The Summer List, page 3
"That sounds fun. Tom, don't you think?" Mrs. Harris asks. She is the padding between her husband and their children. The buffer that is needed to keep everyone happy.
"And where do you plan to restore it? How much will it cost? Are you even skilled enough to restore the truck yourself?" Mr. Harris fires off a full round of questions at Nate.
"Money isn't a problem. I've been saving up all year from mowing lawns." Nate started mowing lawns a few years ago. He was pretty good at it. I know I pay him fifty dollars every two weeks to mow my lawn and keep up with the landscaping outside the house.
"Okay, and where do you plan to take on this project? I'm assuming this is a big job and won't be done in a weekend."
"Definitely not a weekend job. Between work and hanging with friends, it will probably take most of the summer."
The room was silent waiting for Mr. Harris to respond. Nat and I trade glances. We both knew what the answer would be. They had a good dad. He provided a great life for them, but he wasn't available. He was always working late and on weekends. We didn't talk about it much, but I know it bothered Nat. And now I can see the effects weighing heavy on Nate.
"I can't have you filling up the garage all summer. There isn't room between the cars we already have."
"But dad," Nate pleads. "It's one summer."
"I'm sorry, Nate. Listen, if you find somewhere else to do the work, then you can get the truck. Otherwise, it will have to wait until some other time."
"There's nowhere else I can do it. There won't be another time. The truck will be gone. I guess I'll just lay around and do nothing all summer." He hangs his head in defeat. I would have felt bad for him if I wasn't too busy feeling bad for myself.
Six weeks. What the hell am I going to do for six weeks?
Mrs. Harris stands up and starts clearing our plates. When she gets to Nate, she nudges him and says, "Maybe you and Mackenzie can spend some time together this summer. Just like old times." Nate laughs at the thought.
"Gee, thanks," I say under my breath. I get it. It's a terrible idea, but he didn't have to laugh about it.
"I think that's a great idea, Andy." Mr. Harris says, getting up from the table.
"You can't be serious?" Nate asks. "No offense, Turner." I muster up the best smile I could and shrugged it off, but I was offended even though I agreed with him.
"Why not? You two were a wild pair back in the day. Andy, remember when they caught all those frogs and put them in the bathtub? You two couldn't have been much older than six or seven.”
"Don't remind me. I was cleaning mud off the shower walls for weeks!"
"That was a long time ago." I finally say. I don't remember this day or any other day I spent with Nate growing up. I only remember one moment we were friends, and with the snap of his fingers, we weren't. There was no explanation. He just stopped talking to me.
Nat pokes me, melting my thoughts, and asks if I am ready to go upstairs. I thank Mrs. Harris for dinner. Nate is still trying to reason with his dad as we leave the room.
Natalie and Nate own the top floor of their house. You go left for Nate's room and right for Natalie's. Keep walking straight, and you will find yourself in their shared bathroom. I turn right down the hall and immediately flop onto Nat's bed.
"Do you hate me?" Nat asks, joining me on the bed. I didn't say anything. I focus on the lights strung from each corner of her room. "I bet you won't even miss me." I miss her already. "It's only six weeks anyways."
"Yeah, six weeks. What, that's only half the summer?" Nat let out a big sigh beside me. I don't like seeing her like this. Her face is creased and heavy. She will need botox before she's thirty if I don't let her off the hook. I take her hand and lock it in mine. "Educational, huh?"
We both broke out in giggles. Nat explained how she proposed the trip to her parents. It wasn't until Dillon's mom confirmed sleeping arrangements and itinerary and answered every one of her mom's questions that she was allowed to go.
"I still don't understand why you didn't tell me. You should have told me as soon as Dillon asked you to come with him." That's what best friends do. They tell each other everything, but she felt she couldn't tell me this.
She should have come to me screaming with excitement. The boy she loves wants to travel across the country with her. I should have been the first to know, but I was the last. That hurts.
"I know. I'm really sorry. It's just..." Stop protecting me! I want to scream at her.
