Page 12 of A Moment Too Late

“The second child returns home,” Summer announces excitedly, releasing me from her hold as she throws her hands in the air. Sliding up next to me, she turns her attention to Spence and winks. “I really thought you were lying to me, Spencer.”

“You think so little of me after everything I’ve done for you. I still don’t understand.” His mocking tone tells me he understands completely why she doesn’t trust him.

The pranks we all used to play on Summer are legendary. Everyone in town would talk about them, some offering suggestions for next time while others were oblivious to the fact that we were the ones behind them.

They weren’t always elaborate. We’d move things around in the shop after she closed for the night. Flip the menus so they were hanging upside down. Change the prices of everything either up or down depending on our mood.

My favorite pranks were always the ones that revolved around decorating for the holidays. If it was Easter, we’d hang Halloween decorations. For Christmas, Independence Day decor. They never matched the actual holiday, and after a few seasons, Summer gave up buying decorations at all knowing that someone was going to foil her plans. It was a surprise to her when she walked in to work on Valentine’s Day and everything was pink and red and white. Giant hearts were hanging from the ceiling and there were window clings of little cupids. She always blamed Spencer for being the mastermind behind them when really it was Sam.

Valentine’s Day was the last holiday we decorated the shop.

It was also Sam and Jay’s anniversary.

The combination of the two reasons are why I never celebrate it. Why I don’t like celebrating any holidays I can avoid. Most of my best memories were made with a girl who isn’t here anymore. With friends I haven’t spoken to in years. The holidays serve as reminders of what I had and lost in the blink of an eye.

“So I can tell at least one of you needs a strong cup of coffee,” Summer says, wrapping her arm around my waist and pulling me against her like old times. She barely comes up to my chin, standing a little under five foot tall, so I automatically sling my arm over her shoulder.

Sam was the spitting image of her mother. Short in stature with a personality larger than life. Light brown, straight hair with dark, muddy brown eyes. Where Sam was curvier in the hips and thighs, Summer has always been petite. Looking at her today, she appears thinner than I remember her being. Not unhealthy but more fragile.

I imagine we all are, either on the inside or out.

Spencer holds the door for us as we make our way inside, Summer slipping behind the counter. The sounds and smells of the Java Bean take me back. To a time when life was simple. When I used to sit at the table in the corner and stare out the window when I was supposed to be studying. When Sam and I would cuddle up on the couch in front of the fireplace and talk while the snow fell outside.

We ‘would make plans for when the weather warmed. Sam had a list of epic adventures she longed to take. Places she craved to visit, things she needed to see and experience. The ocean was at the top of her list. She said it was so vast it scared her. Made her feel even smaller and she was hell-bent on conquering every fear she had.

Mostly, this place reminds me of the last morning I saw her. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, the bright teal tips sticking out in every direction. She had my mocha waiting for me and a sad smile on her face, her bright red lipstick emphasizing her mood. Her eyes were pleading with me not to go, but all I could think about was how I needed to get away from that place and clear my head. To put distance between me and Jay before we crossed a line. Again.

Sure, I was excited to lay on the beach and soak up the sun, but it wasn’t the real reason I was rushing off that morning. I was going on an all-expenses paid vacation to St. Lucia with my parents. Their favorite vacation destination. An early graduation gift. My days would be spent drinking on the beach and listening to the waters of the Caribbean lap against the sand. At night my parents wanted to show me their favorite sights on the island.

Four nights and five days of relaxation.

It was my last semester of college. I was exhausted and needed the vacation. I’d been counting down the days until spring break for months. My car was packed, and I was on my way to the airport.

I barely said hello and good-bye to her that morning at she handed me my mocha, the guilt gnawing at my soul. If I’d known then what I know now, I would have hugged her tighter. Told her how important she was to me.

Hell, I probably would’ve stayed in Great Falls and spent spring break with her. Faced the consequences of my actions for a few more days with her.

“Here ya go,” I hear Spencer say from next to me.

When I glance in his direction, I find his outstretched hand with a paper cup in it.”I didn’t order anything.”

“Summer made you a mocha with an extra shot. She said the sugar and caffeine would get you going.”

All I can do is nod as I take the cup from him and bring it to my lips, blowing air through the opening in the lid as I take another look around the shop. It hasn’t changed. Same furniture. Same setup. Same everything.

I’m starting to wonder if time has stood still in Great Falls. At least for some people.

Spencer is quiet on the walk through campus. I keep my eyes focused straight ahead until we’re seated outside of the dean’s office, not wanting more memories to assault me. I’m already feeling fragile, like an emotional bomb waiting to explode.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

“The dean will see you now,” a hunched-over older lady says, appearing out of nowhere.

The dean is situated behind his desk as Spencer and I enter. He motions for us to take a seat without looking away from his computer. After a few long, tense moments, he removes his wire-rimmed glasses, tosses them on his desk, and runs his fingers through his graying hair.

“Thank you both for coming in today. The university is pleased to be a part of Sam’s remembrance. She was an excellent student and a leader in the community. It’s a tragedy what happened to her, and what you’ve put together is inspiring.” His attention is solely focused on Spencer even though it’s clear he’s talking to both of us. “We have the foyer of the student center set up to host the memorial brunch tomorrow afternoon, and the lantern release will be on the football field at dusk. With this week being spring break, most of our student population is off campus. However, we’ve had a number of community members RSVP for one or both events along with many of our student leaders returning to campus tonight and tomorrow morning. The only thing we haven’t secured is a speaker for the lantern release.”

The room falls silent as both Spencer and the dean stare at me expectantly.

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