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His features soften and he looks at me. Really looks at me. I can see him taking in my expression. “Yeah. Me too. I wish I could have been here the whole time. Maybe next time.”
THE SUMMER TIME SADNESS
July 2005
Two months. It’s been two months of a mundane existence. I feel like I’m living on the rinse and repeat cycle. I get up in the morning before the sun gets warm, practice,then head to my part time job. I’ve been working at an arts and crafts store, which is fun most days, but it’s still a job meant to give me some much coveted spending cash. The apartment is empty most of the week. Lola went home but stayed on the lease and Meg only comes down on the weekends to see her boyfriend. I on the other hand decided to stay in the apartment and hunker down.
We’ve got one month until classes start up and a little less than that until athletic training ramps up in full swing. The start of my senior year is so close, I can taste it. I have big plans for this last year. Just the other day while I was folding t-shirts in the tie-dye section, I mentally mapped out all the things that I wanted to accomplish before graduation. I want to sayyesmore to things. I want to stop keeping my feelings to myself. I’ve spent the last six months keeping my feelings for Brad a secret. Well a secret from him at least—all of my friends know in great detail how into BradMatthews I am. If I still had a Trapper Keeper I’d draw his name on it with little hearts all around for fun.
The night that he showed up to my formal I thought things would change between us. I thought we would start to move forward and things would progress. Instead, the next day things were right back to where we were before. Still friends, still texting outside of class and being friendly in classes. Other than that, one time he came over to my apartment and it ended in a hug. He hasn’t been back since. Granted, there hasn’t been an opportunity since then to really have him over or vice versa. Once school ended he went back to his hometown and once again started his summer job of working in the toll booth.
Our texting game has been going strong but with my new plan going into senior year, I’m planning on ramping up my efforts to finally put it out there that I want more. If I get shot down again, then I might have to take that as a sign we really are meant to be just friends. As much as it would pain my heart to be just his friend, I’d still do it. I’ll be devastated but I’ll still do it.
Like right now, we’ve been texting on and off during the day. On days like today when I’m not working, just sitting on my couch eating chips straight out of the bag and watching garbage television it’s easy to get lost in our texting. He’s bored most of the day stuck in a toll booth. I’m his outlet to the world in that tiny, what I can only imagine is also a very hot, box. I asked him once what he did in there all day and he told me count the quarters and listen to the radio. I had a knee jerk reaction at just the thought of being stuck inside one of those.
I lift the remote to change the channel when I hear someone fiddling with the doorknob. That flight or fight instinct in me instantly comes to life and I start looking around the room for something to use to protect myself. The only thing I can readilysee is the long remote to the dvd player. I grab it and hold it out like it’s a medieval sword. The door swings open and I can’t help myself, the panic takes over and I scream.
I see bags bang against the floor and scream, causing the other person to scream too. I hold the remote out to hit the intruder before my brain connects that all this screaming is coming from Meg. We both stop and stare at each other, and I can hear her deep intake of breath in sync with my rapid heartbeat. “What the hell, Meg? I think I peed my pants.”
Meg’s posture mirrors mine. She finally drops her hand from her chest and visibly relaxes. “Well you scared me to death too! I unlock the door and you’re screaming, blood curdling screams.”
“I thought you were someone who was breaking in! Of course, I’m going to scream. What else am I going to do?”
She looks at me like I’m speaking in another language but she drops it. Now that my heart has returned to a normal beat, I realize that she’s got a rolling suitcase standing by the door. “What’s with the suitcase?” I ask her. I can’t think of a reason why she’d be moving any more stuff into the apartment in a suitcase since most of her things she left behind for the summer.
She flops down on the couch as if she’s exhausted, ignoring the suitcase. “That would be all of my and I quote.” She holds her hands up into the air and does the quote symbols with her fingers. “All of my girl shit from Justin’s.”
Now I’m more confused. “Well why is it here now?”
She releases an angry growl and I instantly freeze. I have never seen Meg like this. She’s always happy. Like bubble gum pink, pop music blaring, rainbows and sunshine twenty-four seven happiness. And that’s okay, it works for her and I love her dearly so to hear her growl and sit up like she’s about to go into a battle I realize something is terribly wrong.
“That would be because he dumped me about fifteen minutes ago. I showed up to the frat house to spend the weekend and he’s got all of my stuff in this suitcase sitting by his bedroom door. He tells me we need to talk and that he thinks for senior year we should spend that time enjoying the freedom of our last year before having to get real jobs.”
