Текст книги "We'll Always Have Summer"

Автор книги: Jenny Han

Соавторы: Jenny Han
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter Fifty-five

Conrad

I woke up that morning to Steven shaking my bed. “Have you seen Jere?” he demanded.

“I was asleep,” I muttered, my eyes still closed. “How could I have seen him?”

Steven stopped shaking the bed and sat down on the edge. “He’s gone, man. I can’t find him anywhere, and he left his phone. What the hell happened last night?”

I sat up. Belly must have told him. Shit. “I don’t know,”

I said, rubbing my eyes.

“What are we gonna do?”

This was all my fault.

I got out of bed and said, “Go ahead and get dressed.

I’ll look for him. Don’t tell Belly anything.”

Looking relieved, he said, “Sounds good. But shouldn’t Belly know? We don’t have a ton of time before the wedding. I don’t want her to get ready and everything if he’s not coming.”

“If I’m not back in an hour, you can tell her then.” I threw off my T-shirt and put on the white linen shirt Jere had made us all buy.

“Where are you gonna go?” Steven asked me. “Maybe I should go with you.”

“No, you stay here and take care of her. I’ll find him.”

“So you know where he is, then?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said. I didn’t have a clue where that bastard was. I just knew I had to fix this.

On my way out, Laurel stopped me and said, “Have you seen Jere? I need to give him something.”

“He went out to get something for the wedding,” I said. “I’m going to meet him now. I’ll give it to him.”

She handed me an envelope. I recognized the paper right away. It was my mom’s stationery. Jere’s name was written on the front in her handwriting. Smiling, Laurel said, “You know, I think it might be nicer this way, coming from you. Beck would like that, don’t you think?”

There was no way I was coming back without Jere.

As soon as I was outside, I sprinted to my car and just gunned it out of there.

I went to the boardwalk first, then the skate park we used to hang out at as kids, then the gym, then a diner we’d stop at on the way into town. He’d always 268 · jenny han

liked their strawberry milkshakes. But he wasn’t there. I drove around the mall parking lot. No car and no Jere. I couldn’t find him anywhere, and my hour was almost up.

I was screwed. Steven was going to tell Belly, and then this would be just one more, epic time I messed up her life. What if Jere had left Cousins completely? He could be back in Boston for all I knew.

It would have been great if I had some sudden epiph-any, some insight into where he was, seeing as how we were brothers. But all I could do was run down the list, every place we ever went. Where would Jeremiah go if he was upset? He’d go to my mom. But her grave wasn’t here, it was in Boston.

In Cousins she was everywhere. Then it came to me—the garden. Maybe Jere had gone to the garden at the shelter. It was worth a shot. I called Steven on the way over. “I think I know where he is. Don’t tell Belly anything yet.”

“All right. But if I don’t hear from you in half an hour, I’m telling her. Either way, I’m kicking his ass for this.”

We hung up as I pulled into the women’s shelter parking lot. I saw his car right away. I felt a mixture of profound relief and dread. What right did I have to say anything to him? I was the one who was responsible for this mess.

Jere was sitting on a bench by the garden, his head in his hands. He was still in last night’s clothes. His head snapped up when he heard me coming. “I’m warning you, man. Don’t come near me right now.”

I kept walking. When I was standing right in front of him, I said, “Come back to the house with me.”

He glowered at me. “Fuck you.”

“You’re supposed to be getting married in a couple of hours. We don’t have time to do this right now. Just hit me. It’ll make you feel better.” I tried to pick up his arm, and he shoved me off.

“No, it’ll make you feel better. You don’t deserve to feel better. But after the shady shit you pulled, I should beat the crap out of you.”

“Then do it,” I said. “And then let’s go. Belly’s waiting for you. Don’t make her wait on her wedding day.”

“Shut up!” he yelled, lunging at me. “You don’t get to talk to me about her.”

“Come on, man. Please. I’m begging you.”

