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We'll Always Have Summer
  • Текст добавлен: 5 октября 2016, 10:09

Текст книги "We'll Always Have Summer"


Автор книги: Jenny Han


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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter Nine

After I left Anika’s room, I turned on my phone. There were texts and e-mails from Jeremiah, and they kept coming. I got under my covers and read them all, each and every one.

Then I reread them, and when I was done, I finally wrote him back and said, Give me some space. He wrote OK, and that was the last text I got from him that day. I still kept checking my phone to see if there was anything from him, and when there wasn’t, I was disappointed, even though I knew I didn’t have a right to be. I wanted him to leave me alone, and I wanted him to keep trying to fix things. But if I didn’t know what I wanted, how could he possibly?

I stayed in my room, packing up. I was hungry, and I still had meals left on my meal card, but I was afraid I might run into Lacie on campus. Or worse, Jeremiah.

Still, it was good to have something to do and, to be able to turn the music on loud without having to hear my roommate Jillian complain.

When I couldn’t take the hunger anymore, I called Taylor and told her everything. She screamed so loud, I had to hold the phone away from my ear. She came right over with a black bean-burrito and a strawberry-banana smoothie. She kept shaking her head and saying, “That Zeta Phi slut.”

“It wasn’t just her, it was him, too,” I said, between bites of my burrito.

“Oh, I know. Just you wait. I’m gonna drag my nails across his face when I see him. I’ll leave him so scarred, no girl will ever hook up with him again.” She inspected her manicured nails like they were artillery. “When I go to the salon tomorrow, I’m gonna tell Danielle to make them sharp.”

My heart swelled. There are some things only a friend who’s known you your whole life can say, and instantly, I felt a little better. “You don’t have to scar him.”

“But I want to.” She hooked her pinky finger with mine. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Better, now that you’re here.”

When I was sucking down the last of my smoothie, Taylor asked me, “Do you think you’ll take him back?”

I was surprised and really relieved not to hear any judgment in her voice. “What would you do?” I asked her.

“It’s up to you.”

“I know, but … would you take him back?”

“Under ordinary circumstances, no. If some guy cheated on me while we were on a break, if he so much as looked at another girl, no. He’d be donzo.” She chewed on her straw. “But Jeremy’s not some guy. You have a history together.”

“What happened to all that talk about scarring him?”

“Don’t get it twisted, I hate him to death right now.

He effed up in a colossal way. But he’ll never be just some guy, not to you. That’s a fact.”

I didn’t say anything. But I knew she was right.

“I could still round up my sorority sisters and go slash his tires tonight.” Taylor bumped my shoulder. “Hmm?

Whaddyathink?”

She was trying to make me laugh. It worked. I laughed for the first time in what felt like a long time.

Chapter Ten

After our fight the summer before senior year, I really thought that Taylor and I would make up fast, the way we always did. I thought it would blow over in a week, tops. Because what were we really even mad about? Sure, we both said some hurtful things—I called her a child, she called me a crappy best friend, but it wasn’t like we’d never had a fight before. Best friends fought.

When I got home from Cousins, I put Taylor’s shoes and her clothes in a bag, ready to take them over to her house as soon as she gave me the signal that we were done being mad at each other. It was always Taylor who gave the signal, the one who initiated making up.

I waited, but it didn’t come. I went to Marcy’s a couple of times, hoping I’d run into her and we’d be forced to talk things out. Those times I was at Marcy’s, she never came. Weeks passed. The summer was almost over.

Jeremiah kept saying the same thing he’d been saying for all of July and most of August. “Don’t worry, you guys will make up. You guys always make up.”

“You don’t get it, this isn’t like before.” I told him.

“She wouldn’t even look at me.”

“All of this over a party,” he said, which pissed me off.

“It’s not over a party.”

“I know, I know—hold on a sec, Bells.” I heard him talking to someone, and then he came back on the phone.

“Our hot wings just got here. Want me to call you back after I eat? I can be quick.”

“No, that’s all right,” I said.

“Don’t be mad.”

I said, “I’m not,” and I wasn’t. Not really. How could he understand what was going on with me and Taylor?

He was a guy. He didn’t get it. He didn’t get how important, how really and truly vital, it was to me that Taylor and I start off our last year of high school together by each other’s side.

