Page 7 of Rebel Summer

I fished out the two white pills and, without water, threw them into my mouth and swallowed.

For the last bit of our walk, Cat regaled me with stories of island life, our friends, and the things she was convinced I was missing in landlocked Tennessee. I listened with great interest as long as I could before my movements grew more sluggish, my thoughts more foggy as we trudged up the stairs of the resort.

“Can I take you home?” Cat asked, eyeing me with concern.

“No. I’m fine. It’s not that far. Have fun. Go show some poor innocent guy your dance moves,” I teased, using the last of my strength to make a bad joke so she’d feel better about letting me go. I didn’t need a babysitter. I needed a bed.

It took a few more protests before she finally relented and gave me a hug, promising to see me again before I left, before winding her way through the crowd to chat with more people. One quick glance at the bride and groom swarmed by guests told me it would be at least a twenty-minute wait before I could get close enough for a goodbye hug. I would just text Mariah a honeymoon joke tomorrow. Apparently, I’ve got big jokester energy when I’m half delirious.

I found my dad speaking to a set of councilmen and their wives, the ever-faithful Angela standing beside him, hanging on his arm.

Senator Clayton Brooks had been running for something my entire life. He’d been a state representative when I was a child before finally winning the local state senator position when I was in high school—a position he’s kept rather easily until this summer when, apparently, someone from the mainland had the audacity to run against him.

He was busy talking, and I knew he wouldn’t want to be interrupted, so I stood next to Angela and tapped her on the shoulder.

Her eyes grew wide as she took me in, which made me wonder what state of deterioration I was currently at.

“Hey,” I said, smiling brightly.

“Are you okay?” she asked, peering closer.

I forced my eyes to go bigger, though I wasn’t sure if that helped. “I’m exhausted. Do you mind if I take a golf cart back home?”

Angela looked at her watch and glanced at my dad, still in conversation with…someone. It was amazing how quickly names could slip my mind. It had been too long since I’d been forced to follow my parents around while my dad social-climbed.

“I don’t think your dad will want to leave yet.”

My limbs now weighed a thousand pounds. I couldn’t wait any longer. I’d walk if I had to.

“But we drove here separately, so you could take your dad’s cart home, and then he can come home with me.”

I threw her a grateful look. “That would be great. Thank you.”

“Ang, have you met Mr. McGreggor yet?” my dad broke in, his hand on Angela’s back stealing her attention.

My body swayed slightly as I waited through an impatient minute of small talk before Angela could glance my way again. She pulled my dad’s keys out of her purse and handed them over. “Here.”

“Okay, thanks. See you—” I had almost said I’d see her at home, but I couldn’t imagine it ever being her home, so my words drifted awkwardly between us.

She eyed me with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can drive you.”

“No. I’ll be fine. It’s not very far.”

“Be safe.”

I stumbled my way to the valet in front of the resort and waited until he brought me the golf cart. At this point, my eyes almost needed something to prop them open. Did I say goodnight to Mariah? I had been thinking about giving her a hug goodbye. But did I? Maybe I should go tell her to have fun on her honeymoon.

No.

I’ll send her a text…someday. Sometime. Tomorrow. Or maybe in September.

It wasn’t far. I could drive the distance in my sleep. I opened my eyes as wide as they could go and took a big breath of salty air. I turned the key and started the engine. The low rumble gave me a shot of energy as I pulled out onto the roadway designed for golf carts only. Sometimes it was annoying living on an island where cars were illegal. Most specifically, times where a bridesmaid had done my hair in an amazingly intricate updo, and the wind instantly erased all her effort. It didn’t matter, though. I would be dropping onto my bed in seconds. Minutes?

Or…September?

I slapped at my face until my cheeks flushed, only to have my vision go blurry. I blinked several times in a row until my sight cleared. I forced myself to look at my surroundings as I rounded the small bend in the road passing the retirement home where I used to spend time visiting with the residents before I left for bigger and better things. Or, at least…bigger. I wonder if Mrs. Anderson was still there. Or Mrs…uh…Mrs…

The golf cart veered left, and I jerked upward, correcting my course, headed toward the boat repair shop. What was it called now? Sunset Repairs? That was where…never mind. I wondered if he still worked there.

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