“Why? Because you still love her, right?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “What I want to know is, if you still had feelings for her, why did you give me the go-ahead, huh? I did the right thing. I didn’t go behind your back.

I asked you, straight up. You told me you were over her.”

“You weren’t exactly asking for my permission when I walked in on you kissing her in your car. Yeah, I still gave you the go-ahead, because I trusted you to take care of her and treat her right. Then you go ahead and cheat on her in Cabo during spring break. So maybe I should be the one asking if you love her or not.” As soon as I got the last word out, Jere’s fist was connecting with my face, hard. It was like getting hit with a ten-foot wave—all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. I staggered backward. “Good,” I gasped. “Can we get out of here now?”

He punched me again. This time I fell to the ground.

“Shut up!” he yelled. “Don’t talk to me about who loves Belly more. I’ve always loved her. Not you. You treated her like garbage. You left her so many times, man.

You’re a coward. Even now, you can’t admit it to my face.”

Breathing hard, I spat out a mouthful of blood and said, “Fine. I love her. I admit it. Sometimes—sometimes I think she’s the only girl I could ever be with. But Jere, she picked you. You’re the one she wants to marry. Not me.”

I pulled the envelope out of my pocket, stumbled up, and pushed it at his chest. “Read this. It’s for you, from Mom.

For your wedding day.”

Swallowing, he tore the envelope open. I watched him as he read, hoping, knowing, my mom would have the right words. She always knew what to say to Jeremiah.

Jere started to cry as he read, and I turned my head away.

“I’m going back,” he finally said. “But not with you.

You’re not my brother anymore. You’re dead to me. I don’t want you at my wedding. I don’t want you in my life. I want you gone.”

“Jere—” “I hope you said everything you needed to say to her.

Because after this, you’re never seeing her again. Or me.

It’s over. You and I are done.” He handed me the letter.

“This is yours, not mine.”

Then he left.

I sat on the bench and opened the paper up. It said, Dear Conrad.

And then I started to cry too.

Chapter Fifty-five

Outside my window, far down the beach, I could see a group of little kids with plastic pails and shovels, digging for sand crabs.

Jere and I used to do that. There was this one time, I think I was eight, which meant Jeremiah must have been nine. We’d searched for sand crabs all afternoon, and even when Conrad and Steven came looking for him, he didn’t leave. They said, “We’re going to ride our bikes into town and rent a video game, and if you don’t come with us, you can’t play tonight.”

“You can go if you want,” I’d said, feeling wretched because I knew he’d choose to go. Who would choose sandy old sand crabs over a new video game?

He hesitated, and then said, “I don’t care.” And then he stayed.

I felt guilty but also triumphant, because Jeremiah had chosen me. I was worthy of being chosen over someone else.

We played outside until it got dark. We collected our sand crabs in a plastic cup, and then we set them free.

We watched them wriggle back into the sand. They all seemed to know exactly where they were going. Some clear destination in mind. Home.

That night, Conrad and Steven played their new game.

Jeremiah watched them. He didn’t ask if he could play, and I could see how much he wanted to.

In my memory he would always be golden.

Someone knocked on the door. “Taylor, I need a minute by myself,” I said, turning around.

It wasn’t Taylor. It was Conrad. He looked worn down, exhausted. His white linen shirt was wrinkled. So were his shorts. When I looked closer, I saw that his eyes were bloodshot, and I could see a bruise forming on his cheek.

I ran over to him. “What happened? Did you guys get into a fight?”

He shook his head.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” I said, backing away.

“Jeremiah’s coming up any minute.”

“I know, I just need to say something to you.”

I moved back to the window, turning my back on him. “You’ve said plenty. Just go.”

I heard him turn the doorknob, and then I heard him close the door again. I thought he’d gone, until I heard him say, “Do you remember infinity?”

Slowly, I turned around. “What about it?”

Tossing something toward me, he said, “Catch.”