"If you haven't forgotten, I live my life vicariously through you." I flip over and get comfortable with one of her pillows under me. "You can't keep this kind of stuff from me, okay?" I say as I fiddle with one of the tassels on the pillow. "From now on, you tell me everything."
"Okay. And you too." She flips on her side and faces me. "Text me every day with what you are doing here while I'm gone."
"That will be easy. Nothing." With Nat gone, my summer just got devastatingly dull. I will go to work, maybe dinner with Cindy, and a few late nights reading. My life is on hold until she gets back.
"No, I won't allow it. You have to do some of the things on the list while I'm gone. I won't have any fun if you are here sulking and having a pity party for six weeks. I need to know you will be okay." Nat is the second person who told me that today.
"Now, who sounds like Ms. Crawford?"
"She said that?" I nod. "Shit."
"And for the record, I will be fine. This does throw a little wrinkle in my plans, but I'll figure it out. I always do."
We both twist our heads towards the hallway. Nate was stomping up the stairs. I'm guessing he wasn't able to change his dad's mind. Nate slams his bedroom door. I wince, waiting for the loud bang of the door to hit the frame. It never came. A dirty T-shirt on the floor blocked it, leaving it ajar.
"He is the one you should be worried about leaving alone for six weeks," I whisper. "Is he going to make it here by himself with your dad?"
Nat stares down the hall towards her brother's room. You can hear him mumbling as he walks back and forth across the wood floors that creak a little with every step. Then there was a thud against the wall. He is doing his usual problem solving by throwing a small basketball against the wall.
"Nate's not going to let that truck go. He really wanted to get it. He's been talking about it all week. I wish he could find something quieter than throwing that basketball against the wall. It's so annoying."
She walks over to her door and shuts it. "He will figure out life without me. I won't be around forever. A few more years, and we will both be on our own anyway. Who knows what life will be like after college?”
She is no longer talking about Nate. This speech is for me. "This is what I've known my whole life." Nat was back on the bed next to me. "I want to study art, see what else is out there. I need to know that I will be okay without Nate."
I sat there, taking in her words. I never imagined this situation from her perspective. The idea that she might be afraid to be without me too. I assumed everyone fretted over me because of the accident. It never occurred to me that Nat might need me too.
Something else was bothering her. She was fidgeting with a hair tie, and she never fidgets. Nat is confident and sure of herself. She has always known what her future would be like. It was all written down in one of her diaries. First, it was art school, maybe an engagement, but no marriage or kids before she graduated. She wanted to travel and have a successful career. Her whole life completely mapped out. But now, she is scared and uncertain.
"You know I could probably fit in your duffle bag." She let out a little laugh.
"Part of me wishes you could come along, but I don't think you want to." She was right. I didn't. A road trip with Dillon and his little brother and sister sounds like misery. A road trip with Nat, Dillon, and a hot guy who was madly in love with me? Sign me up. I would even go without the love part. "What if he decides halfway to Missouri that he doesn't like me anymore? Then I'm stu-"
I held up my hand to signal her to pause. "Let me stop you there. Dillon won't. He wouldn't have asked you to come if he wasn't mad about you. He would have asked one of his band buddies to go with him instead. So, let's stop worrying about what could go wrong and focus on what could go right." I give her an exaggerated wink. "You know I'm right."
It took us a few hours, but we planned out her entire wardrobe for the trip. We picked out pieces that could be worn in multiple ways. That way, each outfit will look brand new even though we were recycling the same shirts and shorts.
I also helped her make a list of everything we still needed to shop for. New underwear, bathing suit, a fancy dress, red lipstick, and perfume, to name a few.
We made plans to get our nails and hair done too. I wanted to do everything I could to make sure she was prepared for this trip. I also wanted her to know that I support her completely.
Walking back home, it was pitch black. The path to my house was lit with solar lights and lightning bugs. I can see my porch light on in the distance. I race down the path ignoring the feeling that someone is watching me.
