Chapter 4
FOUR
SUMMER
When I’ve finally gathered myself enough to crank the Jeep, one glance at the clock on my dash and I know I probably looked like a maniac, sitting in my car slumped over the steering wheel.
It’s been damn near forty minutes, and all I’ve done is sit here feeling sorry for myself. Flashbacks plague my mind every time I close my damn eyes. I can still feel the blood as it dried into the cracks of my hands. The way the scratchy police issued blanket felt on my skin…
Taking a deep breath in, I hold it for a few seconds before releasing it into the air along with those memories.
I left that part of my life behind, it wasn’t my fault.
I need to find some semblance of happiness, so I can move on with my life.
That’s why the camp counselor position caught my eye.
Surely one can’t be too sad dealing with kids.
Right?
Before I turn my lights on, my eyes scan the parking lot and double back to a woman with long black hair, standing near the edge of the building, staring up into the sky.
Her eyes close, and her lips move, and I wish I could read lips from this far away.
All I can see from where I am is her peaceful, almost sad, expression.
She’s full-figured, the curve of her ass perfectly making an ‘s’ connecting to her spine as she leans back to look at the sky.
Those jeans sticking to her belly make my whole body hum, and for the first time in a long time, longing blossoms in my chest.
I don’t know why, but some ridiculous part of my brain dances around. She might not even be into women, but my whole body perks up as if struck by adrenaline.
Climbing into a beautiful green pickup truck, she cranks the engine and makes her way out of the parking lot. I watch her the whole time, until her bright red taillights fade into the night.
Against all my reasoning I hope–for the first time in, I don’t know how long–that I’ll get to see her again.
Snapping myself out of my daze, I turn on my lights, pull out of the parking lot, and roll the windows down. The early summer breeze filters through the Jeep as I head back to the motel I’ve been living in for the past couple of weeks.
It’s cute, with an older couple that must own the place. Its cream colored outside makes it feel homey in a way I wasn’t expecting, but maybe that’s the point to get you to stay longer.
“Hiya Miss Holt,” the older man greets me as I walk in the door.
“Now, what are you doing up at this hour, Mr. Grimes?” Walking over to the desk he’s standing behind, I lean against the wood top and smile.
He’s cute, in a grandfatherly kind of way.
His salt and pepper hair’s cropped close to his head, and wrinkles line his face from what I can only assume is years of smiling.
Waving his hand around he scoffs, “Ah, it’s hardly even midnight. Besides, I’m a night owl, always have been.”
With a chuckle and tap on the counter, I head through the lobby that’s decorated with photographs of people who have stayed, along with photos of Mr. and Mrs. Grimes throughout the years.
Taking a right down the hallway, I slip into my room using the key I was given when I checked in. I should be at the Turner Summer Camp, unpacking my bag, and getting to know the other counselors. I shouldn’t be bothered by the note in my pocket, it probably wasn’t even meant for me anyway.
Chucking the note in the trash, I head to the bathroom to wash up and pack my shit into my bags. I can’t put it off anymore, they’ll probably replace me, and I need this job… the distraction.
Leaving shouldn’t be hard, but a lone tear slips out of my eye and travels down my cheek. Sitting on the bed, looking around at the room that’s housed me, my heart swells. When I got here, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes gave me a place to stay when I had none. Treated me like family, and kept me fed.
It’s not like I’ll never see them again, I’ll be in the same town.
Still, it won’t be the same. I won’t be eating breakfast in the kitchen, with the warmth of Mr. and Mrs. Grimes to speak with.
Or laughing with them in the sitting room over late night tea.
I’ll have to visit, surely I’ll have a day off at some point.
After I’ve changed into shorts and a sports bra, I pull the covers on the bed back and settle in. Tomorrow I’ll check in with the Turners, and I'll have too much work to worry about the past.
My heart’s racing, pumping all the blood I’m leaking onto the rough cement out in a halo of red around my body. My vision swims in front of me as people scream, or maybe that’s just me. Maybe I’ve been lost in the same vortex of pain and fear since that night.
“Over here!” Someone shouts as hands land on my shoulders, feeling for the spot where my blood soaks the ground. “Fuck…”
It’s hot, burning in a way that makes my skin singe and my hair melt against the pavement. My body refuses to move, locked in like a caged bird. I can’t cry, can’t muster the energy to scream any longer.
I’m dying, there’s no doubt in my mind. My eyelids flutter as flashes of red and blue light up the scene I’ll never be able to outrun.
The house I shared with someone I loved, someone I thought I loved…
“Miss!” More hands tearing at my body, I can’t hear anything, my ears have officially lost all hearing, eyes completely blank. I can feel my heart slowing down, the silence between each beat marking my last moments…
Gasping for air, tangled in the sheets, I shoot up grasping my chest and sucking in deep lungfuls of air that doesn’t taste like ash. Sometimes I wish I couldn’t dream, and instead slip into oblivion without the reminders of the past.
My heart’s thumping in my chest, way too fast. Scrambling out of the bed, I trip on weak legs and pull myself into the bathtub. Flipping the water on as cold as it will go and starting the shower, I let the icy pellets sink into my skin, willing my body to calm.
My thoughts swirl like the water that pools at the drain, skipping and meshing together until settling on the woman from the parking lot of the bar. Her image locks into my brain and I focus on her, on all the details I can remember.
I don’t know how long it’s been by the time my body’s cool to the touch, and I can breathe without feeling like I’m drowning.
Flipping the water off with my foot, I lay there for a few minutes with my eyes closed and my brain numb.
Pushing myself up and out of the tub, I grab the towel closest to me and wrap myself up, hugging my body and swallowing down the lump in my throat.
It doesn’t matter what time it is, I’ll never be able to go back to sleep. Instead, I throw on some dry clothes and grab my notebook from the nightstand.
The garden’s lit by early gray light, something I’m used to seeing more often than not.
The new growth of green should move me, give me feelings of new beginnings and shit.
It only serves to pain me further. I hate feeling this guilt, this longing for something that I shouldn’t, and my thoughts circle back to the ethereal beauty I saw outside the bar tonight.
She wasn’t real.
Val was beautiful, young and graceful. Her long golden brown hair was always in my face every morning when I’d wake up. And even though it drove me nuts, she never did close the cap on the toothpaste after she used it.
I used to love how she’d constantly make a mess just to see how I’d react, and how her laugh made everyone pay attention to her. She was magnetic, until she wasn’t.
None of it was real.