The Truth About That Summer

eighty

At the mention of Luke's name, the light dims in Mom's eyes. "Yes, well..."

Before she can continue, I peer around into the kitchen. "Where's Dad?"

"Ran to the pharmacy for me," Grams squeezes my wrist again and I wonder if it was really for me, so I wouldn't have to face them both at once. Not when I'm supposed to be having a nice night. I smile at her warmly.

Mom zeroes in on my expression, her mouth popping open slightly before she remembers to compose herself.

"Well, I'm going to get into the shower. Brynn and I still have lots to do." I sling my bag over my shoulder and head upstairs, feeling my mother's incredulous eyes on my back the entire time.

The sun is low in the sky, the air still warm and salty as the music gets louder, the late afternoon rolling into early evening as families wrangle their kiddos and get them into car seats to go home.

Gulls cry over head, scrounging for dropped French fries or s'mores fixings, the happy jingle of the icecream truck still singing in the background for any teens who also want a treat.

Laughter fills the air, mixing with the scent of delicious barbecue food - courtesy of Luke's father, actually - and tasty fried treats. Music and footsteps echo from the dance floor inside the Rec center, it's wide porch doors propped open to the surf.

Girls dressed in bikinis and cover ups, summer dresses and heeled wedges, mingle with guys in backwards baseball caps, cut-offs or form-fitting tees showing off their muscled arms. They dance, they sing, they take photos at our booth.

And as the night sky darkens, turning dusty over the ocean, carnival lights illuminate the sky, festive fair music and game buzzers drowning out the sounds from inside.

"The carnival was a good call," I say to Brynn, watching the rush of older teens bursting inside the picket fence the second the lead carnival employee opens the gate. Within moments, there are lines at every ride, even the one that spins so fast it makes me puke.

"Every idea you had was a good one." Brynn agrees, licking a drop of vanilla icecream from her long pointer finger. It's her fourth cone of the night. "You should try to enjoy the night, too, Dyl."

"I am." I reply too quickly to be anything but defensive. I shrug it off, going back to staring at everyone else having fun.

I'm not not having fun. In fact, I'm happy, watching everyone enjoy the fruits of Brynn and my's labor. It's oddly satisfying to see the night come together the way it is. To see young kids to the senior citizens group liking what we put together.

But there's something missing - always something missing.

He should be here. He should be here. He should be here.

It's a running thought, behind every move I've made. Got popcorn at our favorite vendor, remembered how we'd toss it at each other's mouths, seeing who could catch more. Lit up the torches as the sky darkened and couldn't forget the look Case would get in his eye anytime he'd watch fire, so fascinated by the flames as they danced. Hummed along to the DJ's 90's playlist and heard Casey singing way too loudly and way too off-key to Smash Mouth.

I blink, realizing I don't know what Brynn just said.

"Miss Dylan, Miss Dylan!" Finn's pudgy arms wrap around my legs before I can ask.

"Finn!" I exclaim, lifting him into my arms and quickly scouring the crowd for Laura or his dad.

"Hey there, pretty girl." Luke's body is instantly behind me, warm and inviting as he wraps his arms around my waist, pressing his face into my hair as he kisses my neck.