Page 69 of The Summer I First Saw You
When Christian dumped me right after Thanksgiving, I lived it.
All semester long, I’d let him have everything his way. I was at his apartment each night instead of the library. He didn’t like DC, so every weekend we went away—his parents’ place in Stone Harbor, a friend’s apartment in New York City, an Airbnb in St. Michael’s—and since he only had Tuesday/Thursday classes, they were alwayslongweekends. I knew I should be studying, and I knew I shouldn’t be skipping class, but it feltuncoolto say it aloud.
When it ended, the bottom fell out from under me in a number of ways. I was single. I was also no longer this special object of Christian’s obsession—no longer magical or gifted. I was nothing but an unwanted twenty-year-old who was barely passing most of her classes. It was the moment when I needed to pull my shit together, but I woke every day exhausted andsick to my stomach with circles under my eyes that makeup couldn’t hide, that no amount of sleep got rid of.
Finals began two weeks later on the day I discovered I wasn’t simply depressed and overwhelmed—I was pregnant.
The only person I wanted to discuss it with was my mom, but how? She’d spent my entire life talking about raising children as if it was an unfortunate choice, one she hoped I’d avoid. She thought I was destined for bigger things, but none of those bigger things had ever appealed to me. The idea of becoming a mom, though? It was like this tiny sparkling hope in my chest. It felt right in a way nothing else had. And I knew she’d never understand.
Christian didn’t answer when I texted him, so I waited until Creative Writing and followed him out of class.
“I should have fucking known,” he seethed. “You planned this all along, didn’t you? You and your low-rent mom are exactly the same.”
“Low rent?” I repeated hoarsely. I hadn’t expected him to be happy. But I also hadn’t expected him to turn vicious.
“Gold diggers. You both get knocked up and make some guy take care of you because you’re not capable of taking care of yourselves.”
My father hadn’t contributed adimeto my upbringing, but what really hurt was that my background was something he’dcomfortedme about when he was still infatuated…while apparently thinking far less of me than I’d even thought of myself.
But what really did it was when I told my mom how poorly finals were going and that I was probably going to be on academic probation—and she burst into tears. It was so minimal compared to the pregnancy, yet she was destroyed. After everything she’d given up for me, I just couldn’t imagine disappointing her even more than I already had.
So I spent the holidays alone in DC, recovering from abreakup and an abortion and trying to come to terms with all the ways I’d failed in my short life.
I kept waiting to rebound, to feel better, but that moment didn’t come, and when I went back to the student health center about it, they prescribed me the same freaking antidepressants my father had been on when it all went bad.
It took me most of the spring to recover, but eventually, I forced myself out of bed and added a new exercise each day. I got a part-time job, and asked the school if I could come back. I still wasn’t on firm footing when I returned to California, but things have been so good here that until yesterday, I’d begun to think it was just this…blip. This strange anomaly.
Except that darkness is swirling inside me again now, which means it wasn’t a blip. It wasn’t an anomaly. If things end with Harrison—no,whenthey end with Harrison—I’m going to be right back where I once was.
His car is in the garage when I return from work. I shower before I go up, mostly to put off what happens next. Who am I going to be after we talk—my father? Something in between?
I arrive on the landing to discover him on the couch, asleep in nothing but boxers.
He blinks at me as he sits up, frowning. “Hey. Is everything okay?”
I swallow. The world is caving in on me again. “I don’t know. Is it?”
He holds out his arms. “It’ll be a lot better when you’re not all the way across the room.”
Those words lift me up as if he’s cast a magic spell. The wave is still going to crash.
I’m just so relieved it isn’t crashing today.
37
HARRISON
Daisy and I get up early to surf since it’ll be our only chance today. I resent the premiere tonight already—it’s a solid three hours I’m going to have to sit multiple seats away from her, and if I know Daisy, she’ll spend each of those hours tormenting me in any way she can.
She gives me a smile when we get back to the house that tells me exactly where her head is at.
“You sure you don’t want me to shower with you?” she asks. “You know, to take the edge off before the movie?”
Just the suggestion of it has me hard. Or maybe it’s the sight of her unzipping her wetsuit. The two things run together, honestly. “This is a terrible idea. You know that, right?”
“Getting you off before work?”
I adjust myself. “That’s generally an amazing idea except when I’m going to be late,” I reply, throwing my wetsuit over my board and heading for the outdoor shower. “No. I meant tonight. We’re tempting fate.”