I lock the door behind me, grab a water bottle from the fridge, and stare at my garage door.
Mrs. Harris' words keep repeating in my head. Maybe you and Mackenzie can spend some time together this summer. Just like old times. Is it a crazy idea? Could we pick up where we left off? So much has changed. We have changed. Or have we?
If I did this, it could be the beginning of my unraveling. I've kept it together all this time by ignoring all that's in front of me. If Nate agrees, I will have to face my fears. I should just ask him. Nate's reaction at dinner makes me believe he won't agree to it anyway.
ME: Nate, it's Mack. We need to talk. Can you meet me by the treehouse tomorrow?
4
mackenzie
I had another nightmare last night. This one started with flashing lights. Then I was back in the cold room. I woke up in a cold sweat, and my hair matted to my face. The nightmares are getting more intense and consistent. I wish I could decipher them.
Nat doesn't know about the nightmares. She thinks I stopped sleeping over because of her snoring. She sounds like a donkey when she sleeps. As loud as she is, I'm worse when I wake up screaming.
I tried to tell Ms. Crawford once. The nightmare left me so raw it stuck with me all day. I was a complete disaster at school. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy. I barely made it through the day with all the teasing. When sixth period rolled around, I just sat there in her tiny office. Ms. Crawford asked me how I was, and I said I was good. I told her I was tired from studying all night. Then I sat silently in her room, memorizing the poster on her wall about how to make new friends.
My thoughts are interrupted by my phone buzzing. I grab it from the nightstand and check the message. It took Nate long enough. He finally texted me back.
NATE: Yeah, sure. 10 am.
He said yes. Shit. I didn't expect him to say yes. I check the time on my alarm clock. I have three hours to overthink this whole thing. I grab a pillow, slam it on top of my face, and scream. I am sinking to a new low today. The amount of shame and pity I feel for myself could fill the Atlantic Ocean.
Why is he so casual? No protesting? No questions? This is called a red flag. The Nate I've come to know would not be so indifferent. The Nate I know would make me grovel and pay for the privilege of a private meeting in the woods.
I look back over my text. It's Mack. We need to talk. What does he think I want to talk about? Yesterday? My fake boyfriend? This is too much. I scream into the pillow again.
Get it together, Mackenzie. You can do this.
The key to this whole thing is to make him realize he needs what I have more than I need what he has. My toes curl at the thought. Note to self, do not say it like that. He will take it the wrong way.
I rush out of bed to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I need to wash these toe curling fantasies out of my head before they take root. It is not what I need to be thinking about right now. Especially not with Nate. I need to be a viper when I talk to him. I grab a t-shirt and the last pair of clean shorts from my closet and quickly get dressed.
It was nine o'clock. My hands are starting to sweat. It's only Nate. I reminded myself. But that's the problem. It's Nate Harris. Captain of the football team. Mr. All American. Every girl's dream guy. Not mine. I remind myself again in case my body fools itself into thinking otherwise.
There is no way he will want to spend one minute alone with me. Even if it meant he got to buy the stupid truck. He could have already found another garage for all I know, and this is a waste of time.
My stomach lets out a gnarly growl, and I search my pantry for something to eat that isn't stale or expired. I manage to find a single honey bun and half a pop tart. The pop tart was borderline inedible, but I ate it anyway.
I grab a small notebook from a junk drawer that hangs slightly askew. It's been a few years since it closed correctly. Cindy broke it one night in a fit of rage. I was in my room when it happened. I heard the slam, and the following day the drawer was barely hanging on, just like Cindy.
The kitchen is outdated and screams 1985. The cabinets are a hideous brown laminate and cracked in several places. The walls aren't much better, covered floor to ceiling in peeling wallpaper. It takes all my self-control not to start peeling the wallpaper off every day. The countertops are chipped on the edges, and the oven only works when it wants to. It's not much to look at, but it's home.
I jot down a few groceries on the list to get later and head out the door. The grass is still wet with morning dew. The temperature is on the rise. It didn't take long for the sweat to start collecting on my forehead. I regret the choice to wear mascara as my eyelids begin to sweat.
