My Bittersweet Summer (17 page)

“You’re up early,” my mom said from the kitchen table.

The spoon clinked in my mug as I stirred in the sugar. “A little. How was business last night?”

“Decent,” my dad answered. “Word is spreading and things are picking up. I think we might get a few critics in come July. That’ll give us a boost if we can get good reviews.”

“Got big plans for the day?” my mom asked.

“Des and I were talking about going to Galloway, maybe hit the mall or something.”

Her phone buzzed and she read the incoming text message. “Olivia says she’s sorry about her son and wants to know if you’re all right.”

I picked up the coffee mugs and considered it for a minute. “Yeah, actually. I’m totally okay. Tell her thanks for getting them out of my hair.”

While my mom typed, my dad studied my face. “Margie, you’re sure you’re all right?”

I nodded. “Totally fine, and not in the ‘I say fine, but I’m actually angry’ way, either. I honestly don’t care anymore.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Long story, but it more or less comes down to how sad it is that some people won’t ever change.” Crossing the kitchen on my way out, I kissed his cheek. “Thanks for calling his parents last night. I didn’t have the number.”

Leaving the kitchen, I wandered back to my room with our coffee. “Good morning, sunshine,” I said.

Destiny laid on the bed, arm draped over her eyes. “How ungodly early is it?”

“About seven-thirty. I brought you coffee.” I set her mug down on the nightstand and lowered myself onto the mattress.

She rolled over and leaned up, taking the cup and inhaling deeply. “Ahhhh. Yeah, you can totally be my platonic wife. Killer cookies and coffee in bed? I’m sold.”

I giggled. “So what do I get out of the deal?”

“In-house beautician with killer dance moves?”

“Sounds legit to me. Do we invite the boys to the ceremony? Bet we’d get good gifts out of the deal.”

She choked on her first sip of coffee. “Yeah, but then we can’t have an open bar.”

“Good point.” Eyeballing the window, I wondered if Zach would be stupid enough to still leave things there. But if he was as hammered last night as I thought he was, chances were it’d be several hours before he’d even be awake, let alone work up the courage to approach me. “Are you still down for getting off the island today?”

“Yeah, but I want to go home and change first.”

I got up from the bed and stretched. “I’m gonna grab a shower while you caffeinate, and we’ll go, k?”

Destiny cradled her coffee mug against her chest. “Sounds good. It’s probably better if we get out of here early to avoid them anyway.”

“My thoughts, too,” I said as I rounded up clothes for the day. “Be back in a few.”

With that, I began a relaxing day completely free from Carrinaw Island. We spent the day getting manicures, enjoying a light lunch in this really cute cafe in downtown Galloway, and spending a little of my hard-earned money from Le Beau Tournée. I’d been saving every penny for my trip to New York City in August and whatever was left over would go towards money for Paris, but all of my overtime and the pay raise I got when I started working in a restaurant for the affluent gave me a little buffer, so I was fine treating myself for one day. For the first time in forever, I spent the whole day smiling. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so relaxed. There was no exhaustion, no overwhelming desire to be at work, no stress about the future. As I leaned back against the headrest of the passenger seat while Destiny drove us home, I was filled with a real sense of peace.

“How you doing there, Margie?” Destiny asked as we hit the bridge back to Carrinaw.

Watching the island get closer, I waited for the first signs of a panic attack. Weirdly, my pulse was steady, I wasn’t breaking out in a cold sweat, and I didn’t need to count my inhale/exhale pattern.

I grinned. “I’m awesome. Apathy is an amazing thing, Des.”

When we pulled up to my house, some of the awesome drained away. Zach was sitting on the front step, getting to his feet as we pulled up.

“He just doesn’t know when to give up,” Destiny said. “How long do you think he’s been waiting here?”

I sighed and unhooked my seatbelt. “Who knows? At least he doesn’t have a band with him.”

“Need me to stay?”

Considering the offer for a second, I shook my head. “Nah. Maybe just wait in the car until I’m inside, that way I have a witness if I have to mace him.”

To further illustrate I was fine, I unclipped the spray from my keychain and palmed it.

She snorted a laugh and nodded. “I can do that. What are the odds of that happening? I want to be ready to get it on video.”

