Three Summers

Not wanting to play this game today, I stand directly in front of him, waiting for whatever in particular it is that he wants to get off his chest tonight. I cross my arms over my chest and stare at his body. His arms are behind his back and he seems… nervous.

“Here… ” He pulls his arms in front of him and he’s holding a small, white cardboard box. I slowly take it from him and open it up, my throat closing. I’m taken back to one of my favorite memories with him: my seventeenth birthday.

I had a “small” birthday party; basically everyone from my class was invited. My mom ordered pizza and she made a cake. I didn’t even get a piece of it because I was too busy making sure that my dad wasn’t embarrassing me in front of everyone with his numerous knock-knock jokes. I was a complete basket case because it was the first time Rowen came to my house. My parents knew that we had been dating, but at this point in our relationship we had only gone on a few dates—the movies, football games, things like that. Nothing major.

The party ended well. My dad didn’t embarrass me too much, Rowen and I were casual in our affection, and the night was filled with laughter and too much cake. Once everyone left, and I said a brief goodbye to Rowen, my parents eyeing us the entire time, and went straight to my room, exhausted.

It was nearly midnight when my phone vibrated on my night table. I reached over and opened it up. Rowen’s name was flashing. When I answered, he was completely out of breath and told me to open up my window, so I did as he asked, flabbergasted. I walked over to my one window, with him still on the phone, and slowly slid my fingers below the wooden windowsill and pushed it up. I looked down and saw nothing until I heard a “psst.” Right in front of me was Rowen, sitting in the giant oak tree just outside my window.

I shrieked. “Rowen, what are you doing?”

He gave me that award-winning grin and told me to watch out as he stretched his body as far as it would possibly go, and propped one leg into my window while holding onto the tree with his other hand. In one giant push, he was inside my bedroom at midnight, on my birthday.

“Did you climb that tree?!” I whispered, with wide eyes. He only nodded as he sauntered towards me. He took his hand and wrapped it around my waist. I remember the butterflies flying rapidly in my stomach as his hand touched me. My shirt was so thin that I could feel his entire hand through it. He landed his lips on mine and his hands roamed my body and I felt like I was flying. I remember how when his lips let go of mine, I literally looked down at my feet so make sure they were still on the ground.

“I brought you something,” he said when his lips left mine. He stepped back and started to pull his backpack off, reaching inside. He pulled out a tiny white cardboard box and I took it, slowly, with wondering eyes.

When I opened it up, I first saw a tiny note. I pulled it out of the box, and it read, “A cupcake, for my cupcake”, and I felt my cheeks rise. Behind the note lay a chocolate cupcake with a little kid’s plastic ring on top. I remember laughing and meeting his face. It was such a idyllic moment between the two of us. That memory is so minor considering all that’ve been through, but it seems so much bigger now. Especially with him standing here, on my nineteenth birthday, with a chocolate cupcake in hand.

I’m not sure if should be happy, or mad. I can’t pinpoint my feelings as I stare at the cupcake. This time, there isn’t a note. Just a simple, brown chocolate cupcake. I take a deep breath and the sweetness fills my nose, causing my mouth to water. I look up at him and he is watching me very intently. I shut the lid to the box quickly and continue to stare at him until he finally breaks the tenderness of our moment.

“I thought a lot about what you said to me the other night.” My eyebrows dip. “When you asked if I wanted you to forgive me.”

My heart climbs as he speaks and I can’t take my eyes off his. They have me trapped. I feel completely trapped.

“I do want you to forgive me, Sadie. I do. I really do.” I nod my head in understanding until he speaks again. “I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but I want you to. So, I promise from this moment on, I am going to do everything I can to make it up to you and I understand if you never forgive me, but I’m going to try until the day that I die.” I swallow loudly and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I can hear that tiny voice in the back of my head begging me to ask him the question that’s been bugging me since the music festival.

I blurt, “Why didn’t you correct me when I accused you of being with Samantha?” He tilts his head in my direction and he looks defeated, again.

“I—” He closes his eyes and then opens them quickly when he starts to speak again. “I thought it would be easier for you to just hate me as much as humanly possible, because I don’t deserve to even have a tiny sliver of you.” He groans, “I hoped if you thought I did more to you than I even care to admit that it’d be better for the both of us. I’m obviously destructive and you shouldn’t be around me.”