I reached out and caught it in the air. A silver necklace. I held it up and examined it. The infinity necklace.

It didn’t shine the way it used to; it looked a bit coppery now. But I recognized it. Of course I recognized it.

“What is this?” I asked.

“You know what it is,” he said.

I shrugged. “Nope, sorry.”

I could see that he was both hurt and angry. “Okay, then. You don’t remember it. I’ll remind you. I bought you that necklace for your birthday.”

My birthday.

It had to have been for my sixteenth birthday. It was the only year he ever forgot to buy me a birthday present—the last summer we’d all been together at the beach house, when Susannah was still alive. The next year, when Conrad took off and Jeremiah and I went looking for him, I found it in his desk. And I took it, because I knew it was mine. He took it back later. I never knew when he had bought it or why, I just knew it was mine. Hearing him say it now, that it was my birthday present, touched me in the last place I wanted him to touch me. My heart.

I took his hand and put the necklace in his palm. “I’m sorry.”

Conrad held the necklace out to me. Softly, he said, “It belongs to you, always has. I was too afraid to give it to you then. Consider it an early birthday gift. Or a belated one. You can do whatever you want with it. I just—can’t keep it anymore.”

I was nodding. I took the necklace from him.

“I’m sorry for screwing everything up. I hurt you again, and for that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to do that anymore. So … I’m not going to stay for the wedding. I’m just going to take off now. I won’t see you again, not for a long time. Probably for the best. Being near you like this, it hurts. And Jere”—Conrad cleared his throat and stepped backward, making space between us—“he’s the one who needs you.”

I bit my lip to keep from crying.

Hoarsely, he said, “I need you to know that no matter what happens, it was worth it to me. Being with you, loving you. It was all worth it.” Then he said, “I wish you both the best. Take good care of each other.”

I had to fight every instinct in me not to reach out, not to touch the bruise that was blooming on his left cheekbone. Conrad wouldn’t want me to. I knew him well enough to know that.

He came up and kissed me on my forehead, and before he stepped away, I closed my eyes and tried hard to memorize this moment. I wanted to remember him exactly as he was right then, how his arms looked brown against his white shirt, the way his hair was cut a little too short in the front. Even the bruise, there because of me.

Then he was gone.

Just for that moment, the thought that I might never see him again … it felt worse than death. I wanted to run after him. Tell him anything, everything. Just don’t go. Please just never go. Please just always be near me, so I can at least see you.

Because it felt final. I always believed that we would find our way back to each other every time. That no matter what, we would be connected—by our history, by this house. But this time, this last time, it felt final. Like I would never see him again, or that when I did, it would be different, there would be a mountain between us.

I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice, and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved, which I expected. What I didn’t expect was to feel so much grief.

Bye Bye, Birdie.

Chapter Fifty-six

It was Valentine’s Day. I was sixteen, and he was eighteen.

It fell on a Thursday that year, and Conrad had classes until seven on Thursdays, so I knew we wouldn’t be going on a date or anything. We’d talked about hanging out on Saturday, maybe watching a movie, but neither of us mentioned Valentine’s Day. He just wasn’t a flowers and candy hearts kind of guy. No big deal. I’d never been that kind of girl either, not like Taylor was.

At school the drama club delivered roses during fourth period. People had been buying them all week during lunch. You could have them sent to whoever you wanted. Freshman year, neither of us had boyfriends, and Taylor and I secretly sent each other one.

That year, her boyfriend, Davis, sent her a dozen pink ones, and he bought her a red headband she’d been eyeing at the mall. She wore the headband all day.

I was up in my room that night, doing homework, when I got a text from Conrad. It said, Look out your window. I’d gone to look, thinking there might be a meteor shower that night. Conrad kept track of that kind of thing.