I looked up at Zach, him anxiously waiting for me to get out of the car. “Eh, I’d say fifty-fifty. He seems sober now, though, so probably nothing to worry about.” I grabbed my shopping bags from the back seat and opened my door. “Thanks for hanging out today. Tell your mom I said hi.”

He was on me the second I cleared the front of the car, Destiny’s window rolling down as he started to talk. “Margie, I am so, so, so sorry about last night. You were totally right about how I acted with those guys around. It was inexcusable.”

I opened the glass front door and started unlocking the main one. “How’s the hangover, Zach? Isn’t it a bit bright out here for you?”

“I shouldn’t have come here last night when I was—”

“And you shouldn’t be here now.” The lock opened and I pushed the door in. “Goodbye, Zach.”

He put his arm up, stopping me from closing the door in his face. “I told them the truth about us, Mighty Mouse. I promise.”

“You also promised never to call me that again, but that one didn’t last more than an hour or two. Get your hand off the door.”

“Not until you talk to me.”

I choked back a laugh. “Why? So you can tell me how much you love me, or whatever? I don’t care what you have to say, Zach. It’s not my responsibility to make you feel better about your craptastic mistakes. Unlike you, when I say something, I mean it. Whatever this thing was, I’m done with it. That’s all the closure you get.”

“How much I… What?” His eyes went wide.

“You don’t even remember saying that, do you?” I said. “Nice.”

“Margie—”

Done listening to his nonsense, I held up the container of mace, the nozzle pointed at his face. “Final warning. I will use it.”

Immediately, he released the door, backing away with his hands raised.

“I’m not giving up, Margie,” he said.

“I’ve had a lot more practice with patience and determination. You’d be better off finding someone your friends approve of and saving yourself a lot of wasted effort.”

I closed the door, locking it behind me and resetting the alarm. It was surprising he thought talking to me would work, but I supposed he didn’t grasp the meaning when I told him words weren’t going to cut it. As much as I hated to admit it, I was a little curious what he might do since I flat out wouldn’t talk to him. Rain or shine, no way was I going to accept rides from him anymore, so that would be one less opportunity for him to try. Zach seemed to handle my anger pretty well, but how could someone confront apathy? Yelling and pleading hadn’t worked, and his words meant nothing to me now. His options were very limited.

Exhausted from a great day, I let the matter drop. Yawning, I headed for my room to put down my bags. I still needed to make something for dinner.

The next two days were eerily quiet. I burned through two full novels on my forced vacation, both in French, of course, and made a batch of blueberry muffins and a full four-course meal for my parents for dinner on Monday.

“So, we have a surprise for you,” my dad said over the tomato bisque.

I pulled apart a slice of bread and dunked a piece in my soup. “What, you’re making me take the rest of the week off, too? I’d rather not.”

My mom shook her head and smiled. “No, go look out front.”

Curious, I pushed back from the table and made my way to the living room. Peeking out between the curtains, as I’d been keeping all of them closed since Saturday’s mess, I spied a maroon sedan parked beside my parents’ minivan. It looked like a Sebring from a decade ago, but I didn’t recognize it. There wasn’t anyone inside the vehicle, so I wondered if they were hiding a visitor or something.

Back at the table, I must’ve looked confused. “Whose car is that? Is someone here?”

My parents grinned at me.

“We decided that it was probably time to become a two-car household,” my dad said. “So long as you’re here, that one’s yours to use. We figured it would make things easier on everyone this way, and when you’re off at college, your mom and I will have more flexibility with errands and work schedules.”

My jaw dropped. “So… It’s mine until Paris?”

He nodded. “Surprised?”

I stood up and threw my arms around him. “Thank you! Oh wow. I don’t even know what to say.” I switched over to my mom, squeezing her tightly. “This is just so amazing. How did you afford it?”

They cast sidelong glances at each other and my enthusiasm immediately dulled. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“The Robinsons were getting rid of it and offered to sell it cheap,” my mom explained, quick to add, “but it’s a great car in excellent shape.”

Sinking down in my seat again, I sighed. “More favors from the Robinsons? What, is this to make up for their jerk son’s behavior or something? Hush money so we don’t damage their reputation?”

