Every Summer After(51)

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I hold up my beer. “Who wants another?”

“Sure,” Sam says, but he’s still shooting daggers at Charlie.

I gather up the dirty plates, rinse them off, and stack them in the washer. The house is pretty much the same as when I was a teenager—the walls have been painted and there are a few new pieces of furniture, but that’s about it. It still feels like Sue. It still smells like Sue. I grab three more beers, and just as I’m about to head back out, I hear Charlie’s raised voice.

“You never learn, Sam! It’s the same shit all over again.”

Sam murmurs something harshly, and when Charlie speaks again, he’s quieter. I can’t make out what he says, but he’s obviously upset. I leave the beers on the counter and slip away to the bathroom. Whatever’s going on, I know I’m not supposed to hear it. I splash water on my face, count to thirty, then head back to the kitchen. Charlie is grabbing his wallet off the top of the fridge.

“You’re leaving already?” I ask. “Did I say something wrong?” Charlie walks around the counter to me.

“No, you’re perfect, Pers.” His pale green eyes move across my face, and I feel a little light-headed. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I made plans to catch up with some old friends. I don’t get back here as much as I’d like.”

“Sam said you live in Toronto. You never looked me up.”

He shakes his head. “Didn’t think that would be a good idea.” He looks over his shoulder at the sliding door that leads to the deck. “I know he seems like he’s got it all together, but don’t let that big brain of his fool you—he’s a moron a lot of the time.”

“Spoken like a true brother,” I say, not sure what he’s getting at. “Listen, before you head out, I just wanted to say thank you for calling me.”

“Like I said, I thought you should be here. It feels right.” He steps toward the doorway, then turns around. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll save you a seat.”

“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “You don’t have to do that.” I shouldn’t sit with the Florek family. I’m not family. Maybe I was once but not now.

“Don’t be silly. Besides, I could use a friend. Sam will have Taylor.”

I blink at how sharply that sentence hits me, then nod.

“Sure. Of course.”

After Charlie closes the front door behind him, I head out to the deck with a couple of beers. It’s early evening now and the sun is starting its slow descent into the western sky. Sam is standing, his forearms on the railing, staring out over the water.

“You okay?” I ask, moving beside him and handing him a beer.

“Yeah. Believe it or not,” he says, looking at me from the corner of his eye, “Charlie and I get along way better than we used to. But he still knows how to push my buttons.”

We finish our beers in silence. The sun is hitting the hills on the far side of the lake with a magical golden light. I let out a sigh—this was always my favorite time of day at the cottage. A boat full of cheering teens roars past, pulling a young woman on water skis. A few seconds later, waves from the lake crash against the shore.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” Sam says, still staring ahead.

“You mentioned that,” I reply. “It makes sense—you’re going through a lot right now.”

“I’m used to functioning with hardly any sleep because of work, but I could always crash when I had the chance. Now I just lie there, wide awake, even though I’m exhausted. Do you ever have that?” I think about all the nights I used to lie in my bed, thinking about Sam for hours on end. Wondering where he was. Wondering who he was with. Counting the years and days since I’d seen him last.

“Yeah, I’ve had that,” I say, glancing at him. The setting sun is kissing the high points of his cheekbones and the tips of his eyelashes.

“I’d blame it on my old bed, but I’ve been using it for the past year.”

“Wait a sec. The same bed you used to have? It must be half your size!”

He laughs softly. “It’s not that bad. I thought about moving into Mom’s room a few months ago, when it was clear she wasn’t coming back from the hospital, but the thought just depressed me.”

“And what about Charlie’s room?” Charlie had a double bed growing up.

“Are you kidding? I’m fully aware of how many girls he had in that room. I definitely wouldn’t have got any sleep.”

“Well, presumably the sheets have been washed at least once in the last decade,” I say, laughing and watching the skier take another lap around the lake. I can feel Sam looking at me.

“Whatcha thinking about?” I say, not moving my gaze from the water.

“I have an idea,” Sam says. “Come with me.” His voice is soft, a low nuzzle.

I follow him through the sliding door, into the kitchen, and then he opens the door to the basement, flicking on the light in the stairwell. He holds his arm out for me to descend first. I walk down the creaky stairs and stop suddenly when I get to the bottom landing.

Other than a new flat-screen, it’s exactly the same. Same red plaid couch, same brown leather armchair, same coffee table, all in the exact same spot. The patchwork afghan hangs over the back of the couch, and the floor is still covered with scratchy sisal carpeting. The same family photos hang on the wall. Sue and Chris on their wedding day. Baby Charlie. Baby Sam with toddler Charlie. The boys sitting in a gigantic snowbank, their cheeks and noses pink from the cold. Awkward school pictures.