Heights of Reflection
In the end, we had one full day left. And we spent it by not leaving the house at all. We swam, watched some movies, ordered take out, and otherwise never stepped into the outside world.
We were wrapped up in each other yesterday, snuggling on the couch, when Reid got the text from his mom, saying the plane was due to land mid-day the next day. They would have a driver take them from the airport to the island, but it was still earlier than either of us thought it would be.
So this morning, I packed up all my stuff and headed out to Reid’s car. Emma had taken my bike from the cafe and dropped it off at my house the day before, so that would be there when I got back.
She said Grandmum gave her one of her patented death glares when she wheeled the bike up the drive and leaned it against the garage wall, which made me laugh.
I had barely spoken to Grandmum the entire time I was at the Bennett’s. She only called when she needed to relay information about working at the mansion. Otherwise, she left me alone.
Had she missed me? Or was she enjoying the quiet house she had without me there? I texted her early this morning to tell her I was coming back, but she only answered with a message about how she would be at the mansion today, and added a date for later this summer she needed me on schedule.
She also told me she fed Mr. Munchkin already today.
Just as I bent down to give Noodle and Fluff one last pet, she sent one more message saying there was a fresh pineapple on the counter, which made me smile. She hated pineapple, but I loved it, so I took it as a sign she did miss me.
Reid grabbed my backpack, laughing when I told him how I had strapped it across my back to ride my bike halfway across town to his house the first day. He was also quite impressed I hadn’t fallen, to which I shot him a glare, not wanting to relive the whole Crash experience.
When we got to my house, we both sat in the car, a heaviness falling upon us. It seemed like this was the summer of deep thoughts in cars on driveways.
“This is fine, right?” I whispered, staring down at my hands. I hadn’t noticed, but during the drive, I must have picked at my cuticles, as there were multiple pulled off and hanging there. Gross.
Reid reached over and took my hand in his. “Of course. It’ll be just like last year.”
That didn’t comfort me the way he probably meant it to. It drove a stake through my heart, thinking of how elated I had been last summer. All the way until the day Reid left the island.
The day he left me.
The day he joined the never ending list of people who abandoned me without a second thought, going on to bigger and better things with their lives. That didn’t include me.
But I had already vowed not to let that be us this summer. We would talk. Communicate. There would be no blindsiding this year, no unexpected plot twists.
“Reid, when summer ends—”
He squeezed my hand, stopping me. “No. I’m not scared anymore, Mars. No matter what happens at the end of the summer, no matter where in this country I am, I’ll still love you. We’ll make it work, I promise. We’ll power through.”
I wanted to believe him. I did believe him. In my head, it would all work out just fine. So why was my heart not accepting it the same way?
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“We’ll grab some ice cream after dinner?” he asked.
Making plans made things easier. But the goodbye that came after didn’t.
He hopped out and grabbed my bag from the trunk, walking me all the way up to the door. I asked if he wanted to come in, but he said he had to get home and tidy up a bit before his parents arrived.
I stared at him as he set the bag on the front step. He lifted his eyes to mine and smiled. A full, real Reid smile. Then, he kissed me. It was a soft, slow kiss, his hand steady on my hip. He rolled away, planting another kiss on my cheek before breathing a soft goodbye.
I watched until he got in the car and backed out of the driveway.
There was something different about this goodbye. It felt… odd. Specific. Real.
Like heartbreak all over again.
With a sigh, I picked up the bag and unlocked the front door, shutting it behind me.
Everything looked exactly the same as it did a month ago. Not that I was expecting Grandmum to remodel the entire house during that time, but to me, it felt different. So I expected it to look different.
I stopped at the coffee table, glancing at a few envelopes that had come in the mail for me. One was junk. The others were college brochures and informational packets I had requested through the guidance counselor’s office at school a few months ago.
Not wanting to deal with all of that right now, I shuffled my way to the back of the house to unpack. I needed to do a load of laundry, but also wanted to get re-acclimated as soon as possible. As I passed the couch, I started making a mental list of things, in the specific order in which they needed to get done. The first being laundry, as I could get other things done while the wash was going. Then, I could—
I froze a foot away from my room. The door was closed, which was my first clue that something was off. Grandmum hated having the doors closed for anything other than bedtime. She said it cut people off from the world.
So having it completely closed made me nervous. Had she shut it the whole time I was gone? Was she shutting me out of the world while I wasn’t here?
That thought was sobering. It didn’t sit well, but then again, I never really knew what was going to Grandmum’s mind most of the time.
I shifted my bag so I could turn the knob and head inside my room.
But I didn’t make it further than the doorway.
