Second Chance Summer

After we left the girls with the rest of the snacks, and instructions to make cookies at midnight, Lucy packed up her things and we headed down the corridor, my mother and Lucy still talking.

“So great to see you again,” my mom said as we reached the from door. “And be sure to tell your mom hi for me.”

“I will,” Lucy assured her as my dad came in from the family room, the dog, as usual, under his arm.

“Can this be Miss Marino?” my dad asked, smiling wide, pretending to be shocked. “All grown up?”

“Hey, Mr. Edwards,” Lucy said, but I could see her smile falter a little bit as she looked at him. Even though he was laughing and rubbing the dog’s ears, I could see what he looked like through Lucy’s eyes—much too thin for his frame, the kind of thin that always seemed to convey sick, not just dieting. The yellow cast to his skin. How much older he looked than he should have.

We walked out to the screened-in porch in silence, each of us carrying one of Lucy’s bags. I led the way down the three steps, and felt the grass, cool on my bare feet. The night was clear, the moon huge over the lake, and the stars were as numerous as I’d ever seen them. But I barely noticed this as we started walking down toward the dock. I had a feeling Lucy was going to say something, so I turned to her first, asking the question that had refused to leave my mind. “What happened with you and Henry?”

Lucy stopped and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “What do you want me to say?” she asked. “We dated, and it didn’t work out, and so we split up, and now we’re friends. Kind of.”

“Whose idea was it to go out?” I asked. “Yours or his?”

“Mine,” Lucy said evenly, looking right at me. “I liked him, as I think you were aware.”

I felt my face get hot, but at the same time, it was freeing to talk directly about the things we’d been mad about, but not ever naming, all summer. “I know,” I said. “But just for the record, Henry and I had started dating before you told me you liked him. I just didn’t tell you because I didn’t want…”

“What?” Lucy asked.

I shrugged. It seemed so stupid now, and so long ago, and yet, the ramifications of it all were still playing out, even now. “I didn’t want it to get in the way of our friendship,” I finally muttered.

“Ah,” Lucy said, nodding. Deadpan, she added, “Well, that sure worked out.” I met her eye and we both burst out laughing. “Have you told Henry this?” she asked.

“No,” I said, looking over at her. Lucy shrugged.

“It might help,” she said lightly. She gave me a look that let me know she could tell what I was thinking, even after five years, even in the semidarkness. “Just so you know, most people don’t get this upset when they find out their childhood boyfriend dated someone else,” she said. She arched an eyebrow at me. “I’m just putting that out there.”

Not really wanting to respond to this, I started walking down toward the dock again, Lucy falling into step next to me. “So,” she said after a moment. The way she hesitated, I had a feeling that she was choosing her words carefully. “Is your dad okay?”

Even though I’d had a feeling this was coming, the question still made my chest tight, like someone was clenching my heart, making it hard to breathe. “He’s sick,” I said, hating how even this simple, obvious admission made my voice waver, and made me aware that there were tears lurking behind my eyes somewhere. And that maybe they’d been there, just waiting for their chance, ever since we’d found out.

Lucy looked over at me, and I found myself incredibly grateful that she didn’t ask, “With what?,” that she somehow knew not to ask this. “He has cancer,” I said out loud for the first time. I swallowed hard and made myself go on, saying the word that I hadn’t even known a few months ago but now hated above all others. “Pancreatic.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, and I could hear from her voice that she meant it. “Is he… ,” she started, then looked away from me, and I could feel her uncertainty. “I mean, will he…” She looked back at me and took a big breath. “Get better?”

I felt my face crumple a little, my chin start to tremble. I shook my head, feeling tears flood my eyes. “No,” I whispered, my voice hoarse, and next to me, I could hear Lucy draw in a breath. I kept walking toward the dock, focusing on the water in the moonlight, and I tipped my head back slightly, trying not to blink. I knew that if I blinked, it would be all over. I’d be crying, and I had a feeling I might not stop for a long, long time.

“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “Oh, my God, Taylor, I’m so sorry. That’s just…” Her voice trailed off, as though words wouldn’t be able to describe it.

We walked on, me fighting back tears, and then I felt Lucy’s fingers brush mine as she took my hand and held it firmly in hers.

As she did this, I could feel the first hot tear hit my cheek, and then my chin was trembling, out of control again. As I looked out at the water, I realized there was nowhere to go, nowhere left to run. And I just had to stay here, facing this terrible truth. I felt, as more tears fell, just how tired I was, a tiredness that had nothing to do with the hour. I was tired of running from this, tired of not telling people, tired of not talking about it, tired of pretending that things were okay when they had never, ever been less okay. I attempted to pull my hand away, but Lucy just held it, squeezing mine hard, all the way to the end of the dock. And there was something about it—maybe the fact that she was letting me know, physically, that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere—that made me feel like I could finally just let myself cry.

When I’d pulled myself together a bit, Lucy headed back to get her kayak, dragging it across the dock. She took out the paddle and flashlight and placed the kayak on the edge of the dock. “Can I do anything?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No,” I said, running my hand across my face. “Thanks, though.”

Lucy didn’t take the easy out, though, continuing to look at me intently. “Will you let me know if there is anything I can do?” she asked. When I nodded, she pressed, “Promise?”

“Promise,” I said. She dropped the kayak in the water and climbed in, and I handed her down the paddle and flashlight.