27. Summer
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Summer
A lice knocks on my door later that night, and I look up from my book.
I’ve started reading fiction again. For a while I couldn’t, -because it hurt to delve into other worlds with fierce main characters and strong-jawed love interests.
It reminded me too much of myself last year, and what I’d been so close to having.
Alice peeks her head around the door. I know she’s still uncomfortable leaving me on my own, even for an hour, which is why I’m surprised she left me for two hours to read. I heard her creep to the other side of the door, listening to make sure I didn’t need her, but she had given me the space.
“I have to do an overnight botany thing at the alchemy lab,” she says, looking a little nervous.
I nod. “All right.” How am I going to be alone all night? I haven’t done that in months, but I am going to have to figure it out. Alice is really enjoying alchemy, and I love that she’s finally taking an interest in school.
She pushes the door open, concern alight in her eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”
I nod and try to pull my lips into a smile. I know I’m half-successful because my cheeks ache from the unfamiliar movement. Alice still looks skeptical, so I continue, “Yeah, there’s a rerun of The Source on tonight.” It’s not my favorite show, but it’ll at least mute the silence.
“You sure?” Alice asks, shifting from one foot to the other, obviously very uncomfortable with the idea. “It’s an overnight,” she repeats as if she doesn’t believe I’ve taken in the information .
“It’s fine, Al.” She purses her lips. “I promise.”
Alice looks at me, then closes the distance and pulls me into a tight hug.
“You’ll be here in the morning.” It’s not a question but a statement, to convince herself.
My heart aches that she doesn’t trust me with this.
I know the fear stems from my leaving her for Eden, though I still can’t bring myself to regret it.
Maybe I’ll call Farrah tonight.
“I’ll be here.”
Alice pulls back, and she nods before kissing my head and leaving my room.
I hear the front door close a few minutes later, and I am immediately enveloped in uncomfortable silence.
It had been quiet while I was reading, but somehow knowing Alice was in the house made it less stifling.
When the thoughts start and the loneliness encroaches, I decide to go downstairs.
I settle onto the couch and pull a blanket over me, immediately feeling better when the television flashes to life and sound fills the room.
Connor’s halo hums, and I pull my arm free from the blanket to look at it. “Hi.”
It hums again, and tears gather in my eyes, making them sting.
“What am I doing, big guy?” I ask, my voice breaking on the pet name. “Everything is a mess.”
The halo hums again, and I know he’s trying to comfort me.
“I wish you were here,” I say, closing my eyes.
The halo hums twice.
My eyes blink open, and I stare at it. I rotate it a little until I can see the single dent that mars its otherwise perfect surface.
It thrums against my wrist again, but this time it’s not just once or twice.
It’s continuous, but not one long drone.
Instead, it’s a mixture of short and long vibrations, the rhythm almost like a song, a familiar song.
I brush my fingers over the warm metal and close my eyes.
Humming along, I quickly realize it’s a tune from a movie we watched.
A tear finally escapes, tracking down my cheek, and I lay my head back against the cushion. I continue to hum along with him, letting my thoughts drift. When the halo goes quiet, I frown and open my eyes, already missing the comfort of it.
Has he gone?
The halo hums again, this time a little more insistently and only once. I sit up, somehow knowing he is pulling at me .
“What is it, Con?”
The halo hums again, tugging at me. My brows draw, but I follow his lead and get up. I will always follow him. He pulls me up the stairs, stopping when we are in front of his door. My heart still breaks when I see his name etched into the door.
“You want me to go in there?”
One hum for yes.
I take a breath and wrap my hand around the doorknob.
My stomach knots as I turn it and then push the door open, a whimper leaving me as his scent hits me.
It takes a few moments, but I slowly realize that the smell of clouds isn’t the only thing surrounding me.
I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel his presence more than I have since he died.
My cheeks grow wet with tears, and the halo hums in comfort.
“Why am I here, Con?”
Once again, the halo tugs at me, and I walk across his room to the bed and his partially open laptop.
“Your laptop?” I ask, and the halo hums once for yes.
I push the top open a bit more, and the screen illuminates, a photo of us popping up.
It’s a little out of focus, but that only softens the image.
It’s a selfie he took while we were at a party, and in it I’m smiling brightly as he’s kissing me.
The room behind us is mostly dark, but colored lights highlight our faces.
We both look settled and happy, but my stomach twists at the sight.
It’s been the wallpaper on his laptop since we made it official, but looking at it now fills me with pain, knowing what I lost.
The halo hums again, and I type in his passcode.
SummermySunshine
The screen unlocks, and as the credits play, the memory washes over me.
“No matter how bad it turns out to be, this movie will always be close to my heart.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
He pulls me tighter against him. “Because it will always remind me of tonight.”
I laugh, looking at him over my shoulder. “Connor, this cannot be our movie.”
Connor smirks. “Why not?”
“It’s complete garbage! ”
“But it’s ours. Our garbage,” Connor says, kissing me softly.
It was our last night together, a perfect night. That was the night I told him I didn’t want to wait, the night we called his parents to tell them we wanted to get married over the summer. It was the last night he held me, the last night he was alive.
The halo hums again, and I can feel his happiness radiating from it. He remembers too. He starts humming along to the song. It is the one from the credits that he was humming before.
I tap the space bar, pausing the movie. The halo stops vibrating, and a sense of anticipation settles into the silence.
“You can’t be serious,” I say to the halo, knowing that if anyone else were here, they’d think I’m insane for having a full-on conversation with a piece of metal.
The halo hums again, and it reminds me so much of Connor’s laugh that I feel like a spear has impaled my heart. My breath catches with the pain, but I push through it, unable to do anything but give in to his every whim. “All right, big guy. One last time.”
The halo hums once, and I can feel how proud he is of himself. I go downstairs and turn off the television on my way to the kitchen. I put a bag of popcorn into the microwave and lean against the counter. As I wait for it to pop, the memory takes me back to that night.
“I’m going to marry Connor.”
“Yeah?” Alice asks, the smile bright on her face.
“Yes! I’m going to marry Connor Morningstar! This summer!”
Pain ricochets off the memory, and I am thankful when the beeping of the microwave pulls me from it.
Pulling the popcorn from the microwave, I add extra butter for him, even knowing he won’t eat it.
I won’t either, but I still need to do this.
I want to spend this last final night with him, with Connor. My Connor.
When I go back upstairs, the room looks the same. I’m not sure why I expected the pillows to be fluffed, the blankets to be arranged, and Connor to be lying in the bed with that bright smile he only ever gave to me, but all that is here is the ghost of him, the ghost of me, the ghost of us.
I climb into bed, lying in the exact same position I was in that last night, trying to pretend Connor’s large body is behind me.
His scent has faded slightly, even in the short time I have been in here, and I hate it.
I move the mouse, scroll back to the start of the movie, and press play.
A tear slides down my cheek as it starts, and the halo hums comfortingly.
I allow myself to fall slowly into that pain, into the loneliness.
This time, I don’t dive into it. I just allow it to be felt, and after a while I can almost sense his presence all around me.
I have no idea whether I’m imagining it or if, somehow, his warm, beautiful soul is surrounding me.
“I made it with extra butter. Just like you like it,” I whisper.
Connor’s happiness radiates through me in that infectious way it used to.
I close my eyes, and I swear I can feel his warmth sink into me.
The tears continue, but I don’t open my eyes.
A part of me is afraid that I’ll scare him off or that my imagination won’t be able to cling to the memory as well with my eyes open.
Eventually I drift off with the feel of his strong arms wrapped around me and his breath at my ear.