“Okay, I’m afraid I’m going to betoogood at law school and I didn’t aim high enough,” Davi said. Laurel kicked some sand his way.
“Come on,” she said.
“What?” Davi said. “I’m incredible. You all know it.” When we all smirked at him, he rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “I’m terrified of not having this. I’m scared every friend I make from here on out is going to be surface level and I’ll never be a part of something like this again.”
“But youarea part of something like this,” I said. “We’re forever.”
It was only me and Everett left then, and we looked at each other across the fire, a silent game of chicken. Finally, he sat up a little, cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I made all the wrong choices in college and it’s too late to take them back now,” he said.
“New guy,” Laurel said. “Coming in hot with the cryptic confessions.”
“Not the new guy anymore, remember?” Gabe said, clapping a hand on Everett’s shoulder. “One of us now.”
Laurel and Davi raised their glasses in agreement, but Everett looked at me expectantly. “What about you?” he asked.
“Um,” I mumbled, digging around for an answer that wasn’t the same as what Davi had said. It’s not that I wasn’t afraid of the future, but I had some sense that there wasn’t much I could do to change it. I was certain our little party was forever, that we would return to this place each year and re-create this magic. I had a plan for the next five years, knew how to handle contingencies. Everything was well-kept around me. So long as things held steady, everything would be okay. But everyone was looking at me, waiting, and I had to say something. “I’m afraid of how much I’ll miss all of you.” It was a cop-out, I knew, but I couldn’t tell exactly why. Still, it had Laurel burrowing her head against my shoulder, and I meant it, so I let it lie.
“Okay,” Everett said after a quiet, sad moment. “What about what we’re looking forward to?”
“I like that,” Laurel said, perking up. “One thing you’re afraid of and one thing you’re excited for. It can be a tradition.”
“Laurel also loves traditions,” I said to Everett across the fire, and he smiled when Laurel wrapped her arms around me.
“You love my traditions,” she said. “It’s what makes us so great.”
“Sutton, you first,” Gabe said. “You were last to go.”
“Fine,” I said. This one came easier. “I’m excited to work with Hank and the crew again.”
“I knew you’d say that,” Davi said, grinning over his beer.
It had been the plan since I’d moved for college. I’d study culinary arts, move back to San Francisco, and work at my uncle’s restaurant. I would run the restaurant someday, once Hank retired, so I wanted to spend as much time as I could working under him to learn the ropes.
“Everett,” I said, nodding at him. “Your turn.”
“I’m really excited to be back in that LA traffic,” he said, and when we all laughed, he insisted, “No, seriously. Good music, time to think. Being able to get somewhere in fifteen minutes has been hell these last four years.”
“Okay, we need more,” Davi said. “If I had to be serious so do you.”
“Alright,” Everett said, picking at the label on his bottle with his thumbnail. “I’m headed up to Vancouver in October to work on a shoot for a TV pilot and I’m pretty excited about it.”
“Gabe,” Laurel said. “If you have any other future famous friends hiding in the woodwork, feel free to bring them next summer.”
“Ha, ha,” Everett said as Gabe rolled his eyes at Laurel.
Davi was excited about going to law school in Illinois because it was one step closer to him living in New York, which he felt much better aligned with his personality; Gabe was excited to have true seasons again; and Laurel was excited to share her travels on social.
After a while, we all huddled together on the same side of the fire. It was a moment when none of it mattered: not the absence of Zoey, not the fear of what life would look like without each other, not even the fact that, mentally, I’d been breaking the promise we’d all made to each other all week, in life and in my dreams. Nothing, not even that, could get in the way of that snapshot: five new adults, caught somewhere between training wheels and growing up. It was the perfect ending to something I don’t think any of us could quite name yet.
eight
This Summer
I spend the first night in the house unnervingly aware of Everett in the room down the hall from mine. His presence is a mosquito buzzing in my ear, disappearing for a few minutes at a time only to circle back around when whatever I’ve tried to distract myself with wears off.
I left today free for settling into the house when Laurel and I planned the week—the re-creation of our usual itinerary starts tomorrow—so in the morning, after a shower long enough to wash off the fact that I can’t seem to shut Everett completely out of my mind no matter how hard I try, I tromp down the stairs and announce I’m going into town.
“Why?” Laurel asks, poking her head over the low back of the mid-century couch she’s lounging on, one of the many self-help books she lugged with her on this vacation in her hands. Davi is sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, a mug of coffee and his open laptop in front of him.
