The Moon and More(69)
Author: Sarah Dessen

“Got a beer in there?” the husband asked, around his cigar.

“No, sorry,” I said cheerfully. “Just water, cola, or juice.”

“I’ll take a water,” the woman said.

One appeared by my elbow, and I gave it to her. “And you, sir?”

“Cola sounds good.”

Boom, and the bottle was in my hands. I delivered it, then smiled. “Any questions or concerns, our number is in bold on the front of the envelope. Enjoy your vacation!”

“Thank you,” the woman said, rolling up her window, and then they pulled away. Another happy customer.

I looked down at Benji, sitting on the stool behind me. “I think you’re improving on your time with every car.”

He smiled, pleased, then gestured to the cooler and milk crate full of envelopes in front of him, both within easy and quick reach. “It was just a matter of creating a more efficient system.”

“Or any system,” I pointed out. “I didn’t exactly have one.”

“We’re a good team,” he said.

“That we are,” I agreed, as the next car, a black Cadillac SUV, pulled up.

In the end, it had taken me only a couple of days to find my father a sitter for Benji. One of Rebecca’s friends, busy studying for the LSAT, was looking for something flexible. In truth, though, I kind of liked having him around, so I’d taken to picking him up myself a couple of days a week and giving him odd jobs around the office. Sure, he was ten, and couldn’t be trusted with any of the heavy lifting, figuratively or literally. But when it came to an extra set of hands and a fast response time, there was no one better.

“Name?” I asked the man in the SUV now.

“Perkins. Is it always this hot here?”

“Not always,” I replied, as Benji handed me the envelope and the bag. “But July can be pretty toasty. Can I offer you a cold drink for the ride to your property?”

The man, who was heavyset and had the A/C blasting hard enough that I could feel it from where I was standing, wiped a hand across his face. “Water,” he said, like someone who had just crawled across the desert. Benji handed me one, which I delivered, and the guy cracked it and took a big gulp. “Man! That’s cold. Really hits the spot. Thanks.”

I nodded, then looked down at Benji, who gave me a thumbs-up. It had been his idea to partially freeze the waters on these superhot days before we came out. “Enjoy your vacation.”

The SUV pulled away, and I wiped a hand across my own forehead. It was hot, even for mid-July. Which I honestly couldn’t believe was already here. The summer was always too short, but this year it felt especially fast. Especially if I did it by the numbers.

Days since Luke and I had broken up: twenty-nine. Days Theo and I had been together: Also twenty-nine. (I wasn’t proud of this, but the numbers didn’t lie. I couldn’t really count the demarcation, as nice as it was.) Days until the Beach Bash: twenty-eight. Days until I left for school: well, that one I wasn’t exactly counting. Even though I probably should have been.

When I did make myself think about it, my heart raced in that familiar way I remembered from the height of my application stress. But this wasn’t about what my future might be, like back then; it was about what it actually was. On some day in mid-August (I really needed to write it down) I’d be packing up my car with all my stuff and heading to East U, with this summer, like all the others of my life, behind me. I couldn’t even begin to picture that. So I wasn’t. Obviously.

I was not totally kidding myself, though. Despite the fact that I’d never before had a summer romance, I knew how the majority of them ended. Most of the girls I knew, other than Daisy, had fallen for a tourist boy at least once, with a few believing it was actually forever. Quickly—usually by October at the latest—they learned otherwise. Then, all they could do was hang out at Jump Java on the boardwalk, where everyone who’d been dumped long-distance convened in the fall, like some big, tremulous support group. Even if I had been planning to be in Colby, I did not intend to count myself among them.

Theo was going back to New York. I was leaving for East U. Done and done. If I wanted—and I didn’t—I could chart exactly how it would go if we tried to stay together. Lots of phone calls/Hi There! chats at first. Plans made for trips to visit each other, one of which might actually occur, although probably right before the Very End. Which would come after a marked trailing off of communication by one person—usually the tourist, although not always—followed by an awkward confrontation you could only hope would not be on video chat. Nobody looks good sobbing in screen resolution size. Just ask the girls at the table with the tissue box at Jump Java.

I was not up for this. Which was why the way things were with Theo and me now was just perfect for me. The summer would end, we’d go our separate ways, and that was that. If I was sad, I’d have all of our Best Memories Ever, painstakingly created, to flip through whenever I wanted. Until then, though, I chose to think about it as little as possible.

Still, I couldn’t ignore the fact that it was only a matter of time before our events went from the Best Fill-in-the-Blank Ever to the Last One. Which made me even more conscious of the other things I needed to be doing, like spending enough time with my mom so she didn’t sigh as dramatically or loudly whenever I left the house, seeing Daisy and Morris both together and separately, working extra hours at the office to make money for school, and hanging out with Benji. At least now, I could do these last two at once.

“Emaline,” I heard him say now. I looked down, and he nodded behind me. “Car.”

“Right.” I shook my head, getting back on track as a black convertible pulled up beside us. “Name, please?”

“You already forgot? Man. That’s harsh, Emaline.”

It was Luke. That he was even in the check-in line, in a car I didn’t recognize, was only one of the things that immediately threw me off. Add in the fact that he was dressed in a shirt and tie and the girl driving was a very pretty redhead, and I was unsettled.

“Sorry,” I said. “I just didn’t expect—”

“Luke!” Benji hollered, popping up beside me.

Luke jumped, surprised, and despite myself, I laughed. The fact that he was easily scared was legendary. Leaping out at him from behind things just to hear him shriek like a little girl—we called it Gotcha!, a game he’d learned from his cousins Wes and Bert—had been one of my favorite pastimes. “Whoa,” he said, flushing, then laughed as well. “You scared me, dude!”