Three Day Summer(50)

I stare at her. “Fine,” I say in my most professional voice. “He’ll come give you updates.” I point to Ned, who stands blinking at me behind his glasses. I can tell he’s more confused than anyone as to what’s going on.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” I see that my redheaded sheep friend is still patiently waiting for his insulin. I walk over to him purposefully.

As I give him his shot, Michael’s friends file past me and out the flap. Rob touches my shoulder as he walks by. “Thanks, Cora,” he says. I smile at him as I hold a piece of cotton to Sheep Guy’s arm.

I’m bandaging up his arm when I hear my name again, this time in a weak voice.

I turn around. Michael is sitting up on his stretcher and smiling hazily at me.

Luckily, Amanda is already gone. I eye the flap warily and I make a point not to look at Ned, before I quickly walk over to the stretcher.





chapter 58


Michael


I don’t know how I made this happen, but I know I’m grinning like a madman, even though it hurts my face. I’m back in Cora’s medical tent and the back of her head is right in front of me. I’d recognize that raven-colored hair anywhere.

I call her name and sit up, much too fast as it turns out, because suddenly I feel very dizzy. I bring my hand up to my face and touch somewhere painful.

Cora’s beside me in an instant.

“What happened?” I ask her, even though I don’t really care. Somehow this beautiful, crazy festival brought us back together again.

“Well,” Cora says, her big brown eyes just inches away from my face, “my brother punched you.”

“Oh,” I say, grinning again. Then, after a second, I think to ask, “Why?”

Cora takes a deep breath and goes to speak.

But she doesn’t have to. I’m suddenly flooded with memories of this morning and my smile gets washed away with the deluge. “Wait. I know why. . . .”

Cora studies me. “Do you?”

“I’m an *,” I say miserably.

“Why?” Cora asks, and she looks like she means it.

Is she going to make me explain it? I swallow. “Amanda,” I begin. “And you. Look, I know I’m a jerk, but the thing is . . .”

Cora does the strangest thing. She smiles politely and puts her hand on my arm, as if to shush me. “Look, don’t worry about it. It’s my fault too. It’s not like I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” She shrugs. “Don’t worry,” she says again.

I look at her. I suppose that’s meant to make me feel better, but it actually makes things hurt more. Like, internal things.

“But what if I want to worry about it?” I say, frowning.

“Why?” she asks warily.

“Because,” I say. I touch her wrist lightly, remembering when it was sprouting feathers just a couple of days ago. Right here in this tent. “I like you. And this . . .” I stroke her skin. “It feels like something. Don’t you think?” I look up into her eyes, willing her to feel the connection too. “I feel terrible,” I say.

“You got punched in the eye,” she replies.

“No.” I shake my head emphatically. “I mean I’ve felt terrible all morning. Ever since you left last night, actually. And Amanda, I ended things with her.”

Cora looks taken aback. “You did?”

“Well . . . ,” I start out slowly, realizing that’s not entirely accurate. “I was trying to before I got punched. I think she got the message, though.”

Cora glances toward the tent entrance and mutters something that sounds like “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Well, then, I’ll make sure she gets the message,” I say emphatically, before taking hold of Cora’s hand. I want to say this as right as I possibly can. It feels like the most important thing I’ve ever said. “It’s you. These past couple of days, it’s like everything’s changed. I’ve changed. I can’t stop thinking about you and I can’t stop thinking about who I am when I’m with you. I like that person, Cora. That person is such a better man than I ever thought I could possibly be.”

Cora sighs. “Look, Michael.” It’s not a good “Look, Michael.” It’s the type of “Look, Michael” I don’t want to hear.

She extricates her hand from mine. “We had a nice day together,” she starts. “A really nice day,” she corrects herself. “But that’s it. Tomorrow you drive back to . . . God, I actually don’t even know what town you’re from.” The line between her eyebrows has appeared again and it’s making me nervous.

After a pause, I realize she’s waiting for me to tell her. “Somerville, Massachusetts,” I say. “It’s just north of Boston.”

“Okay,” she says. “You’re going back to Somerville, Massachusetts. Just north of Boston. And I stay here. And that’s it. Why kill yourself feeling guilty over that? Over one more day in Bethel, you know? What would be the point? Go back to your girlfriend and your life.” She touches my face gently then, like she’s trying to make it go down easier. “We’ll just be a really nice memory.”

I stare at her. The words hurt more than my eye, more than almost anything I’ve ever experienced. I touch the hand that’s on my face. “But . . .”