I run until I find refuge under the large oak trees. My favorite tree is the one with branches that grow low and wild. Each limb acts as the perfect step to climb your way to the top and enter the treehouse. I never made it past the second branch, but I've watched Nate do it before. I preferred to use the ladder. This was our tree.
I pace in front of the tree and start planning my approach.
"Nate, I was thinking..." Too desperate.
"What's up, Nate..." Definitely not. I keep pacing in front of the oak tree.
"Yo! Nate!" Nope. Don't ever say that again. Ever.
"Nate, I've got the best idea..." Nothing feels right. I check my phone for the time. He's late. I'm nervous.
"Nate, I need you. I wa-"
"You need me?" A voice says from behind me.
"Shit! What the hell, Harris? Don't sneak up on people like that." I swat at him but only catch air. "No. I do not need you." This is not how I want the conversation to start.
"Then why am I here? It's early, and I'm tired." Nate looks like he just rolled out of bed. His hair is messy, with curly ends going in every direction. The dark circles under his eyes are almost as bad as mine.
"Right, I would hate to keep you from sleeping the day away." I take a deep breath before I start digging my grave of humiliation. "Did you find a way to get the truck?"
"Is that what this is about? You want to rub it in my face that my dad's a jerk and said no?" I've never seen him this angry. "Look, I'm sorry I was the one who dropped the bomb on you about Nat's trip, but I don't have time for this." Nate didn't wait for me to respond. He starts walking through the creek again.
"Wait!" Now I sound angry or desperate. It could go either way. "I don't care that you told me. I would have found out eventually. Just answer the question. Did you find a way or not?"
"No. Can I go now?"
"No." I spit back with the same venom in my voice. "What if I found a way to save both of our summers?"
"Save it from what exactly? Summer just started, Turner. How is it already in jeopardy of being ruined?"
"Uh, well, for one, Nat is leaving town for six weeks. This is devastating news as we have already established."
"Speak for yourself. Sounds like heaven to me." Nate picks up a pebble from the creek bed and tosses the small stone back into the creek. His forearm tightens and flexes as he flicks the rock with his wrist. I blink my eyes hard to erase the image of Nate's muscular arms. I open them just in time to see the pebble skips across the water three times before sinking to the bottom. "A month of quiet." He hesitates for a moment while he searches for another rock to throw. "And I won't have to hear the two of you cackling all day long." He says, pointing his finger in my direction.
"I do not cackle."
"Yes, you do. It's terrible. And then the snorting."
"I do not snort." I snap back. He looks back at me. His eyes go wide as he mouths the word okay. "You shouldn't be listening to us anyway. Don't you have better things to do?"
"I do, but it's hard to ignore. The walls aren't padded, you know. You would be surprised what I can hear from my room." My face goes slack. The amount of panic rushing through my body is immense. Nat and I talk about everything in her room. What all has he heard?
"You're bluffing." I wait for his reaction. He gives me nothing, just a shrug. "Whatever, I have nothing to hide." I lie.
"If you say so, Turner." Nate moves closer to me, and heat rises to my cheeks. "Did you only want to tell me how much summer was going to suck, or was there something else?"
I inch backward until I'm against the trunk of the tree. Nate is standing so close. Too close. He reaches up, grabs a taller branch, and starts using it as a pull-up bar. The veins on his forearms begin to pop with every rep, but he makes the movements look effortless.
I clear my throat and say, "Do you think your mom was right?" He hangs from the tree for a moment before dropping to the ground.
"Huh?"
"Do you think your mom was right last night? She said we should spend time together. I was thinking-"
"Well, don't. No offense, but-"
"I'm not offended." I cut him off. I am offended. This is the second time he's said that to me. I get it, Nate. You don't like me and would prefer to do anything else on the planet if it meant you didn't have to spend time with me. "You know what, forget about it. I thought maybe you wanted a place to work on your truck. Silly me." I walk away this time.
