhe’drememberedfromouremails.“Butyouhaven’treallytoldmewhathe’slike.”
“He’snice.”Ishrugged,andstudiedthewomaninaredrobeonthecoverofthebook.Whatwasshehiding?
“You’vementionedthat.”Samboppedmykneewithhis.“Whatdoeshethinkaboutyourwriting?”Hetappedthesheetsofpaperonthebed.
“Idon’tknow,really,”Isaid.“Ihaven’tgivenhimanyofittoread.It’skindofpersonal,youknow?”
“Toopersonalforyourboyfriend?”Samasked,smirking.
“YouknowwhatImean.”Ikickedhim.“I’llshareonewithhimatsomepoint,butit’sscarytohaveotherpeoplereadyourwork.”
“Butit’snotscarywhenIreadthem?”Helookedupatmefromunderhislashes.
“Well,whenyoureadtheminfrontofme,itis,”Ievaded.“Butno,Itrustyou.”Samseemedsatisfiedwiththatanswer.
“Sootherthanthefactthathe’snice,whatdoyoulikeabouthim?”Itwasn’tasnarkyquestion.Heseemedgenuinelycurious.Itwistedtheembroideredbraceletaroundmywrist.
“Helikesmeback,”Isaidtruthfully,andSamdidn’taskanymorequestionsafterthat.
EVERYNOWANDthenI’dlearnsomethingaboutCharliethatthrewmyentireperceptionofhimintoquestion.Hewasdrivingaroundinatrustyoldbluepickuptruckthathisgrandfatherhadhandeddowntohim“onaccountofmyexcellentgrades,”heexplained.I’dlaughed,whenhe’dtoldme,assuminghewasjoking,buthisdimplesvanished.Ifrowned.“Fullacademicscholarshipandeverything,”hesaid.“Don’tlooksoshocked.”
HestillpreferredtotaketheBananaBoatintowork.“Ilikefeelingthewindonmeafterspendingthenightinthathellhole,”heexplained.“Besides,”hecontinuedwithawink,“theboatismoreconvenientforpost-shiftskinny-dipping.”AndthatwastheCharlieIknew.
Jumpinginthelakebuttnakedafterourshiftshadbecomearitual.IassumedSueknewwhatwasgoingon—weweren’texactlyquiet—andmyparentshadseenmewalkintothecottagewithatowelwrappedaroundmeandmyworkclothesinmyfist,butnooneseemedtocaretoomuch.Icaughtbitsandpiecesofbodyparts,andthatwasn’talwaysbyaccident,butmostlyitwasaninnocentwaytoblowoffsteam.
Charlie’slatestfling,Anita,joinedusonoccasion.Shewasabitolderandhadacottagefurtherdownonthelake,butherpresencedidnothingtostopCharliefromcrossinganyandeverylinehecould.
WewereswimmingafteraThursdayshift.CharlieandAnitadrankbeersstandinginthewaterbytheendofthedock,whisperingandlaughingandkissing,whileSamandIfloatedonpoolnoodlesfurtherout.
“Don’tyouthinkPercy’saknockout?”Charlieaskedloudenoughforustohear.
“IalreadytoldyouthatIdo,”Anitagiggled.Icouldseethetopsofhersmallbreastspeekingoutfromthewaterandfeltmyfaceheat.
“Right,Imusthaveforgotten,”Charliesaidtoherwithakissonhercheek
“I’llbet,”Samlaughed,butIfeltuneasy.ItseemedlikeCharliewasworkinguptosomething.IinchedtowardSamandmyfootkickedhisleg,startlinghim.WewerecloseenoughnowthatIcouldseethewayhischestglowedmilkywhiteunderthewater.
“Youknow,Pers,”Charliedrawled,“AnitaandIboththinkyou’rehot.Maybeyoushouldjoinussometime.”
Mymouthdroppedopen,andIfeltSam’sfootwraparoundmyankle.
“Leaveheralone,Charlie,”Anitascolded.“You’refreakingherout.”
“Ihaveaboyfriend,”Ireplied,tryingtosoundboredbutbracingmyself.Itdidn’tseemlikeCharliehadhitthepunchlineyet.
“Oh,that’sright,”Charliereplied.“Somerichguy.Samtoldme.It’stoobad,thoughI’mnotsurprised.Abeautiful,smart,funnygirllikeyourself,whonottomentiongrewquitetheracklastyear.”
“Charlie,”Samwarned.
“What?It’strue.Don’ttellmeyouhaven’tnoticed,Samuel,”hewenton.“Seriously,Pers,Ican’timaginethatanyguywouldn’tbefallingoverhimselftobewithyou.”Bull’s-eye.
“Fuckyou,Charlie,”Samsaid,buthisbrotherwaswhisperingsomethingtoAnita,whowaslookinginmydirectionandmakingasadawwwnoise.
“Ohmygod.”Ihadn’trealizedthewordshadleftmymouthuntilInoticedSamstaringatme.
“Youokay?”hewhispered,butIdidn’treply.CharlieandAnitawereclimbingoutofthewater,neitheroftheminanyhurrytocoverthemselveswithatowel.
“We’llbeinthebasement,”Charliecalledoutastheyheadedup.“Offerstillstands,Pers.”
“Percy?”Samproddedmewithhisfoot.“I’msorry.Thatwasfar,evenforCharlie.”
“Youtoldhim?”Iwhispered.“Aboutlastsummer?”IswallowedbackthelumpinmythroatandfacedSam,notcaringabouthowmuchofmehecouldorcouldn’tsee.
“Yeah,notaboutallofit.ButhesortofcorneredmeafterChristmasEveatyourplace,afterheheardyoutalkingaboutMasonandthebracelet.”
“Great.Itwasn’tenoughtoberejectedthefirsttimearound,nowyourbrotherandAnitaknow,too.”Isuckedinmybreath,feelingthenettlestingoftears.
“I’msorry,Percy.Ididn’tthinkhe’deverbringitup.Youdon’tneedtobeembarrassed—mybrotherthinksI’mtheidiotinthisscenario.”Ilookedupatthestars,andhewrappedbothhislegsaroundmine,drawingmecloser
“Hey,”hewhispered,puttingoneofhishandsonmywaist.Iwentstiff.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iasked.
“Ijustreallywanttoholdyou,”hesaid,hisvoicestrained.“Ihatethatheupsetyou.”Wefloatedthereforamomentbeforehespokeagain.“CanI?”TherewereamillionreasonsIshouldsayno,oratleasttwogoodones:Ihadaboyfriend,andthatboyfriendwasnotSam.
“Okay,”Iwhispered.
“Comehere,”hesaid.Weswamclosertoshoretoaspothiddenfromtheviewofhishouse,standingwherethewatercameuptothemiddleofhischestandmyshoulders.Wefacedeachother,maybeafootapartuntilSamsteppedcloserandwrappedhisarmsaroundme.Hewaswarmandslippery,andIcouldfeelhisheartbeatinimpatientthumpsagainstmychest.
“Charlie’sright,youknow,”hesaid.“Youarebeautifulandsmartandfunny.”Icurledmyselfagainsthimmoretightly.Hishandsslidupanddownmyback,andhewhispered,“Andanyguywouldfalloverhimselftohaveyou.”
“Notyou,”Isaid.
“That’snottrue,”herasped.Hebentdownandleanedhisforeheadagainstmine,cuppingmyfacewithhishands.
“You’redrivingmecrazy,”hesaid.Iclosedmyeyes.Icedrippeddownmyspineasafireblazedinmymiddle.IlovedSam,butthiswasn’tfair.Maybehedidn’tknowwhathewanted,didn’tknowhowcruelhewasbeing,butIcouldn’tletmyselfbeplayedwithwhilehefigureditout.
“You’reconfusingme,”Isaidandpushedhimaway.“Ishouldgohome.”
IBARELYSLEPT.Samletmegohomewithoutawordofprotest—withoutanywords,actually.Shortlyaftertwoa.m.,Ipulledoutthenotebookhe’dgivenmeformyfifteenthbirthday,withtheinscriptionForyournextbrilliantstory,turnedtooneoftheemptypagesandwrote,SamFlorekisafuckinglunatic,beforeIstartedtocryhot,angrytears.Ihadspentthepastyeartryingtomoveon,andIthoughtIhadmovedon.WasIkiddingmyself?
Samdidn’tsayanythingwhenhecamebyafterhisrun.Webarelysaidmorethanawordtoeachotherthatmorning.Itwasn’tuntilIcutmyswimshortandclimbedupontherafttomaybetakeanapthathespokeup.
“I’msorryaboutlastnight.”Hewassittingnexttome,hisfeetinthewater.Whatpartofitwashesorryfor,exactly?Washesorryforalmostkissingme?Sorryforjerkingmearound?
“Okay,”Isaid,keepingmyeyesclosedandmycheekpressedtothewarmwood,ragecoilingupfrommytoes.
“Iknowyouhaveaboyfriend,anditwasadickmove,”hecontinued.Hedidn’tgetit.Ipushedmyselfuptositbesidehim.Hisfacewasfullofapology
“WhetherIhaveaboyfriendornotisformetoworryabout,notyou,”Isneered.“Whatyouneedtothinkabout,Sam,ishowyouractionsareincompletecontrasttoyourwords.”
Hetookadeepbreath.“You’reright,Percy.”Heloweredhisfacesothatoureyeswerelevel.“YousaidIwasconfusingyou,andI’msorryforthat.Canwejustgobacktohowthingswere?”
“Idon’tknow?Canyou?”Myvoicewentupanoctave.“BecauseI’vespentthepastyearactinglikethingsarenormalbetweenus.Youdidn’twantme,andthat’sfine.I’mseeingsomeone.I’vepretendedthatnothinghappenedbetweenus,becausethat’swhatyouwanted.AndIthinkI’vedoneaprettygreatjob.”Istoodupbeforehecouldrespond.“I’mgoingtogohome.Ididn’tgetmuchsleeplastnight,andIneedtotakeanapbeforeworktonight.I’llseeyouthen,okay?”Idoveofftheraftandswamtowardshorewithoutwaitingforagoodbye.
Therewereominous-lookingcloudsintheskybylateafternoon,soCharlieandSampickedmeupinthetruck.Isqueezedintomyusualspotbetweenthem,innomoodtomakesmalltalkwitheitherone.
“Thinkanymoreaboutthatoffer,Pers?”Charlieaskedwithadimpledsmile,hisvisionlockedonSam.
“Youknowwhat,Charlie?”Isaid,narrowingmyeyes.“Screwyou.YouwanttopissoffSam,that’sfine.Butleavemethehelloutofit.You’retoooldforthisshit!”Charlieblinkedatme
“Iwasjustjokingaround,”hemumbled.
“Iknow!”Icried,hittingmyhandsagainstmythighs.“AndI’msickofit.”
“Okay,okay.Ihearyou,”hesaid.“I’llbegood.”Hepulledthetruckoutofthedriveway,andnoneofusspoketherestoftheride.
ITWASRAININGthenextmorningwhenSamshowedupatthecottagedressedinhisrunninggearanddrippingwet.
“Sam,youlooklikeyou’vebeendrowned,”mydadbellowedwhenheopenedthedoorforhim.Sam’sshirtwasplasteredtohisbody,emphasizingthemusclesinhischestandstomach.Helookedgoodforadrowningvictim.Itpissedmeoff.“Waithere,I’llgetyouatowel,”Dadsaid.
“Youbettergethimachangeofclothes,too,”Momcalledfromthecouch.DadtossedhimabathsheetandheadedupstairstofindsomethingdryforSamtowear.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Iaskedwhileherubbedthetoweloverhishead.
“Ialwayscomeaftermyrun.Also,”headdedinalowervoice,“Iwanttotalktoyou.Canwegoupstairs?”
Ididn’tseeanywaytodisagreeinfrontofmyparentswithoutcausingascene,andI’dhadmyfillofSam-relateddramathisweek.DadhandedSamastackofclothesaswepassedhimonthesteps,andhechangedinmyparents’roomwhileIwaitedinmine,sittingcross-leggedonmybed,listeningtothepatterofrainontheroof.
AsmadasIwasathim,whenSamenteredtheroomwearingapairofmydad’strackpantsthatwereseveralinchestoobiginthewaistandagreenfleecepulloverthatwasseveralinchestooshortinthearms,Iburstoutlaughing.
“Ihopeyoudon’tplanonhavingaseriousconversationwhilewearingthat.”
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,”hesaidwithagrin,hiseyessparkling.
Imissthis,Ithought,andfeltthesmilevanishfrommyface.Samclosedthedoorandsatacrossfrommeonthebed.
“Iwaswrong,”hebegan.“Sowrong.”Myeyescollidedwithhis.“Andyouwerewrong,too.Yesterday,whenyousaidIdidn’twantyou.”Hespokesoftly,hisblueeyesfixedonmine.“Ididwantyou.Idowantyou.I’vealwayswantedyou.”Ifeltasharppressureinmylungs,likehiswordshadsuckedalltheoxygenoutofthem.“I’msorryformakingyouthinkotherwise,forconfusingyou.Ithoughtweshouldfocusonschoolfornow.Whatmymomsaidlastsummer—thatwehadplentyoftimetobeinarelationship—madesensetome.AndIthoughtwewouldmessthingsupifwetriedtobesomethingmore,butImessedthingsuptryingnottobe.”
“Youreallydid,”Isaid,apoorattemptathumor.Hesmiledanyway.
“ItoldyoulastsummerthatIdon’tknowhowtodothis.”Hemotionedbetweenus.“Isaidweshouldwaituntilwe’reready.”Hetookadeepbreath.“Idon’tknowifwe’reready,butIdon’twanttowaitanymore.”Heputhishandsovermineandsqueezed.
Iwantedtojumpontohislapandthrowmyarmsaroundhisneckandkissthecreaseonhislip.Ialsowantedtopummelhim.Becausewhatifhechangedhismindagain?Ididn’tthinkIcouldsurvivethat.
“Sam,Ihaveaboyfriend,”Itoldhim,forcingthewordstosoundstrong.“Aboyfriend,who,bytheway,isgoingtobehereinjustoveraweek.Ijustneedyoutorespectthatrightnow.”
“Ofcourse,”hesaid,thoughhisvoicewasragged.“Icandothat.”
“SO,THAT’SHIM.”Sampeeredthroughthekitchenwindowintothediningroom,whereMason,Delilah,andPatelweresittingatafour-topwhilemyformerfavoriteserver,Joan,handedoutmenus.Theydidn’tarriveatthecottageuntilmidafternoon,justacoupleofhoursbeforemySaturdayshift,sotheydecidedtoshowupfordinnertospendmoretimewithme.Masonsaidtheywantedtosurpriseme.Itworked.Iwasn’tgoingtomentiontheirpresencetoSam,butJoanhadburstintothekitchenafterseatingthemtotellmeIwas“oneluckybitch”forhaving“suchahotboyfriend.”IusedtolikeJoan
Masondidlookgood,though.Nowthathockeyseasonwasover,he’dcuthisdarkhairshorter,whichhadtheeffectofdrawingattentiontohisjawline.Hewaswearingatightblackteethatmadeallthehourshespentatthegymabundantlyclear,apairofaviatorstuckedintotheneckofhisshirt.
“Yep,”Isaid,feelingtheheatfromanotherbodybehindus.Charlieleanedoverme,takingaquicklookthroughthewindow.
“I’mbetterlooking,”hedeclared,thenwentbacktohisstation.
ThingsgotmoreawkwardwhenDelilahinsistedonSamcomingouttosayhello.Iapologizedashemadehiswaytothetable,wipinghishandsonhisjeansandpushinghishairoffhisface.HeshookhandswithMasonandPatel,butDelilahthrewherarmsaroundhim,mouthing“holyshit”tomefromoverhisshoulder.
“Comeoverafteryourshifttonight,Sam,”Delilahtoldhim.“Andbringthathandsomebrotherofyours.”SamraisedhiseyebrowsandlookedtoPatel,whojustgrinnedandshookhisheadinamusement.
“IthinkCharliehasplanswithhis…Anitalater,butyeah,I’llcomeover.Afterwashingoffthesausageandsauerkraut,”headded,“unlessyoulikethatsortofthing.”HegrinnedatDelilah,whobeamedback.Masonwatchedtheexchangewithasmileonhislipsthatdidn’tquitereachhiseyes.
ThethreeofthemwerealreadydrunkbythetimeIgothome.IcouldhearMasonandPatelarguinginslurredvoicesaboutwhetherbeardsormustacheswerethesuperiorformoffacialhairbeforeIgotinside.DelilahwassprawledoverPatel’slaponthecouchreadingaJoanDidionmemoir,hertanktopridingupherstomach.Shewasveryclearlynotwearingabra.SheliftedherheadwhenIwalkedin,hereyesslowtofocusonmyface.
“Persephone!”shecalled,holdingherarmsoutspreadandwavingmeinforahug.“Wemisssssedyou!”Ibentovertogiveherasqueeze.
“Lookslikeyousurvivedwithoutme.”Emptybeerbottleswerelinedupinarowonthekitchencounter.AfewofDad’srecordswerescatteredonthefloor,butsomeonehadmanagedtoputonRevolver.Therewasameltingbowloficeandabottleoftequilaopenonthecoffeetable,andtheguyseachheldglassesoftheclearliquid.
“Comesit,babe,”Masonsaid,pullingmedownontohimandplantingakissbelowmyjaw.“Nooffense,butyoukindofsmell.”Ielbowedhiminthestomach.
“I’llgoshower.”Imovedtostand,butMasonheldmetight,runninghistongueupmyneck.
“Mmm…”hemurmuredwithachuckle.“Tasteslikepierogies.”
“Veryfunny.Nowifyou’llallowmetoexcusemyself,I’llgocleanup.”
IlingeredlongerintheshowerthanIneededto.IknewthatSamwouldbearrivinganyminute,andIwashalfdreadingitandhalfexcited.Itfeltlikethishugepartofmylifewasclosedofftohim,andnowIcouldintroducehimtothepeopleIspenttimewithwhenheandIweren’ttogether.IwantedDelilahtoseehim.Iwasn’tworriedaboutSamandMason.Masonwasn’tthejealoustype,andSamwasn’ttheconfrontationaltype.AndIthoughtmaybeifIsawtheminthesameroomtogether,IwouldberemindedthatSamwasjustaregularguy.ThatmaybeIhadbuilthimupasthismythicalcreature,aperfectfriendandpotentialboyfriendwhowouldn’tseemsopreciousandrareoutintherealworld.
WhenIcameoutofthebathroom,Samwassittingatadiningchairhe’dpulledupbesidethecouch,hisstill-wethaircombedneatlyoffhisface.HewaswearingthedarkdenimjeansthatIknewwerehisnicejeansandawhitebutton-up,thesleevesrolledpasthistannedforearms.Hisfeetwerebare.Helookedgood.Helookedgrown-up.I,ontheotherhand,waswearingapairofterryclothshortsandapinkBarry’sBaypullover.Masonpassedhimafulltumbleroftequila,andtheyclinkedtheirglassestogetherbeforetossingbackagulp.IcouldseeSamstrugglingtokeepastraightface;hewasn’tadrinker.
“Don’tyouusuallydrinkthatstuffwithlimesandsaltorsomething?”Iasked,joiningthem.
“Weneglectedtobringlimes,”Masonexplained.“Butthisisreallygoodshit,soit’swastedonshotsanyway.”Hefilledanothertumblerandpassedittome.Itookasmallsipandcoughedattheburn.
“Yeah,reallygoodshit,”Irasped,stillcoughing.Masonpulledmetowardhim,andIfroze,realizinghewantedmetositonhislap.
“Comekeepmecompany,babe,”hesaid,tuggingharder.Iperchedawkwardlyontheendofhisknee.Delilah,whohadmadeittoanuprightposition,threwmeaquestioninglook.ImovedmyeyestowardSam,whowaswatchingMason’shandstracecurlicuesonmybarethigh.Hisbrowsdrewtogether,thenhedownedtherestofhisdrink.Delilah’sgazeswungbetweenthetwoofus,hereyeswideningwithunderstanding,adrunkensmileformingonherlips.
“Thattaboy,”PatelsaidtoSam,reachingforthebottletopourhimmore.
“So,Sam,”Delilahpurred,leaningtowardhimwithherelbowsonherkneesandherfaceproppedonherhands,“it’sbeensolongsinceIlastsawyou.You’relikeabig,juicypieceofmannow.Tellmeallaboutthisgirlfriendofyours.”Samlookedatmeinconfusion,butIhadnoideawhereshewasgoingwiththis.
“Nogirlfriend,”hesaid,tippingbackmoreofhisdrink.
“That’shardtobelieve,”Delilahwenton.“Youknow,”shesaid,lookingatPatelandMason,“Samcanbearealheartbreaker.Hecanplayveryhardtoget.”Igaveherawarninglook,butshejustsmiledandshookherheadslightly.“Heonceflat-outrefusedtokissPercyinagameoftruthordare.”Thankgod.
“That’sharsh,man,”PatelsaidwhileMasonpulledmebackagainsthischest.
“Poorbaby.”Hewrappedhisarmsaroundmywaistandpressedhislipstothesideofmyneck.“I’llmakeituptoyoutonight.”IautomaticallylookedtoSam,whowasstaringatuswithaclenchedjawanddarkeyes.Hewasbouncinghisknee.
“Anyonewantasnack?”IjumpedoffMason’slapandheadedtothekitchen.
“I’llhelp,”SamofferedandfollowedmewhilePatelandMasonreminiscedoveraparticularlymemorablechildhoodgameofsevenminutesinheaven.
IwasonmytiptoesreachingforaservingbowlwhenSamcameupbehindme.
“Icangetthat,”hesaid,grazinghisfingersovermine.
“Yousmellnice,”hewhisperedashebroughtthebowldowntothecounter.Achillranthroughmeatthefeelofhisbreathonmyear,andIshivered.
“Thewondersofsoap,”Ireplied.“Ialmostdidn’trecognizeyouinthissnazzyensemble.”
“Snazzy?”Hiseyesglinted.
“Verysnazzy.”Igrinned.
“Youtwocomingbackwiththesnacksalready?”Delilahholleredfromthecouch.Idumpedabagofchipsintothebowlandplaceditonthecoffeetable,perchingonthearmofMason’schair.HeandPatelhadmovedontoanimpassionedhockey-relatedargument.
“Don’tmindthem,”DelilahtoldSam.“They’reslightlyobsessed.Butwe’vegotbetterthingstodiscuss,likeourdearPersephone.”Shepokedhimontheleg.“Ihearthatyouareherveryfavoritereader.Shewon’tshutupabouthowgreatyourfeedbackis.”
Sam’sfacecrackedintoawidegrin.“Isthatso?”hesaid,lookingatme.
Irolledmyeyes.“Hisegoishealthyenoughasitis,D.”
“Idisagree,”saidSam.“TellmemoreabouthowsmartIam,Delilah.”
“I’dfindyoualotmoreintelligentifyoutoldhertoupthesexandromancecontent,”shesaid,laughing.
“Whatareyouallgigglingabout?”Masonpipedup.
“Percy’sstories.Whatdoyouthinkofthem?”Samasked,andmystomachdropped.Istillhadn’tshownMasonmywriting.
“She’sneverletmereadone,”hesaid,eyesnarrowingatSam.
“No?She’sincrediblytalented,”Samtoldhim,eyessparkling.“Sheasksmeforfeedbackonthemallthetime,butshereallydoesn’tneedit.She’sanaturalwriter.”
“Isshe?”
Samwentonlikehehadn’theardhim.“Youshouldread‘YoungBlood.’Shewroteitacoupleofyearsago,butit’sstillmyfavorite.God,rememberhowlatewe’dstayuptalkingaboutcharacternames,Percy?”
Samwasmarkinghisterritory,andallIcoulddowasmurmurinagreement.
“Ididn’trealizehowcloseyoutwowere,”Masonsaid,eyeingmenow.“It’ssonicePercyhasafriendupheretokeephercompany.”
Hepulledmedownontohislap,turningmeatthesametime,sothatIwasstraddlinghim.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iwhispered.
“Youdon’tmind,doyou,guys?”Hetiltedhisheadtolookaroundme.“Ihaven’tseenmygirlinages.”Hetookmyfaceinhishandsandbroughtmymouthdowntohis,kissingmesloppily.Whenheletmecomeupforair,Samwasalreadyhalfwaytothedoor.
“IshouldheadoutifIwanttoruntomorrow,”hesaid,notlookingatme.Andthenhewasgone.