“Then why are you trying to get me to forgive you?” I question his actions. They don’t make sense to me.

“Because I’m selfish. I’m so fucking selfish.” He looks pained as the words leave his mouth. Maybe this situation between the two of us has more of an effect on him that I thought. Maybe he hurts just as badly as I do, but… there’s still that tiny voice in my head saying, he’s the one who did this. He’s the one who did this to us.

He gives me one last look and opens the door to his truck. “Happy Birthday, Sadie.” Before I can muster up a “thanks,” he pulls out of the parking lot, leaving only those tail lights glowing in my view.

When I agreed to go to this party with Hannah Marie and Anna, I had no idea what I was really getting into. I haven’t been to a town party since I was seventeen, and that was way before the attack even happened. I went with Rowen and we ended up leaving as soon as the keg was empty. That’s when everyone was getting incoherently drunk; it wasn’t our scene. We drove up to Old Man Henry’s that night and we spent most of the night in the back of his pick-up, letting the light of moon cascade over our bare bodies. It was a good night, a really good night.

“Do you think this looks okay?” I ask Hannah as I climb into her jeep. I was wearing some high-waisted, ripped demin shorts that Alicia and I found during one of our thrift-shop trips. They were super cute, but I wasn’t sure it was my style. I was so used to wearing things that made me feel safe and secure and these… these made me feel the complete opposite. They showed off my long, skinny legs and I swear I could feel a breeze on my butt cheeks.

“Absolutely! Especially with that shirt. You look good.” I look down and adjust my tucked-in white tank and make sure my bra isn’t showing. I wear my hair down and thankfully the humidity isn’t messing with it, yet.

On the drive over to Kyle’s, I can’t help but feel the nerves jolting through my limbs. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen my friends from high school and a lot of them haven’t seen me since I obtained this ragged scar on my face. Granted, it’s not that noticeable to me anymore, but to them, it may be.

When we pull through the iron gates and buzz in the number combination that Kyle had given Anna, I take in the huge, castle-like houses. I live in a pretty decent house; it’s all brick and it’s two stories with more than enough rooms inside, but these houses… they’re gigantic. It looks like royalty should live here. Perfectly manicured lawns, bright green grass, not a single blade out of line.

Kyle’s house is just the same. He only has one older brother, yet his house could probably house ten other siblings. When we walk through the front doors, it already smells of warm beer and the musk of too many people. There are so many people lingering around that I lose count. Most of them are drinking from aluminum beer cans or red solo cups. Some people are dancing; others are playing drinking games scattered around the living area. In the kitchen, there are three metal kegs, with a line of cups being filled to the brim. The lights are dim and there’s a disco ball and a strobe light on opposite corners of the living room. If someone had seizures, they’d definitely want to steer clear of this room. Hannah grabs my hands and pulls me to the back deck, and the second the warm night air fills my nostrils, I feel like I can finally breathe again.

“Jesus, I felt like I was in an alternate reality back there. Kyle went all out for this one.” Anna says from behind me.

“Me too. The parties at Duke were nothing like that. They were much more mellow.” The parties at Duke were kind of sophisticated, not to sound snobby, but they were. At least the parties I went to. Alicia had been to many parties so maybe she purposely took me to the ones that were mellow. Sounds like something she’d do to shield me.

Right after I’d gotten ready for the party earlier tonight, I’d sent a picture to Alicia giving her proof that I wasn’t being a “hermit,” as she calls is, and she sent me a text back with nearly one hundred exclamation points, letting me know that she was proud. That had me smiling, but then she followed up that text with another saying I needed to give her “proof” of this “so-called” party. I’d told Anna and Hannah Marie all about Alicia and how she kind of helped me out of my slump after last summer. They had already friended her on their social media accounts.

“Okay, here. Give me your phone and you and Anna go stand with your backs to the back door. This will give Alicia all the proof she needs.” Hannah commands, grabbing my phone, and Anna and I trot over to the door. I wrap my arm around Anna’s waist and we both stick out our tongues as Hannah snaps the picture.

The flash blinds me for a second, but when my vision returns to semi-normal, I see a scowl on Hannah’s perfectly round face. Concern courses through my body. “What’s wrong, Hannah?”