Ann DeFee - Summer After Summer

“Thanks, Mom. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

I could tell by the smile on her face, she was delighted that I was slowly, but surely, coming back to life. My mood was actually rather strange. Sometimes I felt perfectly fine and then it would hit me like a brick. I was to blame for a person’s death. That’s when I’d plunge into depression.

I trudged to the shower. Even when things got really bad, there was something rejuvenating about an orgy of hot water.

Before I made it down the stairs, I heard voices in the kitchen. Could that be Charlie? I hadn’t seen him since the day Daddy took him home to help explain the situation to his parents. He had to be feeling as bad as I did. So why hadn’t I called him?

Although Daddy said the official coroner’s decision was an accidental death, and there wouldn’t be an inquest, I was sure the Morrisons were worried silly. Their boat and their son were involved.

However, he hadn’t been driving the boat. I had.

“Hi, Charlie.” He was sitting at the table with my mother, munching on a sweet roll.

“Hey, Sunshine. You’re looking better,” he replied between bites.

That exaggeration required a very unladylike snort. “Better than what?” I was wearing my rattiest shorts, my hair was wet and pulled up into a ponytail, and I didn’t have on a dab of makeup.

Mama put a glass of milk and a pastry on the table in front of me. The combination of warm cinnamon and sugar jump-started my taste buds. All of a sudden, I was ravenous.

By the time I’d plowed through three Dixie Delite specials, I was stuffed.

“I see your appetite’s returned,” Charlie teased. “Why don’t you ride down to the dam with me?”

“Okay.”

“Mrs. Boudreaux, we’ll be back in a little bit.”

Mama had always been impressed with Charlie’s manners. The guy could charm the birds out of the trees, and regardless of their age, people of the female persuasion were particularly susceptible to his charisma.

“That’s fine,” Mama said. She likely would’ve agreed to anything that got me out of the house.

“How are you feeling, really?” Charlie asked after he parked in a gravel spot near the river.

For some inexplicable reason he entwined his fingers with mine.

“I guess I’m okay. How are you doing?”

He shrugged. “I feel like crap. He was my responsibility. I knew he couldn’t ski, and I also knew he was the kind of guy who’d take dangerous chances. I should’ve told him to get lost, but I didn’t.”

Charlie looked so sad I reached out to touch his cheek. “Neither one of us is to blame. You didn’t have any idea he’d act that stupid. And I was being careful, I know I was. That’s what my brain says, anyway. My heart tells me something different.”

He nodded. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Only someone who was there would understand.” We stared at each other for a long time before Charlie continued.

“I feel so responsible.” I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. “He died. He’s not here anymore and that’s heartbreaking.”

“Sunshine.” Charlie traced the path of the tear with his finger. “Please don’t cry.” He put his arms around me. “It’s my fault. I should’ve told him to go home.” He rubbed my back.

“It was an accident,” he said. “Honestly it was. I’ve been worried about you. I didn’t see it happen, and later he was covered up with a sheet. I’d never met him, so I didn’t have any personal connection with him.”

“I didn’t really know him, either. The one date we had was a disaster. He kept wanting to put his hands where I didn’t want him to, and when he wouldn’t take no for an answer I kneed him in the, uh, you know.”

“You kneed him?” Charlie asked with a chuckle.

“Guilty.”

“Oh, boy,” he said with a grimace. “Remind me not to make you mad.”

His comment broke the oppressive mood that threatened to overwhelm us. “Come with me,” Charlie said.

Once we got out of the car, he pulled me to the base of the dam. I thought we were going down to the water; however, he made a right turn before we got to the concrete.

“This is my secret spot.” Charlie gestured at a bower of green hidden by a large willow tree. “I come down here when I need to meditate.”

He was wearing a sheepish little-boy expression that made me fall more in love with him than ever.

“The only other person who knows about this place is Colton. But I brought you here because I suspect you need a retreat.”

How did he know that was exactly what I was craving? And how, in all the years of playing in this meadow, had I missed this heavenly space? I wasn’t sure whether it was the lush greenery or the breeze dancing through the trees that made it so extraordinary, but whatever it was, I sensed that I’d been brought here for a reason.

“Would you like to talk?”

That was like asking a lion if he’d be interested in a wildebeest snack. The funny thing was, we didn’t talk; we simply relaxed and watched the water.

Charlie was reclining in the grass with his hands behind his head. “Are you ready to go to California?”

That was a good question, and one no one else had bothered to ask.

I grimaced, pondering my many misgivings, my middle-of-the-night fears. “I’m kinda scared. It’ll sure be different. Are you and Colton still planning to go to UT?”

“Yeah.” He levered himself up on one arm. “There are two of us and money’s tight, so we couldn’t get very exotic in our choice of schools.”

After that, we talked, we laughed, and we shared memories from our childhood. It was an afternoon I’d remember forever, one of those rare and idyllic moments. As we discussed our college futures, I was surprised to discover that Charlie wanted to be a doctor. We’d been friends forever, but I didn’t know that. And Charlie was totally enthusiastic about my dream of becoming a world-class architect. His unconditional acceptance was another reason I loved him.

I was hunched over with my chin on my knees when Charlie started playing with my ponytail. As far as I was concerned, he could do that all day.

“You have beautiful hair. It feels like silk.” He emphasized his point by gently removing the rubber band and sifting the strands through his fingers.

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