Page 8 of The Summer of ’98

Ellie

Dearest Ellie,

I hope this doesn’t startle you. I sat outside and wrote this in the car after our incredible night together. I should have asked for a phone number, but I didn’t think about it until you had dashed that pretty behind inside. You see, I’m a little senseless when you’re in my presence. You’re such a stunning vision, a whisper of perfection, a blossomed beauty. I hope that we can keep in touch. If you’re interested, perhaps phone me? I don’t want to lose touch with the girl who has stolen my heart. It may come across as strong, but I feel more than I ever believed I was capable of feeling when I’m with you. You’re an embodiment of an angel, and I’m counting down the days until I’m in Waco and close to you again, Ellie Livingston.

Sincerely,

Leroy

At the bottom of the letter that Leroy wrote me was a phone number. A jumble of digits that set us on the course to a whirlwind romance. We spent hours on the telephone. We got to know each other through conversation that may have been long-distance, but the smoothness of his voice and the gentle tone of his sweet nothings made me feel so close to him. Now, a month later, the paper was wrinkled and tearing at the corner from how often I reread it because the feeling that it gave me was the same as it had been the first time. Butterfly central.

By some miracle, my mother allowed me to spend the rest of summer in Castle Rock, on a strict set of conditions, of course. More miraculous still was that I could spend it with Leroy, in his home. Our mothers had spoken on the phone and agreed that as long as we were in separate bedrooms and had a ten o’clock curfew, it was fine.

However, there was still the small matter of being accepted by his upper-class parents. Mom’s salary wouldn’t have been a quarter of what his parents made, and I was nervous to think that I might not fit in or be the sort of woman that they want their son to date. What if they thought I was a gold digger? I’d expressed these concerns to him on the phone and he’d said that it was ridiculous to think like that, but still, I couldn’t help but worry.

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Momma asked as I bounced on the spot, watching the boarding chart and waiting for my flight number to be called. “You didn’t pack a lot.”

“Momma, I’ve got a secure system set up,” I assured her, still not one hundred percent focused on her face or words. “As long as I can use the washing machine, and I’m sure that I can, I’ve got all that I need.”

I was nothing if not organized. I had a rotation of outfits that I could mix and match. Accessories to spice them up and seven different lipstick colors to ensure that I could pop a perfect pout no matter what the occasion.

“Be safe, and I’d really appreciate it if you could give your future some thought,” Momma pointed an authoritative finger at me. “I know that I can’t afford to put you through college, but—”

“Come on, Momma,” I cut her off. “I’m going to take a small business course when I’ve got enough cash. And one day, I’ll own a skincare line. I’ve told you all of this. There’s no chance that I could work as a measly employee for the rest of my life—no offense.”

Momma smiled, although it wasn’t convincing. “I know that you don’t want to end up like me but be realistic. And don’t base your future on this boy because these things can be fleeting.”

I frowned at the pessimistic woman who’d raised me. “I’m not basing anything off Leroy. I’ve wanted to run a business since I was a freshman. I’ll do it with or without him. And what we have isn’t fleeting. He loves me, Momma.”

“Whatever you say,” she said. “Look, I mean it, behaving. His mother assured me that she’d phone and have you sent home if there was even a hint of acting up. You don’t be alone with that boy in his room, you keep your hands to yourselves, and don’t even think about touching alcohol. You hear?”

“Yes Momma,” I said, holding back a restless sigh. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t heard it all before. “I promise. Besides, I’ve only met him in person once. It’s not like we know each other well enough to . . . you know . . .”

Fortunately, I’d become quite talented in the art of lying. She didn’t know that I’d given him a piece of me that I could never get back—and she never would. She didn’t know that I was in love with him. I hadn’t given it away on a whim. I’d felt something for him that I couldn’t explain, and I knew that even if he hadn’t kept in touch, I wouldn’t have regretted it.

After a few more “words of wisdom” from Momma, we said goodbye at the gate, and I went through security to wait. The call for my flight came over the PA, and I squealed through a clenched jaw as I slung my backpack on and adjusted my T-shirt, the summer sun making me sweat like crazy.

The flight wasn’t long, just over two hours, but it was my first, and I tried to appreciate it. I had saved every last dollar that I’d made from working at the local pharmacy after school and on weekends. The funds were going toward the business course that I planned on taking. But I withdrew a small amount for the tickets and spending money. I wanted to appreciate what I had paid for, but my mind was spinning with the knowledge that I would soon be seeing Leroy after an entire month of nothing but hearing his voice. It had kept me going, that’s for sure.

When the flight landed, I ran a hand through my frazzled mess of hair and pulled it into a bun. My palms had become damp and I vigorously wiped them on my high-waisted shorts before I stood and joined the line to get off the plane. What would it be like to see him again? Would we slide into familiarity with ease? Would the nerves make it awkward? It felt like every traveler was moving at a snail’s pace, but eventually we made it off the plane.

After I’d gone through customs and collected my luggage, I stood to the side of the gate, searching for him, my thoughts still a shambles of uncertain excitement. A voice that I’d become so familiar with purred from behind me. I could feel his presence, feel an electric hum settling around me, a result of my heart working overtime.

“Hello, Ellie.”

His voice was like butter. Soft and smooth, sliding over me and seeping into my skin. It was what I had come to know. I had made love to this man, cried his name in a night of passion, and touched every surface of his magnificent body. But his soul, his deep voice, his poetic words, those were what I had fallen in love with.

I turned around and laid a gaze on his gorgeous grin. He stood tall, hands in his jean pockets, his hair swept over in an unkempt mess. He screamed confidence. And why wouldn’t he? He was irresistible. His charm and presence couldn’t be missed, even when he didn’t utter a word. I drank in his appearance. His jeans rolled up at the ankles, his white Chuck Taylors, and the fitted white muscle shirt that allowed a view of his sinfully delicious arms.

He stepped forward and drew me in with his large hand wrapped around my waist.

“I have missed you a whole damn lot, Ellie Livingston,” he smiled before he crashed his lips against mine and I was lost to the world. Gone. Only existing with the life that he breathed into me with that unbelievable kiss.

I didn’t want it to end. I could have kissed him until the sun set and the stars birthed a new night. But his mouth parted from mine and we both sighed with relief. “I missed you too,” I finally managed to tell him.

“Mom’s excited to meet you,” he said as he dropped an arm around my shoulder and took my bag.

Perhaps I had jumped the gun a little. I knew a lot of the families in my hometown had a stuck-up mindset. That didn’t mean every single rich person was a snob and a half. There’s a good chance that I was the snob for making such assumptions.

---