Just for the Summer

I’m following him on Instagram from my throwaway account to keep up surveillance. You may proceed.” I looked at her, amused. “Proceed to do what?”
“I don’t know. Keep talking to him. See if he’s normal.”
“He seems normal,” I said, looking back at the phone. “We’re the ones who aren’t normal,” I muttered.

No plants are injured in the pursuit of my career.

Because everyone wants to know who the guy who can guarantee you a happy ever after is.

I figured you weren’t trying to date me just to break up with me.

“You know, if she’s got the same thing you do, if you guys date each other, you’ll both find your soulmates when you break up.”

“You know I’m not a superstitious person. I don’t believe in magic or hexes or curses, but this thing that’s going on with you? It is real and it’s been happening for three years and it’s going to keep happening if you don’t do something. Maybe this is the something.”

Your mom didn’t give you much, but she did give you her face.”

“It’s just a coincidence,” I said. “You realize that, right?”
“I agree.” He paused. “But…”
“But? But what?”
“But what if it isn’t?

Who wouldn’t want to get hit by a love truck?”

“I don’t understand how that woman made this,” Maddy said, going on, waving a hand over my face. “A fully functional member of society.”

“He’s gone, Justin. May God rest his soul.” I blinked at her. “Your boyfriend died?”
“He’s dead to me.”

And my whole life was about to be turned upside down so that everyone else’s life could stay the same.

“Four dates, one kiss, and a breakup,”

We do not go out of our way for men. We do not inconvenience ourselves for men, we do not change our well-laid plans for men. No.”

“A place like this should have laughter in it,” Maria said, taking us to the bedrooms. “Memories.”

“You’re only giving me four dates?” I asked. “You’re here for six weeks. We could have more.”
“I don’t want to take advantage.”
“Please. Take advantage.” Please.

“Imagine putting that on a dating app,” she said. I made my voice serious. “Must be willing to eat my discarded pizza crusts, no weirdos.”

“It’s too confusing. The truth scares them. Sometimes the best way to show love or be kind to someone is to meet them where they are.”
“Literally? Or figuratively?” She paused with the spoon in her hand. “Both.”

“I’ve had a lot of bad things happen to me, Justin. I think sometimes the key to happiness is framing those things in a different way.”

“I wish I could ask questions and always get the truth.”

Most of the stuff we hang on to we don’t actually need. My entire life packs into two large suitcases. And if it doesn’t, I leave whatever doesn’t fit.”

We made eye contact. Like maybe neither of us wanted to go back to the real world. But we did. The real world doesn’t like to wait.

“What happens when water gets into a crack and it freezes?”
“It expands,” I said. “Makes the crack bigger.”
“Unhealed trauma is a crack. And all the little hard things that trickle into it that would have rolled off someone else, settle. Then when life gets cold, that crack gets bigger, longer, deeper. It makes new breaks. You don’t know how broken she was or what she was trying to do to fill those cracks. Being broken is not an excuse for bad behavior, you still have to make good choices and do the right thing. But it can be the reason. And sometimes understanding the reason can be what helps you heal.”

Nobody wants to be the villain, Justin. If you start there, it’s easier to get how people end up who they are and where they are.

“How do you learn to forgive her?” She shrugged. “You don’t have to forgive her. You really don’t. You can still love someone that you’ve decided not to speak to anymore. You can still wish them well and hope for the best for them. Choosing a life without them doesn’t mean you stop caring about them. It just means that you can’t allow them to harm you anymore. But if you don’t think your life would be better without them in it, then accept that they have cracks. Try to understand how they got them and help fill them with something that isn’t ice.”

“What if I mess them up?” I asked quietly. She smiled at me gently. “What if you save them?”

“If they’re not safe, why are they cute, Justin?”

Even if it was just a tiny moment in a long lifetime of moments, I was happy to be a part of it.

I was angry at the timing. Of all of it. Because none of it was fair and I knew deep down what it meant.

“I’m going to keep my promises. I promise.”

“He gives you butterflies. He’s awakened something inside of your cold, dead heart.”

“You have to manifest your own destiny.”

“He baked brownies.” She looked up at me. “You’re right. You should bone him.”
I snorted and Hector looked at me like I had two heads. “You’re not boning him yet? You better get on it.”
Yeah. I should.

I had never felt like that before. Something about it scared me. Gave me the urge to pull back, like a hand jerking away from a hot stove. Something told me I should think more on that. Try to figure out why liking him made me nervous, made me feel like something was wrong. Maybe because I knew liking him was pointless?

“I feel like I’m showing you a life that doesn’t belong to me anymore.” She looked out over the river. “I understand. I’ve had a lot of lives too. And none of them belong to me anymore either.”

You could have told me a lot of things a year ago that I would never have believed.

“I know this is hard, but good things can still come out of it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Like what?”
“You find out a lot about yourself during times like this. You realize how resilient you are and what you’re capable of.”

Not everything that comes out of crisis is bad. Sometimes your traumas are the reason you know how to help.

“I like you a lot,” she said.
“But?”
“You’re just in a different place than I am—”
“Then meet me where I am.”

She didn’t owe me an explanation, and I didn’t want one. Because what would it change? You can’t negotiate feelings. You can’t convince someone they feel something they don’t. She either felt for me strongly enough to stay and accept my situation with my family, or she didn’t.

There was no hope. But my foolish heart would hope anyway. It didn’t know how not to.

Something happened in my chest. A flutter. Or a crack. I had to clutch it with a hand like a part of me was going to spill out.

“You didn’t leave,” I whispered. “I will never leave you,” he said tiredly. “I mean, unless you tell me to. I’m not a creep.”

“All I ever think about is you.” My heart pounded. He opened his eyes. “What are we doing, Emma?” Time stopped. Or I did. Reality smeared.

Time stopped. Or I did. Reality smeared.

His gaze held mine, and I couldn’t break it. It was a spell. I didn’t know how to answer him, and I didn’t know how to push him away. I didn’t know how to stay, and I didn’t know how to leave.

“I like you more than like.”

I was realizing that even though I loved her, I wasn’t sure I liked her.

How easy it was for him to acknowledge this monumental thing. To say it out loud without fear that the universe would take it from him now that it knew what he needed to live. That’s what the universe always did to me. Took away the people I loved.

“Sometimes I feel like the seasons could come and go and come and go, a hundred years could pass, a thousand, the ground could collapse under us, this house could crumble and go back to the earth, and we would still be standing here frozen in time, because every second I’m with you is eternal. I’ve never felt anything like it.”