“We paid for the car, Margie. It wasn’t a gift,” my mother said, bristling. “Really, you should be more grateful.”

I pushed back from the table, no longer hungry. “They didn’t have to bother with it, you know. I’m not going to call up some reporter with an exposé or anything. I don’t care enough to put in the effort.”

My dad leaned over, his smile gentle. “We’re all just trying to make it through the summer, Margie. They thought this would make it easier for everyone.”

I stood up and headed for my room. “You guys enjoy your food. I’m calling it an early night.”

“Margie—”

“It’s okay, Mom. Really,” I said, palms up in surrender. “I appreciate the car. Thanks. I’m just tired.”

It wasn’t a lie. Even though I no longer cared what Zach and his friends did, their actions still affected my parents. I might be leaving in August, but they’d still have to live in a world constantly indebted to Terrence and Olivia Robinson. Living with that knowledge exhausted me instantly.

On the bright side, the new car meant never having to catch a ride with Zach again. It was one less means he’d have of badgering me.

A shower and pajamas later, I was still stuck on thinking about Zach and his blue Audi. Every time I closed my eyes I’d see the gray interior, smell the leather of the dashboard and steering wheel, and remember the way he looked when he asked me to teach him knife techniques. His expression then was the same as it’d been when he followed me out on break, and the vulnerability in his features haunted me.

The memory poked at the jagged edges of whatever cracked in my heart on the beach. The wound raw and fresh, the sudden stitch of pain in my chest hitched my breathing.

Margie Mouse.

And he didn’t say a word.

It was enough to rekindle my apathy, and I rolled over, off to dream of the things I’d see when my feet touched down on Parisian soil.

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The aroma rolling off of the dumpsters in the mid-afternoon heat was enough to knock me back a pace when I lifted the lid. Choking back bile, I tried again, holding my breath and tossing the black trash bag inside, then hurrying away as quickly as I could. They’d be by in the morning to collect the garbage, but there were more trips to be made before then.
 

As I walked back to the rear entrance of Le Beau Tournée, I spotted one of the waitresses, Jenessa, perched on the sea wall and chatting with Tori, one of the table bussers. Tori was puffing away on a cigarette while the other sipped from a styrofoam cup, and they both paused when they saw me.

“Margie,” Jenessa called, “got a sec?”

I glanced at my watch and trotted over, wondering what it was she wanted to ask me. “Yeah?”

The two girls eyed each other, Jenessa’s pink-tinted lips curling up in a conspiratorial smile. “Hey, how well do you know Zach?”

Well, there was a complicated question. “A bit. Why?”

Tori tossed her cigarette off into the water and put a stray blonde hair behind her ear. “We were just wondering if you knew his status.”

I blinked at her. “His what?”

“His status,” Jenessa said, pushing her black hipster glasses up her nose. “As in, does he have a girlfriend?”

“Oh…” The question caught me off guard, but I couldn’t say I was surprised exactly. “Uh, no. No girlfriend I’m aware of.”

“You hang around him a lot?” Tori said, her hazel eyes scouring every inch of my face.

The scrutiny was a little unnerving. “Not really. Why?”

“But you know a few things about him, right?”

The conversation was weirding me out. I wasn’t comfortable discussing him with two women I knew for a fact liked to flirt with the young guys that came in to the restaurant, and were very likely the type with a Carrinaw to-do list.

“I know a few things, but not much.” It wasn’t far from the truth, really. I couldn’t say with any amount of surety anything he told me wasn’t a lie. “He mentioned something about old cartoons once, but I don’t think that’s what you’re looking for here.”

Tori whipped out her phone while Jenessa smiled up at me. “Could be helpful. Thanks, Margie.”

I inched away, shrugging. “No problem. I gotta get back to it, though.”

Jenessa waved at me while Tori more or less ignored my departure. Opening the door, my thoughts churned as I washed my hands and returned to the prep station. Eventually, it faded from my mind as the rhythm of chopping and refilling ingredients in the front took over.

My dinner break came and went, and I’d all but forgotten the conversation. I cut up a few onions and ran them to the line, returning to see Tori leaning against the frame for the dish rack, chatting with Zach.