Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Outside, Miss Summer.
The text brought a smile to my barely opened eyes bright and early Monday morning. Still, I rushed from the back porch into the house and every room required before slowing as I reached the front door.
“Good morning, Sums.”
“Morning, Dad. How are you feeling?”
Taking a sip from his coffee as he studied the daily paper, my father nodded.
“I’m feeling lucky. Lucky to see another day, baby.”
“It’s a beautiful blessing.”
“Yes. Yes it is.”
I rubbed sleep from my eyes as I placed a hand on the knob, hoping Saul wasn’t behind the wood. I looked and smelled better most days. Too anxious to discover the context of the text he’d sent, I skipped a trip to the bathroom.
On the tips of my toes, I pulled the front door open. Fresh tulips were waiting for me. Beneath them were a stack of books. Inside the ribbon that tied them together was a letter.
Handwritten.
Ink.
Fresh ink.
Front and back.
I peeped around the porch, hoping to steal a glance of the man responsible for the smile on my face. A part of me saddened as I realized he was long gone.
“I like him, Sums.”
My father’s admission startled me. I had quickly forgotten he was sitting in his favorite chair, reading his favorite columns.
“Me, too, Dad. Me, too.”
I took my belongings into my room, excited to see what was underneath the kraft paper Saul had carefully wrapped each piece of literature in. I removed the tulips and held the thick stack in my hand. On my bed, I began tearing into the paper, feeling like a kid on Christmas.
Ashes of our Hearts
Bennie + Loe
Broken Hearts are Mending
Heated Arrangement
Half Interested
Five new pieces of fiction were beneath the wrapping paper. I held them close to my chest, trying to calm my raging heart.
“You’re after my everything, Mister Saul.”
The way to a girl’s heart was literature and he had provided plenty. I sat my new pieces aside and slid the handwritten letter from the ribbon. I unfolded the paper and was immediately overcome with emotions.
I laid it on my legs, promising to collect myself before reading.
However, the realization that someone, a stranger, had taken the time to present me with so many of the things I loved –words.
They were plentiful, and for once, I didn’t want to pick them apart.
I wanted to enjoy them for what they were. For what he meant.
Miss Summer,
I’ll admit that it’s pretty intimidating penning words for someone whose job is to critique them, but hopefully I’ve done well. I’ve had this on my mind for days now, but each time I sit down to put my pen to the pad, I think you’ll reject my work. But, here goes nothing.
Or maybe it’s everything.
Hopefully, it’s everything.
Have you ever sat atop the Hills and watched the sun as it sets? It changes from a bright yellow-ish orange to the prettiest purple-lish color before fading to black.
I’ve seen that sunset. I know how it feels. And, as I watched it yesterday, I wished you were beside me so that I could properly explain while you experienced just how my days have been since I met you two weeks ago and how I want them to end.
I imagine the sunrise is your entrance. Together we’re the brightest… yellow-ish orange. We’ll be the prettiest purple-ish color as we age and grow old. Until, finally, everything fades to black.
It sounded so much better in my head, but now that it’s on paper–shit, whatever.
I stopped, chuckling at the analogy he’d made. I understood what he was saying. I knew exactly what he was feeling and what he’d experienced. He was right. Everything he’d said reminded me of the sun’s cycle.
In other words, my days are so much lighter knowing you’ll be at the beginning and end of each of them. I wait by the phone for your calls and texts. I hold my breath each time I call, hoping I’ll find you on the other line.
I run my hand across the empty side of my bed, anticipating the day you’re there. I peer at the emptiness in my closet, wondering what you’ll fill it with when the time comes. I go on my morning runs hoping I’ll bump into you again.
It’s been two weeks and I’ve quickly determined I don’t want to spend a day without you in my life. Your gentleness is so refreshing. Your smile is awakening. Your touch is grounding. Your voice is soothing.
Summer, you are everything I imagined you would be. Everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. A life partner. A wife.
Though we haven’t reached that point yet, I know it is coming. I’ve already reserved the day in my calendar. But, first, there’s something I need to ask you.
Hopefully you don’t mind putting up with occasional overwhelm from work, a few overseasoned meals because of my heavy hands, the invasion of your personal space, and frequent family gatherings.
That’s it, Summer.
That’s all I’ll ever ask you to accept from me. Aside from a little downtime when thoughts of losing my mother arise, I have nothing else to burden you with.
If that’s not too much to ask of you…
If you’re willing and ready…
If your heart will allow it…
Will you be my Summer? Fall? Winter? And, Spring?