Samkepthisdistanceforthetherestoftheweekend,andIwasitchyforeveryonetoleavesoIcouldseehim.Thesummerwasalreadyhalfgone,andIwasresentfulthatMason’sbehaviormeantIlosttimewithSam.Hehadbeenparticularlyhandsytheentirevisit,likehewastryingtolayclaimtomybody.Itmademeanxious.Evenhisgoodbyekisswasagroping,tongue-filledaffair.
SamwasdifferentafterMason’svisit.Reserved.Sometimesoureyeswouldmeetacrossthekitchenorwhenwewerehangingoutinthebasement,andtheairwouldcrackle.Butotherwise,itwaslikehehadputalidonhisfeelingsforme,whichwasexactlywhatI’daskedfor.Butasitgotclosertotheendofsummer,Irealizeditwasn’twhatIwanted.Iwantedtocrackthelidopen.
IbrokeupwithMasonthelastweekofsummerbreakinanawkwardYou’reagreatguy!phonecall.HewassurprisedbuttookitbetterthanDelilah,whopoutedabouttheendofourdoubledatesbeforeIremindedhershewasplanningtopausethingswithPatelfortheschoolyear.
SamandIweresittingonhisbedreadinginourdampbathingsuitsthelastdaybeforeI’dbeheadingbacktothecitywithmyparents.Itwashot,andCharlieandAnitahadannexedourusualbasementhideaway.SuehadrefusedtoputontheAC,soSamclosedhisbedroomblindsandsetupafantooscillatebetweenus,heattheendofthebed,hisbackpressedtothewall,andmeattheheadfacinghim,kneesdrawnuptowardmychest.HewasstudyingadiagraminoneofhisanatomytextbookswhileIwasreadingTheStand.OrIwastryingto.Ihadn’tmanagedtomakeitthroughapageinthepasttenminutes.Icouldn’tstoplookingatSam:thetanlinearoundhisankles,themusclesofhiscalves,thebraceletaroundhiswrist.Istretchedmylegouttorestitonhisthigh,andassoonasmyfootmadecontact,hejolted.
“Youokay,weirdo?”Iasked.Heeyedmeandthensprungoffthebedanddugthroughhisdresserdrawer.
“Domeafavor,”hesaid,throwingmehisoldWeezerT-shirt.Ipulleditovermyheadwhilehesatdown,hisnosebackinthetextbook.
Iproddedhislegwithmytoeandnoticedanappleblushcreepingintohischeeks.GettingariseoutofSamwasoneofmytopthreefavoritethingstodo,anditwasararethrillthesedays.Butsomethinghadpuncturedaholeinhiscalmreserve,andIwantedtoripitwideopenwithmyteeth.
“Andyou’rekickingmebecause…”hesaidinadeepmonotone,notlookingupfromthepage,browsknit.Iputbothfeetonhislap,feelinghiswholebodystiffen.
“Thatmustbeafascinatingbook—you’vebeenreadingitallsummer.”
“Mmm.”
“Reallygoodplotline?”
“Riveting,”hedeadpanned.“Youknow,Icanusuallycountonyounottogivemeshitaboutstudying.”
“Noshit-givinghere,”Iswore,thendugmyheelintohisthigh.“Lotsofsexyparts,huh?”Hefinallylookedatmefromthecornerofhiseye,shookhishead,andthenreturnedtothebook.
“Actually,”Isaid,movingmyfeetoffhislapandsittingupwithmykneesbentoutinfrontofme,pressingmytoesintohisthigh,“thehumanbodyisprettysexy.Imean,notthepictureofthatskinlessmanyou’relookingat…”
“It’sadiagramofthemuscularsystem,Percy,”hesaid,turninghisfacetome.“This”—heputonehandaroundthebackofmyleg—“isacalfmuscle.”Hisvoicewassarcastic,butitfeltlikesomeonehadreplacedthebloodinmyveinswithcaffeine.Iwantedhishandonme.Iwantedhishandsonme.
Helookeddownatwherehegrippedmylegandbacktome.Hiseyeswereaquestionmark.
“Calfmuscle?”Isaid.“Goodtoknow…I’llbesuretotrytouseitoneday.I’veheardofthisthingcalledrunning.”Ilaughed,andhemovedhishandaway.
Wesatwithourbooksopenforseveralminutes,neitherofusturningapage.Ifeltthepromiseofsomethingmorebetweenusslipping,tobetuckedawayliketheoldboxofembroideryflossinmydeskdrawer.SoItriedtoholdon.
Ipushedmytoesunderhisthigh.
“Learnanythingelsefromthatbookofyours?”Iasked.Hiseyessnappedtomine.Henoddedslowly.
“Wanttoenlightenme,genius?”Imademybestattempttosoundplayful,butmyvoicewasshaky.
“Percy…”IttookeveryounceofconfidenceIhadtonotbreakeyecontact.
“IguessI’lljusthavetogetsomeotherfuturedoctortoeducateme,”Iteased,andheblinkedrapidly.AndthenIknew.Iknewthatthiswashisweakspot.Hehatedtheideaofsomeoneelsetouchingme.Whenhemovedhishandbacktomycalf,Iwantedtoscreamintriumph.
Hedidn’tgripitthistime.Instead,heranhisfingersbackandforthoverthemuscle,shootingelectricitythroughmybody,everynerveendingsparkingtolife.Sam’slipsweresetinaserious,straightline,hisfaceamaskofconcentration.Webothwatchedhishandmovingovermycalfandthenslowlydownmyleg.Hegraspeditatthebottom.
“Ankle,”hesaid.
Iletoutasoundthatwassomewherebetweenalaughandagasp.Heshiftedsothathekneltatmyfeetandtookmyotherankleinhisrighthandsothathewasholdingontobothmylegs.Helookedintomyeyesforone,two,threeseconds.Iswallowed.Andthen,watchingmyreaction,heskimmedafingerslowlyupmyleg.
“Shin.”
Ihadplotted,dreamed,obsessedaboutSamtouchingme.Ihadlainonmybedwithmyhandbetweenmylegsfantasizingabouthishandsandhisshouldersandthecreaseinhisbottomlip.Iwantedsobadlytotouchhim,tomovemyfingersalongthefaintlineofhairthatledfromhisbellybuttonandintohisbathingsuit.AndnowIwasfrozen.Iwasterrifiedofruiningthemoment,ofshakingSamoutofwhatevermagichadcomeoverhim.
Hecuppedhispalmaroundmykneefollowingwithhisotherhandontheoppositeknee.Hepushedthemapartandcreptslightlyupthebedsohewasbetweenthem,thengrabbedmyanklesandpulledmylegsflatagainstthebed.Heleanedoverme,andmyarmsshookfromholdingmyselfupright.Icouldfeelhisbreathonmyface.Withoutmovinghiseyesfrommine,hewhispered,“Lieback,Percy.”
Ididwhathetoldmeto,myheartpoundinginmychest,andhekneltbetweenmylegs,lookingdownatme,hiseyesdark.Hislongtorsoblockedthebreezefromthefan,andsuddenlyIwasoverheating.Icouldfeelsweatformingonmyupperlip.Nottakinghiseyesoffmine,heputhishandbackonmyknee.
“Knee,”hewhispered.Iblinkedupathim.Theairfeltheavy.
“Knee,huh?Whatgradelevelisthatbookat?”Iteased.
Asmallsmileplayedathislips.“Vastusmedialis,vastuslateralis,tensorfasciaelatae,”hesaidsoftly,movinghisfingershigher.Itfeltlikeallmynerveendingsconcentratedunderneathhisfingers.Hegrazedthesoftfleshontheinsideofmythigh.“Adductorlongus,”hemurmured,andIsuckedinabreath.Hetrailedhisindexfingerfromthesensitivepartofmyinnerthigh,followingthecreasebetweenthetopofmylegandmypelvis,underthehemoftheT-shirt.Heflattenedhishandovertheprotrusionofmyhipbone,thenwrappeditaroundmyhip,overthetiesofmybikini.Hehelditthere,watchingme,thesmilegonefromhisface.Iwantedtopullhimdownontopofmeandfeelhisweightpressingmeintothebed.Iwantedtotugatthewavesinhishairandputmymouthonhiswarmneck,butIkeptstill,mychestrisingandfalling.
Hepushedtheshirtupovermystomach,andslowlyheuntiedthebowatonesideofmybathingsuit.Whenhehaditloosened,hepulledthestringsapartandranhishandupanddownthecurveofmywaistandhip.“Gluteusmedius.”Hemovedhishandaroundtotheback.“Gluteusmaximus.”Iletoutanervouslaugh.
“Donewithanatomylessonsfortoday?”heasked,hisvoicehoarseanddeep.Iswallowedandshookmyhead.Hiseyesflashedwithvictory,andheshimmiedtheshirtuphigher.IliftedmyupperbackoffthebedandhepulledtheT-shirtoffovermyhead.Ilaybackandthesuddenexposureofaironmydampsuitmademeshiver.Hiseyesdroppedtothepiecesoftriangularfabricthatcoveredmychest,wheremybreastsspilledfromthesides,mynipplestightpeaksagainstthecoolmaterial.Hisgazelingered,andwhenhelookedbackatme,hiseyeswerethedeepestshadeofblueI’deverseenthem.
Hemovedhisbodydownthebedslightly,thenleaneddown,pressinghismouthtotheskinbelowmybellybutton,whisperingthenamesofmusclesashemovedhismouthacrossmystomach,leavingatrailofkissesonmybody.Heranhistongueoverthecreviceofmybellybuttonandthenmoveditinahot,wetlineupthemiddleofmystomach,pausingtodeliverkissestodifferentpartsofmyabdominals.Myhipsjerked,andIgrippedthesheetsinmyfists.Hepassedthespacebetweenmybreasts,andwhenhepressedhistonguetothehollowbetweenmycollarbones,agutturalmoansoundedinmythroat.Iflattenedmyhandsagainsthisback,wherehisskinwashotandsmooth,andhesuckedonmyneckjustbelowmyjaw,thenranhistonguetomyear,nippingatitslightly.
“Auricularlobule,”hewhispered,hislipsmovingagainstmyearlobe.Thenhehoveredoverme,hisfacedirectlyabovemine.Heheldhimselfupwithonearmwhilehishandmovedtomywaist,downovermybarehip.
Imovedmyarmsaroundhisneck,andhebroughthislipstominesoftly.Ikissedhimback,harder,partinghislipswithmytongue.HismouthwasawarmcavethatIwantedtoexplore.Ittastedlikesaltandoranges.Idugonehandintohishairandbithislowerlip.Whenwepulledaway,hemovedhishandtomyinnerthigh.
“Iwanttotouchyou,Percy,”hewhisperedroughly.“CanI?”
Iletoutastrangled-soundingyes.Heshiftedhisweightontohisside,andwebothwatchedashisfingerscreptunderthegoldfabric.Hetracedthedampcleftbetweenmylegs,mybathingsuitfallingtothesidewiththemovement.Hepressedhisfingergentlyinside,andthenlookedupatme,hisfacefilledwithamazement.
“Arewedoingthis?”hesaidquietly,andIdidn’tknowifhemeantwhatwashappeningrightnoworsomebiggerquestionaboutus,buteitherwaymyanswerwasthesame.
“Yeah,we’redoingthis.”13
Now
ChantalisdeeplycommittedtoSundaybrunch.Rightnowshewillalmostcertainlybeinherfavoriteboothatherfavoriterestaurant,splittingthepaperwithherfiancé.ShewilltakeArtsfirstandhewillhaveOpinions,andthenthey’llswitch.Theywillhavetheircoffees,andhereggsBennywillbeonitsway.Iwouldbedisturbingherritual.She’sbarelyverbal,letalonereadytodealwithmycrisis,untilshe’shadatleasttwocupsofcaffeine.Atleastthat’swhatItellmyselfasIquicklywriteamessagetoher,deleteit,andthenputthephoneonthebedbesideme.Again.Ishakemyheadatmyself.Fifthtime’sthecharm,right?Ipickupthestupidthingandtypeoutanothertext,punchsend,andthenthrowthephonedown.Isitandwait—foroneminute,thenfive—andwhennoreplycomes,cursemyselfforsendingitinthefirstplaceandshuffleofftothebathroom.
Iruntheshoweruntilitsteamsupthemirror,thenstepunderthehotsprayandputmyheadagainstthetile,lettingtheanxiousstreamofthoughtsbillowaroundmelikemustardgas.Whatthefuckiswrongwithme?Whatkindofapersontakesadvantageoftheirformer(newlysingle!)boyfriendonthedayofhismother’sfuneral?Samisnevergoingtoletmestayinhislife.Andwhyshouldhe?I’mashitty,selfishpersonwhoisclearlyincapableofbeinghisfriend.
Idon’tregisterthatI’mcryinguntilIfeelmyshouldersshaking.Disgustedwithmyownself-pity,Ipushoffthewall,scrubmyselfroughlywithsoap,washmyhair,anddryoff.
Iarriveatthechurchtenminutesearly,andthelotisalreadyfullwithdustypickuptrucksandwell-usedsedans.Ayoungmanisdirectingcarstoparkintheadjoiningfield.Ileavethecarattheendofahaphazardrow,andwalktowardthechurch,theheelsofmyblackpumpsdiggingintothegrass,makingmelookasoff-kilterasIfeel.
Samisstandinginasmallclusterofpeopleinfrontofthechurchsteps.IstopshortatthesightofTaylorbesidehim,legsaslongasagiraffe’s,hairasgoldenasasunbeam.EventhoughSamandCharliehadmentionedshewascoming,Isomehowdidn’texpecttoseeher.Ifeellikethewindhasbeenknockedoutofme.Isqueezemyeyesshut,tryingtosteadymyself.WhenIopenthem,Charlieislookingatmefromacrosstheparkinglot.Heraiseshishand,andthewholegroupturnsmyway.
AsImovecloser,Iimmediatelyrecognizethethin,middle-agedmanasJulien.There’sanelderlycouplewhomustbeCharlieandSam’sgrandparentsontheirdad’sside.Sue’sparentsaren’taroundanymore.There’sanothercouple,whoIthinkareSue’sbrotherandsister-in-lawfromOttawa.Itakeadeepbreathandpasteawarmsmileonmyface,thoughmystomachisroiling.
“Everyone,thisisPercyFraser,”saysCharlieasIjointhem.“Youprobablyrememberher.Sheandherparentshadthecottagenextdoorwhenwewerekids.”Igreetthefamilywithhugsandcondolences,pretendingthatthisisafunerallikeanyotherandthatIdon’tfeelSamwatchingmeintensely.
“Youlookwell,Percy,”Juliensays,givingmealoosehug.Irubhisupperarmswithbothhandsashepullsaway.Hiseyesareredandhesmellslikestalecigarettesmoke.
IturntoSamandTaylorlast.Heshutdownsoquicklythismorningafterwhathappened,becauseofcoursehedid.Whowantstoopenuptheyouleftmebrokenheartedconversationthemorningoftheirmother’sfuneral?I’mafraidtomeethiseyesnow,afraidofwhatI’llfindthere.Regret?Anger?Hurt?
SoIfixmygazeonTaylorinstead.HerhandisrestingonSam’sshoulder,inawaythatscreamsmine.Sammayhaveendedthingswithher,butsheisclearlynotdonewithhim.Inreply,Iglueonaserenesmilethatsays,Ididn’tjustmakeyourex-boyfriendcomeinhispants,andkeepitthere,thoughbileisrisingupmythroat.She’sstunninginatailoredblackjumpsuit,herhairinaglossylowponytail.Myblacksheathdressfeelsdrabincomparison.She’swearingverylittlemakeupandnojewelryandsomehowmanagestolookintentionallyminimal.IfIwalkedaroundwearingonlymascaraandlipgloss,I’djustlooktired.Asitis,Ispentfiveminutesaloneapplyingseverallayersofconcealeraroundmypuffyeyesandrednose.
WhenIfinallylookatSam,it’slikeseeinghimforthefirsttime.He’sstandingasstraightasaredpine,wearingacrispwhiteshirtandanexpensive-lookingblacksuitthat’scutclosetohisbody.He’sfreshlyshavenandhishairiscombedandheldinplacewithsomekindofstylingproduct.HelookslikeanactorwhoplaysadoctoronTVratherthananactualdoctor.
SamandIwerealwaysbummingaroundinbathingsuitsorworkclothes,andI’veonlyseenhiminasuitoncebefore.Nowhelookslikesuchanadult,suchaman.Amanwhoshouldhaveagorgeouslawyeronhisarminsteadofabasketcasearoundhisneck.HeandTaylormakeastrikingcouple,andit’shardnottofeelthatthey’redesignedtohavesmart,successful,impossiblygorgeousbabiestogether.
Ileanintogivehimahug,anditfeelslikecominghomeandsayinggoodbyeandfourthousanddaysoflonging.
“Weshouldprobablyheadin,”Taylorsays,andIrealizeI’vebeenpressedtoSam’schestforasecondtoolongforpolitecompany,butjustasIpullback,hesqueezeshisarmsaroundmealittletighter,justforasecond,beforereleasingmewithanunreadablelookonhisface.
Thisisthebiggestchurchintown,butit’sstillnotlargeenoughtoseateveryonewho’sshownupthismorning.Peoplearestandinginrowsbehindthebackpews,crowdingaroundthedoorways,andspillingoutside.It’sanincredibleshowofloveandsupport.Butitalsomeansthechurchishotandstuffy.Bythetimewegettothefrontpew,myneckandthighsarealreadydamp.Ishouldhavewornmyhairup.IsitbetweenCharlieandSam,wherealargephotoofasmilingSuestaresoutatus,surroundedbyarrangementsoflilies,orchids,androses.Iwipeatthesweatonmyupperlipthenrubmyhandsonmydress.
“Youokay,Pers?”Charliewhispers.“Youseemtwitchy.”
“Justhot,”Itellhim.“Howaboutyou?”
“Nervous,”hesays,holdingupafoldedpieceofpaperthatIassumecontainshiseulogy.“Iwanttodoherproud.”
Whenit’stimeforCharlietospeak,hegripstheedgeofthepodiumwithwhiteknuckles.Heopenshismouth,thenclosesitagain,lookingoutintothecrowdforseverallongsecondsuntilhestartstospeak,hisvoiceaudiblyshaking.Hestops,takesadeepbreath,andthenbeginsagain,steadiernow.HetalksabouthowSueheldthefamilyandthebusinesstogetherafterhisdaddied,andthoughhehastopauseacoupleoftimestocollecthimself,hemakesitthrough,notearsshed,anobviouslookofreliefinhisgreeneyes.
Tomysurprise,asCharliereturnstothepew,Samrises.Ihadn’trealizedhewasspeakingtoday.Iwatchhimashestridesconfidentlytothefrontofthechurch.
“Manyofyouwillfindthisscandalous,butMomdidn’treallylikepierogies,”hebeginswithasmallsmileacrosshislips,andtheroomrumbleswithlowlaughter.“Whatshedidlove,however,waswatchingallofuseatthem.”Hekeepshiseyesmostlyonhispage,buthe’sabeautifulspeaker;whileCharlie’seulogywasearnestandreverent,Sam’sisgentlyteasing,breakingthesadnessintheroomwithlightheartedstoriesaboutSue’sstrugglesandtriumphsinraisingtwoboys.Thenhelooksupandscansthecrowduntilhesettlesonmebrieflybeforelookingdownagain.IcanseeTaylorobservingmefromthecornerofmyeye,andmyheartlacesupitsrunningshoesandtakesoffinasprint.
“Momlivedwithoutmydadfortwentyyears,”hesays.“Theyhadbeenfriendssincekindergarten,starteddatinginninthgrade,andgotmarriedafterhighschool.Mygrandfatherwilltellyouthattherewasnowaytoconvinceeitheroneofthemtowaitjustalittlebitlonger.Theyknew.Somepeopleareluckylikethat.Theymeettheirbestfriend,theloveoftheirlife,andarewiseenoughtoneverletgo.Unfortunately,myparents’lovestorygotcutfartooshort.Justbeforeshedied,Momtoldmeshewasready.ShesaidshewastiredoffightingandtiredofmissingDad.Shethoughtofdeathasanewbeginning—saidshewasgoingtogospendtherestofhernextlifewithDad,andI’dliketothinkthat’sexactlywhatthey’redoingnow.Bestfriendstogetheragain.”
I’mmesmerizedbyhim.Everywordisanarrowtomysoul.I’mabouttothrowmyarmsaroundhimwhenhesits,butthenTaylorpullshishandontoherlapandholdsitbetweenhers.Thesightoftheirintertwinedhandsslapsmewithreality.Theymakesensetogether.Theyareacarefullywrappedgiftwithcrisplyfoldededgesandasatinbow.SamandIareatrashfirewithmorethanadecadeoftimeandabigfatsecretbetweenus.TomorrowI’llheadbacktoToronto,awayfromthistown,awayfromSam.Itwascrazytocomeback,toexpectIcouldmakethingsbetter.Instead,Ithrewmyselfathimathismostvulnerable.Andasrightandperfectandgoodasitfeltwithhislipsagainstmine
Charlieoffersmehisarmasweambleoutofthechurch,andthenIwalkslowlybacktothecarwithaheavinesspressedagainstmychest.Irestmyheadonthesteeringwheel.
Ishouldn’tbehere.Ishouldn’thavecome.
ButIcan’tleavenow,notwhenthere’sawaketogetthrough,soIwaitfortheheavyfeelingtoliftalittleandthenIdrivetotheTavern.
THERESTAURANTISmoreboisterousfamilyreunionthanpost-funeralgathering.IwatchthesmilingrelativesandfriendsminglewithplatesofSue’spierogies.Thetableshavebeenclearedoutofthewaytomakeroomforthecrowd,andsomeonehasmadeamixofSue’sfavoritecountrysongs.Itdoesn’ttakelongbeforeagroupofchildrenformsadancecircle,hoppingandflailingtoShaniaTwainandDollyParton.Thesceneissosweetlywholesome,andIamanimpostorstandingwithinit.
Iignorethephonevibratinginmypurseandtakeaglassofwinefromtheyoungserverbehindthebar,tryingtofindafriendlyfacetopassanacceptableamountoftimechattingwithbeforeIcanskulkbacktothemotel.Charlieisholdingcourtwiththesmokerswhocongregateoutsideonthepatio.SamandTaylorarenowheretobeseen,andJulienhasbeeneitherhidinginthekitchenorrefillingthechafingdishesonthebuffettable.Iheadbacktohelphim,butthespaceisempty,thebackdoorproppedopen.Isteptowardittoseeifhe’soutbacksmokingbuthesitatewhenIhearvoices.
“You’renuts,man,”saysadeepvoice.“Areyousureyouwanttogodownthisroadagain?”
“No,”IhearSamreply.“Idon’tknow.”Hesoundsconfused,frustrated.“MaybeIdo.”
“Doyouneedustoremindyouwhatamessyouwerelasttime?”athirdvoiceasks.IknowIshouldleave.ButIdon’t.Myfeetarestucktothefloorwhilemyphonestartsbuzzingagain.
“No,ofcoursenot.Iwasthere.Butwewerejustkids.”AndnowIknowit’smethey’retalkingabout.Istandthereinmydress,dampwithperspiration,holdingstillforthefiringsquad.
“Don’tgivemethatbullshit.Iwasthere,too,”thefirstguyspits.“Justkids?Youwereprettyfuckedupforjustbeingakid.”Idon’twanttoheartherest.Idon’twanttohearabouthowbadlyIbrokeSam.
“Sam,”theothervoicesaysmoregently,“ittookyears,remember?”
Iamgoingtobesick.
IturnanddartthroughtheswingingdoorsintothediningroomandrunrightintoCharlie.
“Whoa!Gotsomewherebettertobe?”
Charlie’sdimplesfadeoncehiseyesfocusonmyface.“Youlookpaleandkindofsticky,Pers.Iseverythingokay?”
Ican’tseemtofindenoughairtoreply,andmyheartisbeatingsorapidlyIcanfeelitpulseagainsteveryinchofskin.Maybethistimeitactuallyisaheartattack.Imightdie.Rightnow.Itrytobreathe,buttheedgesoftheroomaregoingfuzzy.CharlieleadsmebackintothekitchenbeforeIcantellhimnotto.Ihearanawfulwheezinggaspandrealizeit’scomingfromme.Ibendover,tryingtocatchmybreath,thencrumpleontomyhandsandknees.Ihearmuffledvoices,buttheysoundfaraway,likeI’mswimmingbeneathmudandthey’reupontheshore.Isqueezemyeyesshut.
