Pieces of Summer

Mika is nothing like her mother, thankfully.

Dad’s truck is gone, which isn’t a surprise. He’s probably off getting loaded at the bar in town, blowing what little bit of money we have on booze and poker. I have a decent paying job during the off season. I’m saving every fucking dime of it too. That way we’ll be one step closer to having that bowling alley next summer. Then… Then we’ll have endless summers.

Grabbing my skateboard, I jog down the dirt road until I hit pavement. As soon as there’s a smooth patch of road, I toss the board down, and start kicking my way to Mika’s much faster. It seems to take forever, but I finally get there.

Confusion and excitement hit me at once when I see the BMW inside the open garage. She’s here, which is perfect, but she didn’t come to me, which is the confusing part.

As soon as I step onto the porch, the door swings open before I get a chance to knock, and Milton gives me a grim, pitying expression. If Mika isn’t answering the door, then she’s probably in trouble for something. Normal kids get into trouble.

“What?” I ask him. “Is Mika grounded or something?”

I don’t know what it’s like to be grounded. If I piss my parents off they just throw shit at me or hurl insults my way. So I’m not sure what the protocol for being grounded is.

“Mika can’t come this summer. Her mother is being stubborn and irrational.”

My entire stomach slams into my toes, and my legs turn to rubber. By some miracle, I manage to stay upright.

“You’re sure?” I ask in a whisper that betrays the fact I’m trying not to act like he just punched me.

His pitying expression becomes more pronounced. It never once crossed my mind that she wouldn’t get to come. She never wrote anything like that in any of her letters.

“Look, Chase, I like you, kid. You know I do, but can I ask you an honest question?”

No idea what this has to do with Mika not coming, but I nod, unable to speak at the moment. Why hasn’t she written me about not coming?

“What happens when Mika is allowed to leave home? Do you two plan on eloping? Going to college? Going straight to work? I’ve asked her, but she refuses to even acknowledge me on the matter. The problem is that Mika has her own goals, but she’d give every one of them up just to be swallowed by your own dreams.”

r />

Clearing my throat, I finally sit down. I can’t speak and stand, so sitting is the only option. The wicker chair creaks beneath me as I run my hand through my hair.

“We’re going to buy the Pins and Balls bowling alley as soon as we graduate.”

“With what money?” he asks.

“I’m working and saving up.”

The patronizing look he gives me mixes with sympathy as he takes a seat beside me.

“It’ll take a lot more money than an after school job can give you to even save up for a down payment to mortgage that place. Mika has a college fund, but it’s for just for college. She doesn’t get it just to be getting it. I’m a firm believer in taking care of a child, but not an adult. If she leaves home, she has to make it on her own.”

“I don’t want your money, Mr. Dalton,” I mutter, trying not to sound as insulted as I feel.

“I know that,” he says, blowing out a long, hesitant breath. “Mika ever tell you she wants to be a doctor?”

Again, it feels like I’m getting punched.

“No,” I whisper quietly, wondering why she wouldn’t tell me something like that. She’s only ever briefly mentioned being interested in the medical field, but never acted like it was a dream or anything.

“She didn’t tell you because she knows you can’t leave this town, son. She’d have to attend a nice college. She’d have to go through med school. She’d have to sacrifice a lot of time and energy and live somewhere close to campus. Not here. Then, to be a surgeon like she wants to be, she’d have to live in the city. A big one with a nice hospital. See where I’m going with this?”

I nod numbly, hating the taste of bile in my throat. Why didn’t she tell me?

The brief mention of the medical field is such a vague memory that I don’t even know why it was brought up. It never sounded like it was a passion at all. Not like it sounds when we talk about our dreams.

Or maybe she was trying to tell me what her dreams were, while I was too busy trying to find a way to trap her in this fucking town I’m forever stuck in.

Milton continues speaking while my mind drones on, shifting through the misplaced memories where I might have heard her better if I’d listened.