Saul Rutherford.
Tuesday, before sunrise, I sat on the back porch with pen to paper. I combed through my words for the sixth time, hoping that each paired perfectly to express things that I felt for the man the letter was intended for.
Midway into the small, very private publication, I placed a hand on my chest.
Your scent is intoxicating.
Your presence promises security.
Your laugh mends pieces of my brokenness.
Your hands feel like they were made to catch me when I fall.
And, unlike you, Saul, I fall often… I fall short… I fall hard… I fall deep.
I’m a motherless child. I’d fill an entire journal with the baggage I carry with that. I’d fill your empty closet four times over before I emptied that dirty laundry.
I can’t knowingly, selfishly agree to be a heavier weight than you are in your own life.
I’m not always going to brighten our light.
Sometimes I’m dim. Dull. Desolate.
So, my question for you is–
Are you willing to see the better version of me, even when I’m wearing my faults and the trauma life dumped onto me right on my shoulders?
As sleeves in the winter when depression is as common as a cold?
As an umbrella on the rainy days even though I still find myself wet?
As a blanket in the picnic when the walls feel too overwhelming?
Will you still want me as your Summer? Fall? Winter? Spring?
Summer.
I folded the letter neatly as I stood up on the bed. As I climbed down, I retrieved the meal I’d prepared. At four-fifty, my alarm sounded. I was in the kitchen by five and back in bed doing a final read of the letter I’d written by five-thirty.
In a linen skirt and satin top that brushed against my nipples with each step I took, I entered the living room. My father held a cup of coffee at his lips. Still, I could see the smile behind the ridge of the mug.
“Quiet, old man.”
He shook his head as he lowered his glass.
“I ain’t said nothing, Summer. I ain’t said nothing.”
I tiptoed onto the porch with my skirt cinched in my hand to keep from stepping on it. I made myself comfortable on the couch that hung from the beams. My skirt surrounded me, giving me a sense of security.
Birds hummed, welcoming me into their realm. The sun began to rise, reminding me of Saul’s letter. I hadn’t heard his voice yesterday. He was knee deep in a project he was nearing the deadline on. However, I had a feeling he would make a stop on his way into his office this morning.
Texts felt so unfulfilling for once.
And, missing his swift stop would’ve left me craving his presence more than I already was.
I wasn’t even sure a call would suffice at this point.
I missed him deeply. I didn’t want to see Saul. I needed to see him.
To touch him.
To feel him.
To hear his voice.
Witness his smile.
As the thought left me, headlights found me. The Ford truck came to a complete stop right against the curb. I straightened my spine, slowly rising from the couch. Comfort was no longer clinging to my bones like meat. Neither was it flowing through me like blood.
My nerve endings went haywire. The hair on my arms stood at attention. With my bare feet against the painted concrete of my porch, I met the man of my latest dreams at the lone step.
“Miss Summer–” Saul sighed as if he’d been deprived of oxygen until setting eyes on my frame.
He tossed a box beside me and pulled his pants up on his waist.
“Saul,” I sang, lowly, extending my arms.
I wasn’t in control of my limbs. His presence was. I desperately wanted to wrap my legs around his body. As if he heard me, he lifted me from the ground and spun me in a full circle. I collapsed around him, hoping time stood still forever and I never had to let go.
His fingers caressed my chin, pulling me closer. Our tongues touched and I still wasn’t near enough. I wanted to be inside of his skin. I wanted him to be inside of me.
Oh Summer.
Saul held me tight, demanding the breath from my lungs as we got reacquainted with each other’s lips and jaws and teeth and tongues and gums and all the other parts of our mouths.
Breathlessly, he released me. With my eyelids sealed, I leaned my head against his. Wordlessly, I waited for nothing and everything at once.
“I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you more,” I admitted.
Slowly, he lowered me to the ground. I missed him again already.
“I made you lunch.”
“Did you now?” Saul’s smile was enchanting.
He was dressed casually in jeans and a white shirt with letters on the chest area. The hat he wore was turned backward, showing the beautiful intricacies of his skin. His face was flawless.
Thick brows.
Thick lips.
Thick d–
Summer, girrrrrrl.
I wished away the naughty thoughts. However, Saul made it hard to keep my sexual nature at bay. He was a precious piece of work. God spared no detail.
“I did. And, I wrote you a letter.”
“So you liked the one I–”
“Loved it.”
“And, your answer to my question?”
“It’s all in there, Saul. Read it on your downtime.”