There’safeatherlightpressureonmyshoulders.Throughthemud,Icanhearavoicecountingslowly.Seven.Eight.Nine.Ten.One.Two.Three…Itkeepsgoing,andafteralittlewhile,Istarttoadjustmybreathingtoitspace.Four.Five.Six.Seven…
“What’shappening?”someoneasks.
“Panicattack,”thevoicereplies,thenitcontinuescounting.Eight.Nine.Ten.
“Good,Percy,”itsays.“Keepbreathing.”Ido.Ikeepbreathing.Myheartstartstoslowdown.Itakeadeep,longbreathandopenmyeyes.Samiscrouchedinfrontofme,hishandonmyshoulder.
“Doyouwanttostandup?”
“Notyet,”Isay,embarrassmentreplacingtheimpending-deathfeeling.Itakeafewmorebreaths,thenopenmyeyesagain,andSamisstillthere.IslowlykneeluprightandSamhelpsmeoffthefloor,hishandsclutchingmyelbowsandhisforeheadwrinkledwithconcern.Behindhimstandtwomen,anextremelyhandsomeBlackman,andastretched-outpaleguywithinkyhairandglasses.
“Percy,doyouremembermyfriends,JordieandFinn?”Samasks.
Istarttoapologizetothem,butthenInoticeCharlieofftotheside.He’slookingatmecloselylikehe’sworkedsomethingout,connecteddotsthatdidn’tquitefittogetherbefore.
“Itwasapanicattack?”heasks,andIknowhedoesn’tmeanwhat’sjusthappened.
Ireplywithaslightnod.
“Doyougetthemalot?”Samasks,browspulledtogether.
“Notinalongtime,”Itellhim.
“Whendidtheystart,Percy?”
Iblinkathim.“Um…”MyeyesflashtoCharlieforasplitsecond.“Abouttwelveyearsago.”14
Fall,ThirteenYearsAgo
DelilahandIweresittinginthecafeteriathefirstweekofoursenioryear,andIwassmilingsohardasnowplowcouldn’thavescrapedthegrinoffmyface.IhadjustboughtausedToyotathatweekend,andfreedomwaspullingupthecornersofmylipslikemarionettestrings.Dadhadagreedtosplitthecostofasecondhandcarwithme,stunnedIhadmanagedtosave$4,000intipsalone.
“Don’tbeoneofthosegirls,”Delilahsaid,wavingafrenchfryinmyface.Ihadjustmentionedtheideaofquittingtheswimteam.Practicewasduringtheweekbutracesweremostlyonweekends,andIhadbigplanstospendeveryweekendinBarry’sBaywithSam.
“Whatgirls?”Iasked,mymouthhalf-fullwithabiteoftunasandwich,asacutered-hairedboysatdownacrossfromDelilah,holdingouthishand.
“Seriously?”sheasked,pointinganotherfryinhisdirection,beforehecouldgetawordout.
“I’mnewhere,”hestammeredandpulledhishandaway.“IthoughtI’dsayhi.”
Delilahgavemealookthatsaid,Canyouevenimagine?andglaredathim.
“What,youthinkbecausewe’rebothgingersweshouldgettogetherandhavelittlecarrot-toppedbratstogether?Notgonnahappen.”Sheshooedathim.“Buh-bye.”
Helookedatmetocheckwhethershewasseriousornot.
“Shelooksalotsweeterthansheis.”Ishrugged.
Afterheleft,Delilahturnedbacktome.“AsIwassaying,youdon’twanttobeoneofthosegirlswhohasnothinginterestingtosaybecauseallshethinksaboutisherboyfriend,andallshedoesisdarnhissocksorwhatever.Thosegirlsareboring.Don’tgetboringonme,PersephoneFraser.I’llberequiredtobreakupwithyou.”
Ilaughed,andshenarrowedhereyes.Shewasn’tjoking.
“Okay,”Isaid,holdingupmyhands.“Iwon’tquit.ButSam’snotmyboyfriend.Wehaven’t,youknow,putalabelonityet.It’snew.”
“It’snotnew.It’s,like,onehundredyearsold,”shesaidwithashakeofherhead.“Itdoesn’tmatterwhetheryoulabelitornot,youtwoaretogether,”shesaid,watchingme.“Andstopsmilingsomuch.You’remakingmenauseous.”
ONTHEWEEKENDSwhenIdidn’thaveswimming,IwouldpackthecaronThursdaynightsanddrivenorthstraightfromschoolonFridayafternoon.ThisdidnotsitwellwithMomandDadatfirst,butIwonthemoverwiththeI’mgoingtobeeighteensoonandWhat’sthepointofhavingacottageifwedon’tuseit?argumentsandassuredthemIwouldstudywhileIwasgone.WhatIdidn’ttellthemwasthatIwasalsoplanningtoshovemytonguedownSam’sthroatassoonasIgothimalone.Theyfoundoutanyway.
ThedayafterSamhadputhishandsovereverysquareinchofmybodyinAugust,Suehadspottedahickeyonhisneck.TruetoSam’sunwaveringbrandofhonesty,hetoldherpreciselywho’dgivenittohim.SuecalledmymomjustbeforemyfirstsolotriptothecottagetomakesuresheandDadwereawareofwhatwasgoingon.Momneversaidanythingtomeaboutit,but,accordingtoSam,SuetoldMomthatSamandIhadstarteda“physicalrelationship”andthenputhimonthephonewithmymothersohecouldpromiseherhe’dtreatmewithrespectandcare.
Myparentsnevertalkedtomeaboutsex,anditblewmymindthatthisconversationtookplace.ButwhenIunpackedmyweekendbag,therewasaboxofcondomsinsidewithaPost-itnotestucktoit,thewordsJustincasewritteninMom’shandwriting.
SamworkedFridays,andIusuallydroverighttotheTaverntowaituntilhefinishedforthenight.HewascookingwithJulieninthekitchensinceCharliewasawayatschool.IftherestaurantwasstillbusybythetimeIgotthere,I’dtieonanapronandbustablesorhelpoutGlen,thepimple-facedboywho’dreplacedSamatthedishwasher.If
Saminsistedonshoweringafterhisshift,sowealwayswentbacktohisplace.Onthedrive,wefilledeachotherinonourweeks—theswimpractices,bioexams,Delilahdramas—andthenweracedupstairs.WehadapproximatelythirtyminutesafterSam’sshowertofeeleachotherupbeforeSuegothomeafterclosing.Wekeptthelightoff,afranticclashoftonguesandteethandhands,andwhenSue’sheadlightsshonethroughSam’sbedroomwindow,we’dpullourtopsbackonandrundownstairstothekitchen,throwingtheplatesoffoodJulienhadsenthomewithusinthemicrowave.We’deatatthekitchentable,sneakingglancesandnudgingeachother’sfeetunderthetablewhileSuefixedherowndinner.
“Youtwoareassubtleaselephants,”shetoldusonce.
BylateSeptember,theleaveswerechangingandthewaterwasalreadytoocoldforswimming,sowecreatedanewmorningroutine.ItinvolvedmesleepinglateuntilSamknockedonthebackdoorafterhisrun.He’dmakeweaklatteswhileIfixedbagelsorcerealandwe’deatatthecountertalkingaboutthestoryIwasworkingonorFinn’snewgirlfriend,whomneitherSamnorJordiecouldstand,oruniversityapplications,whichweredueinJanuary.
Delilah,Sam,andJordieallhadtheirheartssetonQueen’sinKingston—theuniversityhadabeautiful,historiccampusandwasconsideredoneofthetopschoolsinthecountry.Delilahwantedinforpoli-sci,Samforpremed,andJordieforbusiness(Queen’swasrenownedforallthreeprograms).Samwasstillgunningforascholarship;ashardasSueworked,therewasn’tenoughtoputadentintheheftytuitionandresidencefees.Unlessmygradestookasuddennosedive,IwouldbeheadingtotheUniversityofToronto,aspermyparents’dream,fueledpartlybytheirallegiancetotheschoolandpartlybecausehalfofmytuitionwouldbecoveredbytheirfacultydiscount.IwasapplyingtotheEnglishprogramandwantedtotakeasmanycreativewritingcoursesaspossibleifIgotin.UofTwasagreatschool,butneedlesstosay,IwouldhavepreferredifSamandIwereplanningtogotouniversitytogether.TorontowasalmostthreehoursawayfromKingstonbycar,twoandahalfifIdrovefastandtrafficwasgood.Asmall,parasiticwormofworrywasburrowinginsidemybrain—tellingmethatthiswouldn’tlastonceSamwentawaytoschool
MyparentscameupforThanksgiving,andourfamiliesspenttheholidaymealtogether,withtheadditionofJulien,whomSuehadfinallypersuadedtojoinus.WithCharliebackforthelongweekend,thereweresevenofusaroundtheFloreks’diningroomtable,andbetweenCharlieandJulien,SamandIweresubjectedtorelentlessjokesaboutourrelationship.Notthatweminded.Weheldhandsunderthetableandlaughedatmyparents’initialshockoverJulien’ssharptongueandCharlie’sinnuendosaboutteenpregnancy.
WewerealltogetheragainatChristmas,butmyparentsreturnedtothecityforNewYear’swhileIstayedandworkedattheTavern.Atmidnight,Samdraggedmedownstairstothewalk-inrefrigeratorandkissedmeagainsttheboxesofcitrus.
“I’msoinlovewithyou,”hesaidwhenwepulledapart,hisbreathsescapingincoldpuffsofair.
“Swearonit?”Iwhispered,andhesmiledandkissedtheinsideofmywristoverthetopofmybracelet.
Withmyparents’blessing,Sueagreedtoletmestaythenightattheirplace,andafterweallshoweredandchangedintoourpj’s,shepoppedabottleofprosecco,pouredherselfafishbowl-sizedglass,andheadedtoherroom,leavingSamandmewiththerest.WeputsomethingintheDVDplayer,thencuddledupunderablanketonthebasementcouch.
IwaitedtenminutestomakesureSuewasn’tgoingtocheckonusandthencrawledontohislap,mykneesoneithersideofhisthighs.IwaswiredfromworkandmyinsidesfizzedwithhisIloveyouandalsowithprosecco.IpulledhisT-shirtoverhisheadandthenkissedmywayuphischest,hisneck,andthentohismouth,whereourtonguesfoundeachother.Hebegantounbuttonmypinkflanneltop,hisfingersshakingwithexcitement,andthenstoppedwhenhesawtherewasnothingunderneath.Helookedupatme,hispupilsswallowingthebluesintoamidnightocean.WiththeexceptionofwhathadhappenedinhisroominAugust,wehadn’tgonefurtherthanmakingoutwithshirtsoff,braon.Iopenedtheremainingbuttons.
“I’msoinlovewithyou,too,”Iwhisperedandshruggedoutoftheshirt.Hiseyesdroppedtomychestandhegrewharderbeneathme.
“You’reperfect,”heraspedwhenhiseyesfoundmineagain,andIsmiledbrightlythenmovedagainsthim.Hishandsgrabbedmywaist,thenroamedovermybreasts,andhegroaned.
Ileanedclosetohisearsoourskinwaspressedtogether,andsaidsoftly,“IwanttoshowyouhowmuchIloveyou.”Imovedmyhandbetweenusandputmyfingersaroundtheshapeofhim.Hebitdownonhislipandwaited,hischestmovingwithhisdeepinhalations.
“Okay,”hebreathed,andwebothworkedhispantsoffhislegs.“I’mnotgoingtolastlong,”hesaid,hisvoicedeepandgravelly.Hemovedhishandacrossmybreast,pinchingthestiffpinkpeak.“Icouldcomelikethisjustlookingatyourhardnipples.”Myeyesflashedtohis.I’dneverheardhimtalklikethat,anditsentahotcurrentthroughme.Ipulledatthewaistbandofhisboxersandthenshiftedsohecouldslidethemallthewayoff,watchingwide-eyed.Iputmyhandaroundhim,tentativeandunsure.IhadnoideawhatIwasdoing.
“Showmehow,”Isaid,andhewrappedhishandovermine.
SAM,JORDIE,ANDDelilahallgotacceptanceletterstoQueen’sthatspring,andIwasthrilledforthemandespeciallyforSam,whowononeofahandfulofacademicscholarshipsthatwouldcoverthebulkofhistuition.MyacceptancetoUofTwasmetwithgreatfanfarefrommyparentsandSam,butIcouldn’thelpfeelinglikeIwasstandingonthegroundwhileeveryoneelseboardedarocketship.
NotthatSamgavemeanyreasontofeelthatway.Weemailedconstantlywhenwewereapart,alreadymakingplansforwhenwecouldseeeachotherwhenwebothstarteduniversity.HesentmethescheduleforthetrainthatranbetweenKingstonandToronto—thetripwasunderthreehours—andthesweetest,nerdiestlistofbookstoresandhospitalshethoughtweshouldvisitinbothcities.
ByApril,Torontowasinbloomwithtulipsanddaffodils,andthebudsonthemagnoliaandcherryblossomtreesweregettingfat.Butupnorth,clumpsoficysnowstillhungaroundtheedgesofBareRockLaneandthroughoutthebush.SamandItrudgedupalongthestreambed,ourbootssinkinginwherethesnowwasstillsurprisinglydeep,andslippingonthedampgroundwherethesunhadmanagedtobreakthroughtheboughs.Itsmelledbothfreshandfungal,likeoneofMom’sexpensivemudmasks,andtherewassomuchrushingwater,wehadtoraiseourvoicesovertheroar.
Thestreamwasquieterbytheswirlingpoolwheretheoldfallentreelayacrossitsbelly.Itwasabrightday,butchillyintheshadeofthepines,andthebarkwassoggyeventhroughmyjeans.IwasgladforthequiltedjacketSamconvincedmetowear.
“Sothere’sthisbigpartyattheendoftheyear,”hesaidoncewesettled,handingmeoneofSue’soatmeal-raisincookiesfromthepocketofhisfleece.“It’srightaftergraduation,and,uh,everyonegetsdressedup…”Hepushedhishairoutofhiseye—hehadn’tcutitinmonthsandittumbledoverhisforeheadinawaterfallofswooshesandswoops.
“Youmeanprom?”Iasked,grinning.
“Thereisaprom,butit’snothingspecial.Thisislikeagradpartyexceptit’sinabigfieldinthemiddleofthebush.”Heraisedhiseyebrowsasiftoask,Sowhatdoyouthink?
“Soundsfun,whichyouhavetimefornow,”Isaid,takingabiteofthecookie.
Heclearedhisthroat.“SoIwaswondering,ifitdoesn’tconflictwithyourgrad,ifyouwantedtogowithme.”Hewincedslightlyandclarified,“Youknow,asmydate.”
“Willyoubewearingasuit?”Ismiled,picturingitalready.
“Somepeoplewearjackets,”hesaidslowly.“Isthatayes?”
“Ifyouwearasuit,thenI’min,”Ielbowedhimintheribs.“Ourfirstdate.”
“Thefirstofmany,”heelbowedmeback.Andmysmilefell.
“There’llbeotherdates,Percy,”hepromised,readingmymindandloweringhisfacetomine.“I’llcomeseeyouinToronto,andyou’llcometoKingston—wheneverwecan.”Therewasastinginginmynose,likeIhadeatenaspoonfulofwasabi.
“Fouryearsapartisalongtime,”Iwhispered,playingwithmybracelet.
“Foryouandme?It’llbenothing,”hesaidsoftly,andbeforeIcouldask,hehookedhisindexfingeraroundmybraceletandgaveitagentletug.“Iswear,”hesaid.“Andbesides,we’vegottime.We’vegotallsummer.”
Buthewaswrong.Wedidn’thaveallsummeratall.
SAMREADSCHOOLtextbooks—forfun!—inhisdowntimeandlandedafullacademicscholarshiptooneofthemostcompetitiveprogramsinthecountry,soobviouslyIknewhewassmart.ButfindingoutthathehadthehighestGPAinhisclassrockedme.
“Soyou’re,like,smart-smart,”Isaidwhenhecalledtotellmethenews.“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”
“Istudyandschoolcomesprettyeasytome,”hereplied.Icouldalmosthearhimshrug.“It’snotthatbigofadeal,really.”
Butitwasthatbigofadeal.HavingthetopmarksinhisgraduatingclassmeantSamwasitsvaledictorianandthereforerequiredtogiveaspeechathisgraduation.
IdrovetoBarry’sBaythedayofhisgradceremony,whichwasalsothenightofthebigafter-party,thestraplesswhitedressDelilahandIpickedoutatthemallhangingfromahookinthebackofthecar.Mygraduation—aswelteringuneventfulaffairheldlateafternoonontheschool’ssoccerfield—hadbeenafewdaysearlier.WhenIgottothecottage,Ihadjustenoughtimetoshower,change,putonalittlemakeup,andfixmyhairinasidebraidthathungdownoveroneshoulder.IhadmadeSamfindoutwhatkindoffootwearthegirlsworetoafancybushparty,soIheadedtotheFloreks’inapairofsilverflip-flopswithrhinestonesonthestraps.
CharliewasalreadyhomefromhissecondyearatWestern,andSueandtheboysweresittingontheporchwithsweatyglassesoficedteawhenIwalkeddownthedriveway.ThethreeofthemtogetherathomeearlyonaFridayeveninginsummerwasararesight.Samrosefromhiswickerchairandwalkedacrosstheporchtogreetme,wearingablacksuit,awhiteshirt,andablacktie.He’dcuthishair,andhelookedlikeateenageJamesBond.
Ican’tbelievehe’smine,IthoughtasIranmyhandsalonghisshouldersanddownhisarms,butwhatItoldhimwas,“Iguessthiswilldo.”HegavemeasmilethatsaidhewasprobablyawareofhowwellhecleanedupandachastekissonmycheekbeforeSuehadusposeforphotos.
Fromthemomentwesteppedinsidehisschool,itwasclearSamwasn’tjustabrain,hewaswell-liked.Itwasn’tasurprise,exactly.IknewSamwasawesome—Ijustdidn’tknoweveryoneelsedid,too.Guysthrewhimhighfivesandhandshake/back-patcombos,andseveralgirlsthrewtheirarmsaroundhisneckwithsighsofIcan’tbelieveit’sallover,notbotheringtolookinmydirection.IknewJordieandFinnalittle,butthiswholeotherworldhewasapartof,maybewasatthecenterof,wastotallyforeigntome.
Insomeways,SamhadremainedinmymindthescraggyboyIfirstmet,akidwhohadtroublerelatingtohisclassmatesafterhisdad’sdeathandthenateenagertoobusytopartyunlessIpushedhim.Butwatchinghimstrideontothestageinhiscapandgowntothecheersofhisclassmateswaslikeseeinghismetamorphosishappeninaninstant.Hedeliveredhisspeechinadeep,clearvoice—hewasself-deprecatingandfunnyandhopeful;hewascompletelycharming.Iwastransfixedandproud,andasIstoodwiththerestoftheaudienceapplaudinghim,aseedofdreadsproutedinsideme.SamhadbeentuckedawaysafeformeinBarry’sBay,butinSeptember,hewouldbepartofamuchbigger
“Youokay?”SamaskedquietlyasCharliedroveustothegradparty,thethreeofuswedgedintothefrontbenchofhispickup.
“Yeah.Justthinkingabouthowfastthissummer’sgoingtogoby,”Ireplied,watchingthebushgrowthickaroundtheroadwewereheadeddown.“Atleastwestillhavetwomoremonths.”IgavehimasmallsmileasCharliecoughedsomethingunderhisbreath.
“Whatdidyoujustcallme?”Isnapped.
“Notyou.”HelookedatSamfromthecornerofhiseye,butneithersaidanythingmore.
Wehadbeendrivingforalmosttwentyminutes,whenCharlieturneddownadirtroadthatcutthroughthebrushandthen,withoutwarning,openedontogiantrollingfields.Thesunhadalreadyset,butitwasbrightenoughtomakeouttheoldfarmhouseandbarnsperchedatthetopofthedriveway.Dozensofcarswereparkedinlinesonthegrass,andtherewasasmallstagewithlightsandaDJboothsetupattheedgeofoneofthepastures.Charliepulledupinfrontofthefarmhouse,wheretwogirlssatbehindafoldingtablewithacashboxandastackofredplasticcups.Twentybucksboughtyouentranceandacuptofillatthekeg.
“I’llpickyouupatonerighthere,”hesaidasweclimbedout,thenpeeledawayinacloudofdust.
TheairsmelledoffreshgrassandAxebodyspray.TherewerewaymorepeoplemillingaboutthefieldsthanthestudentsthatmadeupSam’ssmallgraduatingclass.Aspromised,thegirlsworeflip-flopsorsandalswiththeirdresses,someoftheminfloor-lengthprom-stylegownsandothersinmorecasualsummercotton.Mostoftheguyswereindresspantsandbutton-downshirts,butafew,likeSam,worejackets.WefilledourcupsandthentriedtofindJordieandFinn,buttheonlylightsweretheonesonthestage,andunlessyouwerestandinginfrontofit,youhadtosquinttomakeoutfacesinthefadingbluelight.
Everyfewminutes,someonewouldcomeuptoSamtotellhimhowfantastichisspeechwas.Wemadeourwaytothestage,watchingotherdrunkerpeopledancingwiththeirarmslinkedaroundeachother’sshoulders.Severalbeersin,Inoticedthattherewerenoportapottiesandthatgirlsweresneakingawaytosquatinthebushes.Isloweddownmydrinkingafterthat,buteventuallywasforcedtobreakthesealamongtheleaveslikeeveryoneelse.
“Thatwasauniqueexperience,”IsaidtoSamwhenIgotback.Theredlightsofthestageilluminatedhisfour-beergrinandhoodedeyes.
“Dancewithme,”hesaid,circlinghisarmsaroundmywaist,andweswayedtogetherslowlyeventhoughthemusicwasapoundingclubsong.
“Iknowamillionpeoplehavealreadytoldyouthistonight,”Isaidwithmyfingerstwistedinthehairatthenapeofhisneck.“Butyourspeechwaskindofincredible.IthoughtIwasthewriterinthisrelationship.Whatothersecretsareyoukeepingfromme,SamFlorek?”Thesmileslippedfromhisface.
“What?”Iasked.Hepressedhislipstogether,andmystomachdropped.“Sam,what?Istheresomethingyou’rekeepingfromme?”Istoppedmoving.
“Let’sgosomewherequieter,”hesaid,takingmyhandtoleadmeawayfromthestageandtowardaclumpofboulders.Hepulledmebehindtherocksandranhishandthroughhishair.
“Sam,you’rereallyfreakingmeout,”Isaid,tryingtokeepmyvoicesteady.Thebeerwasmakingmyheadfuzzy.“What’sgoingon?”
Hetookadeepbreathandshovedhishandsinhispockets.“Igotacceptedintothisintensiveworkshopforpremedstudents.”
“Aworkshop?”Iparroted.“Youdidn’ttellmeyouhadapplied.”
“Iknow.Itwasalongshot.Theyonlyaccepttwelvefirst-years.Ireallydidn’tthinkI’dgetin.”
“Well,that’sgreat,”Isaid,mywordsslurring.“I’mproudofyou,Sam.”
“Thethingis,Percy,”hehesitated,shiftingonhisfeet.“Itstartsearly.Ihavetoleaveinthreeweeks.”Batteryaciddrippeddownmyspine.
“Threeweeks?”Irepeated.Threeweekswasnotimeatall.WhenwouldIseeSamafterthat?Thanksgiving?Ishutmyeyes—everythingwasstartingtospin.“I’mgoingtobesick,”Igroaned.
“I’msorryIdidn’ttellyousooner.Ishouldhave,butIknewhowmuchyouwerelookingforwardtospendingthesummertogether,”hesaid,takingmyhand.
“Ithoughtyouwere,too,”Imurmured.ThenIthrewupalloverhisnewdressshoes.
CharlietookonelookatmewhenIclimbedintothetruck,cheeksstainedwithmascaratears,andsaidtoSam,“Finallytoldher,huh?”Samshothimadarklook,andnoonespokefortherestofthedrive.
Threeweekswentbyasiftheywereseconds,andmydreadformedrootsinmyfeetandgrewbranchesthatspreadtomyshouldersandarms.Samspentmuchofourtimetogetherwithhisnoseinvarioustextbooks,asifhewascrammingforamajorexam.Herefusedtobreakourannuallake-crossingtradition,andinsistedIdotheswimonhislastdaybeforeheadingtoschool.Itwasagorgeoussunnymorning,andIwentthroughthemotionsofstretchingandwarmingup.SinceIstartedcompetitiveswimming,paddlingacrossthelakewasn’tachallengeformelikeitusedtobe.IfeltalmostnumbwhenImadeittothefarshore,pullingmykneesuptomychestandgulpingdownthewaterSamhadpackedforme.