But what I saw was Conrad, waving at me from a plaid blanket in my front yard. I clapped my hand to my mouth and let out a shriek. I couldn’t believe it. Then I jammed my feet into my sneakers, put my puffy coat over my flannel pajamas, and ran down the stairs so fast I almost tripped. I made a running leap off the front porch and into his arms.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” I couldn’t stop hugging him.

“I came right after class. Surprised?”

“So surprised! I didn’t think you even knew it was Valentine’s Day!”

He laughed. “Come on,” he said, leading me by my shoulders over to the blanket. There was a thermos and a box of Twinkies.

“Lie down,” Conrad said, stretching out his legs on the blanket. “It’s a full moon.”

So I lay down next to him and looked up at the inky black sky and at that shining white moon, and I shivered. Not because I was cold, but because I was happy.

He wrapped the edge of the blanket around me. “Too cold?” he asked, looking concerned.

I shook my head.

Conrad unscrewed the thermos and poured liquid into the lid. He passed it to me and said, “It’s not that hot anymore, but it might still help.”

I got up on my elbows and sipped. It was cocoa.

Lukewarm.

“Is it cold?” Conrad asked.

“No, it’s good,” I said.

Then we both lay down flat on our backs and stared up at the sky together. So many stars. It was freezing cold, but I didn’t care. Conrad took my hand, and he used it to point out constellations and connect the dots. He told me the stories behind Orion’s belt and Cassiopeia. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I already knew; my dad had taught me those constellations when I was a kid. I just loved listening to Conrad talk. He had the same wonder in his voice, the same reverence, he always had when he talked about nature and science.

“Wanna go back in?” he asked, sometime later. He warmed my hand with his.

“I’m not going in until we see a shooting star,” I answered him.

“We might not,” he said.

I wriggled next to him happily. “It’s okay if we don’t.

I just want to try.”

Smiling, he said, “Did you know that astronomers call them interplanetary dust?”

“Interplanetary dust,” I repeated, liking the feel of the words on my tongue. “Sounds like a band.”

Conrad breathed hot air on my hand, and then he put it in his coat pocket. “Yeah, it kinda does.”

“Tonight, it’s—the sky is like—” I searched for the right word to encapsulate how it made me feel, how beautiful it was. “Lying here and looking up at the stars like this, it makes me feel like I’m lying on a planet. It’s so wide. So infinite.”

“I knew you’d get it,” he said.

I smiled. His face was close to mine, and I could feel the heat from his body. If I turned my head, we’d be kissing. I didn’t, though. Being close to him was enough.

“Sometimes I think I’ll never trust another girl the way I trust you,” he said then.

I looked over at him, surprised. He wasn’t looking at me, he was still looking up at the sky, still focused.

We never did see a shooting star, but it didn’t matter to me one bit. Before the night was over, I said, “This is one of my top moments.”

He said, “Mine too.”

We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two teenagers, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. So no, he didn’t give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.

Chapter Fifty-seven

He knocked on the door once. “It’s me,” he said.

“Come in.” I was sitting on the bed. I had changed back into my dress. People would be arriving soon.

Jeremiah opened the door. He was in his linen shirt and khaki shorts. He hadn’t shaved yet. But he was dressed, and his face was unmarked, no bruises. I took that as a good sign.

He sat down on the bed next to me. “Isn’t it bad luck for us to see each other before the wedding?” he asked.

Relief washed over me. “So there’s going to be a wedding, then?”

“Well, I’m all dressed up and so are you.” He kissed me on the cheek. “You look great, by the way.”

“Where did you go?”

Shifting, he said, “I just needed some time to think.

I’m ready now.” Leaning toward me, he kissed me again, this time on the lips.

I drew back. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I told you, it’s all good. We’re getting married, right?

You still want to get married?” He said it lightly, but I could hear an edge in his voice I’d never heard before.

“Can’t we at least talk about what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jeremiah snapped. “I don’t even want to think about it again.”