So why couldn’t I just call her, then? It was partly pride and partly something else. I was the one who had been pulling away from her this whole time, she was the one who had been holding on. Maybe I thought I was growing past her, maybe it was all for the best.

We’d have to say good-bye next fall, maybe it would be easier this way. Maybe we’d been codependent, maybe we’ll always have summer · 51

more me on her than the other way around, and now I needed to stand on my own feet. This is what I told myself.

When I told this to Jeremiah the next night, he said,

“Just call her.”

I was pretty sure he was just sick of hearing me talk about it, so I said, “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

The week before school started, the week I usually came back from Cousins, we always went back-to-school shopping together. Always. We’d been doing it since elemen-tary school. She always knew the right kind of jeans to get. We’d go to Bath & Body Works and get those “Buy Three, Get One Free” kind of deals, and then we’d come home and split everything up so we each had a lotion, a body gel, a scrub. We’d be set until Christmas, at least.

That year, I went with my mom. My mom hated shopping. We were waiting in line to pay for jeans when Taylor and her mom walked into the store carrying a couple of shopping bags each. “Luce!” my mom called out.

Mrs. Jewel waved and came right over, with Taylor trailing behind her wearing sunglasses and cutoff shorts.

My mom hugged Taylor, and Mrs. Jewel hugged me and said, “It’s been a long time, honey.”

To my mom, she said, “Laurel, can you believe our little girls are all grown up now? My gosh, I remember 52 · jenny han

when they insisted on doing everything together. Baths, haircuts, everything.”

“I remember,” my mother said, smiling.

I caught Taylor’s eye. Our moms kept on talking, and we just stood there looking at each other but not really.

After a minute, Taylor pulled out her cell phone. I didn’t want to let this moment pass without saying something to her. I asked, “Did you get anything good?”

She nodded. Since she was wearing sunglasses, it was hard to tell what she was thinking. But I knew Taylor well. She loved to brag about her bargains.

Taylor hesitated and then said, “I got some hot boots for twenty-five percent off. And a couple of sundresses that I can winterize with tights and sweaters.”

I nodded. Then it was our turn to pay, and I said,

“Well, see you at school.”

“See you,” she said, turning away.

Without thinking, I handed the jeans to my mom and stopped Taylor. It could be the last time we ever talked to each other if I didn’t say something. “Wait,” I said. “Do you want to come over tonight? I bought a new skirt, but I don’t know if I should tuck shirts into it or what …”

She pursed her lips for a second and then said, “Okay.

Call me.”

Taylor did come over that night. She showed me how to wear the skirt—which shoes looked best with it and which tops. Things weren’t the same with us, not right we’ll always have summer · 53

away, and maybe not ever. We were growing up. We were still figuring out how to be in each other’s lives without being everything to each other.

The truly ironic thing is that we ended up at the same school. Of all the schools in all the world, we ended up at each other’s. It was fated. We were meant to be friends.

We were meant to be in each other’s lives, and you know what? I welcomed it. We weren’t together all the time like we used to be—she had her sorority friends, I had my friends from my hall. But we had each other.

Chapter Eleven

The next day, I couldn’t hold out any longer. I called Jeremiah. I told him I needed to see him, that he should come over, and my voice shook as I said it. Over the phone, I could hear how grateful he was, how eager to make amends. I tried to justify calling him so fast by telling myself that I needed to see him face-to-face in order to move on. The truth was, I missed him. I, probably just as much as he did, wanted to figure out a way to forget what he had done.

But as much as I’d missed him, when I opened my door and saw his face again, all the hurt came rushing back, hard and fast. Jeremiah could see it too. At first he looked hopeful, and then he just looked devastated. When he tried to pull me to him, I wanted to hug him, but I couldn’t let myself.

Instead I shook my head and pushed him away from me.

We sat on my bed, our backs against the wall, our legs hanging off the edge.

I said, “How would I know that you wouldn’t do it again? How would I be able to trust that?”

He got up. For a second I thought he was leaving, and my heart nearly stopped.

But then he got down on one knee, right in front of me. Very softly, he said, “You could marry me.”

At first I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. But then he said it again, this time louder. “Marry me.”

He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a ring.

A silver ring with a little diamond in the center. “This would just be for starters, until I could afford to pay for a ring myself—with my money, not my dad’s.”

