When Summer Ends

01

01

Welcome to Coral Cove

Population 21,672

The vibrant yellow sign that greeted us had received a fresh lick of paint at some point after I abruptly left. Considering it hadn't been graffitied yet, most likely very recently. At last, I have arrived home and it only took a six-hour train journey and two bus rides.

Noting the change in the weather, I tug my sweater up over my head revealing a white tank top underneath. Being stuck on a bus with no air conditioning definitely didn't help. My dad offered to drive me but I declined because my dad and my mom should never be permitted in the same room as each other, they bicker until no end. I of course held a drivers license but I don't own a car. When I lived here, my older sister Sasha and I had shared custody of a beaten-up old Mazda convertible we had named Rusty. I missed that car – and Sasha.

As the bus turns a sharp bend downhill, the outline of Coral Cove comes into view. It is a pretty town situated right on the coast. No matter where you are in town, you're always a short walk away from its famous beach. Coral Cove, or how some locals prefer to call it, "The Cove" isn't the biggest town but it has all of the essentials. It had to because the closest towns are almost two hours away and the nearest city? A good four hours.

Butterflies appeared in my stomach as we voyaged into the town center. I know there will be people here that won't be thrilled to see me again but I had to face the music. I shove my sweater into my duffel bag as the bus halts to a stop. I stand up and follow two others down the aisle.

"Thanks," I say to the bus driver as I hop down the stairs.

I'm standing in front of my favorite place in town – Betsy's Frozen Delights. It's a beloved ice cream parlor that doubled as a convenience store. A woman named Betsy Jones opened it in the 80's and has been here ever since. My friends and I would come here after school to grab an ice cream almost every day. The ice creamery looked different now though – it wasn't painted its usual blush pink but instead a barn red. That wasn't Betsy's style at all.

Some might say I'm deliberately delaying coming face to face with my mom but I choose to go inside Betsy's Frozen Delights – out of curiosity of course.

To my shock, the interior had also drastically transformed. It was now black and red themed and a jukebox sat in the corner. Did Betsy have a mental breakdown? I wonder. My eyes start searching for Betsy but all that they find is a woman sitting on a stool behind the counter. She's wearing wedges with ripped denim shorts and a polka dot blouse. Her legs are resting next to the cash register and she's engrossed in a magazine. Ok, so Betsy hired someone new.

"You looking for something?" The woman's voice is unpredictably gravelly, as if she smoked two packs a day. Her eyes don't leave the magazine once.

"Um.' I begin as I move closer to the counter. "Are you new?" I question.

She finally looks up at me. This woman reminds me of Amy Winehouse with her backcombed jet-black hair, thick eyeliner and cherry red lips. She must be in her 40's at least.

"Not as new as you." She responds as she lifts her head to view my duffel bag.

"I'm not new, I was just away for a while."

She snickers as she returns her attention to the latest issue of Cosmopolitan. "Teenage runaway." She mumbles.

Technically she's correct. I was a teenage runaway but I didn't like how that sounded. Running away to live with my dad in a city ten hours away for a year wasn't a minor stunt I pulled just to act out. I had my motives.

"Okay, well can you just tell Betsy I said hi when you see her." I request, diverting the conversation.

"God, I hope I don't see Betsy because she's dead." She responds, casually dropping the bombshell.

I am taken aback by the news. "What!?" I exclaim. "Betsy died?! How?"

"The hell should I know? I didn't know her. I just own the place."

That would explain the tacky décor I think to myself.

"How long ago did you buy the shop?" I query.

She shrugs one shoulder languidly. "Like last November, I think? Around three months after the original owner passed away."

I left Coral Cove just before summer started a year ago, that would mean Betsy died not long after. I've been back for ten minutes and I'm already in a terrible mood.

"You didn't change the shop name." I state.

"I thought about it but Gigi's Frozen Delights just doesn't have the same ring to it."

"Your name is Gigi?" I suddenly become cognizant that I'm asking a lot of questions and I'm surprised she hasn't told me to fuck off yet.

At last, she finally drops the magazine on the counter and looks at me. "My actual name is Guinevere but does anything about this," she says waving a hand over herself, "scream Guinevere?"

Absolutely not, I mentally answer. "Well, I better get going." I back away and turn towards the door.

"Hold on." Gigi's grating voice stops me in my tracks.

I whirl back around and wait for her to continue.

"You interested in making some cash?" She asks before popping a piece of gum in her mouth.

"Depends. Is it legal?"

Gigi chuckles. "What kind of person do you think I am? I'm offering you a part time job to work here. My last worker just quit."

I swear she mumbles "Prick" under her breath.

"I wonder why. Must be the stunning management," I respond sarcastically.

She folds her arms and smirks. "You remind me of my nephew, he's also a smartass. So, you want the job or not?"

My only goal for the summer is to stay out of trouble. I couldn't go back to my old ways so a job could be the perfect distraction. I glance down at my phone – 4:48 PM. It's getting late, I need to stop procrastinating.

"Can I get back to you? I really need to get home." I tell her.

She sits back down. "Sure thing. Come by any time."

When I'm out the door and standing back on the streets of Coral Cove, it hits me like a hammer that I really am home. All the mistakes I made remain here, I just hope I'm not going to make any more.