Summer's Desire Vol. 1 (Complete)

Part 1: Chapter 3

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The Andersons, the family who had purchased Seth's former home, were new in town. The husband was a doctor from Grand Rapids who had chosen to move to Rockford in search of a more quiet life. The wife was a part-time legal secretary and, it quickly became obvious to the local folk, a full-time social butterfly. She hadn't wanted the quiet life, but her husband had prevailed.

They had an only daughter.

One week after Grandma's death and on the very next day after the Andersons moved in, Seth was standing before his former home, ringing the doorbell. The door opened and, framed in the doorway, appeared the Anderson daughter: Jessica.

She was a thirteen year old brunette with gray cat eyes, pretty in an eye-catching way that she emphasized by wearing the fanciest clothes.

Her first time seeing Seth Lewis standing tall in the dusk outside her house, dressed in faded jeans and a black leather jacket, with strands of his black hair blowing in the wind and falling above deep blue eyes that regarded her with an aloofness which irritated her, Jessica instantly decided that she wanted this beautiful boy to belong to her. And he would, of course—for as long as she wanted him. After all, there had never been anything that she wanted that she didn't eventually get.

So she aimed her most dazzling smile at the boy... and was miffed to see that he wasn't the least dazzled.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Seth Lewis. I used to live in this house." For real? He sounded so polite and distant it was like he was talking to some old lady who'd asked him for help in crossing the street. But no problem, she could teach him some enthusiasm.

"Hey there! I'm Jessica Anderson and I live here now." She giggled. "So you stayed here before? Too bad you didn't come with the house. It would've been sooo worth the extra money." Her eyes stroked over his body in overt appraisal.

His aloof gaze cooled even more. "The house was the only thing for sale. I'm not."

Jessica flinched in chagrin. Why couldn’t she crack this boy?"Oh no, that's not what I meant. I just wanted to say... I meant..." She faltered, subsiding into awkward silence.

He let her squirm for a few moments longer, then finally broached the purpose of his visit. "I'm here because I'm waiting for a letter and it'll come at this address. The sender doesn't know about the house being sold," he explained. "Any letters for me—I want to ask your family not to throw them away but just hand them to me instead."

"Oh... oh, of course I'll give you your letters. I'm happy to help you any way you want." She smiled invitingly.

Still, he remained impervious. For real, still? Maybe he was gay. 

"Okay then," he said, "thanks for your help. Could you look if there's already a letter here for me?" A noticeable thread of hope had entered his voice. "Honestly, it's a bit early yet, but maybe you could still check. The sender's name is Summer Moore."

Not gay, then. Just that he had some stupid girl already. Jessica's expression froze for a second, then relaxed again. Actually... this could sooo be a good thing! Yeah... I'll help you, sweetie—I'll help you forget this Summer biatch ever existed.

In a helpful tone, she said, "I'm sorry, there've been no letters from Summer Moore yet. But be sure to stop by again in a few days." So that she could work on him some more. "Maybe something will come with the post soon."

His eyes flashed with disappointment, but he rallied with an easy grin that made Jessica weak in the legs. "Thanks, I will. See you soon."

After that he turned and left with quick strides. Jessica watched him until he disappeared from view, willing him to look back at her.

He never did.

Two days later, the first letter from Summer Moore addressed to Seth Lewis was delivered at the Andersons' address. Jessica, having expected this letter, managed to extract it from the mail box almost before the postman had placed it there.

The next 364 letters, each one arriving with religious regularity day after day, fell into her hands as well. She read them, smirking at the increasingly confused then pained and finally desperate tone of that cow Summer. Then she hid the letters at the back of her closet.

With the same religious regularity as the arriving letters, Seth came by every couple of days in the afternoon or evening to ask if Summer had written to him. Each time, Jessica assured him with a sympathetic expression that, unfortunately, there had been no letters from his friend.

Then she always tried to coax him inside her house. He always refused.

With each passing day with no word from Summer, Seth became more and more withdrawn. His Grams was dead, his Mom was a conscienceless junkie who would sell her own son for profit, so his life with her was sheer hell—and his Sunny had broken her promise to him. This latter fact he just couldn't fathom.

At first he agonized endlessly over the near-certainty that something bad had to have happened to her. She'd been in an accident or become ill or someone had hurt her... He hadn't lived a sheltered life, so he could easily imagine hundreds of horrifying reasons why Summer didn't contact him. He couldn't sleep at night for imagining them.

He called social services incessantly, asking about her, but they wouldn't tell him anything. From Ms. Owens, after he finally obtained her number, all he got was an unfeeling, "Well, I'm not Summer's caseworker anymore, you know. So I wouldn't know where and how she is. Besides, that kind of information is confidential. Really, stop calling!"

He didn't stop calling so Ms. Owens stopped taking his calls. Still, he kept phoning her office every day. Finally, about a month after Summer's departure, Ms. Owens—driven to the edge of exasperation or maybe roused to a flicker of pity at last—talked to him again. "Look, Seth, I inquired, and she's fine. She has a new foster family and she's enrolled in a new school. Just be patient, you know, until she decides to contact you herself. And please don't call my office anymore."

This time he stopped calling.

Then he waited and waited for his Sunny, and the more he waited in vain, the more remote he grew. His heart, that Summer had awakened, was gradually engulfed by the cold spreading inside him once again. Finally it was no more than a block of ice.

* * *

A week after the one-year anniversary of Summer's departure, on a Friday evening at the beginning of March, fourteen-year-old Seth stopped by the Anderson residence. Jessica, who was waiting for him, opened the door right away, gave him her wide smile, then let her expression turn sad.

"I'm sorry, Seth. There's been no letter," she told him softly.

His face turned to stone, then he spun around without a word and left. He never came back again.

That entire year, his friends had been inviting him to parties, wheedling and taunting him to go, but he'd always declined. Without Summer in his life, without having once heard from her, he had been in no mood to party.

But that evening after leaving Jessica, for the first time Seth didn't refuse his friends.

He went to his first party and got drunk on cheap booze. Though mostly numbed by the alcohol in his system, he noticed with a weird detachment that the pain inside him hadn't been numbed at all. So he drank some more and fucked a girl for the first time. When he was done with the girl, he realized he didn't even remember her name.

The pain was still there, shredding and throbbing, and he concluded resignedly that it probably always would be. But he would bury it deep, along with his memories of her.

It was time to say goodbye to his Sunny.

Forever.

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