The Names They Gave Us(61)

“Now what?” she asks.

“I guess we wait.”





CHAPTER NINETEEN

I expect him to look different. I imagine the scene during my entire Sunday walk to Holyoke, how I’ll find him and ask if we can talk. But when I emerge from the forest path, there he is: tall and blond in a lemon polo shirt. He’s a beacon of light that does not call me home.

He’s pacing, and when he glances up, he stops dead. My parents must have told him I’d be coming over.

I wait for him to remark that I look different. I feel different. Tougher and more vulnerable at the same time.

“Luce.” He says it like an exhale as he leans in to hug me. “It’s good to see you. Your dad told me you went to Daybreak after all.”

“I told you that I would.” I say this as mildly as I can, with no trace of bitterness. Because I don’t feel any, truly.

“Right. Of course.” I don’t think Lukas could ever look embarrassed; he has too much dignity for that. But he can certainly look sheepish. “Could you . . . would you have time to take a walk? With me? I don’t want to steal from your time with your parents, but—”

“Of course.” His hesitancy, so reminiscent of when we first met. It dissipated a little over time, as we became sure of each other and fit into a routine.

As we walk toward the rim of the lake, I glance up at him. “How are your parents?”

“Good!” he says. “Good. Dad’s in Florida golfing with his brothers. Mom’s busy with the garden. She sent up a whole box of jams for you and your parents.”

“Ooh, ??yes.” My mouth waters at the idea of it. Her strawberry-rhubarb jam is a revelation. “And training is going well?”

He starts in about running, but I can’t focus. I know the sound of his voice. I know the reliable khaki shorts he’s wearing. I know his combed golden hair and the lines between his eyebrows that form when he’s worrying about something.

He’s always worrying about something.

Lukas’s mind spins constantly. Sometimes I think if I leaned close enough to his ear, I could hear the whir of metal cogs. He ruminates over theology, over morality and the Right Choices. And I love that about him, this immeasurable depth of caring, of trying.

But what makes Lukas happy—like, really giddy happy? We went out for almost two years, and I’m not sure that I know.

I’m working through a lot, and it’s easy for me to be serious because of what’s going on in my life. I realized that because it’s how Keely can be too. She may say blunt things, but her mind operates at subterranean levels. There’s so much thinking deep beneath the surface of everything she says.

But people like Jones and Anna wear their emotions like clothes. Jones’s happiness might as well be a plaid three-piece suit. Retro and jaunty. Anna’s joy is a yellow plastic raincoat. Her anger is a red cape, flashing and spinning out.

And I think that’s why I can’t get enough of them. They balance me. I don’t need another person who is preoccupied, pulling me further into introspection and worry. I need someone who reminds me to let it out. Someone who reminds me by living it.

We approach a bench, weather-beaten and rusted at its iron joints. Lukas gestures toward it. “Do you want to sit for a minute?”

“Sure.” I sit facing the water, happy to soak in the view.

But Lukas turns to me, his face earnest. “Luce, I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said before you left. I’ve had some time to reflect, and I don’t feel right about it. I really hope you can forgive me.”

“I can. I do.” My stomach feels like a hammock— swaying, swaying. I can’t believe how our positions have swapped in just a month’s time.

How can half a summer shift your whole world? Here’s what I am learning: Sometimes, the big changes seem to happen in small, fast moments. A diagnosis. A breakup. A crush. But usually, there was something there—underlying, building up—all along. C’mon, Luce. Out with it. “But I do think you were right that we’re not the best people for each other.”

He looks surprised, chin retracting the slightest bit. “Oh.”

It’s hard to imagine going home at the end of the summer, back to my little house across the street from the church. No campers running around me, no creaking trees at night, a bedroom all to myself. Something aches in my throat when I think about it. But even when I force myself to think about going back to normal life, I just can’t see Lukas as my boyfriend anymore. He was a decision I made a long time ago, and I carried it out happily. But I can’t keep making it. “I think we’re too alike, don’t you? Something just isn’t fitting the way it’s supposed to.”

“Wow. Okay.” He’s lacing his fingers together. “Maybe, yeah.”

“I’d still really like to be friends,” I add, though I hope it’s unnecessary. “I think we make more sense as friends, actually. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Well,” he says, and the smile is a little forced. But he’s trying for it because he’s a good guy. He hears me with grace, and that’s not nothing. “That’s that.”

“I’m sorry. You know how much I care about—”

“I do. It’s okay, Luce. I think we both felt something was off.” When I nod, he smiles for real. “All right. It’s settled. So, tell me about camp. I’ve been picturing you here the whole time!”