Page 2 of The Summer List

“I said I need a new brain. I’m starting to think that’s the only option here. Full-on brain transplant. I think if we can get me an appointment in the next few days, the summer break should give me enough recovery time to be a functional human by the time school starts in the fall.”

The thought of starting university in September has been looming in my mind like a Dickensian specter of doom all year, but graduating from high school a couple weeks ago turned what felt like a low-level hum of agitation into a keening shriek I can’t ignore for longer than a couple hours at a time.

“Is that what this is really about?” Mom asks. “The university nerves?”

I nod. There’s no point denying it.

“Okay, how about this?” She leans forward to rest the side of her head on the steering wheel so she can look into my eyes. “I’ll go up to the house with you. It would be polite for me to say hi to Sandy anyway. Then you’ll have a buddy for most of the small talk, and by the time I leave, all you’ll really have to do is listen and nod while she gives you the instructions about the cats and the house.”

Part of me clutches at her words like a lifeline, but I still shake my head.

“That’s really nice, but…I don’t want to look like a twelve year-old. How are they going to trust me to look after their giant house for two months if I can’t even walk up to the door without my mom?”

She starts rubbing my back again, smoothing down the fabric of my t-shirt before she traces a few circles along my spine. The slightest bit of tension melts from my muscles.

“No one’s going to think that, honey. Like I said, it would be polite for me to say hi to Sandy. I’ll make sure she knows that’s why I’m there.”

I close my eyes and take a shaky breath before forcing myself to let the air out as slow as I can. Once my lungs are empty, I open my eyes and sit up.

“Okay. Let’s get this over with, I guess.”

We pull into the driveway and are met by a solid metal gate in the low stone wall surrounding the property. From what I can see of the house, it’s more modern than most of the castle-style mansions around here. The grey and white building is made of interlocking modular sections, with more huge windows and glass walls than I can count.

“Wow,” Mom says as she inches the car up to the call box flanking the gate.

The ringtone sounds out a few times, and then a metallic popping noise emits from the gate before it swings open to reveal the rest of the driveway. She parks outside the two-door garage, and we both take a moment to ogle the gigantic in-ground pool in the backyard, complete with a hot tub that could fit an entire soccer team. There are stone pedestals topped with abstract statues in a variety of materials dotting the whole property.

“Wow,” Mom repeats. “Maybe I should have volunteered for the house sitting job.”

I jump when one of the garage doors starts rolling up. I follow my mom’s lead in getting out of the car, and a woman’s voice rings out from inside the garage just as I’m shutting my door.

“Hello, hello!” A short woman with curled, cherry red hair who looks like she’s somewhere in her fifties comes out and beams at us. She’s wearing sleek black leggings and a billowing pink tunic top. “Thank you so much for coming! You must be Naomi. The kids are so excited to meet you.”

My tongue feels too thick in my mouth for me to voice my confusion, but she must read it in my face. She lets out a tittering laugh.

“I mean the cats. I call them the kids all the time. I’m sure you’ll get used to it. Oh, we are just so glad to have you!”

I’m searching for the willpower to thrust my hand out and actually say something to her, but she closes the distance between us and pulls me into a tight hug instead. All I can do is stand there like a limp fish caught in her embrace. She smells like strawberry perfume, or maybe it’s just her shampoo. There’s a lock of her hair draped across my face, and I itch with the urge to flick it away.

She pulls back after a couple seconds and grips my shoulders while she continues to beam at me. “I don’t know what we would have done without you. After our regular sitter cancelled, I told Peter I refused to leave the kids with a stranger and that Italy would just have to wait until next year. Thank goodness he was at work when I called so your dad overheard.”

I force out a chuckle. It sounds more like a gurgled cry for help than a laugh, but still, it’s a sound. Making sounds is the general goal of a conversation.

“Here I am!” I squeak.

My mom takes the opportunity to swoop in beside me. Sandy lets go of my shoulders and turns to smile at her instead.

“Mallory! It’s been too long. You don’t know how disappointed I was to miss catching up with you at the company Christmas party this year, but as they say, Fiji calls! Do you want to stay a minute, Mallory? I’m sure the kids would love to meet you too. Peter’s out at the store trying to find a new neck pillow in time for our flight, so there’s no rush. I swear, that man and his neck pillows. I found three other ones in his closet, but…”

Sandy keeps narrating the saga of the neck pillows as she retraces her path to the garage without waiting for an answer.

“Do you want me to come in?” Mom murmurs before Sandy can realize we’re not following.

Sandy has already proven herself to be every introvert’s dream come true, or what I call a solo-versationalist—meaning she really only needs a few nods and ‘mhmm’s in return for maintaining a whole conversation on her own.

I still nod and tell my mom yes. We step inside the cool shade of the garage, and I try not to let my eyes bug out of my head when we walk past a glittering silver car that even I can tell probably cost as much as my whole degree will.

“We have to be quick so they don’t get out,” Sandy says, glancing back at us while she grips the handle of the door into the house. “They’re strictly indoor cats, and the sun can do them a lot of damage.”

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