Page 89 of The Summers of Us

“That’s good.”

“Is it?” My own voice changes, authoritative and accusatory. “I can’t figure out how you can leave for nine years and think that texting a lame apology is good enough. He ruined me, Blair.”

My voice changes again, a freefall to rock bottom. I inhale to stop more tears from forming.

“I’m sorry.” She laughs. “Shit, sorry. Oh God, I’m really bad at this.”

I find a laugh deep within me. She’s perfect at this. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You and Mom, I can always count on you guys. I don’t give Mom enough credit.”

“She knows,” Blair says, serious again. “Listen, if you asked me, I wouldn’t call your life ruined. Your life here, from the outside looking in, has been wonderful. Enviable, even. Hadley thought so too. She wanted to be just like you, doing all that living you do.”

Finally I look up from the orange to drink up Blair’s face. Her lips, the soft smile always on them; her eyes, the sliver of pain always behind them.

“She did?” How on Earth could someone see my life and wish it was theirs? Nobody wishes to be broken…unless they’re a little girl who sees nothing but the good in everything, coral pink on a black and white day. Unless they’re Hadley.

“She talked about you all the time,” Blair says, her voice crumbling.

In the last moment Hadley and I shared together, she asked me about my friends, but I didn’t think much about it. I didn’t realize how she saw me: a teenager whose fun night always began when her dreams did. Iliterallylived out her dreams.

And I’ve done even more than that. I had fun without my dad’s love. Formed relationships without one of the biggest relationships I wanted in my life. Trusted people despite my dad. Became Quinn Kessler without my dad.

It’s here, sitting next to my aunt with an orange slice warming in my hand, that I realize how much I’ve filled the void my dad left behind.

He’s not the one who gave me this piece of Piper Island to cherish forever. He’s not the eight coquina clam shells that hug my neck. I can’t find him in the sun provoked afternoon naps. He’s not swimming in Lake Lockwood’s sweet tea water or dewed on the trampoline under blankets of constellations. He’s not tucked in the hushpuppy picnics or palm tree shadows. He doesn’t clamber up the rungs of a lighthouse or rush across a road from a phantom cop car. He’s not in a bed of pine needles or the path of seashells laid to rest like breadcrumbs. He doesn’t zap through the neon-tinged world of cotton candy and Ferris wheels.

Only those who matter exist in these smudges of joy.

Like Hadley in every night sky.

“I miss her.” I shove the orange wedge in my mouth and chew on its warm silence, let the words linger for a moment, then will them away. I smile an orange smile, the kind that kills hard conversations. “Thank you, Blair. You always know exactly what to stock the fridge with.”

“And you make it my pleasure.” Blair taps my nose, then peels the wilting skin off its bridge like it’s an orange slice. “What fun day of living is this from?”

“Lake Lockwood.” I swallow another slice. “I really should reapply my sunscreen.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years, Q.” She stands up and kisses my forehead. “I’m getting you some aloe, you lobster.”

Then the moment is over, soothed with mandarin orange slices, sunburn, and aloe.

I’m still on the couchwhen the afternoon rolls around. Blair left to pick up groceries for crab cakes and a vat of SPF 100 sunscreen, “for now and every time you go out in the sun forever!”

The home renovation marathon on TV continues well after my nap. Haven asks me to join her picnic lunch with Holden and Mason on the pier. Holden swears he and Santiago are going to catch a kingfish once and for all. Haven’s only keen on watching for an hour or two.

Impossible, I reply.I’m trying to rest my ankle today.Doctor’s orders.

who’s doctor?

Everett.

if he’s your doctor, then i’m coming over later to be your nurse

Will you bring me a lollipop?

duh. and a sticker

I almost make it to the end of the current episode when I get an idea. It’s less of an idea and more like my mind opened a fortune cookie or read a horoscope written by the stars, telling me what I need to do.

Hadley.

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