“Yourfastesttimeyet,”hesaidhappilywhenIwasdone,throwinganarmaroundmeandpullingmeagainsthisside.“IthoughtImightnotbeabletokeepup.”Iletoutabitterlaugh.
“That’sfunny,”Isaid,hatinghowresentfulIsounded.“IfeellikeI’mtheonebeingleftbehind.”
“Youdon’treallythinkthat,doyou?”Iwouldn’tlookathimbutcouldheartheworryinhisvoice.
“WhatamIsupposedtothink,Sam?Youdidn’ttellmethatyouappliedtothiscourse.Youdidn’ttellmewhenyouwereaccepted.”Iswallowedbacktears.“Iunderstandwhyyouwanttogo.It’samazingthatyougotin.AndIonehundredpercentthinkit’sgoingtobegreatforyou.Butyoukeepingallthisfrommeuntiltheverylastminutehurts.Alot.Itmakesmefeellikethisisaone-sidedthingwe’vegotgoingon.”
“It’snot!”hesaid,hisvoicecracking.HepulledmeontohislapsoIwasfacinghimandtookmyheadbetweenhishandssoIcouldn’tlookaway.“God,ofcourseit’snot.You’remybestfriend.Myfavoriteperson.”Hekissedmeandpulledmeagainsthisbarechest.Itwaswarmwithsweatandhesmelledsomuchlikesummer,somuchlikeSam,thatIwantedtocurlupinsidehim.
“We’lltalkallthetime.”
“ItfeelslikeI’mnevergoingtoseeyouagain,”Iadmitted,andthenhesmiledatmewithpity,likeIwasbeingtrulyridiculous.
“It’sjustuniversity,”hesaid,kissingthetopofmywethead.“Oneday,youwon’tbeabletogetridofme.Ipromise.”
SUEANDSAMleftearlythenextmorningwhileCharlieandIwavedfromtheporch,tearsstreamingdownmyface.
“C’mon,”hesaidafterthecarhaddrivenoutofsight,throwinghisarmaroundmyshoulders.“Let’sgoforaboatride.”
ItturnedoutthatCharliewasalotlessofajerkwithoutSamaroundtoharass.Muchtomyparents’confusion,IdecidedtopickupextrashiftsattheTavern.EvenwhenCharliewasn’tworking,hewouldgivemearide.Mostdays,he’dswimoverwhenIwasdownatthelaketoseehowIwasdoing.
Iwasnotdoingwell.MorethanaweekhadgonebywithoutmehearingfromSam,eventhoughhehadfinallygotacellphonebeforeheleftforKingston.Iknewhewouldn’tbebigontexting,butIcouldn’tfathomwhyhehadn’trespondedtoanyofmyHOWRU,IMISSU,andCANUTALK???messages.AndwhenIcalledhisdormlandline,hedidn’tanswer.
CharliekeptgivingmequestioninglookswheneverIcameintothekitchentopickupanorder.Onthewayhomeonenight,hecutthemotorinthemiddleofthelakeandturnedtofaceme.
“Spillit,”heordered.
“Spillwhat?”
“Idon’tknow,Pers.Youtellme.Iknowyou’rebummedthatSam’sgone,butyou’vebeenmopingaroundlikeMissHavisham.”
“YouknowwhoMissHavishamis?”Igrumbled.
“Fuckoff.”
Isighed.“Istillhaven’theardfromhim.Notanemail.Nophonecall.”
Charlierubbedhisface.“Idon’tthinkhe’sgothisinternetsetupyet.AndMomtoldyouhecalledhome.He’sfine.”
“Butwhydidn’thecallme?”Iwhined,andCharlielaughed.
“Youknowhowexpensivethoselong-distancecallsare,Pers.”
“Ortext?”
Charliesighed,thenhesitated.“Okay,youwanttoknowwhatIthink?”
“Idon’tknow,doI?”Inarrowedmyeyes.YouneverknewwhatyouweregoingtogetwithCharlie.
“Honestly,Ithinkmybrotherwasacowardtokeepthecourseasecret.”Hepaused.“Andifitwereme,IwouldhavecalledyouassoonasIgottoKingston.”
“Thanks,”Isaid,myfacehot.
“Samhasitinhisheadthatyoubelongtohim.Notinacreepypossessiveway,butit’smorelikehehasthisbeliefthateverythingismeanttoworkoutbetweenyoutwointheend.AndIthinkthat’sprettymuchbullshit.”
Iblanched.“Youdon’tthinkit’smeanttoworkout?”Iwhispered.
“Idon’tthinkanythingismeanttobe,”hesaidflatly.“Healreadyscrewedthingsupwhenyougotthathockeyplayerboyfriend.Ihopehefightsharderthistime,”hesaid,startingtheengine.“Orsomeoneelsewill.”15
Now
Isneakouttothecartoreapplymymakeupandhaveafewminutesalone.It’sbadenoughhavinganattackinfrontofSamandCharlie,butJordieandFinnseeingmeonmyhandsandkneesisaspecialkindofhumiliation.I’mfrustratedwithmyselffornotrecognizingthesignsearlyenoughtofindaquietplacetofallapartinsteadofwhatIdid:jumptotheconclusionthatmyheartwasabouttopeaceoutonme,ampingmypanicuptoonethousand.
I’mdottingonanotherroundofconcealerwhenmyphonebuzzes.ThenameonthescreenisoneIcan’tignoreanylonger.
“Hello?”Ianswer.
“P!”criesChantal.“Areyouokay?I’vebeencallingyouallday.”
Iwince,rememberingthemessageIsentherthismorning.“Sorry.I,um,gotalittlecaughtuphere.I’m…”Itrailoff,becauseI’mnotsurewhatIam.
“PersephoneFraser,areyouseriousrightnow?”shescreeches.“Youcan’tsendmeatextthatsaysyouneedhelp,thatyouneedtotalkASAPandthennotansweryourphone.I’vebeengoingnutstryingtoreachyou.Ithoughtyouhadapanicattackandpassedoutinthewoodssomewhereandgoteatenbyabearorafoxorsomething.”
Ilaugh.“That’snotfarfromthetruth,actually.”Icanhearherrummagingaroundinthekitchenandthenaglassbeingfilled.Redwine,nodoubt.Shedrinksredwinewhenshe’sstressed.
“Donotlaugh,”shehuffs.Thenaddsmoresoftly,“Whatdoyoumeanthat’snotfarfromthetruth?Areyoulostinthewoodssomewhere?”
“No,ofcoursenot.I’minmycar.”Ihesitate.
“What’sgoingon,P?”Hervoicehasreturnedtoitsnaturalvelvetytexture
Ibitetheinsideofmycheek,thendecidetoripthebandageoff:“Ihadapanicattack.Alittlewhileagoatthewake.It’snotabigdeal.”
“Whatdoyoumeanit’snotabigdeal?”ChantaleruptssoloudlyIlowerthevolumeonmyphone.“Youhaven’thadapanicattackinyears,andnowyouseetheloveofyourlifeforthefirsttimeinadecadeathismom’sfuneral—awoman,whoifIrecallcorrectlyfromthehandfuloftimesyou’vetoldmeabouther,waskindoflikeasecondmomtoyou—andnowyou’rehavingpanicattacksatherwake,andit’snotabigdeal?Whataboutthisisn’tabigdeal?”
Isplutter.
“P,”shesaysatalowerdecibelbutwithnolessforce.“YouthinkIdon’tseeyou,butIdo.Iseehowyoukeepalmosteveryonearoundyouatadistance.Iseehowlittleyoucareaboutthepompousdouchebagsyoudate.Andeventhoughyou’veburiedyourshitwithSamundermorepilesofshit,Iknowthisisabigfuckingdeal.”
Thisstunsme.“IthoughtyoulikedSebastian,”Imurmur.
Sheletsoutalowlaugh.“Rememberwhenthefourofuswenttobrunch?Theserverhadbeenignoringus,andyouhadtousethebathroom?YoutoldSebastiantoorderforyouifshecameby?”
ItellherIrememberbeforeshecontinues.
“Heendeduporderingyouahugestackofchocolate-chippancakeswhileyouweregone.Youhatesweetsatbreakfast,andyoudidn’tsayathing.Youjustthankedhim.Youate,like,halfapancake,andhedidn’tevennotice.”
“Itwasjustbreakfast,”Isayquietly.
“Thereisnothingjustaboutfood,”Chantalreplies,andIcan’thelpbutlaugh.SueandChantalwouldhavegottenalong.Thenshesighsdeeply.“Mypointisthathedidn’treallyknowyou,evenmonthsandmonthsintotherelationship,andyoudidn’thelphimgettoknowyou.Ididn’tlikethat.”
Idon’tknowwhattosay.
“Justtellmewhat’sgoingon,”Chantalsaysafteramomentofsilence.Chantal,whofiguredoutmyentirerelationshipstrategywithonebrunchorder.SoIdo.Itellherallofit.
“Areyougoingtotellhim?”sheaskswhenI’vefinished.“Thewholetruth?”
“Idon’tknowifit’sworthit,bringingupthepastagain,justsoIdon’tfeelguiltyanymore,”Isay.
Chantalmakesahummingsoundthatmeansshedoesn’tagree.“Let’snotpretendthisisjustaboutmakingyourselffeelbetter.You’venevermovedon.”
BYTHETIMEIheadbackinside,mostoftheguestshavegonehome,DollyandShaniahavebeenshutoff,andSam,Charlie,theirgrandparents,andasmallgroupofaunts,uncles,andcousinsaresittingaroundarowofpushed-togethertableswithglassesofwineandbrandy.SamandCharlielooktired,butmostlytheyseemrelieved,notsobunchedupintheshoulders.IleavetheFlorekstoreminisce,findaspareredaproninthelinenclosetandaservingtraybehindthebar,andstartclearingthedirtyplatesandglasses,bringingthemtoJulien,who’shunchedoverthedishwasherinthekitchen.
We’vebeenworkingmostlyinsilenceforalmostanhourandfinishingupthelastofthecutlerywhenJuliensays,“Ialwayswonderedwhereyouwentto,”hiseyesstillonthesilverware.
“Ididn’treallygoanywhere.Ijustdidn’tcomeback,”Itellhim.“Myparentssoldthecottage.”Afewlongsecondsgoby.
“Ithinkwebothknowthat’snotwhyyoudisappeared,”hesays,andIpause.Idryoffthelastfork,andI’mabouttoaskJulienwhathemeans,whenhespeaks.“Weallthoughtyoushouldcome.”Heturnstome,hiseyesboringintomine.“Justdon’tvanishagain.”
“Whatdoyoumeanwe…”Istarttosay,whenthedoorswingsopenandSamstepsin,holdingahalf-dozendirtyglasses.Hestopswhenheseesusandthedoorswingsshut,bumpinghimintheshoulder.HeeyestheapronandtheteatowelI’mholding.
“Déjàvu,”hesayswithalazyhalfgrin.Heseemsalittleblurryaroundtheedges.He’sremovedhisjacketandloosenedhistie.Thetopbuttononhisshirtisundone.
“Stillgotit,”Isay,stickingmyhipoutandmotioningtotheapron,feelingJulien’seyesonme.“Youknowwheretocomeifyou’reshort-staffed.”
Julienscoffs.“She’sonlyalittlelessshitthanyouatdishes,”hetellsSamjustasCharliewalksinwithafewemptysnifters.
“Everyone’sclearedout.Thisshouldbethelastofit,”hesays,puttingtheglassesinarack.“Thankssomuchforcleaningup,bothofyou.Andforputtingthisalltogether,Julien.ItwasexactlywhatMomwanted.”HebrushesbymetogiveJulienahug,smellingofthebrandyandcigaretteshe’sbeenindulgingin.Samfollowssuit,thenpullsmeintoanembrace,whisperingathank-youinmyearthatfeelslikeawarmtowelwrappedarounddampshoulders.
“Youkidsgetoutofhere,”Juliensays.“I’llfinishandlockup.”
Charlielooksaroundatthespotlessstainlesssteelsurfaces.“Everythingseemsdonetome.Whydon’tweallheadoutandgobacktothehouse?Wecangrabapizzaontheway—Ididn’teatanything.”
Julienshakeshishead.“Thanks,butyougoahead,”hesays,addinginagruffvoice,“AndgetPercytodrive.Youtwojackassesareinnostate.”
WEPICKUPacoupleofPizzaPizzapizzasonthewaytotheFloreks’sincenoneofusateatthereception.I’mrelievedJulienaskedmetodrivetheboyshome.I’mnotreadytosaygoodbye.
IfeelcalmeraftertalkingtoChantal.Shedidn’tofferanyadvice—justlistenedtometalkaboutthelastfewdays,thentoldmenottofeelsobadaboutwhathappenedwithSaminthetruck,thatpeoplecopewithgriefdifferently
Andmaybethat’sallthismorningwasforSam,comfortinhisdarkesthour.Icouldbeokaywiththat,Itellmyself,ifthat’sallitis,ifthat’sallheneedsfromme.
“Thisisweird,”saysCharliefromthebackseatofthecar.“Youtwoupfrontandmeintheback.Itusedtobemedrivingyouaround.”
“Itusedtobeyoudrivingusnuts,”Samreplies,andoureyesmeet.He’ssmilingandnowI’msmiling,andforaseconditfeelslikethere’snoonebutus,andthatit’salwaysjustbeenus.AndthenIrememberCharlieinthebackseatandTaylorinwherevertheheckshe’sgone.
“Sotellusaboutthesepanicattacks,Pers.Youaheadcaseorwhat?”Charlieasks.
“Charlie.”Sam’svoiceishardasconcrete.
WhenIlookintherearviewmirrorandmeetCharlie’seyes,therearenosparklesofmischief,onlysoftconcern.
“Theyletmeoutjustforthefuneral,”Itellhim,andhelaughsbutthelinesbetweenhiseyebrowshavebecomecanyons.“Ihaveabitofananxietything,”Isay,lookingbackoutattheroad.Iwaitforthepressuretobuildupinmylungs,butitdoesn’t,soIkeepgoing.“Icanusuallymanageit.Youknow—therapist,breathingexercises,mantras—thebasicself-carepracticesofaprivilegedwhitegirl.Butsometimestheanxiousthoughtsgetabitoutofcontrol.”IfindCharlieinthemirroragainandsmilegently.“I’mokay,though.”
“That’sgood,Percy,”Samsays,andIglanceathimexpectingpitybutIdon’tfindit.I’msurprisedhoweasyitistotellthemboth.
Oncewegettothehouse,theychangeoutoftheirsuitsandweeachgrababeerfromthefridge,takingthepizzaouttothedeckandeatingitstraightfromtheboxwithsquaresofpapertowelinlieuofplates.Wescarfdownthefirstsliceswithouttalking.
“I’mgladallthat’sdonewith,”saysCharliewhenhecomesupforair.“Justtheashesnow.”
“Idon’tthinkI’mreadyforthat,”Samreplies,takingasipofhisbeerandgazingoutovertheshore,whereaboyandgirlareclimbingontotheFloreks’raft.
“Meneither,”Charliereplies.Squealsandsplashescarryupfromthelake.
“Thekidsfromnextdoor,”Samsays,noticingmelookingatthem.“Atyourcottage.”They’rebothdark-haired,theboyabittallerthanthegirl.
“Don’tyoudare!”sheshoutsjustbeforehepushesherofftheraft.Theybreakintoafitofgiggleswhensheclimbsbackon.
“Howmuchlongerwillyoubeherefor,Charlie?”Iask.
“Aboutaweek,”hesays.“Wehaveafewlooseendstotieup.”Iassumehe’sreferringtothehouseandtherestaurant,butIdon’task—theideaofthemsellingthisplaceisalmostasheartbreakingaslosingthecottage,butit’snoneofmybusiness.“Andwhataboutyou,Pers?Whenareyouheadingback?”
“Tomorrowmorning,”Isay,peelingthelabeloffthebeerbottle.Neitheroneofthemreplies,andthesilencefeelsdense.
“DidTaylorgobacktoKingstonafterthefuneral?”Iasktochangethesubject,andbecauseIcan’tshakethefeelingthatsheshouldbetheonesittinghererightnow.Sammurmursayes,butCharlie’sfrowning.“That’stoobad,”Isay,reachingforanotherslice.
“Areyoufuckingkiddingme,Sam?”Charliegrowls,andIjerkmyarmback,knockingahalf-fullbeerontomylap.
“Shit!”
“It’snoneofyourbusiness,Charlie,”SamsnapsasIstand,tryingtobrushtheliquidoffmydress.Butit’sasthoughthey’veforgottenI’mhere.
“Ican’tbelieveyou!”Charliebellows.“You’redoingthesamethingalloveragain.You’reagoddamncoward.”
Sam’snostrilsflarewitheachdeliberatebreathbeforehespeaks.“YouhavenoideawhatI’mdoing,”hesaysquietly.
“You’reright.Idon’t,”Charliereplies,pushingbackhischairsohardittipsover.
“Jesus,Charlie,”Samshouts.“SheknowsTaylorandIaren’ttogether.Notthatit’syourbusiness.”
“You’reright,it’snot,”Charliesnaps,hischestrisingandfallingwithheavybreaths,angerradiatingfromhim.
“Charlie?”Itakeastepforward.“Areyouokay?”
Helooksatmewithastunnedexpression,likehe’ssurprisedtofindmestandingthere.Hiseyessoften.
“Yeah,Pers.I’mfine.OrIwillbeafterIrollajointandtakealongwalk,”hesays,andheadstowardthehouse.“Gethersomedryclothes,”hetellsSamoverhisshoulder,andthenhe’sgone.
Istartgrabbingthedirtypapertowelsandemptybottleswithunsteadyhands,notlookingatSam.
“Here,”hesays,takingtheemptiesfrommeandbendingdowntomyeyelevel.Ifitwereanyoneelse,I’dsayhewasstrangelycalmforsomeonewhowasjusttoldoffbyhisbrother,butit’sclassicSam,andIcanseethescarletstreaksstaininghischeeks.
“Willhebeallright?”Iask.
“Yeah,”hesighsandlookstowardtheslidingdoorthatCharliedisappearedthrough.“Hedoesn’tthinkI’vechangedmuchsincewewerekids.He’swrongaboutthat.”Helooksatmecarefully,slowly,andIknowhe’sdecidingwhetherheshouldsaymore.“Butyoudoneedsomethingdrytoputon.”
“Ican’twearherclothes,Sam,”Itellhim,myvoiceaswobblyasmyhands
“Agreed,”hesays,gesturingtowardthehousewithhishead.“Youcanwearsomethingofmine.”
Insomeways,thiswholetriphasbeenatimewarp,butI’mstillnotreadyforthewaveofnostalgiathatbashesagainstmewhenIfollowSamintohisoldbedroom.Thedarkbluewalls.Theanatomicalheartposter.Thedesk.Thetwinbedthatseemssomuchsmallerthanitoncedid
HehandsmeapairofsweatpantsandaT-shirt.“I’llletyouchange,”hesaysandstepsoutside,closingthedoorbehindhim.
Sam’sclothesareaboutsixsizestoobig.Ifoldupthesleevesoftheshirtandtieitinaknotatthewaist,butthere’snotmuchIcandoaboutthepants,excepttotightenthedrawstringandrollupthelegs.
“You’regoingtolaughwhenyouseeme,”Icallasmyeyescatchonayellow-and-redboxonthetopofthebookshelf.It’snolongerstandinguprightondisplay,butit’stherenonetheless.I’mreachingforitwhenSamwalksbackintotheroom.
“Ican’tbelieveyoustillhavethis,”Isay,holdingtheOperationboxouttohim.
“Youknow,thatdresswashot,butthisisamuchbetterlookonyou.”Hesmirksandmotionstothepants.“Especiallythesaggycrotch.”
“Leavemycrotchalone,”Itellhim.Oneofhiseyebrowsquirksupinresponse.“Shutup,”Imumble.Hetakestheboxfrommeandputsitbackontheshelf.
“Unlessyouwanttoplay?”heasks,andIshakemyhead.
“Whatelsedoyoustillhave?”Iwonderaloud,leaningclosertotheshelves
“Prettymucheverything,”Samsaysfrombesideme.“Momdidn’tpackupmystuff,andIhaven’ttoucheditsinceI’vebeenback.”
IsquatdowninfrontoftheTolkiennovelsandsitcross-leggedonthecarpet
“Ineverfinishedthis.”ItapTheHobbitandlookupathim.He’swatchingmewithatightexpression.
“Iremember,”hesaysquietly.“Toomuchsinging.”
Hekneelsbesideme,hisshouldertouchingmine,andInervouslyadjustmyhairsoitfallsovermyface,puttingabarrierbetweenus.Irunmyfingersoverthethickmedicaltomes.Istopontheanatomytextbook,rememberingwhathappenedinthisroomwhenwewereseventeen.
Thethoughtentersmyheadunbiddenandleavesmymouthatthesametime:“Thatwasthehottestthingthat’severhappenedtome.”Andthen:“Shit.”Ikeepmysightclampedtotheshelf,wantingtodieinanavalancheofout-of-datesciencebooks.Samletsoutabreaththatsoundsalittlelikealaugh,andthenmovesmyhairbehindmyshoulder
“I’vepickeduponeortwomovessincethen,”hesays,hisvoicelowandcloseenoughthatIcanfeelthewordsonmycheek.Iputmyhandsonmythighs,wherethey’resafe.
“I’msure,”Isaytothebooks.
“Percy,canyoulookatme?”IclosemyeyesbrieflybutthenIdo,andIimmediatelywishIhadn’tbecausehisgazedropstomymouth,andwhenitreturnstomyeyes,hisaredarkandwanting
“I’msorryaboutthismorning,”Iblurt.“Itshouldneverhavehappened.”Ifidgetwiththedrawstringonthepants.
“Percy,”hesaysagain,framingmyfacewithhishandssoIcan’tlookawayfromhim.“I’mnotsorry.”
“Whatdidyoumeanwhenyousaidyou’vechangedsincewewereyoung?”Iask,partiallybecauseIwanttoknowbutalsobecauseI’mstallingfortime.Hetakesadeepbreathandrunshishandsdownthesidesofmyfacetograspmyneck,histhumbstracingthecurveofmyjaw.
“Idon’ttakethingsforgrantedanymore.Idon’ttakepeopleforgranted.AndIknowtimeisnotinfinite.”Hesmilessoftly,sadlymaybe.“IthinkCharliealwaysunderstoodthat.MaybebecausehewasolderwhenDaddied.HethoughtIwaswastingtimewithTaylor.ButIthinkit’smorelikeI’vebeenfollowingthepathofleastresistance.”
“Isn’tthatagoodthing?”Iask.“Tohaveaslittlefrictionaspossibleinarelationship?”
Hisanswerisquickandsure.“No.”
“Whydidyoubreakupwithher?”
“Youknowwhy.”
Insteadofrelief,I’mstickywithpanic.Icanfeelmyheartpickingupitspace.Itrytoshakemyheadinhishands,butheholdsitfirmlyandthenslowlybringshisfacedowntomine,pressinghismouthsogentlytomineit’sbarelyakiss,barelyawhisper.Hepullsbackslightly.
“Youdrivemecrazy,youknowthat?Youalwayshave.”HekissesmeagainwithsomuchcareIcanfeelmyheartrelaxalittle,likeitthinksit’ssafe,andmylungsmustagreebecauseIletgoofasigh.“AndIneverlaughedwithanyonelikeIlaughedwithyou.I’veneverbeenfriendswithanyonelikeIwaswithyou.”Hetakesmyhandsandputsthemaroundhisneck,pullingmeupsowe’rebothkneeling.Iwanttotellhimweneedtotalkbeforeweheaddownthispath,buthehugsmetighttohischest,andmybonesandmusclesandallthebitsholdingthemtogetherliquefysothatImeltintohim.
Hereleasesmeenoughtobrushthehairbackfrommyearandwhisperintoit,“I’vetriedtoforgetaboutyouformorethantenyears,butIdon’twanttotryanymore.”Idon’thavetimetoreplybecausehislipsareonmineandhishandsareinmyhair,andhetasteslikepizzaandmovienightsandrestingonthesandafteralongswim.Hesucksonmybottomlip,andwhenImoan,Ifeelhimsmileagainstmylips.
