Last Summer (13 page)

I stop pacing long enough to say, “They want
money, don’t they? That’s what all drug dealers want. How much do
you owe them?”

He waits so long to reply that I begin to
doubt whether he’ll respond at all. Finally, he lifts his head and
looks at me. “Five thousand.”

“Five—” I can’t even finish. Resting my
hands atop my head, I bite my lip and stare at the ceiling. How the
hell is he supposed to obtain such a large sum of money? I sure as
heck don’t have it, and I know he doesn’t, either.

“Chloe, I danced with death today,” he says.
“I was seconds away from being tortured mercilessly and cut up into
tiny pieces.”

“What?”

“Lucky for me,” he goes on, “Bernie happened
to be taking out the trash. He saw us, grabbed his shotgun, and
advanced on Big P and his boys before they hauled me off to
Godknowswhere. If Bernie hadn’t appeared when he did, I have no
doubts that I’d be long gone by now.”

“This is fucking crazy,” I murmur, on the
brink of tears. For him, and for both our sakes. If they find out,
somehow, that I’m involved and helping Logan, I’m done for,
too.

“Yeah, no shit. Bernie cleaned me up as best
he could, but it’ll take some time for me to heal.”

“Let me see.” I flip on the bedroom light
and huff when I see his face. “Oh. My. God.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Have you not seen yourself?” I point toward
the bathroom. “Go look in the mirror.”

Slowly, he stands, and I follow. Turning on
the vanity lights over the sink, Logan just stares at himself for
the longest time. I don’t know the thoughts going through his head,
but I can only guess they’re occupied with awful memories. Memories
of his beating. Ideas of what might’ve been had Bernie not saved
him.

“What are you going to do?” I ask. My voice
sounds so small, as if it, too, is afraid of speaking up.

“First, I need to heal and get myself
cleaned up. Then, I need to come clean to the police about Jake’s
murder. And, lastly, there’s only one place left I can go to for
help.”

“Where’s that?”

Still staring at himself in the mirror, he
tells his reflection, “Home.”

Fifteen
•
Chloe

F
or the past week,
I’ve done nothing but take care of Logan. His bruises have all but
faded, and the swelling in his face is completely minimized.
Gradually, he’s overcome shivers and nausea, until they are nothing
more than a recollection. Today, he’s decided to pay a visit to his
parents’ house, even though he’s not sure if they’ll still be
there, or if they’ve moved on. I hope, for his sake, they still
reside in the only house Logan’s ever known.

The problem, however, with visiting Logan’s
parents is that they live in the next town over, which will take
way
too long to reach by foot, especially in the heat, so I
have to convince my mom to either let me borrow the RAV4 or steal
it. I don’t want to be labeled a criminal, but this is mine and
Logan’s last resort for help. If his parents don’t have the five
thousand dollars Logan owes to Big P, then we’re royally
screwed.

We mutually agreed that I’ll drive the RAV4
a couple of blocks up the street, where Logan will be waiting for
me. He’ll give me directions to his parents’ house from there.

“Mom, can I borrow the car for a bit?” I ask
as I bound down the stairs. “Just for a bit; I won’t be long.”

She turns halfway around on the couch and
looks at me. “What for?”

I shrug. “I wanted to go for a drive. I’m
starting to get a little bored, I think.”

“Chloe, come here.” She picks up the remote
from the coffee table and mutes the TV. “There’s something I want
to talk to you about.”

Oh, God. This can’t be good.
I drop
onto the recliner and wait.

“I talked to your father last night. The
divorce papers will be filed as soon as we return home. But, in the
meantime, I’ve thought about where we should live. Now, I know it
would be hard on you, since you’ll be starting college soon, but I
think a move will be best. That is, unless you want to live with
your father.” She pauses long enough to catch her breath.

“So just buy a new house and I can continue
with my life like none of this ever happened,” I say.

She closes her eyes and massages the bridge
of her nose. “Chloe . . . I don’t want to live in Cherryview Falls
anymore. I grew up there, and I have so many wonderful memories of
that town, but . . .”

She’s delaying. God, why is she delaying?
“But what?” I push.

