Page 44 of Summer After Summer

I take a few steps away from them and stop to regulate my breathing, but it’s no use. Even though I haven’t had to talk to Fred except for the short ride from Sophie’s, his presence hangs over everything. Each room I clean out is a room he’ll occupy; each memory I unlock is one he’ll replace.

I can’t take it anymore. I need to speed up this process and get the hell out of here.

I walk back to the house, wiping my tears away. I want to be alone, but there’s someone standing in the French doors that I can’t ignore.

Ash.

CHAPTER TWELVE

July 2003

Fred doesn’t talk to me the day after the beach party.

Instead, when I go to the beach, Dave tells me that Fred’s dealing with a family emergency. He doesn’t know anything else, and so I worry, wondering if it’s true or if he just doesn’t want to see me; if I’m the emergency.

It feels like I am. My heart is pounding. I miss easy shots during practice. And when I go to see Ash, she’s no help because she’s still green and moaning in her bed, even though it’s the afternoon. She says she doesn’t remember anything that happened last night, and I don’t have the heart to tell her what she did. I get her a glass of water, then ride my bike back to my house and pace the floor of my room.

When I can’t stand it anymore, I find his aunt and uncle’s phone number, and I call the house. The phone rings and rings, and no one answers. Maybe they have caller ID, and Fred is standing over the phone, looking at my last name as it pops up, waving off his aunt, telling her not to answer. Or maybe there’s really something wrong—with him, with them, with some other member of his family—and he’s gone.

I feel sick, and I want to crawl into bed like Ashley, but instead, I change my clothes, brush my hair, get on my bike, and ride to Fred’s place.

I don’t expect dinner, but I’ve been invited, and no one has canceled. And I need to see Fred because it feels like I am going to die if I don’t.

It’s a two-mile ride to his house on flat roads. I ride slowly so I don’t arrive sweaty and because I couldn’t make myself eat anything today, and I feel dizzy. The salt air massages my face as the sky turns rosy above me, and though I’ve tried to slow this down, I’m here.

The house is a two-story Cape Codder, with cedar shingles and a white wrap-around porch. There’s no car in the driveway, and it has a stillness about it that makes me feel like no one’s home and no one will be for a while.

I straddle my bike, trying to decide what to do. I can knock on the door, but I don’t want to hear the empty echo of an abandoned house. I can’t make myself leave either, so I stand there, watching the porch, my heart beating in my ears until the door opens and there’s Fred.

“What are you doing?” He doesn’t smile the way he usually does when he sees me. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair and frowns. Not good.

“Trying to decide whether to knock on the door.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me.” I take a quick breath. “I went by the beach and you weren’t there, and then I called and you didn’t answer.”

“I wasn’t here.”

“Dave said there was an emergency?”

“My uncle’s in the hospital.”

“Oh, Fred, I’m so sorry.” And I am sorry—I am—but I’m also relieved. He didn’t skip work because of me. “What happened?”

“A heart attack.”

Oh no. Oh God. I’m a terrible person. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. I’m going back to the hospital now.”

“Okay, I’ll leave.”

I put my feet on the pedals, but I’m too dizzy to control the bike. It starts to tip over, and I just manage to stop myself from falling. But the bike slides sideways, and the chain catches my leg. I can feel my skin ripping before I see the blood.

“Dammit.” I step away from the bike and sway as I take in the blood pouring down my leg.

Fred is next to me, his hand on my elbow. “Come in the house. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

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