Summer's a Knife

Chapter 2

July 27th, 2029.

The sun has been up for hours already over the British countryside, spiking the temperature up to the point where you're acutely reminded of the hot summer days you used to spend in Los Angeles a decade ago. If it wasn't for the cooling breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees in your backyard, you would have stayed inside, cooling off in your air-conditioned living room. Instead you're sitting on your knees by your flower bed, wearing short dungarees over a light pink t-shirt and a pair of sunglasses. A few feet away, your daughter is playing in her sandbox, giggling as she builds a town of small castles in the sand.

You're in the middle of planting a new rudbeckia plant - the golden color of it brought you straight back to that August day so long ago when you sent her sunflowers and so you had to have it - when your 8-year old, Connor, comes running out of the house.

"Mum, there's a lady at the door for you."

"Do you know who it is?" you ask him as you make sure the plant won't topple over while you're gone.

"She didn't say."

You stand up and shake the excess soil off your hands. They're visibly dirty but there's no time to go inside to wash your hands, not when someone's waiting at the door. You wonder who it could be. You're not expecting anyone. Maybe it's a neighbor? It's strange they wouldn't mention who they are, though. Shrugging, you smile at your son. "Okay," you say, "watch your sister for me, please."

Connor obediently does as he's told so you can hurry into the house through your back door, taking a detour to the kitchen to grab a towel to wipe your hands on as you walk through the house. Dumping it on the small table by the door, you check your hands one final time before opening the door. They're not clean, but better than they were. Taking a deep breath, you open the door.

You are thoroughly unprepared for who is standing there, her back towards you looking out at your front yard. She's wearing tan slacks that ruffle in the wind, a cream sleeveless blouse, and an enormous summer hat that threatens to be swept away by the wind at any second. She turns and smiles at you, and your heart skips a beat. You don't need to see her eyes under those dark sunglasses in order to remember that particular shade of green, the one you lost yourself in many times over all those years ago.

Karlie.

You blink a few times, not believing your eyes. She's really here, standing right in front of you. You can feel your brain running in circles, clearly having some issues processing this and as a result you just stand there, looking at her.

"I got your letters," she says, breaking the silence. There's an amused smile on her face as she says it, like there's a bit of a challenge in her words. It's like she's testing you to make sure you meant what you said in them, that you actually do want her back now that she's standing right in front of you, and not only in your dreams as a figment of your imagination.

Your mouth is dry as parchment as you try to come up with something to say. She cocks an eyebrow at you, waiting impatiently for a reply. She seems to take joy in rendering you speechless. Why the hell can she still do this to you after all these years?

You take a deep breath and center yourself with your eyes closed for a brief moment. Opening them, you look at her nervously. "Would you like to come inside?"

She walks past you through your front door with a smile on her face. As she passes you, you can smell the floral notes of her perfume and you breathe it in deeply, like you're trying to memorize it in case she leaves again.

Closing the door behind you, you turn to find her taking an interest in the photographs hanging on the wall, turning around slowly to look at everything around you, her sunglasses in her hand. You stare at her with fascination and a hint of fear. You can't believe she's standing here, in your hallway, looking like that, after all these years. The sight of her has awakened that yearning inside of you, and you register your heart thumping eagerly away. Maybe a bit too eagerly.