Page 5 of Songs of Summer

He grabbed her hand to lead her to the dining room. “C’mon, let’s tell them!”

“What are we going to tell them? That we’re sleeping together? That’s just…icky,” she laughed.

“We can sing it—in French!”

“Very funny.”

“Seriously, let’s tell them that we’re trying things out—romantically. That we are now girlfriend and boyfriend.”

He blushed when he said it.

“Please. They’ll have the wedding venue booked by morning.”

Jason stopped in his tracks. “That’s fair. At least come inside and stop hiding in the kitchen.”

She agreed, and somewhere between opening presents and blowing out the candles on their shared birthday cake, Jason quietly reminded Maggie of their childhood pact. In a minute, she was out the door, headed to the willow tree in the backyard of her old house. She sold it after her parents had passed, and she moved back to the apartment on top of the record store. Even though the letters had been her big idea at the time, she had totally forgotten about them.

Maggie hopped the fence as easily as she had at twelve and proudly hightailed it up the trunk while the new owners, frequent patrons of the record store, waved from the kitchen window and Jason laughed from below.

“Are you coming?” she hollered, gloating a little bit.

“Just bring it down,” he said.

“No can do.” She rattled the ancient Ziploc bag.

He gave up and followed her. Why should today be any different?

“Should we say anything, or just open them?” Maggie asked, handing Jason his envelope.

“I don’t know. How about ‘Happy birthday, Maggie’? Whatever it says in here, I could not be happier with how things have turned out.”

He corrected himself, realizing that both her parents were gone. “How we have turned out, I mean.”

“Me too.” She leaned over and kissed him quickly on the lips.

“You go first,” she instructed him.

“No, you go first!” he countered.

“Odds or evens?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Odds.”

“Once, twice, three, shoot,” they sang in unison.

Jason held out three fingers and Maggie two. Maggie took the loss like a champ and began.

“Dear Old Maggie,”

“Old Maggie! That’s harsh,” she scolded her thirteen-year-old self before continuing.

“Happy thirtieth birthday! Congrats on being the Ohio State Lip Syncing champion six years in a row.”

“Is that even a thing?” Jason asked.

“I don’t think so, but it should be!”

Maggie continued:

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