While the rest of the house remained untouched, the same couldn’t be said for my bedroom. My jaw dropped in awe, my eyes wide as I took in my new surroundings.
The furniture was the same and in the same places. But that was about it.
Pictures in cute frames littered the dresser top, my small desk, the windowsill, and my nightstand.
Pictures of my parents when they were young. Pictures of me with Emma, Norah, and the group. There was even a picture of Reid and me, from last summer, on the beach.
Some of them had come from the box in my closet. But the rest… ones with Grandmum, with Mom and Dad holding me as a baby… those must have come from Grandmum herself.
I paused at my dresser, running a hand over a frame of me and Mrs. Ruth, standing outside of Cove Candy a few years ago. I forgot that one existed, but it was really cute.
It was the last one that caught my eye that got to me. Tears welled up in my eyes when I saw a small, dark walnut frame positioned horizontally at the back of my dresser. It was tucked behind a picture of me and Livvy on paddleboards at Charlotte’s Haven Beach two summers ago.
It was of Eleanor Covington… and me, as a toddler. I couldn’t have been more than three years old, meaning Mom and Dad had still been around.
Eleanor stooped over slightly, her stark white hair tucked behind her ears as she held my hand. My tiny hand wrapped around just two of her fingers. My golden curls were wild, looking like I had just wrestled a barrel of monkeys, and I had on a pair of pink corduroy overalls with flowers on them. Eleanor pointed to one of them, but I was looking up at her, a big grin on my face, my eyes shining.
This picture really brought together how much Eleanor kept me close. Always seeking me out when I was in the mansion. Always stopping by the cafe for an extra blueberry muffin.
I sighed, then turned around, away from the pictures to find a brand new bedspread and a painting of Charlotte’s Haven Beach on the wall above it.
I knew that picture. It had hung in the mansion for years, before they took it down recently. I assumed it went to storage, but now it was here… in my bedroom. I leaned in close, my fingers trailing over the acrylic paint until I found the signature in the corner—RC.
Rebecca Covington. Eleanor’s niece. She lived on the estate too, with her cousin Pearl. Except now, I presumed they would move into the mansion, as the most senior Covington’s on the island.
I left my bag on the floor and headed back out to the kitchen, needing some water. Just as I opened the fridge, the front door creaked open and Grandmum made her way inside.
We stared at each other for a moment. I didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t called. She hadn’t sent messages.
But this was an obvious display that she missed me.
“Don’t just stand there with the fridge open, girl, you’re letting the cold air out,” she snapped before putting her purse on the dining table and sitting down to take off her work shoes.
I quickly shut the fridge door and quietly joined her at the table, still unable to say a word. I wanted to tell her thank you a million times over, but it didn’t seem like it would be enough.
“I called your parents,” she said a moment later.
I blinked, sure I heard her wrong. “What?” My heart came to a screeching halt at what she said next.
“I chastised them for missing your birthday once again. This little game of theirs has gone on too long now. They’re full-grown adults, but you wouldn’t know that with the way they act. Heck, you act more responsibly than they ever did. They’ll be flying back later in the summer to visit.”
My jaw practically became unhinged by the way it dropped at that admittance.
First, Grandmum hadn’t forgotten my birthday. Well, maybe she had, and realized it later. But it seemed like she ripped Mom and Dad a new one for missing it. And whatever she said to them, to get them to come back? After all these years? It had to have been serious.
Every list I had ever made about my parents flashed in my mind. The whole list-making thing started because of my parents. Shortly after they left, when I realized they weren’t coming back, I started making lists of things I could do to get them to return. To come back to me.
At first, it was ways I could be better. How I could behave correctly for Grandmum, so she would tell them what a good girl I was, and they would want me again.
Then, it became lists of changes I could make in order for them to want to return. How I could save up money and buy a new house for all of us to live in. Even though I was only six or seven years old, it seemed logical at the time.
I stopped making lists about my parents around the age of ten. Five years was a long time for them not to care. Five full years of them being gone made reality set in. But by then, my list making ways had become a habit.
The one thing that had never been on any of those lists?
Have Grandmum call and just tell them to come back. After all this time, that was all it took?
And that brought another thought to the forefront of my mind.
They were coming back. After all these years.
“I… I haven’t seen them since I was five, Grandmum,” I whispered. They hadn’t even called in the last few years. They knew nothing about me, about my life. Just like I knew nothing about them. “What am I supposed to do? To say?”
“You let me take care of that,” she said sternly. But the look she gave me didn’t match her tone. The look in her eye was more of confidence. Of protectiveness.
I couldn’t stop myself.
I launched myself forward and gave her a hug.