My instant thought is that Justin is a dick. They’ve dated forever. Meg loves him. I’ve seen theBridemagazines on her nightstand in her bedroom. She envisioned marrying him when they finished college so for him to break up with her out of the blue like this—she is holding it together far better than I would.
“I’m so sorry Meg. Did you guys talk about it at all or were you too upset?”
“Nope.” She pops thepon nope and I can tell she’s brimming over with anger. Who doesn’t want to talk things over and have their feelings and emotions at the minimum be validated. Meg isn’t the crying type despite what you’d think with her happy outlook on life. You’d think she’d crumble but don’t let her usually sunny disposition fool you, she’s stronger than that. She doesn’t cry when she’s upset. She gets mad and right now she’s angry,very,veryangry. Then she eventually getseven. I’ve been there for the getting even and it’s always entertaining to say the least.
“So… what are we doing tonight? Throw bologna on his car so he wakes up with it dried to the hood or what?”
She bursts out laughing and I know that I’ve accomplished what I wanted to. I want to ease her pain because I know even though she’s angry she’s hurt and upset and no matter what I say right now she’ll probably end up crying in her bed tonight. It breaks my heart for her. I hear my phone ding with an incoming text but I ignore it. Meg needs me more.
Four hours later, several phone calls to friends and them driving miles on the highway we are dressed to the nines and at a bar that doubles as a club on the weekends calledThe Goal Postbecause everything in this town revolves around college sports. We don’t care though because the music is pumping and the drinks are flowing and the lights are flashing. When I saw Meg let one tear roll down her cheek before the sun even set, I knew I had to call reinforcements. That led to calling Erica, Lola and even Courtney because they were all within the two-hour drive window.
Going out to a club with your girlfriends after a breakup is necessary and empowering. Dealing with the turmoil of ending a relationship is rough so what better way to offer Meg support than embracing the contagious energy of a club night out?
We dance together and turn down all the guys who want to dance with one of us. It’s all group dancing for us, as we are here tonight for one reason and one reason only: to cheer up Meg. Our small but mighty group tonight is showing Meg unwavering support and love. Once our feet hurt enough for us to stop dancing we find a table that is unoccupied. With it being summer the place is at best half full so it’s not hard for us to find a space to fit the four of us. We sit in silence with the music loud over us as we drink water to quench our thirst from dancing so long and since we’ve been here for over an hour we’ve already consumed alcohol when we first walked in the door.
As we sit at the table, I can sense people’s eyes on us. The dimly lit club is filled with a mix of eager faces and vibrant energy. Single guys eyeing our table of girls, their eyes scanning us from head to toe, undoubtedly considering whether to make their move. Their eager smiles are like a mask, hiding their true intentions ofcoming over and striking up a conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I always feel extremely flattered if and when I ever get hit on. It takes a lot of guts to walk up to someone and hit on them in a club like this. But tonight, I don’t even want to have to entertain or fake a smile to someone that I don’t know.
I look over at Meg and I can see that she’s tired. Her once lively energy from dancing has started to wane, and now she’s coming down from the high of being keyed up on the dance floor. We exchange a knowing glance, understanding that we’re both on the same page. Amidst the thumping bass and the energetic atmosphere, we lean in closer to each other, speaking loudly enough for each other to hear. “I’m ready to go home Nikki.”
I lean back and look at her to see if she’s being serious. I already know from her tone of voice that she is. I’ve known her too long not to know the tenor and tone of her voice. When I see her lips pursed and her head tilted to the side, I know she’s serious and wants to get out of here. I signal the girls subtly around the table, letting them know our time is up here in the club. We gather our purses, looking at the booth to make sure we haven’t left anything.
We weave our way out of the club and into the muggy night air. It’s almost last call at all of the bars so the curb has a long line of taxi cabs waiting to pick up patrons just like us. We walked here earlier in the night but there’s no way at this hour and after drinks would we ever walk back to the apartment. Courtney is staying over because she won’t be making the drive back home till tomorrow, though I’m hoping I can coax her into staying at the apartment for a few days. That way while I’m at practice and work Meg won’t have to be alone and will have someone to talk to or talk her down off the ledge if she tries to come up with a way to get even with Justin.
We didn’t throw bologna on his car’s hood tonight but thatdoesn’t mean she won’t do it another day and it’s now my, Lola, Courtney’s job to keep her out of trouble in her quest to get revenge on him. That last thing we need going into our senior year is for her to go to jail. That would derail her quest of becoming a nurse and ultimately Justin would win… so yeah, I need to make sure that doesn’t happen to her. It’s definitely going to be a long few days.