“IthinkIdriveyoucrazy,too,”hesaysagainstmymouth.Iwanttoclimbhim,andconsumehim,andbeconsumedbyhim.Islipmyhandsunderhisshirtandoverthetwoindentationsonhislowerback,bringinghimharderagainstme.Ifeelhisgroanratherthanhearit,andhepullsoffhisshirt,thenmine,throwingthembothonthefloorwhile
“Notbad,Dr.Florek,”Ibreathe.ButwhenIpeerbackupathim,theslantofhisgrinandsky-blueofhiseyesaresofamiliar,somuchlikehome,thatIknowIhavetotellhim,evenifitmeanslosinghimagain.Idropmyhandstomysides.
“What’swrong?”Hiseyesflitacrossmyface.
“Weneedtotalk,”Isay,thenlookattheceiling,butnotbeforetwofattearsrolldownmycheeks.Ibrushthemaway.
“Youdon’thavetotellmeanything,”hesays,takingmyhand.ButIshakemyhead.
“Ihaveto.”Isqueezehisfingerstight.“Twelveyearsago,youaskedmetomarryyou,”Iwhisper.Breathe.
“Iremember,”hesayswithasadsmile.
“AndIpushedyouaway.”
“Yeah,”herasps.“Irememberthat,too.”
“IneedyoutoknowwhyIsaidno,whenIlovedyousomuch,whenallIwantedwastosayyes.”
Samwrapshisarmsaroundmeanddrawsmetohim,hiswarmchestagainstmine.“Iwantedyoutosayyes,too.”Hepresseshislipstomyshoulderandleavesakissbehind.
“IoverheardyoutalkingwithJordieandFinnearliertoday,”Isayintohisskin,andIcanfeelhisbodytense.Ilookupathim.“Itsoundedlikeyouweretalkingaboutus.”
“Wewere.”
“Whatdidtheymeanwhentheysaidyouweremessedupafterwhathappened?”
“Percy,doyoureallywanttotalkaboutthisnow?BecausethereareotherthingsI’dratherbedoing.”Hekissesmesoftly.
“Iwanttoknow.Ineedtoknow.”
Hesighs,andhisbrowsknittogether.“Iwentthroughatoughtimeafter,that’sall.Theguysknew.Jordiewenttouniversitywithme,remember?Hesawitallfirsthand—lotsofpartying,drinking,thatsortofthing.They’rejustoverprotective.”
Thisdoesn’tsoundlikethefulltruth,andSammustseemysuspicion.
“It’sinthepast,Percy,”hesays.AndeventhoughIknowit’snot,atleastnotforme,whenhepullsmyhairoffmyneckandsetsakissjustabovemycollarbone,Itiltmychinbackandputmyhandinhishair,holdinghimagainstme.
“Sam,stop,”Imanagetosayafterseveralseconds,andhedoes,leaninghisforeheadagainstmine.
“I’mnotgoodenoughforyou,”Itellhim.“Idon’tdeserveyou.Oryourfriendship.Andespeciallynotanythingmorethanfriendship.”I’mabouttogoon,butheputstwofingersovermymouthandlooksatmewithwideeyes.
“Don’tdothis,Percy.Don’tshutmeoutagain,”hepleads.“Iwantthis.”He’sbreathingrapidly,hisforeheadcreasedinquestion.“Don’tyouwantthis,too?”
“Morethananything,”Itellhim,andonecornerofhismouthticksup.Hebringsmyhandsuptohislipsandkisseseach,nottakinghiseyesoffmine.
“Thenletmehaveyou,”hesays.AndIdon’tknowifhemeansrightnoworforgood,butassoonastheyesleavesmymouth,he’skissingme.
THEKISSISfierceandclumsy,andwhenourteethknocktogether,webothlaugh.
“Fuck,Percy.Iwantyousomuch,”hesays,bitingatmybottomlip.Thesharpnesssendsashudderthroughme,andhemoveshismouthdown,nippingatmycollarbonealongtheway.
“Iusedtolieawakeatnightthinkingaboutthesefreckles,”hemurmurs,kissingtheconstellationofbrowndotsonmychest.Idon’tnoticehimunhookingmybra,butwhenhepushesthestrapsoffmyshoulders,thewholethingfallsaway.Hebringshishandstomybreasts,movingthenipplesbetweenhisthumbsandfingers,andwhentheytightenathistouch,heleansdown,circlinghistonguearoundone,thensuckingitintohismouth,andpinchinghardontheother.Myhandsflytohisshoulderstosteadymyself.Whenhisnamemovesacrossmylips,hekissesmewetlybeforemovinghismouthbackdowntomybreasts.
Ireachfortheflyofhisjeansandfumblewiththebutton,distractedbywhathistongueandhisteetharedoingandtheneedypulsesbetweenmylegs.Iconquerthebutton,thenthezipper,andworkthejeanspasthiships.Ifeelhishardnessthroughhisbriefsandheinhalessharply.Thesoundsetsoffsomethingwithinme—anoldneedtopushSam,tomakehimcomeundone,tomakehimmakemorenoisesliketheonehejustmade.It’sfireworksoflustandlongingandhumidsummernights.Irunmynailsuphisbackandthenbringhisfacetomine.
“Justsowe’reclear,”Itellhim,unblinking,“Iwantthis.Iwantyou.Youcanhaveme,butIwanttohaveyou,too.”WhenIkisshim,it’switheverylastdropofeverybitofmyselfthatIhave.Imovemyhanddownhischest,hisstomach,slippingitinsidethewaistbandofhisunderwear,wrappingmyhandaroundhim,movingitoverhislength.Helooksdownandwatchesforasecond,thenbacktomewithasmile,pullingmyhandawayandleaningmebackonthecarpet.
“Rememberthefirsttimeyoudidthat?”heasks,smilingdownatmeandtakinghisjeansoff.
“Iwassonervous,”Isay.“IthoughtIwasgoingtohurtyou.”Hecurlshisfingersoverthetopofthesweatpantsandpullsthemdownmylegs,leavingthemaroundmyankles.
“Yougotthehangofit,”hesays,kneelingbetweenmylegs.“Wehadquiteabitofpractice,”hesays,lookingupatmewithaslantedgrin.
“Wedid,”Isay,smilingback.
“Butyoudidn’tletmepracticethis.”Hebendsandkissesmeovermyunderwear.
“Iwastooself-conscious,”Ibreathe
“Andwhataboutnow?”heasks,movingmyunderweartotheside.Mylegstwitch.“Areyoustilltooself-conscious?”
“No,”Igasp,andhesmilesupatme,buthiseyesarestormywithhunger.
“Good.”Hehookshisfingersaroundtheedgeofmypantiesandpullsthemdownaroundmyankles,thenpinsmywristsbymyhipssoIcan’tmovemyarms.“BecauseIhavealotoftimetomakeupfor.”Heburieshistongueinsideme,thenbringsitupovermyclit,flickingandswirlingandsucking,tellingmehowmanytimeshe’sthoughtofthis,howgoodItaste.Icryout,andhesucksharder.Itrytospreadmylegs,butmyanklesarerestrainedbythefabricaroundthem.
“Youlikethat?”heaskssoftly,andIliftmyhipsclosertohismouthinresponse.Heletsgoofmywrists,getsridoftheclothesaroundmyankles,andgrabsthefleshofmyass,holdingmeuptohismouth,whilemyfingersgrabathishair.Hemoveshistongueinsidemeagain,hismoanvibratingthroughme,hisfingerstracinglightlywhereIneedthem.Isqueezemythighsaroundhim,andhebitesmyinnerthighwhilehereachesuptomynipple,squeezingandpinching.Hismouthfollows,histonguehotonmybreast,whilehisfingersworktheswollenfleshbetweenmylegs.Iwhisperhisnameoverandover,andhepresseshisfingerinsideme.Mybodyishotanddampwithsweat,andIaskformore.Helooksupatme,hiseyesburningasheaddsanotherfingerandanother,untilI’mfullofhim.Mylegsstartshakingandhemovesdownmybody,suckingonme,hardandlong,andthenhegrazeshisteethagainstme,andIscreamandfallintotinylittlejaggedpieces.
Hekisseshiswaybackupmylimpbody,andIwrapmyarmsandlegsaroundhim
“Justthinkofallthetimeyouwastedbeingself-conscious,”hesayswithagrin.
“Shutup.”Isqueezehimwithmylegsandhelaughsandkissesmemore,brushingmybangsoffmydampforehead.
“ToldyouIhadafewnewmoves,”hesays,kissingmeagain.
“I’mworriedaboutyourego,”Isay,agoofysmileonmyface.Henipsatmyshoulder,thenmyear,andthenSamisaboveme.Pressingagainstme.Lookingdownatme.I’mnotsureI’vebeenthishappyinmorethanadecade,soIpushasidethenaggingvoiceinthebackofmyhead,eventhoughIknowIcan’tignoreitmuchlonger.Ifeelfranticforhim.We’veneverhadsex,andIwanttoerasealltheothers,sothatit’sonlyeverbeenhim.
Ibringmyfacetohisandkisshimslowly,rollingmyhipsagainsthim.Iworkhisunderweardownandfeelhimhotandhardagainstmyhip.Hereachesupbehindmyheadandpullsacondomfromhisnightstanddrawer,rollingitoverhislength,andwithhisforearmsbesidemyhead,heliesbackoverme,holdingmyeyeswithhis.
“Arewereallydoingthis?”Iwhisper.HepushesintomeandIinhalesharply.Heholdsstill,andwelookateachotherforseveralseconds.
“Yeah,weare,”hesays,andpullsoutalmostalltheway,andthenthrustsinagain,andwebothgroan.Icapturehiswaistwithmylegsandraisemyhipstomeethim,followingtheunhurriedrhythmhesets,myhandsonhisshoulders,hisback,hisridiculouslyfirmass,andhiseyesneverleavemine.Hehikesmykneeup,pushinghimselfdeeperinsidemeandmovinghishipsininfuriatinglyslowcirclesthatinchmetowardreleasebutdon’ttakemethere.Igrowlinfrustrationandpleasureandaskhimtopleasekeepgoing,topleasenotstop,topleasegofaster.I’mverypolite,butheonlygrinsandpullsonmylipwithhisteeth.
“I’vewaitedalongtimeforthis.I’mnotinahurry,”hesays.
Andhe’snotinahurry,notatfirst,notuntilhisbackisslickandhismusclesaretautandhe’sshakingfromrestraint.HeholdsbackuntilIgrowimpatientandneedyandbiteonhisneckandwhisper,“I’vewaitedalongtimeforthis,too.”
After,welieonthefloorfacingeachother,theearlyeveningsunglowinggoldenoverus.Sam’seyesareheavy,atiredsmileonhislips.He’srunninghisfingersupanddownmyarm.IknowIhavetotellhim.Thewordsruninaloopinmymind.Ijusthavetosaythemoutloud.
“Iloveyou,”hewhispers.“Idon’tthinkIeverstopped.”
ButIbarelyhearwhathesays,becauseatthesametime,thewordsIshouldhavesaidtwelveyearsagobubbleupmythroatandoutofmymouth.16
Summer,TwelveYearsAgo
BythetimeIfinallyheardfromSam,itwastwoweeksafterhe’dleftforschool,andIwasfurious.HewasapologeticandfullofhowareyousandIloveyousandImissyous,buthewasalsooff.Heevadedmyquestionsabouttheworkshop,hisdorm,andtheotherstudents,orgaveone-wordanswers.Fiveminutesintothecall,aknocksoundedinthebackgroundandagirl’svoiceaskedifhewouldbereadytoleavesoon.
“Whowasthat?”Iasked,thewordstight.
“ThatwasjustJo.”
“AgirlJo?”
“Yeah.She’sintheworkshop,”heexplained.“Mostofusareonthesamefloor.We’rehavingapotluck,and,well,Ishouldgo.”
“Oh.”Icouldhearthebloodrushingthroughmyears,hotandangry.“Wehaven’tevendonethreeupdates.”
“Listen,I’llemailyoulater.Ifinallygotmyinternetworkingthisweek.”
“Yougotyouremailworkingthisweek?Like,earlierthisweek?”
“Acoupledaysago,yeah.”
“Oh.”
“Ididn’twritebecausetherereallywasn’tmuchtosay.ButIwill,okay?”
Truetohisword,Samdidemail,dashingoffquick,unsatisfyingnotes,promisingfullerupdatesinthefuture.Heevensentacoupleoftexts.IrelayedeverythingtoDelilah—whopromisedtokeepaneyeonhimwhenshegotthereandreportbackonany“skanky-asslosers”shesawhimwith—andtoCharlie,wholistenedbutdidn’toffermuchfeedback.
“Youneedtostartswimmingagain,”CharliesaidaswepulleduptotherestaurantonedrizzlyeveningafterItoldhimaboutSam’slatestmessage.Hewouldbeswitchingtoatwo-persondormroomsoJordieandhecouldbunktogetherinSeptember.“LikeyoudidwithSam,”Charliecontinuedwithoutalookinmydirection.“Getoutofthatheadofyours.We’llstarttomorrow.Ifyou’renotatthedockbyeight,I’llcomedragyouthere.”Hehoppedoutofthetruck,notwaitingforaresponse,andswungopenthebackdoortothekitchen,whileIwatchedhimwithmymouthopen.
Thenextmorning,hewaswaitingformeonthedock,insweatsandaT-shirt,amugofcoffeeinhand.I’drarelyseenCharlieawakesoearlyinthemorning.
“Ididn’tknowyourspeciescouldfunctionbeforenoon,”IsaidasIwalkeduptohim,noticingthepillowcreasesonhisfaceasIgotcloser.
“Onlyforyou,Pers,”hesaid,anditsortofsoundedlikehemeantit.Iwasabouttosaythankyou—becauseasmuchasswimmingwasathingSamandIdidtogether,itwasalsomything,andIhadmissedit—butCharlienoddedhisheadtothewater,hismessageobvious.Getin.
Wemeteverymorning.Charlierarelyjoinedmeinthewater,andsatwatchingattheedgeofthedock,sippingfromhissteamingmug.Iquicklylearnedthathewasbasicallynonfunctionaluntilhe’dgottenhalfwaythroughhisfirstcupofcoffee,butonceitwasdrained,hiseyeswouldsparkup,freshasspringgrass.Onthehottestmornings,he’d
Afteraweekofmorningsatthewater,CharliedecidedthatIwasgoingtoswimacrossthelakeagainbeforetheendofsummer.“Youneedagoal.AndIwanttoseeyoudoitupclose,”he’dsaidwhenwewereheadinguptothehousefromthelake.IthoughtbacktothesummerCharliesuggestedthatItakeupswimmingandofferedtohelpmetrain,andagreedwithoutargument.
Sometimeswe’dhavecoffeeandbreakfastwithSueaftertheswim.Atfirstsheseemeduncomfortablewithourfriendship,lookingbetweenuswithaslightfrown.I’dmentionedittoCharlieonce,buthe’dbrushedmeoff.“She’sjustworriedyou’regoingtofigureoutwhothebetterbrotheris,”hesaid,andI’drolledmyeyes.ButIwondered.
OnethingCharliewasrightabout:IdidgetoutofmyheadwhenIswam,butthevacationonlylastedaslongasIwasinthewater,focusingonmybreath,movingforward.Andbymid-August,Ihadpickedupwhatsomemaydescribeascrazy-girlfriendbehavior,callingSamfromthecottagelandlinewhenIgothomefromshifts,nomatterhowlateanddespitemyparents’limitinglong-distancecallstotwiceaweek.Iwouldhaveusedmyowncellifthereceptionatthelakehadn’tbeensoshoddy.IknewSamwaswakingupextraearlytosqueezeinarunbeforehehadtobeinthelabateight,butIalsoknewhewouldbeathomealone,inbed,andcouldn’tavoidme.
Butthecallsdidn’tmakemefeelanybetter.Samwasoftendistracted,askingmetorepeatquestions,andofferedsolittleinformationabouttheworkshop,seemedtonotevenbeenjoyingit,thatIbecamebitternotjustabouthiskeepingitasecretfrommeinthefirstplacebutthathe’devengoneatall.
“Yougaveupoursummertogetherforthis.Youcouldatleastpretendtobegettingsomethingoutofit,”I’dsnappedathimonenightwhenhewasparticularlymonosyllabic.
“Percy,”he’dsighed.Hesoundedexhausted,worndownbymeortheprogramorboth.
“I’mnotaskingformuch,”Itoldhim.“Justamodicumofenthusiasm.”
“Amodicum?Areyousleepingwithyourthesaurusagain?”Itwashisattemptatlighteningthemood,butitdidn’timprovemine.AndsoI’daskedthequestionthathadbeengnawingatmefromthemomenthetoldmehe’dbeleavingforschoolearly.
“Didyouapplytothisthingsoyoucouldgetawayfromme?”
Theotherendofthelinewassilent,butIcouldhearmyheartpumpinginmyears,mytemplesthrobbingwithitsangrysupplyofblood.
“Ofcoursenot,”herepliedeventually,quietly.“Isthatwhatyoureallythink?”
“Youbarelysayanythingwhenwetalk,andyouseemtohateitthere.Plus,thewholeSurprise,I’mleavinginthreeweeks!thingdoesn’texactlyinstillconfidenceinourrelationship.”
“Whenareyougoingtogetoverthat?”HesaiditwithaharshnessI’dneverheardfromhimbefore.
“Probablyaslongasyouspentkeepingitasecretfromme,”Ishotback.
IcouldhearSamtakeadeepbreath.“Ididn’tcomeheretoleaveyou,”hesaid,calmernow.“Icametostartbuildingsomethingformyself.Afuture.I’mjustadjusting.It’sallnew.”
Wedidn’tstayonthephonemuchlongerafterthat.Itwaspastmidnight.Ilayawakemostofthenight,worriedthatwhatSamwasbuildingforhimselfwouldn’thaveroomformeinit.
IGREWIRRITABLEwitheveryonearoundme.IwasshortwithSamonthephoneandsometimesIavoidedreplyingtoDelilah’stexts,annoyedwithherexcitementaboutgoingawaytoschool.ItseemedunfairthatsheandSamwouldbesharingthesamecampus.Myparentsdidn’tseemtonoticemysulking.Ioftenwalkedintothecottagetofindthemspeakinginhushedtonesoverstacksofpaperwork.
“We’renotgoingtobeabletomakeitallwork,”IheardDadsaytoMomononeoftheseoccasions,butIwastoowrappedupinmyownteenangsttoconcernmyselfwiththeirgrown-upproblems
TheonlyintermissionsfrommyanxietywerethemorningswithCharlieinthewater.Ihadn’tbotheredtellingmyparentsthatIwasgoingtoswimacrossthelakeagain.MomandDadhadgonebacktothecityearly—somethinginvolvingthehouse,Ihadn’tpaidmuchattention—andwouldn’tbehereforthelasttendaysofsummer.Onthedayoftheswim,ImetCharlieonthedocklikeanyothermorning,gavehimanod,dovein,andtookoff.Ididn’tevenwaitforhimtogetintheboat,butsoonenoughIcouldseetheoarhittingthewaterbesideme.
Thatlong,steadyswimacrossthelakewasareprievefromeverythingthathadbeennaggingatme,andwhenI’dmadeittothebeach,mylimbsburnedinawaythatfeltpleasant,thatfeltalive
“Thoughtyou’dforgottenhowtodothat,”Charliecalledovertomeashepulledtheboatupontotheshorenexttome.Hewaswearingabathingsuitandasweat-soakedT-shirt.
“Swim?”Iasked,confused.“We’vebeentrainingeverydayforalmostamonth.”
Charliesatdownbesideme.“Smile,”hesaid,nudgingmewithhisshoulder.
Ireachedupandfeltmycheek.“Itfeltgood,”Isaid.“Tomove…Toescape.”
Henodded.“Whodoesn’tneedtoescapefromSameverynowandthen?”Hewiggledhiseyebrowsasiftosay,AmIright?OramIright?
“You’realwayssohardonhim,”Isaid,stillgrinningintothesunandcatchingmybreath.Iwasalmostgiddyfromtheendorphinrush.Iwasn’tlookingforaresponse,andhedidn’tgivemeone.Instead,Iasked,“Sodiditmeetyourexpectations?”
Hetiltedhishead.
“Yousaidyouwantedtowatchtheswimupclose.Wasiteverythingyoudreamedof?”
“Absolutely.”Hethrewinadimpledsmileforemphasis.“Althoughinmydreamsyouwerewearingthatlittleyellowbikiniyouusedtostrutaroundin.”ItwasthekindofclassicCharlielinethatI’donceshruggedoff,buttodayithitmelikejetfuel.Iwantedtobaskinit.Iwantedtoplay.
“Ididn’tstrut!”Icried.“Ihaveneverstruttedinmylife.”
“Oh,youstrutted,”Charliesaidwithaperfectlystraightexpression.
“You’reonetotalk.Iamfairlycertainyourphotoisundertheword‘flirt’inthedictionary.”
Helaughed.“Adictionarydefinitionjoke?Youcandobetterthanthat,Pers.”
“Agreed,”Isaid,laughingnow,too.“Didyouknowyouweremyfirstkiss?”Thequestiontumbledoutofme—notintendedtocarryanyweight,butCharlie’sdimplesdisappeared.
“Truthordare?”heasked.I’dsometimeswonderedifhe’dforgotten.Heclearlyhadn’t.
“Truthordare.”
“Huh,”hesaid,lookingoutatthewater.Idon’tknowwhatreactionIwasexpecting,butitwasn’tthat.Hestoodupsuddenly.“Well,I’mhotasballs.I’mgoingforadip.”
“Figurestheonetimeyoudecidetowearashirtistheonlytimeyoureallyshouldn’thave,”Iquippedashestoodupandyankeditoverhishead.IusuallytriedtokeepmyfocussquarelyonCharlie’sfacewhenhewasshirtless.Itwastoomuch—theexpanseofskinandmuscle—buthereitallwas,deeplytannedandcoatedinsweat.HecaughtmestaringbeforeIcouldscrapemyeyesaway,andflexedhisbicep.
“Show-off,”Imuttered.
Ilaybackinthesand,eyesclosedtothesunwhileCharlieswam.I’dalmostdozedoffwhenhesatbesidemeagain.
“Youstillwriting?”heasked.Wehadn’treallytalkedaboutwritingbefore
“Umm…notmuch,”Isaid.Ihadn’tfeltparticularlycreativethissummer.Notatall,wasthetruth.
“They’regood,yourstories.”
Isatupatthis.“Youreadthem?When?”
“Ireadthem.IwaslookingforsomethinginSam’sdesktheotherdayandfoundastackofthem.Readthemall.They’regood.You’regood.”
Iwaslookingoverathim,buthewasstaringoutoverthewater.
“You’reserious?Youlikedthem?”SamandDelilahwerealwayssoeffusive,buttheyhadtolikethem.Charliewasn’tinthehabitofdolingoutcomplimentsthatdidn’tinvolvebodyparts.
“Yeah.They’reabitweird,butthat’sthepoint,right?They’redifferent,inagoodway.”Helookedoveratme.Hiseyeswereapaleceleryinthesun,brightagainsthisbrownedskin.Buttherewasnohintofteasinginthem.“Mighthelpwiththeescaping,towritesomethingnew,”hesaid.
Ihummedanoncommittalsoundinresponse,suddenlyfullyawareofallthewaysCharliehadbeentryingtohelpmegetoutofmyfunkthissummer.EventhoughIhadbeenatroll.Andifithadn’tbeenobvioustomethen,itwouldhavebeenlaterthatevening.
WehadpulleduptothebackoftheTavern,mylegstoowobblyforthewalkfromthetowndocktotherestaurant,andCharlieturnedofftheengineandturnedtofaceme.“SoI’vegotanidea,andIthinkitmightcheeryouupabit.”Hegavemeahesitantsmile.
“Ialreadytoldyouthree-waysareahardlimitforme,”Itoldhimwithastraightface,andhechuckled.
“Wheneveryougetsickofmybrother,letmeknow,Pers,”hesaid,stilllaughing.Iwentstill.I’dneverspentsomuchtimewithCharlie.Andthethingwas,Ienjoyedit.Alot.SomeofthetimeIevenforgothowmadIwasatSamandhowmuchImissedhim.Charliedidn’thaveagirlhangingoffhimthatsummer,andhewasasurprisinglygoodlistener.Hebulldozedovermybadmoods,eitherignoringthemcompletelyorcallingmeout.“Beingabitchdoesn’tsuityou,”hetoldmethelasttimeIsnappedathimafterreceivinganotherpainfullyshortemailfromSam.Nowtheairinthetruckwasasthickascaramelsauce.
