Summer Doesn't Last Forever | ✓

Epilogue: Back For You

Four Months Later

Looking out of my bedroom window, I see the mailman’s truck pass by, going down the street. I leap up from my bed, running downstairs. I run through the living room, and pull open the front door, running as fast as I can to the mailbox. Today’s date is December 1st. Also known as the day that I learn if I got accepted early decision into any of the nine colleges I applied to. I applied at UCLA [University of California - Los Angles], North Texas - deciding that I wouldn’t mind staying near Phil and my mom, Vanderbilt, Carnegie Mellon, Northwestern, The University of Notre Dame, The University of California - Berkley, NYU [New York University] and Ole Miss, I pull open the mailbox, looking around my street and seeing other seniors that I go to school with looking in their own mailboxes. I take out the plethora of envelopes and close the mailbox.

I decide to open the one on top first. It is from Ole Miss. I don’t really even know why I applied to Ole Miss, I don’t think I’d like living in Mississippi. I sit the other envelopes on top of the box and shakily slide my finger under the seal. I won’t be distraught or anything if I don’t get in, I probably won’t even be sad. It was literally the last college I applied to in October before they were sent out. I pop the envelope open, and slide the paper out. I unfold it and just as I’m about to read the letter, I hear a voice behind me.

          “What are you so nervous for? I’m sure you got in.”

It’s Ryder’s voice. But I don’t know what he’s doing here in Dallas. We kinda got into a minor fight a few nights ago when we were Skyping. I was kinda….upset because he told me that he couldn’t make it down to Texas as early as he thought he could. So he wasn’t able to come for Thanksgiving, which was about a week ago. And I hung up on him. Well it was Skype so I just turned my webcam off, but still, same concept. I turn around, still holding the envelope in my hand, and see Ryder standing there, leaning casually against a car with his hands stuck down in his pockets.

          “Ryder,” I say, my voice my more high-pitched than usual. “What are you doing here?”

          “Well,” He begins; walking towards me with his hands still perched down in his pockets. “I was in my biology class, and the Professor was talking. We have end of term exams coming up in a few weeks, and he said it was in our best interest to take notes. So I was writing and looking up at the board, making sure I got everything. Then I looked down at my paper, and I saw that instead of my biology notes, I’d been your writing name. Over and over like twenty times.”

I chuckle, as he stands right before me, shrugging like it’s no big deal, “Really?”

He nods, “Yup. So when I fail my end of term biology exam, it’s gonna be your entire fault.” He says, jokingly. “So I got up, I left class, got in my car and drove to L.A.X. I bought a plane ticket and here I am. Well I went home first, and then I went to L.A.X., but you know what I mean. Plus, you’re mad at me and I had to make your stop being mad at me. You know I hate when you’re mad at me.”

I smile, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

          “Promise?”

          “On my life,” I tell him.

          “Good. So why don’t you go on and open your college stuff now? I can see the anticipation is killing you.”

          “Anticipation, yes, but not to open my letters,” I correct him.