I couldn’t feel my body. He was still talking, and I couldn’t even hear. All I could do was stare at the ring in his hand.

“I love you so much. These past couple of days have been hell for me without you.” He took a breath. “I’m so sorry for hurting you, Bells. What I did—was unforgiv-able. I know that I hurt us, that I’m going to have to work really hard to get you to trust me again. I’ll do whatever it takes if you’ll let me. Would you … be willing to let me try?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I’ll try so hard, I swear to you. We’ll get an 56 · jenny han

apartment off campus, we can fix it up nice. I’ll do the laundry. I’ll learn how to cook stuff other than ramen and cereal.”

“Putting cereal in a bowl isn’t really cooking,” I said, looking away from him because this picture he was putting in my head, it was too much. I could see it too. How sweet it could be. The two of us, just starting out, in our own place.

Jeremiah grabbed my hands, and I snatched them away from him. He said, “Don’t you see, Belly? It’s been our story all along. Yours and mine. Nobody else’s.”

I closed my eyes, trying to clear my head. Opening them, I said, “You just want to erase what you did by marrying me.”

“No. That’s not what this is. What happened the other night”—he hesitated—“it made me realize something. I don’t ever want to be without you. Ever.

You are the only girl for me. I’ve always known it. In this whole world, I will never love another girl the way I love you.”

He took my hand again, and this time I didn’t pull away from him. “Do you still love me?” he asked.

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Then please, marry me.”

I said, “You can’t ever hurt me like that again.” It was half warning, half plea.

“I won’t,” he said, and I knew he meant it.

He looked at me so determinedly, so earnestly. I knew his face well, maybe better than anybody now. Every line, every curve. The little bump on his nose from when he broke it surfing, the almost-faded scar on his forehead from the time he and Conrad were wrestling in the rec room and they knocked a plant over. I was there for those moments. Maybe I knew his face even better than my own—the hours I’d spent staring at it while he slept, tracing my finger along his cheekbone. Maybe he’d done the same things to me.

I didn’t want to see a mark on his face one day and not know how it got there. I wanted to be with him. His was the face I loved.

Wordlessly, I slipped my left hand out of his, and Jeremiah’s face slackened. Then I held out my hand for him, and his eyes lit up. The joy I felt in that moment—

I couldn’t even put it into words. His hand shook as he placed the ring on my finger.

He asked, “Isabel Conklin, will you marry me?” in as serious a voice as I’d ever heard him use.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” I said.

He put his arms around me, and we held on to each other, clinging like we were the other’s safe harbor. All I could think was, if we just get through this storm, we will make it. He’d made mistakes, I had too. But we loved each other, and that was what mattered.

We made plans all night—where we would live, how we would tell our parents. The past few days felt like another lifetime ago. That day, without another word about it, we decided to leave the past in the past. The future was where we were headed.

Chapter Twelve

That night I dreamed of Conrad. I was the same age I was now, but he was younger, ten or eleven maybe. I think he might even have been wearing overalls. We played outside my house until it got dark, just running around the yard.

I said, “Susannah will be wondering where you are. You should go home.” He said, “I can’t. I don’t know how.

Will you help me?” And then I was sad, because I didn’t know how either. We weren’t at my house anymore, and it was so dark. We were in the woods. We were lost.

When I woke up, I was crying and Jeremiah was asleep next to me. I sat up in the bed. It was dark, the only light in the room was my alarm clock. It read 4:57. I lay back down.

I wiped my eyes, and then I breathed in Jeremiah’s scent, the sweetness of his face, the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. He was there. He was solid and real and next to me, crammed in close the way you have to be when you are sleeping in a dorm-room bed. We were that close now. The past three days felt like a lifetime ago.

In the morning, when I woke up, I didn’t remember right away. The dream was there in the back of my head, in a place I couldn’t get to. It was fading fast, almost all the way, but not quite, not yet. I had to think hard and fast to piece it all together, to hold on to it.

I started to sit up, but Jeremiah pulled me back toward him and said, “Five more minutes.” He was the big spoon, and I was the little spoon tucked into my spot in his arms.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to remember before it was gone. Like those last few seconds before the sun sets—going, going, and then gone. Remember, remember, or the dream will slip away forever.