“Thedrive-in,”Charlieblurted,blinking.“That’stheidea.They’replayingoneofthosecheesyoldhorrormoviesyoulike,andIthoughtitmightbeagooddistraction.Yourparentsareinthecitythisweek,right?Ifiguredyoumightbeabitlonely.”
“Ididn’tknowtherewasadrive-ininBarry’sBay,”Isaid.
“There’snot.It’saboutanhourfromhere.Usedtogoallthetimeinhighschool.”Hepaused.“Sowhatdoyouthink?It’splayingSunday,andwe’renotworking.”ItfeltdangerousinawayIcouldn’tquiteputmyfingeron.HorrormoviesweremineandSam’sthing,butSamwasn’there.AndIwas.AndsowasCharlie.
“I’min,”Isaid,hoppingoutofthetruck.“It’sexactlywhatIneed.”
IGOTSAM’SemailonSaturday.Ihadtrudgedupfromthelakeafterahecticshift,myskinstillstickydespitethecoolwindontheboattriphome.Practicallyeveryorderwasforpierogies,andwe’drunouthalfwaythroughthenight.Julienhadbeenfoul,andthetouristsweren’ttoohappyaboutit,either.
Thecottagewascompletelyempty.IshoweredandfixedmyselfaplateofcheeseandcrackerswhileIbootedupmylaptoptocheckmyemail.Thiswasmyusualpost-work,pre-call-with-Samritual.Whatwasunusualwastheunreadmessagefromhimwaitinginmyinbox,sentacoupleofhoursearlier.Subjectline:I’vebeenthinking.Sam’semailsusuallycameinthemorning,beforehisseminar,orintheafternoon,rightafterward.One-ortwo-sentenceupdates,andtheyneverhadsubjectlines.MylimbswentnumbwithdreadasIopeneditandsawtheparagraphsoftext.
Percy,
Thelastsixweekshavebeenhard.HarderthanIthought.I’mstillnotusedtothisroomorthebed.Theschoolishuge.Andthepeoplearesmart.Thekindofsmartthatmakesmerealizehowgrowingupinasmalltowngavemeafalsesenseofmyownintelligence.Ilookaroundduringalectureoralabandeveryoneseemstobenoddingalongandfollowinginstructionswithoutneedforclarification.Ifeelsobehind.HowdidIevengetacceptedintothisworkshopinthefirstplace?Isthiswhatallofschoolwillbelike?
IknowIspentourlastbitoftimetogetherstudying,butitwasn’tenough.Ishouldhaveworkedharder.IneedtoworkhardernowifIwanttosucceedhere.
AndImissyousomuch.Ican’tconcentratesometimesbecauseI’mthinkingaboutyouandwhatyoumightbedoing.Whenwetalk,Icanhearyourdisappointmentinme—fornottellingyouabouttheworkshopandforhowunhappyIseemhere.Idon’twantitalltohavebeenawaste.Iwillworkharder.Iwillsucceedhere.Ihaveto
Andthat’swhyIthinkweneedtoestablishsomeboundaries.Ilovehearingyourvoiceontheotherendofthephone,butIhangupandfeelnothingbutloneliness.Soonyou’llbestartingschooltoo,andyou’llseewhatImean.Weoweittoourselvesandeachothertoimmerseourselves—youinyourwritingandmeinthelab.
WhatI’mproposingisabreakfromconstantcommunication.Rightnow,I’mthinkingaphonecalleveryweek.Wecanmakeitthesametime—likeadate.Otherwise,you’llbeallIthinkabout.Otherwise,Iwon’tbeabletodothisthingthatI’vewantedforsolong,Iwon’tbethepersonIwanttobe.Foryou,butalsoforme.Justalittlespace—tobuildabigfuture.
Whatdoyouthink?Let’stalkaboutittomorrow—IwasthinkingSundaycouldbeourday.
Sam
Ireadthewholethingthreetimes,mycheekswetwithtears,awadofcrackerslodgedinmythroat.Samwantedspace.Fromus.Fromme.Becausetalkingtomemadehimfeellonely.Iwasadistraction.Iwasholdinghimbackfromhisfuture.
SamwaskiddinghimselfifhethoughtI’dwaittilltomorrowtotalkaboutthis.Tofightaboutthis.Thiswasnothowyoutreatedyourbestfriend,anditwasabsolutelynothowyoutreatedyourgirlfriend.
Hisphonerangthree,four,fivetimesuntilhepickedup.Exceptitwasn’tSamwhoyelledhellooverthemusicandlaughterinthebackground.Itwasagirl.
“Whoisthis?”Iasked.
“ThisisJo.Whoisthis?”WasthiswhySamdidn’twantmecalling?Hewantedtohaveothergirlsover?
“IsSamthere?”
“Sam’sbusyatthemoment.We’recheeringhimup.CanItakeamessage?”Herwordssloppedtogether.
“No.ThisisPercy.Puthimon.”
“Percy.”Shegiggled.“We’veheardso…”Suddenlyshewasgone,themusicwentquiet,andtherewasmuffledlaughterbeforeadoorclosed.ThensilenceuntilSamspoke.
“Percy?”Fromtheoneword,IcouldtellSamwasdrunk.Somuchforneedingspacetoworkharder.
“Sowasthiswholeemailbullshit?Youjustwantmoretimetogetdrunkwithothergirls?”Iwasyelling.
“No,no,no.Percy,look,I’mreallywasted.Jobroughtoverraspberryvodka.Let’stalk.Tomorrowokay?Rightnow,IthinkI’mgonna…”Thelinewentdead,andIcurleduponthecouchandcriedtillIpassedout.
CHARLIEPICKEDMEupabitbeforeeightthenextevening.Bythattime,Iwasalloutoftears.IhadsobbedthroughalongconversationwithDelilahandthenagainwhenSamsentashortapologyforhanginguponmetopuke.Hewrotethathewantedtotalktonight.Ididn’treply.
Ididn’tthinkitwouldbepossibletolaugh,butthemountainofsnacksCharliehadassembledonthefrontseatwastrulyinsane.
“Thereareburgers,dogs,andfriesthereifyouwantsomethingmoresubstantial,”hesaidasIeyedthepackagesofchipsandcandy.
“Yeahthisprobablywon’tbeenough,”Ijoked.Anditfeltnice.Light.“Iusuallygothroughatleastfourparty-sizedbagsofchipsanight,andthere’sonlythreeinhere,so…”
“Smart-ass,”hesaid,glancingmywayasheheadeddownthelongdriveway.“Ididn’tknowwhatflavoryoulike.Iwascoveringmybases.”
“I’vealwayswonderedwhathappenstoallthosegirlsyoudate,”Isaid,holdingupaboxofOreos.“NowIknow.Youfattenthemupandeatthemfordinner.”
Heshotmeamischievousgrin.“Well,oneofthosethingsistrue,”hesaidinalowdrawl.Irolledmyeyesandlookedoutthewindowsohecouldn’tseetheblushspreadingfrommychesttomyneck.
“Youscareeasily,”hesaidafteraminutehadgoneby.
“Idon’tscareeasily.Youliketoprovokepeopleunnecessarily,”Itoldhim,turningbacktostudyhisprofile.Hewasfrowning.“What?AmIwrong?”Ibarked,andhelaughed.
“No,you’renotwrong.Maybe‘scare’isthewrongword,butit’seasytogetyouworkedup.”Helookedoveratme.“Ilikeit.”Icouldfeeltheflushmovedownthroughmybody.Heturnedbacktotheroadwearingabigenoughsmilethatahintofadimpleappearedonhischeek.Ihadastrongurgetorunmyfingeroverit.
“Youliketomakememad?”Iasked,tryingtosoundindignant,butalsotryingtoflirt.Heglancedoveragainbeforeanswering.
“Sortof.Ilikehowyourneckgetsred,likeyou’rehotallover.Yourmouthgetsalltwisty,andyoureyeslookdarkandkindofwild.It’sprettysexy,”hesaid,hiseyesontheemptystretchofhighway.“AndIlikethatyoustanduptome.Yourinsultscanbeprettysavage,Pers.”Iwasshocked.Notbythesexypart—thatwasjustCharliebeingCharlie,atleastIthoughtso—butbythefactthathe’dsoobviouslybeenpayingattentiontome.Spendingtimewithhimhadbeentheonlythingkeepingmehalfwaysane,butIwasgettingtheimpressionthathe’dstartedpayingattentionbeforehe’dtakenpityonmethissummer.AtleastIthoughtithadbeenpity.NowIwasn’tsosure.
“Whenitcomestoinsults,youdeserveonlythebest,CharlesFlorek,”Ireplied,tryingtosoundeasy.
“Couldn’tagreewithyoumore,”hesaid.Andthenaddedafterabeat,“Sowhat’swiththesepuffyeyesofyours?”
Ilookedoutthewindowagain.“Guessthecucumberslicesdidn’twork,”Imumbled.
“Youlooklikeyou’vebeenswimmingwithyoureyesopeninachlorinatedpool.What’shedonenow?”heasked.
Isputteredabit,notsurehowtogetthewordsoutquicklyenoughthatIwouldn’tstarttocryagain.“He,umm.”Iclearedmythroat.“HesaysI’mdistractinghimandwantstotakeabreak.”IlookedovertoCharlie,whowaswatchingtheroad,hisjawtight.“Heneedsmorespace.Fromme.Sohecanstudyandbeimportantoneday.”
“Hebrokeupwithyou?”Thewordswerequiet,buttherewassomuchangerbehindthem.
“Idon’tknow,”Isaid,myvoicecracking.“Idon’tthinkthat’swhatitwas,butheonlywantstotalktomeonceaweek.AndwhenIcalledlastnight,therewerepeopleinhisroom,andthisgirlhe’sbeenhangingoutwith.Hewasdrunk.”AmuscletwitchedinCharlie’sjaw.
“Let’snottalkaboutit,”Iwhispered,eventhoughwehadbothbeensilentforseconds.ThenIaddedwithmorecertainty,“Iwanttohavefuntonight.There’soneweekleftofsummerandoneofthebesthorrormoviesofalltimeaheadofus.”
Charlielookedoveratmewithapainedexpression.
“Please?”Iasked.
Helookedbackoutthewindshield.“Icandofun.”
ThemoviewasRosemary’sBaby,oneofmyfavoritesfromthesixties,andnotexactlythecheesyslasherfilmCharliehadexpected.Asthecreditsrolled,hestaredatthescreen,mouthhangingopen.
“Thatwassomemessed-upshit,”hemurmuredandturnedslowlytome.“Youlikethisstuff?”
“Iloooveit,”Icooed.Wehadgonethroughabagofsalt-and-vinegarchips,abunchofgummywormsandlicoriceandtwoslushiesfromtheconcessionstand.Iwasampedfromthesugar.ItwasthemostfunI’dhadallsummer,whichwasshockingsinceI’dspentmostofthedayinthefetalposition.
“You’reonedisturbinggirl,Pers,”hesaid,shakinghishead.
“Andthat’ssayingsomethingcomingfromyou.”Igrinned,andwhenhegrinnedback,myeyesdroppedtohisdimplesbeforenoticingthathiswereonmymouth.Iclearedmythroat,andhequicklylookedattheclockonthedash.
“Webettergetyouback,”hesaid,startingthetruck.
Wespentthedrivehometalking,firstabouthiseconomicsprogramatWesternandtherichkidshewassharingahousewithinthefall,andthenabouthowIfeltlikeeveryonewasmovingontobiggerandbetterthingswhileIstayedinToronto,followingthepathmyparentslaidforme.Hedidn’ttrytomakemefeelbetterortellmeIwasoverreacting.Hejustlistened.Thereweren’tmorethanafewsecondsofdeadairtheentirehourdriveback.Wewerecrackingupoverastoryabouthisfirstschooldancewhenhepulleduptothecottage.Hisdadhadtaughthimthe“proper”waytodancebeforehand,whichendedupwithCharlietwo-steppingathoroughlyfreaked-outMeredithShanahanacrossthegymnasiumfloor.
“Youwannacomein?”Iasked,stilllaughing.“IthinkthereareafewofDad’sbeersinthefridge.”
“Sure,”Charliesaid,cuttingtheengineandwalkingmetothedoor.“Ifyouplayyourcardsright,Imightaskyoutodance.”
“Ionlytango,”IsaidovermyshoulderasIturnedthekeyinthelock.
“Iknewitwouldneverworkbetweenus,”hesaidinmyear,scatteringgoosebumpsdownmyarm.
WekickedoffourshoesandCharlietookinthesmall,openspace.“Ihaven’tbeeninhereinages,”hesaid.“Ilikethatyourparentshavekeptitasarealcottage.Well,otherthanthat,”hesaid,pointingtotheespressomachinethattookupwaytoomuchofthekitchencounter.Iwalkedtotheothersideoftheroomandflickedonthefloodlightthatshoneupintothetoweringredpines.
“It’smyfavoriteplaceintheworld,”Isaid,watchingtheswayingboughsforamoment.WhenIturnedaround,Charliewasstudyingmewithastrangeexpressiononhisface.
“Ishouldprobablygethome,”hesaidhoarsely,pointingoverhisshoulder.
Itiltedmyhead.“Youliterallyjustgothere.”Imovedbyhimtoopenthefridge.“AndIpromisedyouabeer.”Ipassedhimabottle.
Hescratchedthebackofhisneck.“I’mnotreallyinthehabitofdrinkingalone.”IrolledmyeyesandpulledthesleeveofmysweatshirtovermyhandsoIcouldtwistoffthecap.Itookalongdrink,thenhandedhimthebottle.
“Better?”Iasked.Hetookasip,eyeingmewarily.
“Youreallymadeanefforttonight,huh?”hesaid,gesturingtomyoutfit,apairofrippedjeanshortsandagraysweatshirt.I’dthrownmyhairupintoaponytail.ItwasonlythenIregisteredthathewaswearingnicedarkjeansandanew-lookingpoloshirt.
“LeftmyballgowninToronto,”Ireplied.
Hesmirked,hiseyesdroppingtomylegs.“Mydatesdon’twearballgowns,Pers,”hesaid,hisgazereturningtomine.“Butusuallytheywearcleanclothes.”Ilookeddownand,yep,therewasanorangeystainonthelegofmyshorts.“Youknow,asasignofabasiclevelofhygiene,”headded.Icouldfeelmyselfheating,andhissmilesplitopen.
“Toldyou,”hesaid,hisvoicedeepandlow.Heputhisbottledownandtookasteptowardme.“Redneck.Twisted-upmouth.Andyoureyesareevendarkerthanusual.”Westoodlikethat,neitherofusbreathing,forseverallongseconds.
“It’ssexyashell,”herasped.“You’resofuckingsexyIcan’tstandit.”
Iblinkedonceandthenthrewmyselfathim,slingingmyarmsaroundhisneckandbringinghismouthdowntomine.Iwantedtobewantedsobadly.Hemetmejustaseagerly,grabbingmywaistandpullingmeagainsthishardbody.Heheldmyhipsagainsthimwithonehandandwrappedtheotheraroundmyponytail,pullingmyheadbackandthensuckingontheexposedfleshofmyneck.WhenImoaned,hecuppedmybuttandliftedmeoffthefloor,guidingmylegsaroundhiswaist,partingmylipswithhistongueandbackingmeupsoIwassittingonthecounter.Hespreadmylegswideandsteppedbetweenthem,trailingahandupmycalf.
“Ididn’tshave,”Iwhisperedbetweenkisses,andhelaughedintomymouth,sendingvibrationsthroughme.Hecroucheddown,holdingmyankle,thenranhistonguefrommyshinupovermykneetotheedgeofmyshorts,eyesonminetheentiretime.
“Ireallydon’tcare,”hegrowled,thenstoodandcapturedmyfacebetweenhishands.“Youcouldgoamonthwithoutshaving,andI’dstillwantyou.”Isqueezedmylegsaroundhimandkissedhimhard,thenbitdownonhislip,makinghimgroan.Thesoundwascatniptomyego.
“Let’sgoupstairs,”Isaid,thenpushedhimawaysoIcouldjumpdown,andledhimuptomybedroom.
Hishandswereonmeassoonaswepassedthroughthedoorway.Iwalkedbackwarduntilmykneeshitthebed,andreachedforhisshirtatthesametimehereachedformine.Wetookthemoffinatangleofarmsandthenheunhookedmybrainseconds,throwingitontothefloor.Myhandsflewtothebuttonsofhisjeans,desperatetofeelhimagainstme,toeraseallthesadparts,tofeelwanted.Hewatchedmetakethemoff,thenunzippedmyshorts,slidingthemovermyhipssotheyhittheground.Westoodinfrontofeachother,breathingheavily,andthenIpushedmyunderweardownmylegsandmovedclosertohim,brushingmyfingersoverhisshoulders.Ididn’trealizetheywereshakinguntilCharlieputhishandsontopofmine.
“Areyousure?”heaskedgently.Inreply,Ipulledhimdownontothebedontopofme.
IMUSTHAVEfallenasleepimmediatelyafterbecausewhenIwoke,pinkmorningskyglowedthroughthewindows.Stillgroggy,IfeltbreathingonmyshoulderbeforeIrealizedtherewasathighthrownoverme.Theboxofcondomsmymomhadgivenmelastyearsatopenonthenightstand.
“Goodmorning,”agravellyvoiceraspedinmyear.ItsoundedsomuchlikeSam.Isqueezedmyeyesshut,hopingitwasabaddream.Heshiftedhisweightovermeandkissedmyforehead,nose,thenmylips,untilIopenedmyeyesandstaredupintoapairofgreeneyes.
Thewrongeyes.
Thewrongbrother.
Iinhaledraggedly,seekingoxygen,feelingmypulse,fastanduncomfortable,allovermybody.
“Pers,what’swrong?”Charliemovedoffmeandhelpedmeintoaseatedposition.“Areyougoingtobesick?”
Ishookmyhead,lookedathimwild-eyed,andgasped,“Ican’tbreathe.”
IMOVEDTHROUGHthefinaldaysofsummerinafogofself-loathing,tryingtofigureoutwhyI’ddonewhatI’ddoneandhowIcouldpossiblytellSamaboutmybetrayal.
Afterthepanicattacksubsided,IkickedCharlieoutofthecottage,buthe’dcomebackintheafternoontocheckonme.Iyelledandscreamedathimthroughhottears,tellinghimitwasahugemistake,tellinghimIhatedhim,tellinghimIhatedme.WhenIstartedhyperventilating,heheldmetightlyuntilI’dcalmeddown,whisperinghowsorry
CharlieapologizedagainwhenhepickedmeupformylastshiftattheTavernadaylater,andInodded,butthatwasthelastwespokeofwhathadhappenedbetweenus.
WhenIreturnedtothecity,myparentsimmediatelybrokethenewsthattheywouldbeputtingthecottageupforsaleinthefall.Ishouldhaveseenitcoming,paidmoreattentiontothewaymyparentshadbeensnipingateachotheraboutmoney.IburstintotearswhentheyexplainedhowourTorontohomeneededrenovationsand,besides,IcouldalwaysstaywiththeFloreks.ItfeltlikepunishmentforwhatI’ddone.
SamandIhadonlyexchangedemailssincethenightwithCharlie,buthecalledmeassoonashereadmymessagewiththenews,sayinghewassadbutwassureIcouldspendthenextsummerattheirhouse.
“Iknowhowupsetyoumustbe,”hesaid.“Youwon’thavetosaygoodbyealone.WecanpackyourthingstogetheroverThanksgivingandmoveabunchofittomyplace.TheCreaturefromtheBlackLagoonpostercangoinmyroom.”
Neitherofusmentionedhisemail.AndIsaidnothingofwhathadhappenedwithCharlie.
WhatIneededwastotalktoDelilah,butshehadalreadyshippedouttoKingston.Iwantedtoconfideinher,Iwantedhertogivemeaplanforhowtomakeeverythingbetter,butIcouldn’tdothatviatext,andIdidn’twanttodoitonthephone,tohearhervoicebutnotseeherreaction.
Idon’tremembermuchaboutthosefirstweeksofschool.OnlythatSambegantowritelongeremailsbetweenourscheduledSundaycalls.NowthatJordieandhewereroomingtogetherandhewasgettingusedtothecampusandthecity,hewasfeelingmoresettled.Also,whilehisworkshopwasn’tgraded,hehadreceivedaglowingreviewfromthesupervisingprofessorandanoffertoworkpart-timeonhisresearchproject.Hehadn’tyetbumpedintoDelilah,buthewaskeepinghiseyesopenforaheadofredhair.
Heexplainedhowlonelyhe’dbeenwhenhefirstgottoschool,howhekepthisnotesshortsoasnottoworryme.Heapologizedforthedrunkenstatehe’dbeeninwhenIcalledhim,andtoldmethatwhenhethoughtofbuildingafuture,itwasalwaysafuturewithmeinit.Healsoapologizedfornotmakingthatclear.HetoldmeIwashisbestfriend.Hetoldmehemissedme.Hetoldmehelovedme.
Sam’sclassesendedearlyonFridaysandhewantedtotakethetraintoTorontotoseemeonweekends,butIpushedhimoff,tellinghimmyprofessorhadaskedforatwenty-thousand-wordshortstorytobecompletedinamatterofweeks.Itwasn’talie,butIalsofinishedtheassignmentwellaheadoftimewithoutlettingSamknow.BythetimeThanksgivingrolledaround,Iwashummingwithnervousanticipation.Istillhadn’ttoldDelilahwhathadhappened,butIhadtalkedmyselfintotellingSamthetruth.IwoulddoanythingIcouldtomakeitrightbetweenus,butIcouldn’tlietohim.
IdroveupFriday,notevenstoppingtopee,soIcouldmakeittothecottagebythetimeSuegotbacktoBarry’sBaywithSam.Myparentshadalreadymovedmostofourknickknacksoutofthecottageandweren’tcomingbackfortheholiday.Theyleftmyroomformetotakecareof.TheRealtorwouldbetherethefollowingweektostagetheplaceandstarttheshowings.
IhademailedSamthatIhadsomethingimportanttotalktohimaboutassoonashegothome.That’sfunny,IhavesomethingIwanttotalktoyouabouttoo,hewrote.
Ikeptmyselfbusywaitingforhim,mystomachinknotsandmyhandsshakingasIuntackedtheCreaturefromtheBlackLagoonposterfromovermybed.Iclearedoutmydesk,flippingthroughtheclothboundnotebookSamhadgivenme,andrunningmyfingersoverhisslantedinscriptionontheinsidecover,Foryournextbrilliantstory,beforepackingitinabox.Isetthewoodenboxwithmyinitialscarvedonitslidontop.IknewwithouthavingtopeekinsidethatitstillcontainedtheembroideryflossImadeourbraceletswith.
Hehastoforgiveme,Ithoughttomyself,overandover,willingittobetrue.
IwasjustgettingstartedonthenightstandwhenIheardthebackdooropen.IflewdownthestairsandthrewmyselfintoSam’sarms,knockinghimbackwardandagainstthedoor,hislaughreverberatingthroughme,ourarmstightaroundeachother.HefeltbiggerthanIremembered.Hefeltsolid.Andreal.
“Imissedyou,too,”hesaidintomyhair,andIbreathedhimin,wantingtoclimbinsidehisribsandsnuggleupbeneaththem.
Wekissedandhugged,methroughtears,andthenheledmeovertothemiddleoftheroomandleanedhisforeheadagainstmine.
“Threeupdates?”Iwhispered,andhiseyescrinkledwithasmile.
“One,Iloveyou,”hereplied.“Two,Ican’tstandtheideaofleavingagain,ofyounotcomingbacktothiscottage,withoutyouknowinghowmuchIloveyou.”Hetookashakybreath,thenkneltononeknee,takingmyhandsinhis.Three”—helookedupatme,hisblueeyesseriousandwideandhopefulandscared—“Iwantyoutomarryme.”
Myheartexplodedinaburstofhappiness,moltenpleasureseepingintomybloodstream.Andjustasfast,IrememberedwhatI’ddoneandwhoI’ddoneitwith,andthecolordrainedfrommyface
Samrushedtogoon.“Nottoday.Orthisyear.Notuntilyou’rethirty,ifthat’swhatyouwant.Butmarryme.”Hereachedintothepocketofhisjeansandheldoutagoldringwithacircleofsmalldiamondssurroundingacenterstone.Itwasbeautiful,anditmademefeelviolentlyill.
“Mymomgavemethis.Itwashermom’sring,”hesaid.“You’remybestfriend,Percy.Pleasebemyfamily.”
