Page 74 of Summer Romance
“Speaking of a mess,” he says, “I talked to Scooter this morning.” My stomach clenches. I want to hear every word that’s about to come out of his mouth. And also I don’t. I’m not sure I can temper my reaction in front of Cliffy.
I nod my head toward Cliffy to caution Marco against saying too much. “Oh?”
“Is he coming back?” asks Cliffy. “I still have his skateboard and we were going to do pirate things.”
“Yes,” Marco says. “And he says he’s called you a few times?”
“I’ve been busy,” I say.
“Doing what?” Cliffy asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. I’ve been trying to refocus on the reality I had before I met him. My kids, my dog, and Phyllis. I’ve been compulsively deadheading the geraniums in my backyard to summon my mother’s comfort. “The usual stuff.”
44
I can’t get food or gas without going to town, and I can’t go to town without seeing Ethan’s house. It’s been nine days since I told him it was over, and today theFor Salesign appeared. It feels like an assault.
His car has been in the driveway on and off. He must have finished getting the house ready on his own, and I feel guilty about this. I owed him a lot of hours. He texted me that he missed me two days ago. Me: Me too, but I can’t do this. So he backed off, and I haven’t heard from him since. I pushed him away, and I deserve the silent treatment. Also, I was right.
I dread going to the diner in particular, but it’s Monday again. I sit at the counter and order poached eggs before I get to work. “You look terrible,” Frannie tells me.
“I don’t really sleep.”
“Have you talked to him at all?”
“He’s texted a few times. I just have to move on.”
Frannie puts the coffeepot on the warmer and comes back. “I think you should give him a chance.”
“A chance to what? Live in a town he always wanted to escape?”
“He could be happy here—he’s just stubborn,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t do that,” I say.
“What?”
“Roll your eyes about him. And he’s not being stubborn. He’s happy up there, completely at peace.”
“Huh.” I have Frannie’s full attention, and I think we both know that I know her brother better than she does. “How do you know?”
“You know that thing he does with his face? Sort of like a wince?”
“The Scooter face? Yes.” She starts to roll her eyes but catches herself.
“He doesn’t do that in Devon. Ever.”
She’s quiet for a second, considering this. “I haven’t seen him do it at all since he’s been with you.”
“Yeah,” I say. I don’t want to tell Frannie what it was like when we were alone together, partly because I don’t know if I could describe it, and partly because it will make me cry.
“You’re good for him,” she says. “The whole thing is so weird, but I loved seeing him so happy. I’ve been worried about Scooter my whole life. He was always getting into trouble and being an idiot.”
“That’s part of the problem. Worrying about someone is sort of like expecting them to fail. He hates that you guys worry, like he can’t convince you that the life he loves isgood enough. Or that he’s smart enough to decide for himself what he wants.”
Frannie looks away and takes a breath. “That’s kind of harsh. We adore him.”
“If I walked in here and said, ‘Frannie, I’m so worried about you,’ how would you feel?”
