Our Beloved Summer | A TSITP Story

Chapter 32

Jeremiah was the first one to break to silence, yet again. "Hey, Dani, look in the back seat."

This time I had actually fallen asleep and was startled by the sound of his voice. My eyes were glossed over, but I still looked. There was what I assumed to be Jere's overnight bag, Conrad's books and laptop, and his guitar.

"You brought his guitar?" I asked, looking back at Jere, confused.

"Yeah. I didn't really know what I was getting into so I figured it could be a 'come back to the light side' sort of thing." He said, looking proud.

"Good idea, Jere." I knew we both had this accomplished look on our faces, mine mirroring Jere's. We found where he ran off to and we had hope that he would be okay. This entire journey felt like one giant tsunami of confused hope and nostalgia. The last time I had been down this road of little shops that we were now driving down, I was with Conrad. And it wasn't summer, it was winter.

When he called that day, I almost couldn't believe it was him speaking. It was twelve thirty in the morning. Boston was five and a half hours away. He had driven all night. He wanted to see me.

I told him to park down the street and I would meet him on the corner, after my mother had gone to bed. He said he'd wait.

I turned the lights off and waited by the window, watching for the taillights. As soon as I saw his car, I wanted to run outside, but I had to wait. I could hear my mother rustling around in her room, and I knew she would read in bed for at least half an hour before she fell asleep. It felt like torture, knowing he was out there waiting for me, not being able to go to him.

In the dark I put on my hat, then I shut my bedroom door and tiptoe down the hallway. I poke my head inside, but I don't go in, not yet. I want to look at him first. I have to. It's winter, and he's wearing a gray jacket. His cheeks are pink from the cold, his tan has faded, but he still looks the same.

"Hey," I say, and then I climb inside.

"You're not wearing a coat," he says.

"It's not that cold," I say, even though it is, even though I'm shivering as I say it.

"Here," he says, shrugging out of his fleece and handing it to me. I put it on. It's warm, and it doesn't smell like cigarettes. It just smells like him. So Conrad quit smoking after all. The thought makes me smile. He started the engine.

I said, "I can't believe you're really here."

He sounds almost shy when he says, "Me neither." And then he hesitates. "Are you still coming with me?"

I can't believe he even has to ask. I would go anywhere. "Yes," I tell him. It feels like nothing else exists outside of that word, this moment. There's just us. Everything that happened this past summer, and every summer before it, has all led up to this. To now.

"On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble do you think we'll be in when they find out we're gone?" Conrad asked.

"Oh, I won't be in trouble. I have it all planned out." He smiled at my giddy voice, "Since you're nineteen and I'm still a minor, I can say you kidnapped me."

"What? Please, you jumped at the chance." He laughed.

"They won't know that, and I certainly won't tell them that I came because I was hoping for a snowy beach." I held my hands up like I was innocent. Going back to our regular banter from years ago made me feel light and airy. "Hey, so did Susannah like the bike you got her for Christmas?"

"Yeah, she loved it."

"Good. You know I'm a bike expert, right?" I leaned my head back on the headrest and titled my head towards his. He looked at me fondly and intertwined our fingers across the center console.