Never Summer Again

Chapter Thirty-Six - Crazy

Score: Stonecold Crazy - Queen

Lydia

I am lying on my stomach across Mark's chest. My left arm is folded under my chest and my chin is propped on the back of my palm. With my other hand, I am reaching into the grass. A tiny ladybug is climbing up a blade of grass beside our tangled bodies. I pick up a small branch from the ground and let the ladybug crawl onto it. Mark's hand is stroking my hair gently and the August afternoon sun is blazing down on us, burning the skin of my bare shoulders. I am aware that the straps of my summer dress are going to leave tan lines, but I can't be bothered.

The last two weeks have gone by in a lazy, content haze. Since his failed attempt at a date, Mark and I have spent every single day in each other's arms. During the day, we laugh, talk, wander the streets, go to various events, or, like today, have picnics in Hyde Park. And during the night, we fuck.

OK, not only during the night. We have sex every possible minute. In his bed, in the shower, on the sofa, and even in the back of the Discovery. I have never felt this way before like I have this insatiable need burning inside me, that no ocean could put out. I feel like I need this deep-seated connection with him, which is not only physical but also very emotional. I want to be close to him, to merge with him, to fucking dissolve into him. I have never felt so connected to anyone else. It is like my mere breathing depends on his presence. Which also means that he could easily take it away, with just a snap of his fingers. I have never intentionally given this much power over myself to a single person. And it's fucking terrifying.

I have been replaying the conversation I had with Alex on the morning after Gloria's birthday party in my head over and over again. About love being scary. Well, this better be the real thing, then, because I'm petrified. But I also feel like I have taken a deep inhale of oxygen after having held my breath for far too long. I feel finally at peace, with myself and with the world.

I would never tell Mark any of this, though. It is scary enough feeling this way, but, telling him about it? It's like baring a nerve to the elements. No, thank you.

The heat wave has dragged on unusually long, and the sun has been shining bright above us every single day. I haven't heard from my father, not even once. John's been calling, bless him, to ask if I needed anything. He even texted me once asking whether I wanted him to drive me the BMW.

Patrick's back in town but hasn't announced himself once. It seems like I have finally managed to miraculously escape all of my problems.

However, as August advances, I get this feeling, gnawing at my insides, that it will soon be all over and I will be left alone, in an abyss full of memories and of all the monsters I have been hiding from.

With the approach of the announcement of the A-level results, I feel more and more anxious about what the outcome will be. Also, when Mark's gone, back to America, what will I have left here, in London? What will my life look like in September? What will become of us? What will become of me?

But I choose to do what I have been doing best my whole life and ignore the impending reality. Who needs reality, anyway, when I am currently living in the sweetest dream?

"I need to go back to my dad's to pick up my passport," I say. I didn't think I'd need it when I left Brompton Square three weeks ago. I didn't know I'd be flying to Greece for a fucking wedding then.

A fly buzzes close to my ear and I swat my hand in the air to chase it away. It is so hot that even flies are sluggish and this one dances away in the still air, as if drunk.

"OK, do you want to go by today?" Mark asks. He lifts his head from the grass and squints one eye at me.

"Yeah, why not." I sigh. "Today is as good a day as any. I don't think I'll be more mentally prepared tomorrow."