Jeremiah started to say something about breakfast, and I covered his mouth and said, “Shh. One sec.”

And then I had it. Conrad, and how funny he looked in his denim overalls. The two of us playing outside for hours. I let out a sigh. I felt so relieved.

“What were you saying?” I asked Jeremiah.

“Breakfast,” he said, planting a kiss on my palm.

Snuggling in closer to him, I said, “Five more minutes.


Chapter Thirteen

I wanted to tell everyone face-to-face, all at once. In a weird way, it would be perfect timing. Our families would be together in Cousins in a week. A battered-women’s shelter that Susannah had volunteered at and fund-raised for had planted a garden in her honor, and there was going to be a little ceremony next Saturday. We were all going—me, Jere, my mom, his dad, Steven. Conrad.

I hadn’t seen Conrad since Christmas. He was supposed to fly back for my mother’s fiftieth birthday party, but he bailed at the last minute. “Typical Con,” Jeremiah had said, shaking his head. He’d looked at me, waiting for me to agree. I didn’t say anything.

My mother and Conrad had a special relationship, always had. They got each other on some level I didn’t understand. After Susannah died, they became closer, maybe because they grieved for her in the same way—

alone. My mom and Conrad spoke on the phone often, about what I didn’t know. So when he didn’t come, I could see how disappointed she was, even though she didn’t say so. I wanted to tell her, Love him all you want, but don’t expect anything in return. Conrad isn’t someone who can be counted on.

He did send a nice bouquet of red zinnias, though.

“My favorite,” she’d said, beaming.

What would he say when we told him our news? I couldn’t begin to guess. When it came to Conrad, I was never sure of anything.

I worried, too, about what my mother would say.

Jeremiah wasn’t worried, but he so rarely was. He said,

“Once they know we’re serious, they’ll have to get on board, because they won’t be able to stop us. We’re adults now.”

We were walking back from the dining hall. Jeremiah dropped my hand, jumped onto a bench, threw his head back, and yelled, “Hey, everybody! Belly Conklin is gonna marry me!”

A few people turned to look but then kept walking.

“Get down from there,” I said, laughing and covering my face with my hoodie.

He jumped back down and ran around the bench once, his arms up and out like an airplane. He zoomed back over to me and lifted me up by the armpits. “Come on, fly,” he encouraged.

I rolled my eyes and moved my arms up and down.

“Happy?”

“Yes,” he said, setting me back down on the ground.

I was too. This was the Jere I knew. This was the boy from the beach house. Getting engaged, promising to be each other’s forever, it made me feel like even with all the changes over the past few years, he was still the same boy and I was still the same girl. Now nobody could take that away from us, not anymore.


Chapter Fourteen

My dad was coming the next day to move me out of the dorms. I knew I had to talk to Taylor and Anika before I went home. I debated just telling them together, but I knew that Taylor would be hurt if I lumped her, my oldest friend, with Anika, who I had known for less than a year. I had to tell Taylor first. I owed her that much.

I knew she’d think we were crazy. Getting back together was one thing, but getting married was something else entirely. Unlike most of her sorority sisters, Taylor didn’t want to get married until she was at least twenty-eight.

I called and asked her to meet me at the Drip House, the coffee shop everyone studied at. I told her I had news. She tried to get it out of me over the phone, but I resisted, saying, “It’s the kind of news you have to tell in person.”

Taylor was already seated with her nonfat iced latte when I got there. She had on her Ray-Bans, and she was texting. She put down her phone when she saw me.

I sat down across from her, careful to keep my hand in my lap.

Taking off her sunglasses, she said, “You’re looking much better today.”

“Thanks, Tay. I feel a lot better.”

“So what’s up? She scrutinized me. “Did you guys get back together? Or did you break up for real?”

I held up my left hand with a flourish. She looked at it, confused. Then her eyes focused on my ring finger.

Taylor’s eyes turned huge. “You’re effing kidding me.

You’re engaged?!” she screamed. A couple of people turned around and looked at us, annoyed. I shrank down in my seat a little. Grabbing my hand, she said, “Oh my God! Let me see that thing!”

I could tell she thought it was too small, but I didn’t care.

“Oh my God,” she said, still staring at the ring.

“I know,” I said.

“But, Belly … he cheated on you.”