“Well, I do want to talk about it. I need to. I’m freaked out, Jere. You just left. I didn’t even know if you were coming back.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m always here for you.” He tried to kiss me again, and this time I pushed him off.

He rubbed his jawline roughly. Then he stood up and started pacing around the room. “I want all of you. I want every part. But you’re still holding back from me.”

“What are we talking about here?” I asked, my voice shrill. “Sex?”

“That’s part of it. But it’s more than that. I don’t have your whole heart. Be honest. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No!”

“How do you think it makes me feel, knowing I’m second choice? Knowing it was always supposed to be you two?”

“You’re not my second choice! You’re first!”

Jeremiah shook his head. “No, I’ll never be first. That’ll we’ll always have summer · 283

always be Con.” He hit his palm against the wall. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

“You can’t what? You can’t marry me?” My mind was spinning like a top, and then I started talking, fast. “Okay, maybe you’re right. It’s all too crazy right now. We won’t get married today. We’ll just move in to that apartment.

Gary’s apartment, the one you wanted. I’m fine with it.

We can move second semester. Okay?”

He didn’t say anything, and so I said it again, this time more panicked. “Okay, Jere?”

“I can’t. Not unless you can look at me right now—

look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t still love Con.”

“Jere, I love you.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. I know you love me.

What I’m asking is, do you love him too?”

I wanted to tell him no. I opened my mouth. Why wouldn’t the words come out? Why couldn’t I say what he needed to hear? It would be so easy to just say it. One word and this would all go away. He wanted to forgive and forget it all. I could see it in his face: all he needed was for me to tell him no. He would still marry me. If I would just say the word. One word.

“Yes.”

Jere inhaled sharply. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then he inclined his head.

I stepped toward him and filled the space between us. “I think—I think I’ll always love him a little bit. I’ll always have him in my heart. But he’s not the one I choose. I choose you, Jeremiah.”

All my life, I never felt like I had a choice when it came to Conrad. Now I knew it wasn’t true. I did have a choice. I chose to walk away, then and now. I chose Jeremiah. I chose the boy who would never walk away from me.

His head was still bowed. I willed him to look at me, to believe me just one more time. Then he lifted his head and said, “That’s not enough. I don’t just want a part of you. I want all of you.”

My eyes filled.

He walked over to my dresser and picked up the letter from Susannah. “You haven’t read yours yet.”

“I didn’t even know if you were coming back!”

He ran his finger along the edges, staring down at it. “I got one too. But it wasn’t for me. It was Con’s. My mom must have mixed up the envelopes. In the letter she said—

she said she only ever got to see him in love once. That was with you.” He looked at me then. “I won’t be the reason you don’t go to him. I won’t be your excuse. You’ve got to see for yourself, or you’ll never be able to let him go.”

“I already have,” I whispered.

Jeremiah shook his head. “No, you haven’t. The worst part is, I knew you haven’t and I still asked you to marry me. So I guess I’m partly to blame too, huh?”

“No.”

He acted like he didn’t hear me. “He will let you down, because that’s what he does. That’s who he is.”

For the rest of my life, I was going to remember those words. Everything Jeremiah said to me that day, our wedding day, I would remember. I would remember the words Jeremiah said and the way he looked at me when he said them. With pity, and with bitterness. I hated myself for being the one who made him bitter, because that was one thing he’d never been.

I reached up and laid my palm on his cheek. He could have pushed my hand away, he could have recoiled at my touch. He didn’t. Just that one tiny thing told me what I needed to know—that Jere was still Jere and nothing could ever change that.

“I still love you,” he said, and the way he said it, I knew that if I wanted him to, he would still marry me. Even after everything that had happened.

There are moments in every girl’s life that are bigger than we know at the time. When you look back, you say, that was one of those life-changing, fork-in-the-road moments and I didn’t even see it coming. I had no idea.

And then there are the moments that you know are big.

That whatever you do next, there will be an impact. Your life could go one of two directions. Do or die.

