Page 24 of The Summer I First Saw You
I set my sandwich down. “Hey, clearly you lost our bet, but I’ll let you out of running tomorrow if you agree to go to the movies with Liam instead.”
He raises a brow as he spreads jelly on the bread. “This deal seems a little too good to be true. Why don’tyouwant to go?”
I shrug. “Because I’m not a good liar—you probably wouldn’t expect that given how good I am at blackmailing—but I’m worried I’ll tell him the truth.”
“Yeah,” he says, dropping the knife in the sink, “I’m a little worried about that too.”
“Cool, so you’ll go? He wants to see some old Bond movie playing downtown.”
“Bond?” he asks. “No.” He was completely on board and now his voice is hard—a voice I normally wouldn’t even bother to argue with.
“It’s exactly the kind of male-centered drivel I’d expect you to love.”
“The last thing I need is to sit in a theater listening to some pompous British asshole,” he mutters, and he’sangry, as if James Bond personally hurt him at some point in their mutual past.
Which makes no sense. Not only because James Bond is fictional, but because Harrison loves the UK. He spent a semester there in college. He chose tomovethere last winter, for God’s sake.
The only way it would make sense is if…
“This is about Audrey, isn’t it?” I blurt out, my voice running ahead of my brain. “She met someone else.”
He swallows, jaw grinding as if he’s about to mount an argument. “I’m not discussing this with you,” he says instead, walking out to the deck.
13
HARRISON
Islump into a chair outside, sinking into one of my least happy memories.
When I landed in London, I hadn’t seen my wife in four months.
We’dintendedto see each other—she was supposed to come to California in November but ran into an issue at work, and my trip planned for the holidays got canceled because I’d had to prep for a trial. And the second the trial was over, I had to pack up our house and leave my job, and there wasn’t a second to spare.
I texted her as I walked toward customs to say I’d caught an earlier flight. I saw the three swirling dots of her reply, but nothing came, and I knew what that meant—that she was flustered, rushing to get to the flat and irritated that I’d changed the plan. Resentment began stirring in my chest over herimaginedirritation. Marriage is like an old country road that gets a little more banged up with each passing year. You start expecting the holes and the bumps before you’ve even hit them. You feel the resentment before it’s even been earned. Audrey and I hadn’t been married all that long, but there werealready a lot of holes and bumps. Too many, according to my friends.
“Cut it out,” I’d told myself. “This is a fresh start.”
Sure, it wasn’t a fresh start I’d necessarily wanted, but what was I supposed to do? She’d moved to California with me after law school and she’d always hated it. It was time to try things her way instead.
When I reached customs, my passport wouldn’t scan and I was sent into a long line with other weary passengers to wait for an agent. And Audrey still hadn’t replied.
You’re sleep deprived, Harrison. Don’t read into this, and don’t see it all as a bad omen. You’re about to get laid for the first time in…I couldn’t even remember how long it had been. Not since the summer before, at the earliest, when we’d had too much to drink and she became the girl I’d fallen for in law school—giggly, relaxed, flirtatious. Which is the second problem with marriage. You fall in love with someone, and when that version of them disappears…do you wait? Do you try to love the new version instead? Is it your fault she disappeared in the first place?
“Visiting?” the customs agent asked.
“No, actually. My wife is working here now. We’re moving.”
He glanced from the passport to me. “Do you have a job, then?”
“Not yet.” Lots of American firms had a London office, but it was uncomfortable, admitting that I was now unemployed for the first time in my adult life. I’d given up every client, though I’d been earning twice what Audrey was in California, and I wasn’t quite sure what I was getting in exchange. Not if she couldn’t even reply to a fucking text.
My passport was stamped. “Enjoy your visit,” he said, as if he was already certain I wouldn’t be staying.
I took the express train to Paddington Station. A group of school children ran past in uniform, laughing as they clutchedsketchbooks to their chests. That was what Audrey wanted for the family we were about to start working on—an urban upbringing full of art classes and museums on weekends. I’d always pictured my kids living a childhood like mine—weekends surfing or out at the lake—but it was too late for doing it my way. I was here, and so was she. Unwillingly, I moved toward the line for High Street—and she finally texted.
Audrey
I left you a phone message. Didn’t you get it?