Istoodinsilentshockforfivelongseconds,mymindracing.HowcouldItellhimaboutCharlienow?Whenhewasdownononeknee,holdinghisgrandmother’sring?ButhowcouldIacceptwithouttellinghim?Iwouldn’t.Icouldn’t.NotwhenhethoughtIwasgoodenoughtomarry.Therewasonlyoneoption.
Ikneltdowninfrontofhim,hatingmyselfforwhatIwasabouttodo.WhatIhadtodo.
“Sam,”Isaid,closinghishandovertheringandbitingbacktears.“Ican’t.”Heblinked,thenopenedhismouthandcloseditagain,thenopenedit,butstillnothingcameout.
“We’retooyoung.Youknowthat,”Iwhispered.Itwasalie.Iwantedtosayyestohimandscrewyoutoanyonewhoquestionedus.IwantedSamforever.
“IknowIsaidthatbefore,butIwaswrong,”hereplied.“Notmanypeoplemeetthepersonthey’remeanttobewithwhenthey’rethirteen.Butwedid.Youknowwedid.Iwantyounow.AndIwantyouforever.Ithinkaboutitallthetime.Ithinkabouttraveling.Andgettingjobs.Andhavingafamily.Andyou’realwaystherewithme.Youhavetobetherewithme,”hesaid,hisvoicecrackingandhiseyesmovingovermyfaceforasignthatI’dchangedmymind.
“Youmightnotalwaysfeelthatway,Sam,”Isaid.“You’vepushedmeawaybefore.Youkeptthecoursefromme,andthenIspentmostofthesummerwonderingwhyIbarelyheardfromyou.Andthenthatemail…Ican’ttrustthatyou’lllovemeforeverwhenIdon’tevenknowifyou’lllovemenextmonth.”Thewordstastedlikebile,andhejerkedhisheadbacklikeI’dhithim.“Ithinkweshouldtakeabreakforawhile,”Isaidsoftlyenoughthathewouldn’tbeabletoheartheagonyinmyvoice.
“Youdon’treallywantthat,doyou?”Hecroakedoutthewords,hiseyesglassy.IfeltlikeI’dbeenpunchedinthestomach.
“Justforawhile,”Irepeated,holdingbacktears.
Hestudiedmyfacelikehewasmissingsomething.“Swearonit.”Hesaiditasthoughhewasissuingachallenge,asifhedidn’tquitebelieveme.
Ihesitated,andthenIwrappedmyindexfingeraroundhisbraceletandtugged
“Iswear.”17
Now
“IsleptwithCharlie,”IsaytoSam,barelyregisteringthathe’sjusttoldmehelovesme.
He’ssilent.
“I’msosorry,”Itellhim,tearsalreadystreamingdownmyface.Isayitoverandover.Andstillhesaysnothing.We’refacingeachotheronthefloor.He’slookingovermyshoulder,hiseyesdullandunfocused,hisfingersfrozenonmyarm.
“Sam?”Hedoesn’tmove.“Itwasamistake,”Itellhim,myvoiceshaking.“Ahugemistake.Ilovedyoumorethananything,andthenyouleft.Andthenyouwrotethatletter,andIthoughtyouweredonewithme.Iknowthat’snoexcuse.”Thewordsspilloutinasoppingmess.“Andthat’swhy…whyIbrokeus.Ilovedyou,Sam.Idid.Somuch.ButIwasn’tgoodenoughforyou.I’mstillnot…”ItrailoffbecauseSamisopeningandclosinghismouth,likehe’stryingtosaysomething,butnothingcomesout.
“I’ddoanythingtotakeitback,tomakeitbetter,”Isay.“Tellmewhattodo.”Helooksatme,blinkinginshutter-fastbursts.Heshakeshishead.
“Sam,pleasesaysomething,anything,”Iplead,mythroatdry.Hiseyesnarrowandhischeeksdarken.Hisjawismovingbackandforth,likehe’sgrindinghisteeth.
“Howwasit?”heasksinavoicesolowIthinkImusthavemisheardhim.
“What?”
“YoufuckedCharlie.Iaskedyouhowitwas.”It’svenomousandsounlikeSamthatIflinch.Iliecompletelystill,apricklyfeelingspreadingacrossmychestanddownmyarmslikehiswordsreallyweretoxic.I’veimaginedwhatitwouldbeliketotellSam,whathisreactionwouldbe—hurtorangerormaybeindifferencenowthatsomuchtimehaspassed—butIdidn’teverthinkhe’dbecruel.
He’sstaringatmeintensely,andI’msuddenlyawareofhownakedIam.Ineedtogetoutofhere.IthoughtIcouldhandlethis,butIwaswrong.
Isitup,coveringmyselfwithonearmwhileIreachformyclotheswiththeother,myhairfallingaroundmyface.Idressasquicklyaspossible,facingthebookshelf,tremblingandnumb,andthenrushtothedoor.
“Ican’tbelieveyou,”Samsaysfrombehindme,andIpause.“You’rejustgoingtoleave.”Iwipemytearsawayroughly.WhenIturn,Sam’sstandingcompletelynaked,hisarmsfoldedacrosshischest,hisfeetplantedwideapart.Iwanttorespond,butmythoughtshavecongealed.
Heshakeshisheadonce.“You’rerunningawayjustlikebefore.”Everywordissharpandacrid.Sixpoisondarts.“Ileftforschool,butyouleftandnevercameback.”
Istammer,searchingforsomethingsolidamongthemush,butI’mconfusedbythesubtlechangeintopic.Theonlythingthatseemstobeworkingismyheart—andit’sinoverdrive.Icanfeelmypulseinmyfingertips.
“Ididn’tthinkyou’dwanttoseeme,”Ifinallymanage.“Wesoldthecottage…therewasnothingtocomebackto.”Hiseyesflashwithhurt.
“Iwasheretocomebackto.Everyholiday.Everysummer.Iwashere.”
“Butyouhatedme.Iwrotetoyou.Youneverwroteorcalledback.”
Heputshishandsonhishead,andIshutup.Hesucksinairthroughhisnose,andthenheexplodes.
“Howdidyouexpectmetoreact?”heyells,thetendonsinhisneckbulging.Icanonlylookathim,mymouthopen.“Yousleptwithmybrother!”Heroarsthefinalword,andIcringe.
Somethinginmybrainisn’tworkingright,becauseIcan’tprocesswhathe’sjustsaid.Thetimelinesareallmixedup.IsleptwithCharlie.IbrokeupwithSam.Weneverspokeagain.Mychestistight.Irubmyfaceandtrytofocusagain.IsleptwithCharlie,butthat’snotwhySamdidn’tspeaktome.HestoppedspeakingtomebecauseIturneddownhisproposal.Andthenthepiecesstartclickingtogether,andIhavetogaspforair.Myheadfeelslikeitmightfloatoffmyneck.Tinyspotsraceacrossmyvisionlikeants,andIsqueezemyeyesshut.Ineedtogetoutofherenow.
Ispinonmyheels,flingthedooropen,andboltdownthehallway,thenthestairs,totheentrance.Samiscallingmyname,andIcanhearhimfollowingbehindme.Igrabmypursefromthehookbythedoorandrunoutside,downtheporchsteps,andthenstopsuddenly.
Mycarisgone.Wherethehellismycar?Iturnaroundwildly,asifI’minaparkinglotandmaybeI’vejustgotthewrongrow.Butthere’snothing.JustgrassandtreesandSam,standingnakedinthedoorway.IcouldswearIdrovehereafterthefuneral,butnowI’mnotsosure.Whatishappening?There’saloudwheezingnoisecomingfrommymouth.Imustbedreaming,Ithink.Thisisalladream.
Ichargeupthegraveltotheroad.Samisyellingandswearing,butIkeepgoing,thesharppebblesdiggingintomyfeet.It’slikemybodyhasturnedonautopilotwhilemylungsstruggletofindoxygen,becausewithoutthinking,Iheadtowardmycottage.Idon’tstopwhenIcometothetopofthelongdriveway.
Thisisjustabaddream.
AllIwantistocurlupinmybedandsleepuntilit’stomorrow.I’llwakeup,havebreakfastwithmyparents,andSamwillbetherealittlewhilelater,sweatyfromhisrun,totakemeswimming.Andeverythingwillbebacktothewayitshouldbe.MeandSamandthelake.
Whenthecottagecomesintoview,Ialmostdon’trecognizeit.Anentirelynewsectionjutsoutfromtheback,andthepineshavebeenclearedfromaroundthebuilding.There’safirepitthatneverusedtobethereandaredminivanparkedbesidethedoor.It’snotmycottage,andthisisn’tadream.SomehowIstumblebacktotheroadbutmylegsbuckleatthetopofthedrivewayandIdropontotheground,gulpingforair,closingmyeyesagainstthestingoftears.
Idon’thearSamapproaching.Idon’tnoticehimatalluntilhissneakersarerightinfrontofme.
“Twopanicattacksinonedayisalittleexcessive,don’tyouthink?”hesays,butthere’snobitetohiswords.Ican’treply.Ican’tevenshakemyhead.Icanonlykeeptryingtobreathe.Hesquatsdowninfrontofme.
“Youneedtoslowdownyourbreaths,”hesays.ButIcan’t.ItfeelslikeI’mrunningamarathonatasprinter’space.Hesighs.“C’mon,Percy.Wecandoittogether.”Hishandscomearoundmyfacesohisthumbsareonmycheeksandhisfingersareinmyhair.
“Lookatme,”hesays,andtiltsmyfaceuptohis.Hestartsbreathingslowly,countingthebreaths,likehedidearlier,hisforeheadcreased.Ittakesmeaminutetofocus,buteventuallyIcanbreathealittleeasier,thenabitslower,andmyheartfollowsnotlongafter.
“Betternow?”heasks.Butit’snotbetter,notevenclose,becausenowthatthefoghasstartedtoclear,Irememberwhatstirredthistornadoofanxietyinthefirstplace.
“No,”Icroak.Ilookathim,mychintrembling,hishandsstillaroundmyface,andforcemyselftosaythewords.“Youalreadyknew.”
Heswallowsandpresseshislipstogether.“Yeah,”herasps.“Iknew.”
Iclosemyeyesandcollapseintoaheaponthedirt,silentsobsshakingmybody.Ihearhimsaysomething,butallIcanfocusonishowlonghe’sknownandhowdeeplyhemusthavehatedmeallthattime.
FirstIfeelhishandsonmybackandhisarmscomingaroundme,andtheneverythinggoesblack.18
Winter,TwelveYearsAgo
DelilahtookataxifromthetrainstationstraighttomyhouseassoonasshegothomeforChristmasbreak,dragginghersuitcasebehindher.ShethrewherarmsaroundmeassoonasIopenedthedoor.IcanstillrememberthesmellofherasIpressedmyfaceintohershoulder—amixofherwoolcoat,dampfromtheheavysnowfall,andherHerbalEssencesshampoo.
“Youlooklikeapieceofshit,”shesaidwhenshereleasedme.“We’renotsupposedtoletmendothistous.”
“Ididthistomyself,”Ireplied,andherfacecrumpledwithsympathy.
“Iknowyoudid,”shewhispered,andthenhauledhersuitcaseuptomyroomandlaywithmeonmybedwhileIrecountedeverythingIhadalreadytoldheronthephone,includingthemanymessagesIhadleftforSamthatheneverreturned.
“Ihaven’tspottedhimoncampus,”shetoldmewhenI’dasked.“ButIpromiseIwon’tkeepitfromyouifIdo.”
HavingDelilahbackinTorontoforthoseshortweeksofwinterbreakwasthefirstsliceofnormalI’dhadsincesummer.SheandPatelhadgottenbacktogether(forthehundredthtime).Delilahsaiditwasapurelycasualhookuprelationship,butIwasn’tsureIbelievedher.Theyhadplanstogettogetherovertheholiday,butDelilahspentalmostallhertimewithme.Wetookthesubwaydowntownandbummedaroundthemall,eatingpoutineinthefoodcourtandsprawlingoutinthemovietheaterwhenourfeetgotsore.
Wesattogetheronmybedroomflooroneday,diggingintoawholecheesecakewithourforks,andItoldherhowI’dbeenstrugglingatschool,howthewordsweren’tcomingtomeaseasilyastheyusedtowhenIwrote.
“Imisshisfeedback,”Itoldherthroughachocolatymouthful.“Idon’tknowwhoI’mwritingforanymore.”
“Youwriteforyou,Percy,justlikeyoualwaysdid,”shesaid.“I’llbeareaderforyou.Ipromisetokeepsex-relatedrequeststoaminimum.”
“Isthatevenpossible?”Iasked,feelingararesmilecreepacrossmymouth
“Foryou,I’ddoanything,”shesaidwithawink.“Evengiveuperoticliterature.”
OnNewYear’sEve,wewenttothebigconcertandcountdowninthesquareoutsidecityhall,huddlingagainsttheicywindandtakingcovertsipsofvodkafromherdad’sflask.Wedidn’ttalkaboutSam,andwhenweweretogether,IfeltlikeIcouldseepastthehazeI’dbeenstumblingthroughformonths.ButwhensheleftforKingston,thefogdescendedagain,drainingmeofmyenergy,myappetite,andanyambitionI’doncehadforexcellingatschool.
Delilahkeptherpromise.ShecalledmeinearlyMarch.
“Isawhim,”shesaidwhenIpickedup.Nohello.Nosmalltalk.
Iwaswalkingbetweenbuildingsattheuniversity,andsatdownonthenearestbench.
“Okay.”Isaid,exhalingloudly.
“Itwasataparty.”Shepaused.“Percy,hewasreallydrunk.”
Therewassomethingun-Delilahaboutthewayshespoke.Somethingtoogentle.
“DoIwanttohearthenextpart?”Iasked.
“Idon’tknow,”shesaid.“It’snotgood,Percy.Youtellmeifyouwanttohearit.”
Iputmyheaddownsomyhairfellaroundmyface,protectingmefromthebustleofstudents.
“Ihavetohearit.”
“Okay.”Shetookadeepbreath.“Hehitonme.HetoldmeIlookedgoodandaskedifIwantedtogoupstairs.”Theworldstoppedmoving.“Ididn’t,obviously!Itoldhimtogoscrewhimselfandleft.”
“Samwouldn’tdothat,”Iwhispered.
“I’msorry,Percy,butSamdiddothat.Buthewasreally,reallywasted,likeIsaid.”
“Youmusthavedonesomething,”Icried.“Youmusthaveflirtedlikeyoualwaysdoortoldhimhowcutehewasorsomething.”
“Ididn’t!”Delilahsaid,soundingangrynow.“Ididn’tdoorsayanythingtomakehimthinkIwasinterested.Howcouldyouthinkthat?”
“Youcan’tblamemeforthinkingthat,”Isaidcrisply.“Youknowyou’reabitslutty.You’reproudofit.”
TheshockofwhatIsaidstretchedbetweenus.Delilahwassilent.IonlyknewshewastherebecauseIcouldhearherbreathing.Andwhenshespokeagain,Icouldalsohearthatitwasthroughtears.
“Iknowyou’reupset,Percy,andI’msorryaboutSam,butneverspeaktomelikethatagain.Callmewhenyou’rereadytoapologize.”
Isatwithmyheadbentandthephonepressedtomyearlongaftershehungup.IknewIshouldn’thavesaidwhatIdid.Iknewhowuglyitwas,andIhadn’tmeantit.Ithoughtaboutcallingherback.IthoughtaboutsayingIwassorry.ButIdidn’t.Ineverdid.19
Now
IwakeupinSam’sbedwithapoundingheadache.There’safaintbluish-pinklightcominginthewindow.HowlongwasIasleepfor?Ipushthesheetback,hot.I’mstillwearinghisT-shirtandsweatpants,thekneescoveredindirt.Ilietherelistening,butthehouseisquiet.OnthenightstandareaglassofwaterandabottleofAdvil.Sammusthaveputthemthere.
Afterpoppingtwopillsanddrinkingallthewater,Isitontheedgeofhisbed,myfeetonthecarpet,andmyheadinmyhands,takinginventoryofthewreckageI’vecaused.IbulldozedSamwiththetruthattheworstpossiblemoment.Onthedayofhismother’sfuneral.Ididn’tthinkabouthim;Ionlythoughtaboutgettingtheuglinessoffmychest.Andheknew.Heknew,andhehadn’twantedtotalkaboutit,atleastnotthen.
Samhasputmypurseonthefloorbesidethebed.Idigaroundformyphone.Determinednottopushanyoneelseoutofmylife,IcallChantal.
“P?”shesays,groggywithsleep.
“Istilllovehim,”Iwhisper.“Iscrewedeverythingup.AndIlovehim.AndI’mworriedthatevenifIcangethimtoforgiveme,I’mstillnotgoodenoughforhim.”
“You’regoodenough,”Chantalsays.
“ButI’msuchamess.Andhe’sadoctor.”
“You’regoodenough,”shesaysagain
“Whatifhedoesn’tthinkso?”
“Thenyoucomehome,P.AndI’lltellyouwhyhe’swrong.”
Iclosemyeyesandletoutashakybreath.
“Okay.Icandothat.”
“Iknowyoucan.”
Whenwehangup,Icrossthedarkhallwaytothebathroom.Iturnonthelightandgrimaceatmyreflection.Underneaththestreaksofmascara,myskinisblotchyandmyeyesbloodshotandpuffy.Isplashsomecoldwateronmyfaceandscrubattheblackmakeupstainsuntilmycheeksareredandraw.
ThesmellofcoffeehitsmynoseasItiptoedownthestairs.There’salightoninthekitchen.ItakeadeepbreathbeforeIhavetofaceSamagain.Butit’snotSam.It’sCharlie.He’satthetableinthesamespotwhereSueusedtosit.Hehasamuginhishand,andhe’slookingrightatmelikehewaswaitingforme.
“Goodmorning,”hesays,liftinghiscoffeemyway.
“Youtookmycar,”Isay,standinginthedoorway.
“Itookyourcar,”hereplies,thentakesasip.“Sorryaboutthat.Ididn’trealizeyouwouldbeneedingtoleaveinsuchahurry.”ClearlySamhasfilledhiminonacoupleofdetails.“He’sdownatthewater,”hesaysbeforeIask.
IlookinthedirectionofthelakeandthenbacktoCharlie.“Hehatesme.”
Hegetsupandwalksovertome,smilingkindlyashetucksastrandofhairbehindmyear.
“You’rewrong,”hesays.“Ithinkhisfeelingsforyouarebasicallytheexactopposite.”Hiseyesmoveovermyfaceandhissmilefades.“Doyouhateme?”heasksquietly.
Ittakesmeamomenttofigureoutwhyhewouldaskmethat,butthenIrealize:Charlie’stheonlyotherpersonwhowouldhavetoldSamaboutwhathappenedbetweenus.
“Never,”Isay,myvoicecracking,andhepullsmeintoatighthug.“Ididn’thateyouthen,either.Afterwhathappened.Youweregoodtomethatsummer.”
“Ihadulteriormotives,butIdidn’teverplantomakeamove,”hewhispers.“Untilthatnight.”
“Thatnightwasmyfault,”Itellhim.Charliesqueezesmeandthenletsgo.
“CanIaskyousomething?”Isaywhenweseparate.
“Sure,”herasps.“Askmeanything.”
“Didyourmomknow?”Hisfacewiltsalittle,andIclosemyeyes,swallowingbackthelumpinmythroat.
“Ifitmakesyoufeelbetter,shewasmostlymadatme.”
“Thatdoesn’tmakemefeelbetter,”Icroak.
Henods,hiseyesflickeringlikefireflies.“Itriedtotellherhowyouseducedmewithcandyandhairylegs,butshewasn’tconvinced.”
Ihuffoutalaugh,andalittleoftheheavinesslifts.
“Shetoldmetocallyou,”hesays,seriousagain.Istopbreathing.“Beforeshedied.Shesaidhe’dneedyouafter.”
Ihughimagain.“Thankyou,”Iwhisper.
SAMISSITTINGattheedgeofthedock,hisfeetinthewater.Thesunhasn’trisenabovethehillsyet,butitslightcastsahaloaroundthefarshorethatpromisesitwillsoon.MyfootstepsshakethewoodenplanksasIwalktowardhim,buthedoesn’tturnaround.
Isitbesidehim,puttingtwosteamingcupsofcoffeedown,thenrollmypantsupovermykneessoIcandipmylegsintothelake.Ipasshimoneofthemugs,andwedrinkinsilence.Therearen’tanyboatsoutyet,andtheonlysoundisthedistant,mournfulcallofaloon.I’mhalf-finishedwithmycoffee—tryingtofigureoutwheretobegin—whenSamstartstalking.
“CharlietoldmeaboutthetwoofyouoverChristmasbreakwhenwecamehomefromschool,”hesays,lookingoutoverthecalmwater.Iwanttocutinandapologize,butIcantellhe’sgotmoretosay.And,attheveryleast,IowehimthechancetotellhissidedespitehowafraidIamtohearit—tohearaboutwhatitwaslikeforhimtoknowwhatI’ddoneallthistime,tohearhimgettothepartwhereheneverwantstoseemeagain.
Hisvoiceishusky,likehehasn’tspokenyetthismorning.“Iwasinroughshapeafterwebrokeup.Ididn’tunderstandwhathadgonewrongandwhyyouwouldshutdownlikethat.Evenifyouweren’treadyformarriageortoeventalkaboutgettingmarried,breakingupdidn’tmakesensetome.IfeltlikemaybeIhadexperiencedourentirerelationshipcompletelydifferentlyfromhowyouhad.IfeltlikeIwasgoingcrazy.”
Hepausesandlooksatmefromthecornerofhiseye.Icanfeeltheshametightenitsgriponmythroatandmyheartbeatingharder,butinsteadoffightingit,IacceptthatthisisgoingtobeuncomfortableandfocusinsteadonSamandwhatheneedstosay.
“IthinkCharliethoughtifIknewwhathadreallyhappened,itmightsomehowmakeitbetter,explainwhyyoupushedmeaway.”Heshakeshisheadlikehestillcan’tbelieveit.“Hetoldmethatyoudidstillloveme,thatyouhadimmediatelyregretteditandcompletelyfreakedout.”
“Ihadapanicattack,”Iwhisper.
“Yeah,Ikindoffiguredthatpartoutatthewake,”hesays,lookingatmestraighton.He’ssomuchcalmerthanhewasyesterday,buthisvoicesoundshollow.
“Ididregretit,”Itellhim,hesitatingbeforeputtingmyhandonhisthigh.Hedoesn’tmoveawayortenseupundermytouch,soIkeepitthere.“It’sthebiggestregretofmylife.Iwishithadn’thappened,butitdid,andI’msosorry.”
“Iknow,”hesays,lookingbackatthelake,hisshouldersslumped.“I’msorryIlostityesterday.IthoughtIhadmovedpastityearsago,buthearingyousaythewords,itfeltlikehearingitforthefirsttimealloveragain.”
Itakehishandinmineandshakeit.“Hey,”Isaysohelooksatme,andwhenhedoes,Isqueezehishandtighterandlookhimintheeye.“Youdon’thaveanythingtoapologizefor.Me,ontheotherhand…”
Hesmilessadlyandrunshishandthroughhishair.
“Thethingis,Percy,Ido.”Icanfeelmyfacescrunchinconfusion.Hebringsonelegonthedock,twistingsohecanfaceme.ItakemyfeetoutofthewaterandtuckthemundermesoIcandothesame.
“YoualwaysthoughtIwasperfect.”
“Sam,youwereperfect,”Ireply,statingtheobvious
“Iwasn’t!”hesays,adamant.“Iwasobsessedwithgettingoutofhere,andthenwhenIwentawaytoschool,IwassoterrifiedIwasgoingtomessitup,thatIhadonlyseemedsmartbecauseI’dgrownupinsuchasmalltown.Itfeltlikeanydaythey’dfigureoutIwasafraud.Iwasparalyzedwithfear.Iwashomesick,too.Imissedyoulikecrazy.Ididn’twantyoutoknowhowbaditwas,tothinklessofme,soIdidn’tcall.”
“Youwereeighteen,anditwastotallynormaltofeelthatway.Iwastooimmaturetorealizethat.”
Heshakeshishead.“IwasalwaysjealousofCharlie.Ithinkyouknewthat.Hebarelystudiedinhighschoolandwouldjustkilleverytest.Girlslovedhim.Everythingseemedtohappensoeasilyforhim.Andthenyoudid,too.”Mystomachfeelslikeitjustdroppedfortystories.
