Boyfriend for the Summer

I know teenage girls. I’ve been one. They’ll hold a grudge on my behalf. For my own sake, I don’t need this to be messier than necessary.

I hit my knee on my dresser in the dark, still not quite used to the layout of my private room, and I curse. But it seems a little karmic for my stupidity.

It doesn’t matter how long ago that Leena and Eric broke up. They were still together for a long time. The break-up happened just after college. They went to separate colleges, and sometimes it seemed like they weren’t together at all. Until it all blew up, and she erased him from the face of her earth.

I never told her that Eric and I were together. That he was the guy from camp that I fell head over heels in love with. She just assumed that it was a random guy and that we broke up when the summer was over. She never asked about him when I didn’t bring him up. And I didn’t care, because that would have been harder.

I can’t remember a world where I haven’t been friends with Leena. She’s always been there for me, and me for her. Senior year, when she and Eric were first together, we were just as inseparable as we always had been. It’s been harder since then, but we’re still close.

She’s off doing her thing working for a fabulous design agency. She still travels like she did when we were younger, and she’s always promising that she’ll use her connections now to start me on my publishing journey. But that hasn’t happened yet. There are a lot of reasons for it. It’s no one’s fault.

I don’t even bother to fully change my clothes, just strip to my underwear and climb under the covers. I’m still crying. It’s like a reflex at this point, and I want to feel the pain that’s cracking in my chest. I need to wallow in this misery. Drown in it. So that I can get past it.

Speaking of Leena, I grab my phone off the nightstand, and there are more texts from her from earlier. I left my phone here during the bonfire because I didn’t want to be disturbed. But there they are.

Bonfire night! Are you excited?

Hello? Woman have you died in the woods? Do I need to come get you?

I smile a little at that. She would come get me if I needed her to. And even though I can’t tell her about Eric and me, I can count on her to at least make me feel a little better. And I want to be able to talk about the fact that he’s here without constantly worrying about stepping on her toes.

You still awake?

A laughing emoji comes through. Girl, it’s Friday night of course I’m still awake.

It’s midnight. Which is late at camp, but in Leena’s glamorous world the night is just beginning. She texts again.

How you holding up out there?

I’m okay. It’s a crazy memory train.

I was thinking about that today, she writes. Kind of wish that I was out there too. The waterfall and the s’mores. Getting away from it all. It would be a nice break.

Yeah. Everywhere I turn is complete déjà vu. I tell her. But I don’t think that you would want to be here right now.

Frowning face and crying face. Why? I can still rough it.

Eric is here.

Eric who?

Eric Elmore, I say.

There’s such a long pause in her texting that I think that she’s completely passed out. Or maybe she actually was in bed and fell asleep. But then suddenly the texts start coming hard and fast.

WHAT?!

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

What the fuck is that bastard doing at Red Rock? That motherfucker better have a damn good reason.

Fucking moron.

Sucks for you that you have to spend the summer near someone who brings the average IQ in the room down to zero.

Even through the pain, her vitriol is shocking. She’s never really wanted to talk about Eric or why they broke up, even though it was almost two year ago now. The fact that she still feels that strongly…what the fuck happened?

Jesus Leena. A little harsh much? It’s been a long time.

No time is too long for an asshole.

…I guess not. But it’s been almost two years, right? Wouldn’t you want him to be happy now? You’ve moved on.

Leena isn’t with anyone, but she’s the social butterfly. She’s had plenty of boyfriends, and I know that she’s happy with the way her life is. She doesn’t want to be pinned down—or so she tells me.

Why? she asks. Is he dating someone?

I’m not sure, I say. I’m not getting into that. Maybe.

He is, isn’t he. It’s not a question. Who is it? One of those fucking slutty teenagers? What a creep.

I roll my eyes in the dark, and I add the emoji to the text for emphasis. No, of course not! I think it’s just someone our age.