summer romance (e.d.)

fifty-seven

anna

the once familiar sound of the tv showing sunday morning cartoons and the taste of red berry cereal is now foreign to me.

my dad sighs at my untouched bowl. "still not eating? come on, i put extra strawberry slices."

i stare at it numbly. everything is so dull.
"i'm not hungry."

"you haven't been since you landed last night," he replies. "seriously, an. eat something."

i push the bowl away like a little kid would their vegetables.

he doesn't say anything, but instead continues eating his own cereal.

"i wonder what he's doing right now," i blurt out, gazing at the table in deep thought.

"probably the same thing as you, honey."

"i didn't even get to say goodbye," i whisper, avoiding my dad's eyes. "and lisa probably still won't let us see each other when i fly back for school."

he shakes his head. "wouldn't have expected this from lisa, to be honest. but i haven't talked to her in a bit. maybe california and money just—"

"changed her," i finish confidently. "it definitely has."

it's quiet again.

"ethan doesn't like california," i say. "he wants to move back here."

my dad raises an eyebrow. "is that so?"

i nod. "but i kind of liked it on the west coast. maybe we can work out a deal or something. meet in the middle. end up somewhere in the midwest."

dad chuckles. "focus on the present. there's plenty of time for the future."

all day i do nothing but sit on the couch and play mini chess with my dad. he lets me be quiet for a long time, only prodding me to talk every few hours.

i miss ethan.

so much.

sometimes i just expect him to come in through the windows, like he normally would if i was in malibu. i spend the day in the orange clockwork hoodie.

"wanna talk now?" my dad asks at 3 pm, sliding me a glass of raspberry lemonade.

i take the drink and nod. "about what?"

he gives me a slight smile. "tell me more about ethan. i never really knew him that well."

his name immediately ignites a smile on my face. "did i tell you the story about the pond?" i ask.

he looks slightly startled. "no, do tell."

"it was midnight," i tilt my head back and relight the memory. "we snuck out for golf practice, and he told me he didn't want to putt that night. he showed me the key he stole from his mom, and unlocked the snack bar inside the main building of the club."

"risky," my dad nods.

"very," i laugh. "well anyway, he made me a smoothie. a mango one, to be exact. my— our favorite, sorry. that was the first night he was nice to me."

"anyway," i continue. "i made him a deal that if he jumped in the filthy pond on the green, i would do it with him. keep in mind, it's the middle of the night."

my dad nods. "what happened next?"

i grin at the memory. "we jumped in. it was so gross, dad. so gross. afterwards, we laughed and hung out in the guest house until dawn, playing board games and drinking soda. he told me to go to bed, even dragged me there, and shut my lights off. i woke up the next morning with a note on my counter. a nice note, actually."

i still have those notes. i'm never ever getting rid of them.

"wow," my father sips his lemonade. "he seems like a good guy."

"the best," i nod. "you just have to get to know him more. sometimes he's kind of... shy. but it seems like he's standoffish."

he laughs. "okay, anna. i'll remember that."

i just wish i could see him.

at 6 pm, i tell my dad the story of the fourth of july. i leave out some of the uncomfortable parts, but still try to cram as much of the memory in as possible.

at 8 pm, i decide i'm going to bed.

"so soon?" he asks. "on your first day back?"

"i'm tired," i smile a little bit.

but really i want to stare at my phone for hours, debating on calling him.

i feel like it would make it so much worse, though. hearing his voice would make me hop right back onto a plane to california.

"good night, anna," he calls as i walk up the stairs. "i love you much."

"love you too."

my body is heavy from the day and i collapse into my bed. i have no urge to scroll through social media, because i know is just end back up hovering over ethan's contact.

it doesn't surprise me that he hasn't called me either. when he's upset, he goes off the grid. if he's even affected by this, that is. i hope he cares at least a little.

at 9 pm, the doorbell rings.

normally it would alert some sort of concern, but it doesn't. i'm just too tired.

i hear my dad's footsteps get up to answer it. i can make out his voice, but not what it's saying.

i keep my ears open for the other person's voice.

"anna!" my dad calls up the stairs, and i try to decipher his tone.

i stand up slowly and stumble my way down the stairs, rubbing my eyes slightly.

what could possibly be needing my attention at this time of night?

"what, dad—"

my mouth hangs open at the sight of the person at the door.

he stares back at me with hopeful, but tired eyes.

"ethan?"