June, Reimagined (79)

“I’m saving it for our ten-year high school reunion.”

“Are we really going to that?”

“No. Of course not.” Matt balked.

“Thank God. You had me nervous for a second,” June said. “So then is this about the summer your hair turned bright blond and you told everyone it was natural, when you really used Sun In? Or how you used to go to the tanning salon with Bethany Crandell?”

“That was strictly for foreplay.”

“How about the time you faked having diarrhea, so you didn’t have to swim in gym class?”

“Everyone did that,” Matt said.

“Please tell me the rumors about you and Ms. Bliss weren’t true.”

“I’ll go to my grave with that one.” Matt wrapped his arm around June. She felt a seriousness come over him. “Be honest. I need to know for my own sanity. That Lennox guy. You like him.”

June couldn’t lie anymore, so she nodded.

“Do you love him?” Matt asked. June’s refusal to say was answer enough. “You know I will now hate him with a fucking passion for the rest of eternity, right?”

June chuckled. She knew Matt would marry a beautiful girl one day, someone who liked poetry and politics, who preferred the subway to cabs, who’s idea of cooking was ordering from the Indian restaurant down the street, who did the Sunday New York Times crossword, and who wore a leather jacket she’d bought at a thrift store when she was eighteen. A part of June would despise her. A part of June would want to tell this girl that June was the first person Matt had loved. A tiny part of her might even regret the moment when she turned down romantic love in honor of their friendship.

But more of her would be happy for Matt. More of June would love this woman for what she brought to Matt’s life. And June would know that she couldn’t have loved Matt like this woman did, and that giving Matt up was the greatest gift she could have bestowed on a best friend.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” June said, pulling Matt toward the exit. “It’s over. I can’t go back there.”

“I guess only one question remains then,” Matt said. “Where exactly do you want to go, June Merriweather?”





THIRTY-ONE


To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: I should tell you . . .

I let the dog out.

At Perk’s Coffee House, a popular High Street café among Ohio State students and professors, June wiped down the table and collected mugs on a tray. The front door of the café—conveniently located near Matt’s apartment, so June could walk to work—was propped open, allowing the warm late-May breeze inside. Over the past two months, June had watched the trees lining her running path go from bare to bud to full bloom, and they now brimmed with vibrant green leaves. A few times, she had taken her camera, capturing a caterpillar on a leaf or the wet pavement scattered with pink tulip petals after a spring thunderstorm. Richard, the owner of Perk’s Coffee House, had even hired June to take pictures for the new website. She spent an afternoon shooting artfully decorated lattes and handcrafted sandwiches and students huddled around a table, clutching warm drinks and wearing university gear.

Her first few paychecks had gone toward buying the new camera. It had been an adjustment to go digital after using film, but change was necessary, even if June missed the anticipation of getting her pictures developed. Change had been her mantra since returning from Scotland. Instead of running away when her life got uncomfortable, she sat with the uneasiness. Some days had been easier than others.

June had been nervous to see her parents when she and Matt disembarked from their flight from Paris months ago, but Nancy and Phil had immediately showered her with hugs and kisses, happy to see their daughter safely home.

Josh’s urn was returned to the Merriweathers’ mantel without fanfare, as if it had never left. Discussions on when and how to scatter the ashes were put on hold. With June’s unenrollment from Stratford College, and the nullification of her scholarship from the Women’s Club of Sunningdale, Nancy and Phil had assumed their daughter would move home, but June and Matt had come up with a different plan.

A week after June’s arrival back in the States, she had moved into Matt’s apartment in Columbus, occupying his couch. And two days after that, with a reference from the Thistle Stop Café, she had secured a job at Perk’s Coffee House. Except for the money spent on the new camera, nearly every dime June earned went toward paying back the scholarship funds. She was determined to detach herself from the Women’s Club of Sunningdale, one dollar at a time.

June took the worn-out piece of paper nestled in her pocket and examined the letter, as she did every day since leaving Scotland. The night of the fire, in haste, June had shoved the printed email from Ronan into her pocket. She never did reach out to the gallery in Edinburgh. Once home, she reasoned it was better to cut all ties to Scotland. Emails went unread, and June had left no forwarding number. But she wondered daily how Hamish was doing without her. Had he hired someone else? What of the inn? Did they decide to rebuild? Did Ivan find a photographer for his daughter’s wedding? How badly did Lennox hate her now?

Matt and Lottie McBride walked hand in hand into Perk’s. June returned the letter to her pocket.

“You packed?” Matt asked.