5/10/15
"LANGUAGE GRAYSON KENNINGS!" my mother's voice echoes from the front door.
She was never one for explicit language. It is "dirty and improper," she always says.
"Sorry," I mumble out feeling ten years old again. Not even in the house a few minutes and I've already had my mind tossed upside down, broken glasses, and been chastised. There goes my carefree summer of fun.
My mother's petite frame pops around the corner with my father. My mother is stunning with her chestnut colored hair and fair skin. My father and her both share the same blue eyes that Bailey and I are blessed with. Bailey shares the same hair color and facial structure as our mom, soft and round, always looking like an angel. But while my sister takes after my mother, I take after my father. He's a tall man, well over six feet tall with a strong build. We share the same bright blonde hair, and I have his strong facial features. Like a straight nose, and high cheekbones.
My mother and father sit the load of groceries they are carrying on the island in the kitchen. My mother's looking at the ground. "What happened in here?" she asks her face pinched. She quickly grabs the broom and dustpan from the pantry, and my father begins to pick up the larger chunks. I just awkwardly step out of the way.
I twist my hands not knowing how to answer.
"I told her," Bailey says happily.
I swallow the lump in my throat that is her news. "Yeah, and the glasses were slick..." I say nervously not wanting to look at the real reason as to why I dropped them. I then pause in confusion. "Wait you two knew?" I exclaim.
My father finishes collecting the glass, adding them in a separate bag with my mother's pieces she gathered. "No one walk in here without shoes on for the rest of the day," my father says ignoring my question.
"We just found out also Grayson, don't get you panties in a twist." That's my mother's favorite line to say.
"Was your drive good?" my mother asks after everything is cleaned up. I smile and nod, and both my mother and father immediately come over and engulf me in their arms. Because of my refusal to come down to Easton they rarely get to see me. They will occasionally visit, but they love the beach and can't understand my reasoning for wanting to go somewhere where it snows so much.
We grew up in Virginia and would always come on vacation in Florida. And one year we stumbled across Easton when I was young, and the family fell in love. We've had a house here ever since. It really did become a second home. I won't be surprised when my parents retire if they move down here full time. They are here more days out of the year then our actual home in Virginia. The air, the ocean, the feeling is just so different here. It makes everything seem better.
"We've missed you so much sweetheart," my father's deep voice rumbles.
I pull them closer. "I've missed you both more." And I really did. My family is a close one. I pulled away from everyone after that summer when I was sixteen. I didn't mean for it to happen, my heart hardened, and it became hard for me to be close to anyone. When we were all home and it was time to come back to Easton, I would make an excuse and stay in Virginia while everyone else left. He changed everything for me.
The reminder forces my eyes to snap to his. He's already watching me with those hazel eyes that still haunt me.
I pull away from my parents suddenly feeling extremely cramped with all the sudden emotions that fill me. I didn't like to feel many emotions. Emotions are messy, and I don't do messy. Messy creates problems.
But my parents, my sister, and Cale in one day, and in the span of ten minutes, it's too much. I look around the room and all eyes are on me. I panic. "I...um...I am going to go get my bags...."
I quickly start towards the front door when I hear my sister say, "Cale go help her."
My feet halt instantly and I whip around. "I don't need help." Especially yours, I want to add. My words come out a little hard.
Bailey waves her hand at me like I am being a child. "No, it's fine Cale will help you," she pushes. I roll my eyes and start towards the door like my life depends on it. I can't make a big deal out of this, or it will just look weird. But this whole situation is weird! I let out a frustrated growl. No one knows what happened that summer, no one knows of Cale and I, because I was just some dirty secret.
I make it to my car and open my trunk a little more forcefully than needed. I start throwing my luggage out of the car and onto the cement driveway. I can hear footsteps and I just hope it's my parents.
The sounds of footsteps stop right behind me, and I know it isn't my parents. I can feel him, feel the way my body heats at the proximity of his. I can feel the way my pulse jumps, and how my skin prickles with his nearness. I hate that my body still responds to him.
"Do you want help?" His deep voice rubs against me making me want to curl in a ball and cry with all of the memories that suddenly slam into me.
I throw another bag out of the car. "Would rather throw my body off a cliff," my voice says full of hatred.
I hear him take a breath. "Are we going to talk about this?" his voice hushed. That's right, can't let anyone know you fucked my heart and body one summer. Anger begins to pump through me, and the more I think about him and that summer the more it fills me.
He walks a few steps until he's to my left near the trunk, but still a respectful amount of distance sits between us. "Gray..." he whispers, trailing as if there are no words. And he would be right. There are no words because he said all of them four years ago. I don't need to hear one more word ever come from his mouth.
I throw my last bag out and slam the trunk closed, almost hitting his face before he jumps out of the way. I meet his shock filled eyes. "Don't call me that. You are not my friend, and you are not family. You are nothing to me. So don't talk to me, and I hope you rot in hell," my voice is calm, but holds a single waver of wrath in it.
He finally backs away from me. His jaw locked and his body stiff, I know he's pissed. But he has no right to be. I may be acting like a bitch, but I wasn't the one who ended things like he did.
"What happened to the sweet Grayson?" he mumbles as he turns his back and starts in on back to the house.
I snort. "She died four years ago," I speak aloud. He pauses for a mere second at my words before walking into the house and closing the door a little harder than needed.
If he thinks I will let the past be the past he's wrong. In public I will act like nothing is wrong. But if he ever tries to talk to me one on one I'll let him have it. Sometimes late at night I will imagine what I would say to him if I ever saw again. A small smile touches my lips, damn would it feel great to say those things to him.
