Page 55 of The Forbidden Summer
This time, I’m coming back.
“I want to keep you here, Van. Believe me. Every part of me does. But this—running away—it can’t be how we start. You deserve better than that.Wedo.”
I look up at him, eyes stinging. “I’m scared if I leave, something’ll change. That I’ll come back and it’ll be too late.”
Père exhales through his nose and rests his hand over my heart. “Then let this remind you,” he says. “This won’t go away.Iwon’t go away. And when you're ready—when you’ve said goodbye to that old life—you come back. For good. And I’ll be right here.”
He presses a kiss on my forehead like he’s sealing a promise into my skin.
“I’m not asking you to leave,” he whispers. “I’m asking you to come back whole.”
Van
We spend the day like we’re trying to bottle it—every second, every glance, every laugh. No talk of tomorrow. No talk of leaving.
We take the rowboat out one last time, gliding across the lake in silence, the only sound the drip of the paddle and the hum of insects along the shore. Père reaches over and laces our fingers together. We don’t need words. We never have. I memorize the shape of his hand in mine. The way his eyelashes catch the sunlight when he squints into the breeze.
My heart is an open wound, my love for him seeping out like blood, and I’m helpless to stop it from stainingevery part of me.
Later, we cook dinner side by side, bare feet on worn floorboards, shoulders bumping. We don’t rush. Every moment stretches out, slow and thick like honey. There’s music playing, something old and tender. He hums along. I want to record it, trap it in amber. Keep it forever.
I’m desperate to collect all of these memories and take them with me because I’m afraid that when I’m alone, without him, I won’t remember what this feels like.
I want to ask him to dance with me again, like we did at the fair, but I can’t taint that perfect memory with the pain of my heartbreak now.
The sun dips behind the trees, gold fading to violet, then blue. We carry blankets outside and sit by the fire pit even though it’s warm enough without them. Sparks swirl into the sky, joining the first stars. We don’t talk about goodbyes. Instead, we drink cold cider, our legs tangled together. I lean into him and close my eyes for a while, just to feel his chest rise and fall beneath my cheek.
“One last letter?” Père asks, like he’s not just saying goodbye to me, but to Harold and Elliot as well.
I nod, my throat swelling with emotions. Père goes inside to retrieve it and rejoins me, sliding his arm around my shoulders.
Carefully, he slips the aged letter from the envelope, handling it with the utmost care.
Harold,
Saying goodbye to you today nearly broke me. I’m sure it will, before the day is over. You were so strong, stoic in the face of my tears, but I know that was for my benefit. Your eyesgave you away, my love.
I waited until you left, and then I sat down to write you this last letter.
Yes, my last.
I’ve made a decision, not lightly. I’m going to ask Margaret Perkins to marry me. I’m sure she’ll say yes.
Harold, I can feel your heart breaking as you read this. I wish I could say something to make it hurt less, but I can’t. It hurts. I’m hurting as well. But we both know there’s no future for us, no matter how strong our love is. It will endure, for years and years.
For as long as I breathe, I will love you.
Which is why I’m letting you go. I know you won’t move forward until I do.
I won’t be returning to the cabin. Too many memories. I can carry them with me in my heart, but being here, it’s just too much to bear.
You altered my life for the better. Your love shaped me into the man I am today. Sharing the last ten years with you was the greatest joy of my life. I’ll never love another like I do you, sweetheart. And I’ll spend the rest of my life remembering every second spent with you, and cursing fate for tearing us apart.
Be safe, my love. Be strong. And most importantly, be happy. Know that wherever you go, whatever you do, you are loved.
Yours alwaysand forever,
Elliot