“I think now’s the time to move on with my
life. And if you want to join me, I would love that. If not, then I
understand. Your life, your friends, everything you know is back in
Cherryview. But this new life? It could be our little adventure.”
Her eyes are so big and round and hopeful. She wants me to say yes
because she doesn’t want to be alone anymore. I get that. What I
don’t get is why she won’t tell me where we’re moving.

“Mom, I can’t agree to anything if you don’t
tell me where it is we’re going.”

She tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth
for a second or two, then releases. “See, that’s the thing. I
haven’t really decided yet, but there is one place I’ve always
wanted to live.”

“And that is . . .?”

“California,” she says.

Cali?
She has
got
to be
kidding me! That’s across the country! How the hell am I supposed
to visit friends if I live thousands of miles away? And . . . and .
. .
oh, my God!
How will I see Logan?

I almost explode into a fountain of tears on
the spot. Logan’s been right all along: we probably won’t see each
other again. This will be our last summer together.

“Just . . . think about it, all right? I
don’t want you to feel like you have to make the decision now, and
I definitely don’t want you to feel pressured into choosing between
your father and me.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom, please. You know I’d
choose you over him any day. But don’t you think California’s a bit
of a stretch? I mean, that’s a giant leap for both of us.”

Please, please, please be joking.

A lighthearted smile curves from ear to ear
across her face, and, for a split second, I expect her to tell me
it’s one big farce. “It is a major change, I know. It’ll take us a
while to get use to the idea of living a world apart from
everything and everyone we knew, but I think it’s for the
best.”

How can she say that? Has she lost her
marbles? I mean, it might be great for her if she didn’t have me in
tow, but why can’t this wait until I decide where to go to college?
Then, I can move away and live in dorms. She can go eat avocado
sandwiches and slurp fruit smoothies on a beach in California,
while I stay behind with what few friends I have.

And the Logan thing? Everyone says
long-distance relationships never work out. The thought of losing
him, of never seeing him again, shatters my heart into itty bitty
pieces.

“I just . . . I need some time to think,” I
tell her, which is true.

She stands up when I do. “Here, take my
keys. If you need to ride around and think about your decision,
that’s fine. Just don’t be out too late. And wear your seatbelt.”
Surprisingly, she follows through with her word, lifting the keys
out of her purse and handing them over. I must be stunned because
she laughs and grabs my chin with her other hand. “My dear, sweet
Chloe, don’t view me like I’ve lost my mind; I already feel like
that most days.” When I don’t respond, her face turns serious. “I
trust you, sweetie. Here, take them,” she says, grabbing my hand
and dropping the keys onto my open palm.

“It’s that simple?” I eye her suspiciously,
like she might birth a second head from the base of her neck. “Why
didn’t you let me borrow the car before?”

She glides back to her usual end of the
couch and picks at the fabric on the armrest. “Your father never
thought it was a good idea. He was too controlling, I guess. But,”
she says, pausing to take a deep breath, “I want to start fresh, do
things my way. I want to learn how to trust others, even when they
don’t deserve to be trusted. I want to fall in love all over again,
with someone who is worthy of my love and who will give me all of
theirs in return.” She looks at me, then, and I see the sadness and
hurt in her eyes. But I’m proud of her for taking risks; most
people refuse to because they’re afraid they won’t succeed. “I just
want good in my life again, Chloe. I want to be happy.”

I can’t stop the tears from rolling down my
cheeks. “Oh, Mom.” I take a few steps forward, falling to my knees
in front of her, and lay my head in her lap. She immediately
strokes my hair like she did when I was a child. “We all want
happiness,” I say, sniffling. “Finding it is half the battle.”

“I’ve found it with you,” she says, “so I
guess I’m already halfway there.”

This only makes me cry harder. I wish I
would’ve spent the past few weeks with her. I wish I told her
everything about Logan. But I still have no idea how she’ll react,
knowing I’ve been harboring a fugitive drug user. So I don’t say
anything at all. Not yet, but soon, I’ll tell her everything.

I dry my eyes as I lift my head from her
lap. “I’ll be back later, okay?” One sniffle escapes me.

Mom smiles and whispers, “Okay. Not too
late, though.”

