Three Summers

“Do you want to talk about the thing with Rowen and you?” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I don’t answer her as we weave through the home décor isles at the store. We’re here to shop for some decorations for Alicia’s and I’s new apartment. It comes fully furnished since it’s still on campus, but we both promised each other that we’d pick up some things to spruce it up before school started in full-force.

I pick up a rose gold lamp and place it in the cart, not meeting my mom’s stare. I know she means well, but I don’t want to talk about it. I feel like an idiot and I feel weak and I’ve spent the last two years becoming emotionally strong; it’s not okay to feel like this… again.

She clears her throat, busying herself with bathroom rugs and I finally speak up. “I don’t want to talk about it. We’re friends and it’s a hard line to balance on after everything. It will just take some time.” That’s probably the most borderline, non-juicy answer I could give, but… meh. I could really get into all the intricate details of my feelings for Rowen, but she would probably want a licensed therapist to set me straight.

Thankfully, she leaves it alone after my monotone answer and we end up spending entirely too money much on the things for my apartment, and then we top it off with so much food at The Cheesecake Eatery that I’ll probably need to buy a bigger size in my lifeguarding suit. I’ve always loved hanging out with my mom, which is not something most twenty-year old girls can say, but my mom is honestly fun to be around. We’ve always bonded over back-to-school shopping. I’ve never been one of those girls who just absolutely lives for shopping but somehow, she’s always made it fun. She’d drag me to the mall and we’d feast on those delicious, warm, salty pretzels for “shopping power” and then we’d trail through the mall deciding what I wanted to get. She never really told me no to anything; she’s always let me make my own decisions and be my own person. If I wanted to wear neon pink, sparkly shoes paired with a Carolina Panthers light blue jersey and shorts, then she’d let me. She was very adamant about allowing me to become my own person; I just hope she likes the way I ended up.

As we pull up to the driveway laughing about the fact that Dad still hasn’t be able to straighten our mailbox (no matter how many times he’s tried it, always ends up leaning slightly to the left the next day). My mom puts the car in park and places her hand on mine as I reach to unbuckle my seatbelt.

“Wait a second, Sade.”

“Okay… Why do you have your serious voice on?” I ask, as she gently releases her warm hand from mine. I sit back in my seat, uncomfortable.

“I want to say something to you and I don’t want your dad to overhear.” My eyebrows scrunch forward and I’m instantly concerned. My parents are a team; they’ve never gone behind each other’s back to say something to me before, not something important, at least. When I would get a bad grade on a test, they’d both sit me down at our kitchen table and talk to me about it. When my mom had a little cancer scare last year (not to worry, it was a fluke), they both sat me down and told me, so this… is off.

My mom leans back and stares at our house as she begins, “I want to talk to you about Rowen.” Before I can say anything, she puts her hand up, palm facing outward, to stop me. “I know your father and I have been telling you to think with your head your entire life and it’s been good advice… until now.” I look over at her and her eyes are that perfect hazel color, showing the only sentiment, I ever seen in them: comfort. “I know things are weird with you and Rowen and there’s a lot at play, and if you think with your head, like we’ve taught you to do, I don’t think… ” She pauses and I watch her scan my entire face. “I think you need to think with your heart, on this one, Sadie.” I stare at her for a few minutes, then look away, not wanting her to see the emotions playing all over my face. “Ignoring what your heart says won’t lead you to happiness. Trust me.” She scoffs a little. “I tried to ignore my heart once, and I ended up in a place that I didn’t want to be—leading me to a lot of hurt. The moment I listened to my heart again, though, it all clicked.” I look over at her again and she’s giving me a tiny smile as she reaches for

my hands clenched in my lap.

“No one’s made you smile the way Rowen used to, and there may be another Rowen out there for you but if you keep ignoring what your heart says, you’re never going to find him.” I bite my bottom lip, to stop the trembling. I guess I’m not that good at hiding my feelings from everyone.

“I think you need to take some time and shut the world out for a bit. Shut out everything but that huge, perfect little heart of yours, and listen to it. Figure out what you want and be happy.” I give her a small smile and softly nod my head. But, what she doesn’t understand is that my heart isn’t so perfect anymore; it’s scarred and jagged and if I listen to it, I know exactly where it’s going to lead me. It’s going to lead me down a path that I’m not sure I want to walk down again.

Seventeen

I know the time is coming. The clock is ticking loudly in my brain, chanting “talk to Rowen” which every freaking chime. We still haven’t discussed the epic stare-down followed by my floodgates bursting open, drowning everyone in sight. It’s been more than strained between the two of us, and during the past two weeks at work, we’ve kept our distance. He still waits by his truck after my shift, but we never say more than a few words to each other. It’s taunting in every way possible and draining for me to keep my guard up. It’s like neither of us knows what to say. It’s obvious we’re both hoping for a way out of all the pressure… and we’re soon to get it since I leave for school in exactly eight days. That leaves eight days to get our shit together and figure out if we’re gonna make it as friends, or not.