“We’re starting over fresh. I really love him, Tay.”

“Yeah, but the timing is kinda suspect,” she said slowly.

“I mean, it’s really sudden.”

“It is and it isn’t. You said it yourself. This is Jere we’re talking about. He’s the love of my life.”

She just stared at me, her mouth an O. She sputtered,

“But—but why can’t you wait at least until after you finish college?”

“We don’t see the point in waiting if we’re gonna get married anyways.” I took a sip of Taylor’s drink. “We’re gonna get an apartment. You can help me pick out cur-tains and stuff.”

“I guess,” she said. “But wait, what about your mom?

Did Laurel flip her shit?”

“We’re telling my mom and his dad next week in Cousins.” We’ll tell my dad after.

She perked up. “Wait, so nobody even knows yet? Just me?”

I nodded, and I could tell Taylor was pleased. She loves being in on a secret—it’s one of her top favorite things in life.

“It’s gonna be an apocalypse,” she said, taking her drink back. “Like, dead bodies. Like, blood in the streets.

And when I say blood, I mean your blood.”

“Gee, thanks a lot, Tay.”

“I’m just speaking the truth. Laurel is the OG femi-nist. She’s like Gloria freaking Steinem. She’s not gonna like this one bit. She’ll go all Terminator on his ass. And yours.”

“My mom loves Jeremiah. She and Susannah always we’ll always have summer · 67

talked about me marrying one of her sons. It might be, like, a dream come true for her. In fact, I bet it will be.” I knew that wasn’t the least bit true even as I was saying it.

Taylor looked unconvinced too. “Maybe,” she said. “So when is this happening?”

“This August.”

“That’s really, really soon. Hardly gives us any time to plan.” Chewing on her straw, she cast a sneaky look my way. “What about bridesmaids? Are you going to have a maid of honor?”

“I don’t know… . We want it to be really small. We’re gonna do it at the Cousins house. Really casual, like, not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? You’re getting married and you don’t want it to be a big deal?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t care about all that stuff. All I want is to be with Jeremiah.”

“All what stuff?”

“Like, bridesmaids and wedding cake. Stuff like that.”

“Liar!” She pointed her finger at me. “You wanted five bridesmaids and a fourtier carrot cake. You wanted an ice sculpture of a human heart with your initials carved into it. Which, by the way, is gross.”

“Tay!”

She held up her hand to stop me. “You wanted a live band and crab cakes and a balloon drop after your first dance. What was that song you wanted to dance to?”

“‘Stay’ by Maurice Williams and the Zodiacs,” I said automatically. “But Taylor, I was probably ten years old when I said all that stuff.” I was really touched that she remembered, though. But I guessed I remembered everything Taylor wanted too. Doves, little lace gloves, hot-pink stiletto heels.

“You should have everything you want, Belly,” Taylor said, her chin jutting out in her stubborn Taylor way.

“You only get married once.”

“I know, but we don’t have the money. And anyway, I don’t really care about those things anymore. That was kid stuff.” But maybe I didn’t have to do all of it, maybe just some of it. Maybe I could still have a real wedding, but simple. Because, it would be nice to wear a wedding dress and to have a father-daughter dance with my dad.

“I thought Jeremy’s dad was loaded. Can’t he afford to give you a real wedding?”

“There’s no way my mom would let him pay for it.

Besides, like I said, we don’t want anything fancy.”

“Okay,” she conceded. “We’ll forget the ice sculpture.

But balloons are cheap—we can still do balloons. And the carrot cake. We could just do a regular two-layer, I guess. And I don’t care what you say, you’re wearing a wedding dress.”

“That sounds good,” I agreed, taking a sip of her drink.

It felt really nice to have Taylor’s blessing. It was like getting permission to be excited, something I didn’t know I needed or wanted.

“And you’ll still have bridesmaids. Or at least a maid of honor.”

“I’ll just have you.”

Taylor looked pleased. “But what about Anika? You don’t want Anika to be a bridesmaid?”

“Hmm, maybe,” I said, and when her face fell, just slightly, I added, “But I want you to be my maid of honor.

Okay?”

Tears filled her eyes. “I’m so honored.”

Taylor Jewel, my oldest friend in the world. We’d been through some times together, and I knew now it was pure grace that we’d managed to come out the other side.


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