It takes two trips and a lot of huffing and puffing to lug my many bags into my room, and I am just on the first level. I even hear my sister tell Cale that I'm, "like a feminist or something" and that is why I won't let him help me with my bags. Bailey sometimes makes me want to punch a wall. If she only knew the true reason.
My parents begin to put away groceries and yell that dinner will be ready at five. Which gives me thirty minutes to begin to unpack. Bailey and Cale go upstairs to do god knows what. The thought alone sent vivid flashes of images that have me so sick I almost hurl.
I close the door to my room and just stand there for a second taking in everything. This room used to be my haven. I loved this room with its pale yellow walls, with my white furniture, and pale pink comforter. The whole right wall is cork and filled with pictures and mementos from over the years. The whole left wall is floor to ceiling windows that double as doors and overlook the beach. I used to open them during the day and let in the natural light and sea breeze. It took a lot of negotiating for me to get this room.
My parents are on the other side of the house on the first floor. They technically have the master though their room doesn't have quite the view mine has. Bailey's room is on the second floor with the guest bedroom. She loved being up there as a teen because she could sneak boys up to her room easily and the parents didn't sleep up there to even begin to notice. She always would taunt me saying the parents would always know when I had a boy over because their room was on the same level as mine.
And yet no one knew of that summer and Cale.
I sit down on the bed in my room. It's odd being somewhere I was once so comfortable, and now I hate being in this room. Cale and I shared so many nights together in here. Nothing crazy happened...just talking, and kissing, and cuddling, and more talking until the sun came up. I fell so fast and hard for him. I was young and stupid to even begin to see that he would never feel the same about me.
I stand and slide the curtains open, and push the doors open. A sudden gush of wind hits me and I smile. I love the feeling of being on the beach in my own room. I can hear the fluttering of pictures on the opposite wall. I turn and walk over running my fingers over all the memories I have had in this small town.
My fingers suddenly come to a halt on an old picture of my dog and me. I was twelve years old and Gus almost as old as me. He was a small dog. Only about five pounds, but he was the best pet a family could ask for. But it isn't the picture of me and an old dog that stops me, it's what is underneath. I lift the picture and a small gasp leaves me.
It's still here.
I lay down in bed with the biggest smile on my face.
I'm in love with Cale. I think I knew I would love him from the moment I met him. But I wasn't going to tell him that just yet, it is too soon. But I know he will love me to one day. I can feel it, we are meant to be. The age difference means nothing to me. He's only three years older. Heck my grandparents are fifteen years apart.
But I know it worries him. Being three years apart in ten years doesn't mean much. But being three years apart now.... I'm sixteen years old about to be a junior in high school, where as Cale is nineteen about to be a sophomore in college.
Three years doesn't seem so big. But high school to college...yeah that seems like a big difference. But when we hang out it doesn't seem to matter anymore, when he holds me, and kisses me...nothing matters.
I sigh and lift my hand to touch my lips. They feel swollen but in a good way. I can still feel him pressing his lips to mine. Every kiss feels like the first and I love that. I have never felt this way before and it scares me and excites me all at once.
The sound of a rock hitting my window startles me out of my trance and I shoot up in my bed. I look over to my windows wondering if Cale's coming over for the night again. No one is there though. My shoulders slump in disappointment. But another rock against the window catches my attention and I stand up from my bed and walk over to the windows. I look around and again see nothing. I grab my curtains to close them suddenly feeling uncomfortable when a small note tapped to the window catches my attention.
I open the door and rip off the small white note and close the door quickly whilst closing the curtains also.
Behind Gus lays us. The note reads. A small smile lifts my lips. I know it's from Cale. He loves his stupid little riddles.
Gus? My dog that died a few years back.... What does our relationship have to do with a dead dog?
I only have one picture with Gus and it's on my cork wall. So I walk over and run my eyes over the wall before finding the single picture of Gus and I when I was twelve. I lift the picture still confused what is beneath the picture.
When I lift it a small gasp escapes me. It's a picture of Cale and I. It is from the Fourth of July weekend. My friend Kylie had snapped a picture of us. Cale has always been weird about people taking pictures of us. I know he isn't ready to tell his parents about us. I think he's afraid someone will post it somewhere and it will get out. I hate that we are a secret, but I wouldn't trade him for anything. I love him.
I thought Kylie deleted the picture but I guess not.
I was looking at Kylie with a huge smile on my face, while Cale looked down at me. His eyes are bright and he looks at me like I am his everything. And I want to be. I want to be everything and anything he ever wants. God I have it bad.
But I now have a piece of us. Something I can look at and know for sure that this isn't all just a dream.
I pluck the picture from the wall and run my fingers over it again and again. I flip it over to make sure nothing is on the back and smile at his scratchy handwriting that resides on the back.
I can't wait to kiss you again.
My heart beats a little faster.
I never want this summer to end.
But it did.
It ended in a horrible crash.
I rip the picture from the wall and throw it in the trash. I want to scream and throw things and scream some more. But I know it won't do anything. I meant nothing to him. I was just a stepping-stone onto bigger and better things. Like my perfect size two, 5'4", angel faced sister.
I was nothing to him and I hate that he was once my everything. I hate that I let him rip my heart into so many pieces that I never got them all back. My heart will never be the same. And I blame him. It may have been four years ago, and I should probably move on. But I can't. I never got to say what I wanted to say.
But I would this summer. It's time for me to move on. To finally take those pieces of my heart back and live my life.
"Dinner!" my mother's voice echoes.
I look at the picture one more time before I walk out of the room.