This was one of those moments. Big. They didn’t get much bigger than this.

It ended up not raining that day. Jeremiah’s frat brothers and my actual brother moved the tables and chairs and hurricane vases in for nothing.

Another thing that didn’t happen that day: Jeremiah and I didn’t get married. It wouldn’t have been right.

Not for either of us. Sometimes I wondered if we had rushed into getting married because we were both trying to prove something to the other and maybe even to ourselves. But then I think no, we truly did love each other. We truly did have the best of intentions. It, we, just weren’t meant to be.

a couple of years later

Dearest Belly,

Right now I am picturing you today, on your wedding day, looking radiant and lovely, the pret-tiest bride there ever was. I picture you about thirty or so, a woman who’s had lots and lots of adventures and romances. I picture you marrying a man who is solid and steady and strong, a man with kind eyes. I am sure your young man is completely wonderful, even if he doesn’t have the last name Fisher! Ha.

You know that I could not love you more if you were my own daughter. My Belly, my special girl.

Watching you grow up was one of the great joys of my life.

My girl who ached and yearned for so many things … a kitten you could name Margaret, rainbow roller skates, edible bubble bath! A boy who would kiss you the way Rhett kissed Scarlett. I hope you’ve found him, darling.

Be happy. Be good to each other.

All of my love always, Susannah

Oh, Susannah. If you could see us now.

You were wrong about a couple of things. I’m not thirty yet. I’m twenty-three, almost twenty-four. After Jeremiah and I broke up, he went back to live in the fraternity house, and I ended up living with Anika after all.

Junior year, I studied abroad. I went to Spain, where I did have lots and lots of adventures.

Spain is where I got my first letter from him. Real letters, written by his hand, not e-mails. I didn’t write him back, not at first, but they still came, once a month, every month. The first time I saw him again, it was another year, at my college graduation. And I just knew.

My young man is kind and good and strong, just like you said. But he doesn’t kiss me like Rhett kissed Scarlett.

He kisses me even better. And there’s one other thing you were right about. He does have the last name Fisher.

I am wearing the dress my mother and I picked out together—creamy white with lace cap sleeves and a low back. My hair, my hair that we spent an hour pinning up, is falling out of the side bun, and long wet strands of hair are flying around my face as we run for the car in the pouring rain. Balloons are everywhere. My shoes are off, I am barefoot, holding his gray suit jacket over my head.

He’s got one high-but-not-too-high heel in each hand.

He runs ahead of me and opens the car door.

We are just married.

“Are you sure?” he asks me.

“No,” I say, getting in. Everyone will be expecting us at the reception hall. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.

But then again, it’s not like they can get started without us. We have to dance the first dance. “Stay,” by Maurice Williams and the Zodiacs.

I look out the window, and there is Jere across the lawn. He has his arm around his date, and our eyes meet.

He gives me a small wave. I wave back and blow him a kiss. He smiles and turns back to his date.

Conrad opens the car door and slides into the driver’s seat. His white shirt is soaked through—I can see his skin.

He is shivering. He grabs my hand, locks my fingers into his, and brings it to his lips. “Then let’s do it. We’re both wet already.”

He turns on the ignition, and then we’re off. We head for the ocean. We hold hands the whole way. When we get there, it is empty, so we park right on the sand. It’s still raining out.

I jump out of the car, hitch up my skirt, and call out,

“Ready?”

He rolls up his pant legs, and then he grabs my hand.

“Ready.”

We run toward the water, tripping in the sand, screaming and laughing like little kids. At the last second he picks me up like he is carrying me across a threshold. “If you dare try and Belly Flop me right now, you’re going down with me,” I warn, my arms tight around his neck.

“I go wherever you go,” he says, launching us into the water.

This is our start. This is the moment it becomes real.

We are married. We are infinite. Me and Conrad. The first boy I ever slow danced with, ever cried over. Ever loved.