The Names They Gave Us(10)

When the bells on the door announce his entrance, I turn with a tentative smile. He raises one hand in greeting and walks straight to the counter for his black tea—no cream or sugar. Today’s polo shirt is vibrantly tangerine, which makes him look more tan.

I pick at my scone, turning it into crumbs.

“Hi,” I say weakly as he sits across from me.

“Good morning. Is everything okay?”

“Fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. Yeah, me too.”

“It’s kind of a doozy,” I say, leaning in. “My mom wants me to be a counselor at Daybreak.”

It takes him a moment to comprehend, which I fully relate to. “The hippie camp?”

“Yeah.” I explain her reasons, which actually seem sane as I repeat them.

Lukas shakes his head slowly. “Well, that doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“I know,” I reply automatically. “Wait, why?”

“Come on, Luce.” His face is tender—almost apologetic. “Secular camp? After the past month?”

I wish I had to ask what he means. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he noticed me pushing every boundary. But I could do without the condescending tone.

“Well, it’s really important to her, so I’d appreciate if you could be supportive.”

He stares down at his tea intently, as if it is the one speaking to him.

“Anyway, that’s my news. What did you need to talk to me about?”

When he breathes out, I recognize the sound. I exhale like this on the starting block before I dive into my hardest heats. When I’m nervous and trying to calm myself.

“My parents and I have been scheduling college visits for this summer,” he begins. “And with senior year on the horizon, I’ve been thinking a lot about the future.”

“Okay . . .” I mean, this is not news. He’s been planning for his future since the day I met him. Literally. He was taking meticulous notes on the first day of freshman bio, already preparing for his someday-career as a doctor.

He sets both hands on the table between us, wringing them. I don’t understand why his expression is so pained. “Luce, I’ve been trying here. I’ve been trying so hard.”

I cock my head, too confused to form a question.

“It feels like every day, you’re slipping farther away. And I don’t know how to help you.”

“Well,” I say, absorbing that blow. “My mom has cancer, Lukas. Again. It’s not a super fun time for me.”

“I know,” he says, with total earnestness. “And I’m not insensitive to that. But I don’t know what this means for us.”

“For us?”

“Well, I know we’ve both alluded to eventually getting married, but is that still where you are on this?”

Okay, now he’s lost me: college visits, me not handling cancer well, marriage?? I stare at him. “I was kind of thinking I’d go to college first.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, almost a flinch. “Please don’t be sarcastic about this.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but how am I supposed to react? We’re seventeen! This is a ridiculous line of thinking!”

“Is it? We’re going into senior year. This is when huge, life-altering decisions start getting made. Do we want to intentionally go to the same college?”

“I have no idea. Yes?” I mean, I’ve always pictured that, I guess. But at the moment, I’m picturing Lukas as the deranged ringleader of the circus that my life is becoming. I don’t even know what I want to major in!

“I’m a planner, Lucy, you know that. So, with all this happening, our relationship and its . . . long-term viability have been on my mind.”

Long-term viability?! Like we’re a virus strain? “Well, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

He winces at my sharp tone. “I’ve thought and prayed about it a lot, and talked with my parents, and I even spoke with my old pastor from North Carolina.”

“So what did you land on?” Pray tell! What conclusions did you—along with other people who are not me—reach about our relationship?

“Well, I have been thinking that this summer might be a good opportunity for us to take some time apart. To . . . recalibrate. A pause, if you will.”

I open my mouth to say: We will be apart—I’ll be at camp. But his real intent hits me, and I start to laugh softly. Great. Perfect. My mom’s about to start aggressive chemo, I’m heading to a strange new camp—what could make this summer better? Definitely a breakup. Three for three on improvements to my life!

How’s that for sarcasm?

His eyes widen at my less-than-analogous response, at my shoulders shaking with quiet laughter instead of tears. “Luce. I’m sorry if it sounds like—”

“You’re right,” I say simply. “We should consider it.”

“Wait,” he says. “Really?”

Maybe I’m prideful—I admit it. Maybe I like my makeup being perfect, maybe I like the compliments about my hair, maybe I like people knowing I’m a together person—a good kid. Maybe I can’t stomach the thought of Lukas only staying with me because my mom got sick. “Really.”