Afterthought: A Sententia Short Story (The Sententia) by Cara Bertrand Page A

the counter for a quick kiss while I scribbled his usual order on a slip. It was easy. All I had to write was 1c. (our shorthand for coffee) and CARTER P. along with the prices and drop it in the kitchen. “Dad” knew exactly what to load on the plate without my covering the ticket with lots of words.
    Carter’s answering grin made me suspicious. It looked good on him, as always, but it spoke of secrets. Ones I wasn’t in on. “Actually, I’m late. I meant to be here fifteen minutes ago.”
    Before I managed to reply, or even hand in the order slip which was still on my pad, Mercy was sliding Carter’s breakfast in front of him, hot and steaming.
    “Thanks, Mercy,” he said, turning the smile on her. She returned it like she was in on it. I didn’t know what was going on here, and clearly I was the only one. I eyed them both.
    “Yeah, thanks, Merce…But what’s going on?”
    Behind me, Gwen, the other waitress, grabbed my coffee pots from their slots, leaving one full cup on the counter and heading out into the dining room with the grace of a conspirator. Mercy nudged a stool in my direction and pointed toward the coffee waiting on the back of the bar. “Looks like you’ve got the rest of the day off, Lainey,” she said. “Have a cup on me and a good day.” She patted Carter’s shoulder with her usual affection and disappeared when Dad yelled, “Order UP!”
    “Is this a joke?” I looked over to Gwen, who was already doing my job along with hers, and she winked at me.
    Carter was too busy eating to answer, but the smile in his eyes told me, no, not a joke. It was possibly the most perfect beach day of summer and I had the rest of the day off, enough time to go to the beach, the real beach. The ocean was calling me so loudly, I thought I could hear it all the way in Northbrook and see it sparkling before my eyes.
    I could barely keep the smile off my face long enough to drink my coffee.
    We picked the closest one , at the upper tip of Massachusetts, less than two hours away. We’d be on the sand by noon. There were beaches I liked better in New Hampshire or Connecticut, but which state of the union didn’t matter to me today. My state was bliss. I turned up the radio, opened the sunroof, put down the windows, and breathed in freedom.
    Summer and freedom. In my mind, the two words meant practically the same thing. Synonyms. However you spelled it, it was perfect. My summer at Northbrook was no exception, the long weeks stretching into months of bliss. In some ways, I spent a lot of it giving up freedom, flitting between not one but three jobs. Together they filled my abundance of free time, the rest of which I filled with Carter.
    Today he was driving, so all I had to do was sit back and relax. I let him because he usually drove faster than I did, but we took my car because it was made for driving fast on summer days.
    Yes, my car. I loved my car. Loved saying my car . I’d ordered it before I left to visit Aunt Tessa at the very beginning of break and it was waiting for me, shiny, new, and mine, all mine, when I got back.
    Usually students were not allowed to have one on campus, but my summer residence was an exception in and of itself, and since public transportation was nonexistent in our little rural community, I received a compromise. I still technically wasn’t allowed to have it on campus, and would absolutely not be allowed to use it when the regular school year started again, but for the summer I could keep it nearby and had permission to take it pretty much whenever I wanted, so long as I wasn’t breaking curfew. Conveniently, my boyfriend and his family owned the building right across the street from the school grounds, so I was granted a parking space behind Penrose Books.
    “Anything good this week at Fenton’s?” Carter half-yelled over the radio and the wind as we sped down the highway.
    I refused to turn the music down, or turn on the air-conditioning, so I shouted back, “Only if