Page 108 of The End of Summer

On Monday, I appear in court. My mother wants to come with me; I tell her no. The way I see it, this is the first step of my next chapter, and my father has already informed me that he doesn’t believe I will end up being sentenced. Brady wants to come as well. I also tell him no. I’m not sure why, but I need to do this on my own. It’s surprisingly not as awful as I expect it to be, since it appears that I am only at the beginning of what will be a longer process. I meet with a probation officer first, who runs a check for a criminal record and determines that I qualify for a court-appointed lawyer. The session clerk reads me my charges, and it is decided that because I have no record and I am not a flight risk, I can be released on personal recognizance. A trial date is set for Monday, September 25th.

Jenna meets me for lunch after it’s over, regaling me with the story about her role in Friday night’s disastrophe. Evidently, she was working the ER when a girl came in with a triple fracture and complete dislocation of her right ankle. She was wearing one pole heel, and Jenna knew right away that I wasnothaving a good night. Sweden needed two surgeries, and Jenna was there to assist with the first one before her shift ended. She tried to get in touch with me, but of course I had no phone at the time. As soon as she learned that I had served jail time, she insisted that we schedule a catch-up lunch as soon as humanly possible.

In the afternoon on Monday, I have an emergency Zoom meeting with Jane Bishop. I’m grateful to her for making the time given her busy schedule, and I tell her this. Then, I break the news to her about the recent developments in my personal and professional life. I ask her point blank if I have just destroyed my chances of becoming a teacher. She says that I will not be able to be hired in the midst of criminal proceedings, so I should inform Eastport that I am unable to accept their interview for after-school at this time. She says she will contact the principal and defer my placement at the school to a later date, citing a personal emergency as the reason. She says she will keep it vague, which will likely give the district the impression that it is health-related.

Ofcourse, bad news travels fast in a small town, so there’s no telling what the impact of that might turn out to be, Jane warns me.

“Should I take my digital literacy class?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “I advise you to defer the entire semester. Give the trial a chance to play out. Then, pick it all back up next semester.”

“Okay,” I say, and while I’m not happy about losing four more months to uncertainty, Iamhappy to at least have the beginning of a plan for my imminent next steps. I do what she says to do; I call the director of the after-school program, Charlotte Fiore, and let her know how sorry I am to have to step back from the interview process at this time.

On Monday evening, Arrow returns to Cape Cod with her family, according to a group text sent out by Cherry. She turns herself in to the authorities, intending to make the process as smooth as possible for everyone. She’s hired a lawyer, has money for bail, and is in good spirits, Cherry says. She got her family back, and even though she has to face a trial and possibly even jail time, she knows she has a support system here that will help her take care of Kit and Jenny, which is really all that ever mattered to her anyway.

I tell Cherry that if Arrow needs help with Kit, I’m available.

There’s a knock on my door around 6:00 in the evening. Brady’s car has been gone all day, so I imagine it must be him.

And I’m right, only it’s notjusthim.

He’s with my parents.

“Um,” I say, upon seeing the three of them on my doorstep. “This is… weird.”

Brady smiles, and I notice he’s holding a bouquet of flowers. “Can we come in?”

“Depends,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “Are you all here to stage some kind of intervention?”

He gives me a kiss. “No.”

“Okay, then.” I step aside, and am greeted by each of them. My mother has a pan in her hands, and my father is holding a big bag. Brady hands me the flowers. “We brought you dinner,” he explains.

“And I baked brownies,” Mom says. “Though I’m not sure they’ll be as good as yours.”

“Thank you?” I ask, still very confused by this turn of events.

“Come,” my Mom says. “Let’s eat. Your father grilled some skirt steak, and I made potato salad and a roasted corn salad. Brady got us a beautiful rosemary focaccia from ACK Gioia.”

“Is this some kind of celebration?” I ask.

“Sort of,” Dad says. “It’s been a good day. There’s been lots of progress.”

I raise an eyebrow at this, but let it go while I set the impromptu table. Mom sets out the food they’ve brought, Brady puts the flowers in a vase, and within minutes, we are seated in front of plates filled with food.

“Well? What’s this all about?” I say.

“I accepted the job,” Brady begins.

“You did.” I know this is supposed to be good news, but the last real conversation we had about this ended with me feeling all kinds of uncertainty over this particular opportunity. I swallow my corn salad and try to smile.

“I came up with a plan,” he continues. “And then, I cleared it with your parents to get their blessing.”

“Why do you need my parents’ blessing to accept a job?” I wonder aloud.

“Just listen,” he says. “First of all, I needed to find a place to live, right?”

“Yeah.”

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