With my purse and keys in hand, I don’t
postpone this chance. Plus, Logan’s depending on me to get him from
Point “A” to Point “B.” If I can’t drive us to his parents’ house,
he’ll walk. I won’t, but he will. He needs the money badly enough,
and he needs to see his family again—especially Lucas. I just don’t
want him on the streets alone, not after what happened a week ago.
Next time—if there is a next time—will be worse.

Backing out of the gravel driveway, there
are no signs of life on our deserted road. Most of the small-town
happenings occur in the “downtown” area, which includes Bernie’s,
the tourist shops, the Grab-N-Go, and a gas station. This time of
day, everyone’s on the lake. I mean, that’s kind of the point of
Sandy Shores, right? To get away from it all; city life, work life,
life itself.

As we planned, Logan patiently waits a
couple of blocks away. He opens the passenger door and slides in.
“Let’s get the hell outta here,” he says, grinning.

I smile back, ignoring the tightening in my
stomach as I think about what life will be like without Logan.
What’s he going to say when I tell him that he was right all
along?
He made me promise I’d never leave him. And now, knowing
what I know, I have to sever my promise and any feelings I have
toward him. It won’t be easy, but in the end, it’ll be worth it.
For both our hearts.

“Where to?” I ask.

“Anywhere but here,” he teases. Then: “Take
Main Street past Bernie’s and out of Sandy Shores. Once we hit the
main road, it’ll be a little while, but I’ll show you where to
turn.” He glances over at me and rests his hand on my thigh.

Oh, jeez.
Talk about not being able
to keep my focus. I’m almost delirious from his touch. We haven’t
kissed since
that
night, and neither of us has spoken about
what went down. It’s as if it never happened. But I’m okay with
that. Why? Because I’ll have to drop the bomb on him soon about
moving to California.

Lightly squeezing my thigh, Logan says,
“Ease up, babe. You can’t choke the life out of the steering wheel;
it’s already dead, you know.” He chuckles at his own joke.

I don’t bother looking at him. This is too
much. I hate keeping secrets. I hate that I didn’t tell him as soon
as he got in the vehicle that I’m moving. I hate that his hand is
on my thigh, even though he doesn’t want to have sex with me. I
want to scream, “
Stop leading me on!
” but that won’t get me
anywhere. If anything, it’ll make me look like one of those clingy
girlf—

I stop myself. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m a
girl who gave him the time of day when he was down on his luck. I’m
just a girl who wanted to escape the constant bickering of her
parents and used Logan as a pet project to keep my mind off the
problems at home. We’re nothing, really. This thought, coupled with
the fact that there is no future between us, nearly rips a gaping
hole in my stomach. Literally, I bend forward at the wheel.

“You okay?” Logan leans toward the dashboard
so he can look me in the eyes.

“I’m fine,” I say, waving him off. “Just
feel a little nauseous.”

“We can pull over for a second, if you
want,” he says.

“No. I’m fine. I swear.”

Get a hold of yourself, Chloe!
God, I
just want to scream and cry and drop him off at his parents’ house
without looking back. Maybe that’s what I should do. Make it nice
and easy for the both of us. He’ll have his old life back, and I
can start my new one. In a way, we’ll both get what we wanted. Him:
to be with his family and friends again. Me: to get away from my
parents fighting.

I feel like I’m at standing at the shores of
the sea as a storm rages overhead. The water performs the commands
of the storm, and I’m at the mercy of the water. Yet this doesn’t
hinder the storm from ordering the water to swallow me whole. As I
stand near the beach, a one-hundred-foot-high wave looms over me,
like it’s deciding whether I’m even worth its effort. Eventually,
it consumes me, and I drown.

“Chloe, stop the car,” says Logan.

I pull off on the side of the road, far
enough that the traffic behind me doesn’t have any trouble passing
by. It’s then I realize that my face is wet.

“Baby,” Logan coos, “what’s wrong?”

“Don’t call me that,” I say through clenched
teeth. More tears spill out and down my cheeks.

“What?”

I close my eyes.
Give me strength.
“I’m not yours to call ‘baby’ so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop
calling me that.”