Page 13 of Be My Summer

Showing my gratitude.

Showing my love.

Praising their sacrifices.

Celebrating them.

Never celebrating me or the fact that they did exactly what they were supposed to do, and things happened exactly how they were supposed to happen.

My father had been a single parent since the woman he’d chosen to procreate with pushed out the placenta I was nourished in for nine and a half months. Every year after, I made my day about him. For the first time, I carved out a piece of my day to remember me.

He asked.

Saul was the reason a corner of my day was dedicated to the occasion. I peered in his direction, hoping he understood what this night meant for me.

Thank you.

“Where’d you go?”

His question came as a surprise.

“Hm?”

“You went elsewhere. Your mind. Your thoughts. Where’d you go?”

I shrugged. “Somewhere I’d rather not discuss so soon.”

“I’m in no rush, Miss Summer. I have so much time to comb through that head of yours. I plan to take my time so you can do the same.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Saul.”

I rested my head on the seat and released a breathy sigh. I closed my eyes as I began to vomit words I prayed I didn’t regret later.

“You required something of me that I haven’t required of myself since–forever.”

“And what’s that?”

I shook my head, chuckling.

“Nevermind,” I whispered, wishing I could take back what I’d just said.

“I’m listening, Summer.”

The softness of his words soothed the ache in my chest.

“Carving out space to acknowledge a day that hurts as much as it heals.”

“Your birthday.”

I nodded.

“Why does it hurt?”

“Music–” I deflected.

“Music?”

“Yes. Instead of dinner tonight… can you take me to hear some music? Something good. Something worth dancing to?”