SummerI growled deep in my throat and flopped back on my bed. I snuck a glance at my bookshelf, gaze landing Ian's photo. His sharp facial features and chiseled chin. His eyebrows were low, almost masking the deep brown color of his eyes. He always looked somewhat dangerous until he smiled. He was a good looking man. But he knew he was attractive, as did the entire female population of Wylie. Wasn't it against the laws of nature and rules of friendship to think of a best friend that way? Issue the I could eat you alive, but wouldn't dare look? We'd grown up next door to one another. It wasn't a brother-sister kind of relationship, but it wasn't the kind to get all hot and bothered between the sheets either. Sex between us would ruin everything. Sex killed friendships. So what was up with him lately? All the innuendos and wink-winks?When we were fifteen, and I was dating one of the high school football players, I'd run next door to tell Ian about Scott Michaels kissing me before the
Eighteen Years Ago - Age EightI was entirely too old to believe in this sort of thing. Even all the kids at school in my class were saying there was no such thing as Santa Claus. How could a guy only come out once a year, on a flying sleigh, and give gifts to every kid in the world? Come on! Though I didn't tell anyone, not even Daddy, I wrote a letter to Santa one last time, just in case. I had even talked Daddy into taking me to the Concord Mall to see him. Because if Santa was real, he may be my only hope.I was different from everyone else. Most kids asked for video games or movies or toys. I asked for my mother to come home. On Christmas morning, I lay in bed, waiting to hear Daddy's footsteps in the hall. I hadn't slept much last night, but I was sure I hadn't heard reindeer hooves on the roof either. Maybe Santa wasn't real. Maybe I should just give it up.Silent as a mouse, Daddy poked his head into my room. "Ah, you are awake. Should we go see if the jolly fat guy came?"I g
Summer"Is everyone ready?" I asked. They all yelled yes excitedly. "Well, today we're going to paint our favorite thing to eat in summer." I clasped my hands in front of me. "It can be anything you want, but you have to use your color chart to mix mediums. No primaries today." All the kids eagerly started their pictures. I rarely did a strict curriculum with this class and I pretty much let them have free reign. Most of the families didn't have a place to engage in activities with these children and came from counties quite a distance away, so the parents usually stayed throughout the class. Rarely did I have a child absent, so when the kids were engaged with their painting, I quietly walked up to Samantha's mom, who lived in the same county, and asked about Jon Melbourne."Oh, didn't you hear?" She put her hand on her chest. "They found another lump in the follow-up x-ray and he's back at the hospital." My heart and hope dropped, just like that. Nausea swirled in my stomach. "I
Nineteen Years Ago-Age NineThere were so many people here. I just knew I was going to throw up and everyone would stare at me thinking, eww, that's the girl who got sick at the school Christmas concert. I was so nervous. I was supposed to sing Silent Night with the rest of my class in a couple of minutes. What if I forgot my lines?Rick and Ian took my hands, one on each side of me, and squeezed in reassurance. Usually having them near helped calm me when I was upset, but it wasn't helping now. The older kids were coming off the stage with a round of applause from the audience. My class was next. Nearly dragging me, my boys pulled me to our spot on stage. Our teacher, Mrs. Griffith, announced us, but I couldn't understand anything she was saying. The lights were bright. Putting my hand up to shield my eyes, I located Ian's and Rick's parents in the second row. They were smiling and cheering and clapping their hands. Then I saw Daddy. My heart dropped. Each of the students was
IanHell. There were reasons I'd never done it, so why was I contemplating a confession?I took the elevator down to the lobby and went outside to get air. Slumping against a brick wall, I thought about how many times I'd come here with her and could not shake the sick feeling this place gave me. She had that same look in her eyes today as she had the moment her dad died. How she found the strength to come back here when one of these kids grew ill was beyond me. The woman had more strength than any ten people I knew. She was either a saint or an idiot. The jury was still out on that one.More than anything, it left me irate. How much was she supposed to take? Would she let herself endure? It was as if she was punishing herself for not doing more. She held a fund raiser every year, the proceeds going to research and her blessed art program. An event where she smiled, shook hands, and pretended it didn't kill her dead those kids were dying. She should be in some ridiculous daisy field
Summer"I emailed you the seating arrangements." Eric Holcomb's deep, penetrating voice boomed over the phone. I leaned back in the computer chair upstairs in my studio-slash-office, pulling up the attachment. Eric was the director at Charlotte's downtown art museum and we were going over the last of the preliminaries for my benefit. This was my fifth year working with him. Eric was a handsome man in his early forties and as hospitable as he was gay. His life mate, Edward, was an accountant at the same firm as my friend Rick. "I got it." I skimmed the attachment. "Looks good, except you seated the mayor next to the school board director. I'd rather not have any arrests at the event."He laughed. "I'll fix that." I listened as he shuffled papers. "The caterer wants to know if you want the same options as last year."I mulled that over. "No. The beef wellington wasn't too popular. The chicken kiev with asparagus spears and roasted potatoes are fine, as we discussed, but add a fish
IanI watched Summer's bedroom light from my window, as I did just about every night since we were fifteen. There wasn't anything to see, just a soft glow through the weeping willow branches from across the two acres between us, but it was habit. My gut tightened as I took a swig of beer, the condensation from the long neck bottle soaking my hand. Pacing my bedroom, I glared at her everywhere I turned. There's been no escape for years now. Stupidly, I'd kept every ridiculous trinket she'd ever bought or made me, even the little ceramic frog she'd done in fifth grade art class. At least, that's what she'd said it was. It didn't look like a frog. Pictures of us as kids, as adults, and our families scattered the dark blue walls. I stared at the one of Tom, Summer, and myself outside her house. There was a pull in my chest as I remembered Tom, lying in bed, too sick to even hold his daughter in the end.Christ. Our lives were like a jacked up version of Dawson's Creek, sans the romance
Fourteen Years Ago-Age TenI should've just stayed home. I knew this was a bad idea. Who needed Girl Scouts anyway? Not me!When my troop had announced a mother/daughter hike through the botanical gardens for Mother's Day, I'd nearly died. After the meeting, my leader, Mrs. Hintz, had told me I should come anyway. That maybe one of the other mothers could go with me. How embarrassing.I was just going to go home after the meeting and hide the permission slip, but Mrs. Hintz called that night and Daddy asked Ian's mom to accompany me. It was really nice of her to say yes, but she wasn't my mother. I didn't have a mother.I glanced up from the craft project we were working on at one of the picnic tables at the garden when one of the girls snickered. The mothers were off having coffee cake and tea while the girls were making them Mother's Day cards. My leader had stepped away to help another table.My hand froze over the cover of my homemade card. What was I supposed to write? The gi