The High Season(104)

“I’m truly sorry about the watch,” she said. “But now I’m going to do what you did back in July. I’m going to leave you sitting alone. And stick you with the bill.”





67


JEM’S PHONE

    From: Jemma Dutton

To: Olivia Freeman

Subject: prepare yourself Hi it’s me.

This is an apology. The biggest sorry in the world.

I was awful to you. I sucked. I ruined it.

All this summer I’ve been writing to you. Because bff. Best friend forever means forever. You were the one who always listened, all those years of my “you knows” and my “I can’t explain it buts.”

I don’t know if you’ll read all of them. The emails I’ll send after this one. If you want to write back that would be so great. If you don’t, if you don’t even feel like reading them, that’s ok. I mean, I get it. Writing them was worse than social studies essays. Reading them won’t be any better.

First day of school. I was kind of famous because of what happened. Everybody coming up and asking me, Whoa, what was it like? So only a few kids wore #mayflower shirts. (if you read the emails, you’ll get all this.) I sat with Annie at lunch, and kids kept coming over and sitting with us and dragging chairs over until we were so crowded we started throwing pretzels at each other and that’s when they made us stop. It was cool.

Mom and Dad will be moving. Not together, no. No chance of that! Which means I will be moving, too. Yeah, that’s the big news and if you want to know why you’ll have to read the emails.

I fell in love this summer. Or thought I did. He was too old for me and he lied to me and treated me like shit and even stole a watch I think—I mean, it disappeared and he was there when it did and now that I know him better I think it was him—and I had to lie about it and in the end he was the biggest coward you ever saw.

I almost blew away this summer, Ollie. There’s something about almost blowing away that makes you see everything different. Like, I’m not scared of moving to the city or whatever we have to do. I kind of want to. You did it. Let me know how it was, and this time really tell me.

I ran out of friends this summer. I got a few back today. I’m hoping maybe I have another one and that’s you.

So. Start with Memorial Day. Labor Day requires a conversation. I’m pressing Send on the summer. Here I go.

xojem





68


THE DUSK WAS softer than soft. A wisp of color in the sky. Lamps lit. The light was blue. Bluer than blue. Across the dark water was a tiny spray of lights.

She left the Jitney and turned down Village Lane. At the wharf she stopped and looked back. Lamps were lit in half the houses. Once they had been owned by farmers and sea captains. Orient had been a prosperous town with a busy harbor. Now it was a town that was often half full.

It was too warm for fall, but it was fall. The summer renters were gone. The summer people would be back to sail on weekends, to enjoy summer’s last gasp, but this night the breeze smelled like dry leaves.

Since the castle flew in the air the calls and texts had come in. How is Jem. How are you. What can I do. Can I drop off dinner for you. We are making halibut on the grill come on over. And from Penny: We would like to see you both.

They were having dinner tonight.

Landscapes spoke to people. Something that went past the heart and lodged deeper. This place spoke to her. It would hurt her to leave it. But people left places all the time if they had to. Then you opened a drawer and found a key to a lock to a door that was no longer yours.

    She turned down the road to her house and wondered how many more times she would turn this way, her feet on a familiar road. It would be a number, fifty or one hundred, or more, but one of the times she turned it would be the last.





69


JEM’S PHONE

    To: Jemma Dutton From: Olivia Freeman Re: madsummer Too much to absorb in one binge-reading episode sitting at work (meet Iowa City’s premier ice cream scooper!) and will reply in detail but just to say for now: Are you insane? Bffs. That last f means forever, bitch.





70


IT HAD BEEN a winter of crazy weather, sudden spells of warmth, swift and violent storms. Ruthie and Jem had been insulated in the city, where even big snows melted in days and in a blizzard you could still find takeout. There was none of the cabin fever of Orient, because city streets were made for walking.

They’d moved over Thanksgiving break. Ruthie had packed alone, throwing away as much as she could, whittling down clothes, boots, coats, books, vases, casseroles, candles. Her goal was fifteen boxes. Adeline had bought the furniture, too, the dishes and the pots and the blankets, and she would use Ruthie’s things until her designer descended and it was all given away.

The things you find! Pine needles under the bookcase from some ancient Christmas. Christmas! Jem in footies and braids, snow on the gray bay, kisses and carols, smoked salmon and champagne on Christmas Eve. A slow waltz in the kitchen to “Silver Bells” while they ignored the dishes. Oh, the things that hit the heart so hard. Jem’s height markings inside the closet. A peridot earring lost, a surprise birthday present from Mike in a lean year. In Jem’s room she found a cheap best friend necklace, one half of a jagged heart. Ruthie sat down and cried, not knowing for what.