“Ifeltlikemyfutureexplodedwhenyousaidyoucouldn’tmarryme,”hegoeson.“ButIthoughtonedayyouwouldchangeyourmind.Ithoughtwebothneededabitoftime.Butthen…Ididn’ttakeitwell,hearingaboutyouandCharlie.”Herubshisface.“Iwasangry.Withyou.WithCharlie.Andwithmyself.ThewayIfeltaboutyouwasalwayssocleartome—evenwhenwewereyoungIknewyouandIweremeantforeachother.Twohalvesofawhole.Ilovedyousomuchthattheword‘love’didn’tseembigenoughforhowIfelt.ButIrealizenowthatyoudidn’tknowthat.Youwouldn’thaveturnedtoCharlieifyouknewthat.AndforthatI’msorry.”Hereachestowardme,pullingmybottomlipoutfromundermyteethwithhisthumb.Ihadn’trealizedI’dbeenbitingit.
Istarttoreply,totellhimhedoesn’tneedtoapologize,thatI’mtheonewhoshouldbeexplainingherself,buthestopsme.
“WhenIwentbacktoschoolafterChristmas,Ijustwantedtoforgetyouandusandeverythingthathappened,”hesays.“Iwantedtogetyououtofmysystem,butIthinkIalsowantedtohurtyouthewayyouhurtme.Istudiedlikecrazy,butIalsodrankalot.I’dgotothesebighouseparties—therewasalwaysakeg,andtherewerealwaysgirls.”Hepauses.Themusclesinmystomachseizeatthementionoftheothergirls.Hesquints,asifhe’saskingmypermissiontocontinue,andItakeadeepbreathandwait.
“Ican’tremembermostofthem,butIknowtherewerealot.Jordietriedtokeepaneyeonme.HewasworriedIwasgoingtocatchsomethingorscrewaroundwithsomepsychopath’sgirlfriend,butIwasrelentless.Itdidn’tmakeadifference,though.AllIcouldthinkabouteverydaywasyou,”hesays,hisvoicescratchy.“EvenwhenIwaswithothergirls,tryingtoeraseyoufrommymind,youwerestillthere.I’dwakeup,sometimesIdidn’tevenknowwhereIwas,sofullofshameandmissingyousomuch.ButI’djustdoitalloveragain,tryingtoforget.Andthenonenightatsomepartyinafrathousebasement,IsawDelilah.”Mybreathhitchesathername,andIrubmychestasthoughIcansoothetheachebeneathmybreastbone.
SamwaitsuntilImeethiseyesagain.
“Youdon’tneedtotellmethispart,”Isay.“ThispartI’mprettysureIknow.”
“Delilahtoldyou?”
Inod.
“Ithoughtshewould.Shewasagoodfriendtoyou.”Iwince,rememberinghowterriblyI’dtreatedher.I’dbeenmadandthenwhenIgotovermyanger,Iwastooashamedtoapologize.
“Iwasout-of-my-minddrunk,Percy.AndImadeapassather.Shetoldmeoffandstormedoutofthere.IthinkIpukedallovermyself,like,twominuteslater.”
ExactlywhatDelilahhadtoldme.
Heletsoutabitterlaugh.“Istoppedsleepingaroundafterthat.Ijustate,wenttoclass,andstudied.Iwaskindofarobot,butafterawhileIstoppedbeingsoangrywithyouandCharlie—andmyself.”
“I’msosorry,”Iwhisper.“IhatethatIdidthattoyou.”Iwatchtheripplesradiatingfromwhereafishhasjumped.We’rebothquiet.“Ideservedit,”Isayafteralittlewhile,turningbacktohim.“Theothergirls.YouhittingonDelilah.Youyellingatmeyesterday.ForwhatIdidtoyou,Ideserveditall.”
Samleansforwardlikehedidn’thearmecorrectly.“Deservedit?”herepeats,hiseyesferocious.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?Youdidn’tdeserveit,Percy.JustlikeIdidn’tdeservewhathappenedwithCharlie.Betrayalsdon’tcanceleachotherout.Theyjusthurtmore.”Hetakesmyhandsandrubsthemwithhisthumbs.“Ithoughtabouttellingyou,”hesays.“Ishouldhavetoldyou.Igotalltheemailsyousent,andIeventriedwritingback,butIblamedyouforalongtime.AndIthoughtmaybeyou’dkeepwritingifyoustillcaredaboutme,buteventuallyyoustopped.”
Hisheadisbent,andhe’slookingatmethroughhislashes.“WhenIfoundthatvideostorewiththehorrorsectioninfourthyear,Ialmostreachedouttoyou.Butitfelttoolatebythen.Ifiguredyouwouldhavemovedon.”Ishakemyheadforcefully.Ofeverythinghe’sjusttoldme,thisiswhathurtsthemost.
“Ididn’tmoveon,”Icroak.Isqueezehisfingers,andwestareateachotherforseverallongseconds.Andthentheycometome—threewordsfromyesterday,echoinginmyheadintentativeburstsofhappiness.
Iloveyou.
SamhasknownaboutCharlieandmeforyears,fortheentiretimeI’vebeenback.HebrokeupwithhisgirlfrienddespitewhatI’ddone.
Iloveyou.Idon’tthinkIeverstopped.
Thewordsdidn’tbreakthroughmypanicbefore,butnowtheysticktomyribslikemolasses.
“Istillhaven’t,”Iwhisper.He’sperfectlystill,buthiseyesdancefranticallyacrossmyface,hisheadtiltedslightly,likewhatI’vesaiddoesn’tmakesense.Nowthatit’sgettinglighter,Icanseehowredhiseyesare.Hecan’thavesleptmuchlastnight.
“IthoughtI’dneverseeyouagain.”Myvoicehitches,andIswallow.“Iwouldhavegivenanythingtositonthisdockwithyou,tohearyourvoice,totouchyou.”Irunmyfingersoverthestubbleonhischeek,andheputshishandovermine,holdingitthere.“IfellinlovewithyouwhenIwasthirteen,andIneverstopped.You’reitforme.”Samcloseshiseyesforthreelongseconds,andwhenheopensthem,theyareglitteringpoolsunderastarrysky.
“Swearonit?”heasks.AndbeforeIcananswer,heputshishandsonmycheeksandbringshislipstomine,tenderandforgivingandthoroughlySam.Hetakesthemawayalltoosoon,andrestshisforeheadagainstmine.
“Youcanforgiveme?”Iwhisper.
“Iforgaveyouyearsago,Percy.”
Helooksatmeforalongtime,notspeaking,oureyeslocked.
“Ihavesomethingforyou,”hesays.Heshiftsandreachesforsomethinginhispocket.IlookdownwhenIfeelhimfiddlingwithsomethingatmyhand.
It’snotasbrightasitoncewas,theorangeandpinkhavefadedandthewhitehasturnedgray,andit’stoobigforme.Butthereitis,afteralltheseyears,Sam’sfriendshipbracelettiedaroundmywrist.
“ItoldyouI’dgiveyousomethingifyouswamacrossthelake.Ifiguredyouearnedaconsolationprize,”hesays,tuggingontheband.
“Friendsagain?”Iask,feelingthesmilespreadingacrossmycheeks.
Thecornerofhismouthlifts.“Canwehavesleepoversasfriends?”
“Iseemtoremembersleepoversbeingpartofthedeal,”Isay,andthenadd,“Idon’twanttomessthisupagain,Sam.”
“Ithinkmessingitupispartofthedeal,”hereplies,givingmywaistalittlesqueeze.“ButIthinkwemightbebetteratcleaningitupthenexttime.”
“Iwantthat,”Itellhim.
“Good,”hesays.“BecauseIwantthat,too.”
Hepullsmeontohislap,andIrunmyhandsthroughhishair.Wekissuntilthesunhasrisenhighabovethehill,wrappingusinablanketofbrightmorningheat.Whenweeventuallypart,we’rebothwearingbig,dorkygrins.
“Sowhatdowedonow?”Samsaysinagravellyvoice,runninghisfingeroverthefrecklesonmynose.
I’msupposedtocheckoutofthemotellaterthismorning,andIhavenoideawhatwillhappenafterthat.Butrightnow?Iknowexactlywhatwe’regoingtodo.
Ipullhisshirtoffoverhisheadandrunmyhandsdownhisshouldersandsmile.
“Ithinkweshouldgoforaswim.”EPILOGUE
OneYearLater
WespreadSue’sashesonaFridayeveninginJuly.It’stakenafullyearforSamandCharlietoworkthemselvesuptolettinghergo.WechoosethistimeofdaybecauseontheextraordinarilyrareoccasionthatSuewashomewiththeboysonasummerevening,she’dservedinneronthedeck,rightasthesunbegantocastitslightonthefarsideofthelake,andsighinwearydelight
“Idon’tknowifit’smorebeautifulbecauseIhardlyevergetachancetoseeitthistimeofyear,orifit’salwaysthisspecial,”sheoncesaidtomeaswesetthetable.“It’sthemagichour.”
AnditdoesfeelmagicalasSamandI,handinhand,followCharliedownthehilltothelake.Howthegoldenglowilluminatesallthedetailsofthetreelineandshorethatyoucan’tseewhenthesunishighoverhead.Howthewaterseemstostillasifit,too,istakingabreakfromtheday’sactivitiesforcocktailhourandafamilybarbecue.Howwe’rewalkingacrossthewoodenplansoftheFloreks’dockandclimbingintotheBananaBoat.
BothCharlieandSamagreedtheboatneededtobepartoftoday,thatwewouldtakeatripintheirdad’sboattosaygoodbyetotheirmom.Theyhadtriedtofixituptogetheronthefewweekendsinthespringwhenwewereallupfromthecity.Ihadbeenskepticalofthisgrandplan,butCharlieinsistedthatthey’ddoneitoncebeforeandcould
OnthelongweekendinMay,Ifoundtheminthegarage,coveredingrease,half-drunkandwallopingthesideoftheboatinfrustration.Theyhauleditintothemarinathenextday.
Now,Charlietakesthedriver’sseatandSamsitsinthechairbesidehim,andweheadouttothemiddleofthelake.Iwatchthemfromthebenchinthefront,thebenchIsatonallthoseyearsagowhenIfirstrealizedthatIhadacrushonmybestfriend.TodaySamiswearingasuit—anotherthingheandCharlieagreedonwasthatthiswasanoccasionthatrequiredjacketsandties,despitehowtheybothhatedthem.Samlookssogrown-up,somethingthatstilloccasionallytakesmebysurprise,andalsosomuchlikethatskinnysciencenerdIfellinlovewith.
Heseesmestaring,andgivesmealopsidedsmile,mouthingthewordsIloveyouovertheroaroftheengine.Imouththemback.CharliecatchesourexchangeandbeltsSamonthearmasheturnsthemotortoidle.We’retheonlyonesoutonthewater.
“Thisisnotimeforflirting,Samuel,”Charliesayswithawinkinmydirection.
WeallliveinTorontonow.SamandIinalittlerentalcondodowntownandCharlieinanother,swankieroneheownsinaposhneighborhoodfivestopsnorthonthesubwayline.BetweenCharlie’slonghoursatwork,Sam’sshiftsatthehospital,andmywriting(whichSamconvincedmetotry,justtry,andInowwrestlewithitinthepredawnhoursbeforeheadingintotheoffice),wedon’thaveasmuchtimetogetheraswe’dlike.Andwedolikehavingtimetogether.It’sarevelationandarelief—onethathascomewithuncomfortablemomentsandacoupleofarguments,especiallyduringthoseearlyget-togethers—buthereweallare,windinourhair,sunonourfaces,zippingouttothecenterofKamaniskegLakeintheBananaBoat
It’stakenalotofworkforSamandmetogethereaswell—forustofindourfootingasacouple,totrusteachother,andformetofightoffthepersistentvoicethattellsmeI’mnotgoodenough,thatIdon’tdeservehimormyhappiness.We’vesnappedateachother,we’veflungaccusationsaround,andwe’veyelled,butwe’vebothstuckaroundandcleanedupthemess.We’vealsobeenfriends.Andthat’sthepartthat’sbeeneasy—laughing,teasing,rootingforeachother.Wecanstillspeaktoeachotherwithoutspeaking.Andwe’vemadegooduseofSam’scollectionofhorrormovies.
Samisholdingontotheurn,asmoothlypolishedteakvesselthatseemstoosmalltocontaineverythingthatwasSue.Hersmile.Herconfidence.Herlove.
“So?”heaskshisbrother.“Areyouready?”
“No,”Charliereplies.“Areyou?”
“Notatall,”Samsays.
“Butit’stime,”Charlietellshim.
AndSamagrees.“It’stime.”
SamheadstotherearwhileCharliestaysinthedriver’sseat,watchinghisbrotherremovethelidandbracehislegsagainstthebackoftheboat.Samlooksatusoverhisshoulder,firstatmeandthenatCharlie,andnods.
“Hitit,”hesays.
Charliepushesthethrottledown,andtheboattakesoffacrossthewater.Samraisestheurnupandout,tippingitsoSue’sashesflythroughtheairbehindtheboat,afaintgraystreakacrossthebrightbluewater.Andinseconds,she’sgone.
Weheadbacktothehouseinsilence,CharlieleadingthewayandSambesideme,hisarmaroundmyshoulders.Wecanhearthemusicandlaughterbeforewe’vemadeithalfwayupthehill.
TherewillbeafewdozenpeopleinsidetheFloreks’home—abigparty,justlikeSuewouldhavewanted.TherewillbeDollyandShaniaoverthespeakers.Therewillbeanexcessoffoodandbeerandwine.TherewillbepierogiesmadebyJulien,whoboughttheTavernata“familydiscount”fromCharlieandSam.Therewillbedozensofguests—allthepeoplewholovedSue,includingmyparents,andsomewhodidn’tgetthechancetobutwouldhave,likeChantal.Andtherewillbeaflashofredhair.BecauseoneofthehardestthingsIdidoverthelastyearwasapologizetoDelilah.IexpectedhertobepolitebutunaffectedwhenImetheratacoffeeshopinOttawa—itwasallsolongago.Ididn’texpecthertocircleherarmsaroundmeandaskwhatthehelltooksolong.
Andlatertonight,wheneveryonehasleftandit’sjustSamandmeinourpj’sinthebasement,therewillbepopcornandamovieplayinginthebackgroundandaringinanoldwoodenboxwithmyinitialscarvedontop.Itwillbemadefromtwistedthreadsofembroideryflossthatmatchthefadedbraceletonmywrist.AndIwillgetdownononekneeandaskSamFlorektobewithme.Tobemyfamily.Forever.Acknowledgments
InJulyof2020,Idecidedtowriteabook.Thishadlongbeenanambitionofmine,butoneIshoveddeepinthecavernsofmyheartandmind.Ididn’tthinkI’devergetaroundtodoingit,andIwasconvincedthatifIdidtry,Iwouldn’tbeabletofinishit.Besides,Iwasaneditor—myjobforfifteenyearshadbeentohelpmakeotherwriters’wordsshine.ButthatsummerthepandemichadmeaskingBigLifeQuestions,andIdecidednottoputitoffanylonger.Igavemyselftwogoals:todraftanovelbytheendoftheyearandtomakeitgood—notperfectbutsomethingIwasproudof.Ididn’tknowthatwritingEverySummerAfterwouldbethemostsatisfyingprojectI’deverundertaken.Ididn’tknowthatitwouldbringmesuchjoyduringdifficulttimes.AndIdidn’tknowthatitwouldbecomeanactualbookandmyselfanauthoralongwithit.Forthat,Ihavemanypeopletothank.
ThefirstisTaylorHaggerty,mydreamagent.IfoughtbacktearswhenTaylorofferedtorepresentme.Sheisatruesuperhero,onewhocomesequippedwithsharpinstincts,impeccableeditorialjudgment,andendlesspatienceforarookienovelistwithalotofquestions.ThereisnooneI’dratherpartnerwithonthisjourney.Taylor,thankyouforbelievinginmeandthisbook.
Fromourfirstconversation,IfeltAmandaBergeronwasmeanttobemyeditor.Iwillbeforevergrateful(andalittlegobsmacked)becausethat’sexactlywhathappened.AmandaandIwerebothpregnantwhileweworkedonEverySummerAfter,andIlovethatwebroughtitintotheworldalongwithtwotinynewhumans.Amanda,thankyouforyourbottomlesspassionforPercyandSam’sstoryandforeverythingyou’vedonetobringittolife.
Iwasgiftedwiththetalentandguidanceofasecondbrillianteditor,DeborahSundelaCruz.Deborah,thankyouforyourwhip-smartlineeditsandforrallyingtheCanadiantroopsaroundthebook.Iamincrediblyfortunatetohaveyouonmyteam.
ToSareerKhader,IvanHeld,ChristineBall,ClaireZion,Jeanne-MarieHudson,CraigBurke,JessicaBrock,DianaFranco,BrittanieBlack,BridgetO’Toole,Vi-AnNguyen,MeghaJain,AshleyTucker,ChristineLegon,AngelinaKrahn,andthesalesteamatBerkley,aswellasJasmineBrownandtheRootLiteraryteam:Thankyouforyourenthusiasmforthisbookandforyourhardworkinputtingitoutintotheworld.
ThankyoutoNicoleWinstanley,BonnieMaitland,BethCockeram,DanFrench,andEmmaIngramatPenguinCanadaforgivingbothmyselfandEverySummerAfteralovinghomeinCanada.ThankyoualsotoHeatherBaror-ShapiroformakingEverySummerAfteratrulyglobalbook.AndtoAnnaBoatmanandtheteamatPiatkusforbringingthenoveltotheUK,NewZealand,andmyotherhomeland,Australia.
ToAshleyAudrainandKarmaBrown,thankyouforyourastonishingkindness,support,andinvaluablewordsofwisdominnavigatingthepublishingworldandlifeasanauthor.
MeredithMarino,CourtneyShea,andMaggieWrobel:Thankyouforbeingmyearliestreadersandforyourinsightfulfeedback(onmytwo-weekdeadline,noless!).Iamluckytocountsuchbrilliant,encouragingwomenasfriends.Intheearlystagesofwriting,IsentMerediththefirsttenpagesofthemanuscript,andshepromisedtobehonestwithmeaboutwhatshethought.Verysoonafter,Igotatextfromherthatread:“Ithinkyou’regoingtobearealauthor!!!!!!!!!!!”Meredith,youwereright,asusual.Thankyouforgivingmetheconfidencetocarryon.
Iwasterrifiedtoletmyhusbandseemyfirstdraft.Ididn’tthinkIcouldliveinthesamehousewhilehereadthethingbesideme,hatingeveryword.Marcospentseveraldaysconvincingmetogetovermyselfandgivehimacopy.WhenIfinallydid,hereaditatbreakneckspeedanddeemedittobe“arealbook”thatheverymuchenjoyed.Healsosaiditwasfulloftypos.Thankyou,Marco,forcopyeditingthemanuscriptbeforeIsentitoutintotheworld.ThankyoufornotbalkingwhenIsuddenlyannouncedthatIwasgoingtowriteabookanddevotetimetothetaskeverysingleday.ThankyoufortakingcareofMaxwhileIgotmywordsin.AndthankyoumostofallforhelpingmefindREADERSGUIDE
EVERYSUMMERAFTER
CarleyFortuneBehindtheBook
ImovedtothelakethesummerIwaseight.Inmyparents’ownwhirlwindlovestory,mymom,aCanadian,andmydad,anAussie,metinScotland,gotengagedthreemonthsafterthat,andsettledinTorontotostartalifetogether.WhenIwasthree,wemovedtoAustralia;whenIwaseight,wecameback.Butinsteadofbuyingahomeinthecity,theydecidedtoputdownrootsinBarry’sBay—atinytowninEasternOntario—wheretheyownedasmallcottageonKamaniskegLake.
Igrewuponthewater,downanarrowdirtroadinthebush.Ispentsummersindampbathingsuits,readingonthedock,andwhenIwasolder,workingatmyfamily’srestaurantintheevening.(AlthoughtheinspirationfortheTaverninthisbookcomesfromthebelovedWilnoTavern,onetownoverfromBarry’sBay.)
MyparentssoldourhomeonKamaniskegwelloveradecadeago,butbecausealakeismyhappyplace,myhusbandandIhavecontinuedrentingacottagejustoutsideBarry’sBayforacoupleweekseveryAugust.TheownerisanAmericanandin2020,whentheborderbetweenCanadaandtheUnitedStatesclosedtotravelers,heletussquatthereforthesummer.
Inmid-Julythatyear,Ihadaverystrongandsuddendesiretowriteabook.I’mnotaspiritualpersonatall(eventheominayogaclassmakesmefeelweird),buttheforceatwhichthisurgehitmewasunlikeanythingI’vefeltbeforeorsince.Itwasanepiphany,myoneandonlyOprahWinfrey–worthyAhaMoment.
Ithinkyou’llbeabletotellafterreadingEverySummerAfterhownostalgicIwasfeelingwhenIwroteit.It’snocoincidencethatIwaslivingbythelakeinthecorneroftheworldwhereIgrewupwhenIbeganthemanuscript.Iwantedtopaytributetoshimmeringwateranddensebush,toskiesthatstretchendlesslyandthestormsthatlightthemupinthedark.Iwantedfriendshipbraceletsanddrippyicecreamcones.Iwantedtoescape2020andretreatintothebestofmychildhoodsummers.
I’mmildlyembarrassedtoadmitthatforalongstretchofmyadulthood,readingseemedmorelikeachorethanabreakfromreality.Asaneditor,Ireadforworkallday,andtheideaoflookingatmorewordsinmysliversofdowntimewascompletelyunappealing.Icouldbarelystandtopickupabook.IwishIcouldrememberpreciselywhichonestartedmeonarollofreadingwomen’sfictionandromanceandyoungadultnovelsafewyearsago.I’dliketoknowsoIcouldtrackdowntheauthorandthankherwithallofmyheart.ItcouldhavebeenChristinaLaurenorColleenHooverorJennyHanorAngieThomasorEmilyHenryorTaherehMafiorSallyThorneorNicolaYoonorHelenHoang.Ormany,manyothers.WhatIdoknowisthatonceIstarted,Icouldn’tstop.Iwentfromreadingahandfulofbooksayeartodowningseveralaweek.
Ididn’trealizeitatthetime,butIthinktheeditorpartofmybrainwasfiguringouthowthesebooksworked—whatthenarrativebeatswereandwheretheyfellinthestory,whatkindsofcharactersIfindintriguing,howauthorskeepareaderengagedfrombeginningtoend.IhadbeenstudyingtheelementsofanovelwithoutrealizinghowhardI’dbeencramming.Ihaveajournalismdegree,notaformalbackgroundincreativewriting,butIconsiderthetimeIspent—andcontinuetospend—asadeeplyengagedreaderasmyeducation.
BeforeIsetfingerstokeyboard,IknewIwantedtotellalovestory,andIknewIwantedittohaveahappyending.(In2020,ahappyendingwastheonlykindIcouldstomach.)Iwantedthecentralrelationshiptospanmanyyearsandcaptureallthehormone-fueledangstandexcitementofbeingateenager,andtheheavinesswelivewithasadults.Iwantedtoexploretheincrediblefeelingoffindingyourperson,thatfriendwhogetsyoulikenooneelsedoes,whomakesyoufeelseenandsafeandsparkly.
Ialsowantedtowriteaboutpeoplewhoscrewupbutwhoultimatelytrytheirbesttodobetter.Thecharactersinthisbookareallflawed.(ExceptmaybeforSue.I’mprettysureSueisperfection.)Ihopethatmakesthemallthemorecompelling.I’mpersonallydrawntoprotagonistslikePercyandSam,whograpplewiththeirownshortcomings,who
Mostofall,IwantedtowritethekindofbookIliketodevour,thekindofbookthatgavemebackmyloveofreadingseveralyearsago.WritingEverySummerAfterwasanescapeforme.Ihopereadingitwasforyouaswell.DiscussionQuestions
SamandPercyarefastfriends.Whatdoyouthinkeachgetsfromtheirrelationship?
Haveyouhadanimportantrelationship—eitherplatonicorromantic—thatendedinawaythatyouwishyoucouldgetado-over?
SamandPercy’sromanticrelationshipbeganwhentheywereveryyoung.Doyouthinkitwouldhavesurvivedhadtheynotbrokenup?Didtheyneedthetimeaparttoultimatelyenduptogether?
HowdoyouthinkCharliefeelsaboutPercyinthepastandpresent?
WhatdidyouthinkofDelilahandherfriendshipwithPercy?DoyouseeDelilahasagoodfriend?WhataboutPercy?
HowdidPercy’sbetrayalchangeyouropinionofher?Doyousympathizewithwhatshedid?Doyouthinkheractisforgivable?