When I went to the Animal Adoption Festival yesterday, I met up with Hannah Marie and Anna, who also brought along a huge group of our friends. Kyle was there, but kept his distance, still sticking to his story of not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of Rowen and I. Then there were a few stragglers that I vaguely remember from high school and of course… the bright red cherry on top: Rowen. We broke off a shameless piece of tension between the two of us by including each other in group-wide conversation, but it was epically awkward and every one could sense it. Long pauses after we’d talk, long stares until we’d catch each other, and then a touch of whiplash in an attempt to look away. Fun times!

Part of me wants to just take Alicia’s advice and either: 1. Have sex with some random guy to see if I can become somewhat emotionally attached to someone else, or 2. Just call Rowen up and talk to him about things; see what he has to say. I definitely will be going with the latter of those choices, as I don’t think I’m ready to strip down naked in front of some guy and bare my soul to them. I’ve only ever had sex with Rowen, which in Alicia’s eyes, is half my issue. I recognize all the warning signs, I get it. The only person I’ve had sex with is Rowen and that was two years ago. Can you dry up at the age of twenty? Surely not… right? Regardless of my sex life, or lack thereof, I need to make a move to fix things before I leave; I know that. But, I think I’ll wait until the very last moment… that way I can use the year buffer to my advantage.

My parents are gone for the day. Mom at the elementary school volunteering and Dad at his back-to-school meeting, so it gives me plenty of time to “shut the world out”, per the motherly advice I got earlier this week. What better way to do that than lying facedown on our oversized leather couch and letting my heart and mind engage into World War Three? I half want to put on some ACDC jams to build up the momentum of fists flying, hair pulling, and all-around wrestling, but I don’t. I let the silence of the room overcome my senses, and before long, I’m dead asleep. Only to be woken up by a persistent pounding on my front door.

“Jesus!” I spring up from the leather couch, face peeling away with the sticky backing, and instantly reach to make sure my skin is still there. I can feel the subtle ruggedness of my scar so I know that I still, in fact, have a face. I give the couch a dirty look and vaguely remember the pounding that woke me up. I tip-toe over to the door, peep through the tiny hole, and see nothing. Did I dream it?

Regaining my bearings, I walk over to the kitchen, checking around the house for anything abnormal, glancing at the clock. It’s only been a few hours, and my plan of figuring out what the hell to do with Rowen has already gone to shit. I shut the world out a little too much, apparently. Reaching inside our cabinet, I grab a glass of water and fill it up to the brim, chugging it in one drink. I stare out the window, and nostalgia takes me by the ponytail and yanks me to all the memories I’ve had out in that front yard. The grass is its brightest green right now due to the North Carolina summer weather. The bark on the giant oak tree towards the road is its deepest brown, limbs swaying in the summer breeze. It’s a perfect day outside, and I swim in the fact that my life is pretty damn good. Sure, I’ve had some unfortunate stuff happen, but in reality, I have a good life. Yes, things are unfinished with Rowen, but let’s get real: it’s not the end of the world… right?

“Wait, what?” I mutter, looking past the skyscraper of a tree. I instantly drop the glass in the sink, hearing it clatter against the aluminum entirety. Just beyond the oak tree, parked on my quiet street, is a sleek black Camaro SS with bright blue stripes lining the sides. I peek around the yard, looking for the one person that I know owns that vehicle. I feel a chill race up my spin and I run over to the old cream-colored phone still attached to the wall with a spiraling cord. I yank it off its receiver and dial the one number I pretend not to know, but really, the numbers are embedded into my brain in a gold sparkling color—flashing rapidly, as if they’re saying, “We never left!”

He answers on the first ring.

“Sadie?”

“Rowen,” I say, all breathy.

“What’s wrong?!” I can hear the worry in his tone.

“I think Mark is at my house.” My eyes dart from the kitchen window to the front door, wondering if he’s just going to barge in here at any moment.

“What? I’m coming over now. I’m only a few streets away.” I hear a bell chime in the background and I know he’s probably at the one tiny market we have downtown.

Wait! Why did I call Rowen? What?!

“Wait, Rowen. It’s probably fine. I don’t even know why I called you. Mark is like a sweet little puppy.” A very attached puppy.

“I’m comin’.” He says and I hear the rumble of his truck starting up. “Do not hang up the phone, Sadie.” He says this possessively and if I’m being honest, I can feel it all the way to my core.

“Okay.” I answer. There is only silence on the other end of the line. I listen hard to the background noises, only to distract myself from fully combusting. I can’t believe I called Rowen. My mind thought “DANGER!” and I called Rowen. What does that say?