Second Chance Summer

There was also the fact that I could glimpse, still half-hidden in shadow but there, what a mess I’d be once the terrible inevitable happened. And did I really think it was right to put Henry through that? Especially knowing how he tried to take care of Davy—of everyone, really, even my dad, attempting to cure him through cookies. He was always trying to help people. I had known this from the moment we’d met, seven years earlier, the first time he’d come to my rescue. I knew that he would stick with me afterward. Because it would be the Right Thing to Do. And I didn’t want to force that responsibility on him. Henry had been through enough already.

I walked to the end of the dock and sat down, hooking my legs over the edge. It was twilight, the sky slowly darkening and the first stars just beginning to appear, but I barely noticed it. The facts were hard to argue with. I needed to end it with Henry before he was pulled along with what was inevitable. I needed to end it before things got more serious, before he felt like he had any obligation to me. Suddenly, the very fact that I’d started anything at all with him seemed monstrously selfish. There were so many reasons why it wasn’t a good idea to stay together. It was impossible to ignore. I saw the light in Henry’s bedroom come on, and I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I would do it fast, before I could reconsider, or let myself remember how we’d laughed together, or how his kisses had melted me. It would be like pulling off a Band-Aid—painful at first, but in the end, better for everyone.

I took a deep breath and sent him a text, asking him to meet me on the dock.

Henry was smiling as he walked toward me, and even though I wanted to look away, I made myself look back at him, memorizing what he looked like when he was happy to see me. I had a feeling that it would be the last time I would be seeing it.

“Hi,” he said, reaching the dock and coming close, his hand stretching out for mine, clearly expecting me to meet him halfway. But I locked my hands together behind my back and took a tiny step away, going over in my mind the list of reasons why I had to do this. Henry’s smile dimmed a little, and one of his eyebrows went up. “Is everything okay?”

“I think we have to stop this,” I blurted out. It hit me that this was how I’d first proposed becoming friends, as well. For whatever reason, there was something about him that made it impossible for me to ease into a subject. Henry looked confused, and I clarified, “You and me. What we’ve been doing. We should stop.”

Henry looked at me for a long moment, then out across the lake before turning back to me. When he did, I couldn’t help but see the pain in his expression—pain that hadn’t been there only a few seconds ago. “Why?” he asked me. It was a gentle question, not demanding an explanation, even though he was entitled to one. “What’s going on, Tay?”

I knew that if I lied to him, he’d be able to tell. And plus, he deserved better than that. “I just,” I started, taking a deep breath, “need to spend my time with my family right now. And it’s not fair to ask you to just hang around while I go through this.”

“So I’m supposed to just go away?” Henry asked, sounding equally baffled and hurt. “Is that the plan?”

“I just don’t want you to—” I started.

“Taylor,” Henry said, taking a step toward me. Suddenly he was right there, so close, close enough that I could have leaned forward and kissed him, reached out for him, done all the things that I wanted to do. “Don’t think about me. Really.”

It was hard to do, nearly impossible, but I made myself take a step away from him. “I just can’t be with you right now,” I said. “With anyone,” I clarified quickly, lest he think I’d suddenly developed some bizarre crush on Leland. “I just think it’s for the best.”

“Okay,” Henry said. He looked at me steadily. “But we can still be friends, right?”

I swallowed hard and made myself shake my head. I knew that if he was in my life, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from wanting to kiss him, needing to find solace in my spot. “No,” I whispered.

Henry’s face changed, and he looked angry for the first time in this conversation. “Are you cutting out Lucy, too?” he asked. I just looked down at the planks of the dock, giving him my answer. “I just don’t see,” he said, more quietly now, “why I have to be the only one shut out.”

I had no idea how to respond, how to tell him the truth that was behind this—that I could feel myself falling for him, and I was already on the cusp of losing someone I loved. And the closer we got, the harder it would be when I lost him, too. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “But you don’t understand what this is like, and—”

“I do,” he said, causing me to look up at him. “My mother’s gone, and—”

“But she’s not dead,” I said, my voice coming out sharp. “You can talk to her if you want. You could find her. She doesn’t have to be gone. That’s your choice.” Henry took a step back; it was like I’d slapped him. “I’m sorry,” I said after a moment, knowing I’d gone too far.

Henry let out a breath and looked back at me. “I just want to be here for you,” he said, his voice quiet and pained. “I don’t understand what’s changed.”

Suddenly, all I wanted was to tell him, about the hospital, about my grandfather, about all of it. I wanted to feel his arms around me, the one thing that made sense while everything around me was falling apart. But I had a feeling that if I did, I’d be hurting him—and myself—much more after the summer than either of us was hurting now. “I can’t explain it,” I said, making my voice as cold as I could, trying to push him away hard enough so that he’d go, and stay gone. “Sorry.”

Henry looked up at me, and for a second, I saw all the pain—all the pain that I was causing—cross his face. Then he nodded, and just like that, he was back to being what he’d been to me at the beginning of the summer—a little distant, a little cool. “If that’s what you want,” he said. I nodded, and pressed my nails hard into my palms to stop myself from telling him otherwise. He looked at me for one moment longer, then turned and walked off the dock, shoving his hands in his pockets as he went.

As I watched him go, I felt a tear hit my cheek, then another, but I didn’t even bother to wipe them away. When I was sure he’d gone inside, I walked slowly up the dock myself, making sure not to look back at what we’d carved so long ago—the plus sign, and the heart, that was a lie once again.