Page 88 of The Summer I First Saw You
She waves me off. “You don’t need to waste your time with that. Go study for the LSAT.”
I grip the counter.You don’t need to waste your time with that.She’s basically said it twice in the past five minutes. She’s been saying it my entire life, except it’s only ever been about the things I love.
Anything outside. Anything domestic. Those are worthless in her eyes.
“I like cooking, Mom. Why can’t you just let me do the things I enjoy?”
She turns toward me as she pulls ground beef from the refrigerator. “Daisy, for God’s sake. I’m just trying to help you focus on what’s important.”
My eyes squeeze shut. Yes, she’s been trying to help me focus my entire life, telling me the things I love are wrong and guiding me toward thecorrectones. By last winter, I’d switched majors four times. I’d taken the LSAT thinking I might go to law school and the GRE thinking I might get a PhD, and none of those plans ever made me want to get out of bed the next day.
Maybe it’s because they weren’t my plans at all.
Maybe I’ve been so lost because I can’t live out her dreams for her life, the dreams she gave up for me, without giving up my own to make them happen.
And under normal circumstances, I’d keep all this to myself. I’d wait for a less emotional, more measured moment—one that would never actually come—except I’ve been happy. I’ve been so happy all summer, and I just can’t go back to giving all of it up.
“I’m not going to law school,” I tell her. “I’ll finish my bachelor’s, but I’m done after that.”
Her brows pull together, a flash of confusion there before my words register. “You’re being rash. You can’t give up a plan you’ve had for years to—”
“It was never my plan!” I cry. “Name one time I ever said I wanted to be a lawyer, Mom. Nameone. It was your plan. They’reallyour plans. And you can still live them. You’re onlythirty-nine. You can still go to law school. You can do whatever you want. But please stop trying to live vicariously through me.”
Her eyes well, and the guilt hits the way I knew it would.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I know you gave up everything for me, and Scott was like…this one good thing that came your way, and now you’ve given that up for me too. But I don’t know how to make it up to you without killing myself to see it happen.”
“God, Daisy,” she says, her jaw agape, and just when I think she’s going to scold me, she gathers me up in her arms and holds me tight. “Scott wasn’t my one good thing. You were.”
“You know what I mean,” I tell her, my throat tight.
“No,” she replies. “I really don’t. And you’ve got it all wrong. You were the only magic my life ever needed to hold. The day you were born was the happiest day of my life, and the hundred happiest days after that were all yours too.”
It’s a nice moment, and we hold the embrace for a long time. By tomorrow, she’ll have come up with a new plan for me, however—medical school, broadcast journalism, marine biology—but I’m not taking it back. Maybe I won’t end up with Harrison, but I can build a life out of what’s left. I can build a life that involves surfing, cooking, working in a garden.
I can build a life based on giving myself what I need, even if I’m never going to get the thing I need most.
46
HARRISON
I’ve spent my entire life smugly proud of how responsible and ethical I was. That I stayed at one job. That I didn’t bounce from one woman to the next the way Liam and Beck did. That I didn’t start one fight after another like Luke. I thought being responsible would keep me from becoming my parents, from getting left behind…which is what made the end with Audrey such a shock. I don’t think I missed her when it ended. I just didn’t know what direction to turn after discovering the entire philosophy I’d based my life upon was a lie.
And now I’ve done something so irresponsible, so much worse than anything my friends have done, and I want to do it all over again.
I want to call her. I want to hear her husky voice, her quiet laughter. I stare at her surfboard and mine every night when I pull into the garage and am sick with the desire for it.
I walk through The Hillside Market and stare for a long moment at the display of expensive honey. And then I buy one, like the sap I am, and I want to tell her this too, but I can’t.
Your twenties are the years when you learn who you are, when you leave the safety of home and school and friends andreally decide who you’ll be in the world. You do a lot of fucking around, but there’s value in that too. It’s how you choose which parts are worth embracing and which parts can be written off.
Daisy needs to go through all that on her own. I’ve taken enough from her. And I shouldn’t have taken any of it.
I haveto leave work early to meet the guys delivering the new couch. How fucking long will it be before I see that couch without thinking only of her?
Audrey calls again just as they’re leaving. She’s the last person I want to speak to right now, and I’d give anything to end the conversation before she’s even said a word. Does she want the beach house? Fine, it’s hers. Does she want our marriage annulled? Does she want me to put our wedding album in the shredder? As long as it means she’ll leave me the fuck alone afterward, I’m willing to concede.
“What do you need?” I bark.
