Ann Brashares - The Last Summer (of You and Me) by Ann Brashares Page A
Authors: Ann Brashares
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and tired.
She didn't remember until it was late and she was falling asleep in her bed that she'd left her bag on the beach. She forced herself out of bed and back into clothes. She went to the top of her walk and down the dune. It was a beautiful beach, a peaceful night. The
� 93 � Ann Brashares
sky was black on blue with a sliver moon that came and went. She saw the silhouette of the lifeguard chair and tried to see the shape of her bag in the dark. But as she padded down toward the water, she saw two figures in front of her. Immediately, she was stopped by the intimacy of their position. It wasn't the first time she had come upon lovers on the beach. But there was something about these two that struck her. She walked away from them, giving them their space as she walked toward the chair on the soft, uphill sand. Her brain seemed to process slowly and unwillingly, yet it would not let go. She cast another look toward them, not quite able to help herself.
It was almost certainly Alice. She could see very little of the sec ond person, but she knew, somehow, that it was Paul.
She stopped. She didn't want to go closer, but going up the dune would only put her on higher ground, giving her a broader view of things and making her easy to see.
Her surprise was physical. She was astonished, and at the same time she knew. There were many things in life like that. You couldn't imagine it, and then it happened and you couldn't really imagine it hadn't.
She turned around and went back toward the house. She felt a distressing shift under and around her. She felt the wind blowing the loose sand, as though the world was trying to reshuffle to accommodate this discovery. Riley resisted it. She would wait until the storm settled.
Anyway, what did it mean, really? What did it necessarily have to mean? Her impulse was always the same: to protect the past. To shield the future. To keep things the same if she could.
� 94 � The Last Summer (of You and Me)
She tried to clamp down, to steady her heart. Not to feel or think too much. She didn't like people's secrets. She didn't want to find out things she shouldn't know.
She had once gone to the school psychologist in the beginning of fifth grade. It was her father's idea. She remembered the woman telling her about the way the mind dealt with distress. "It has an immune system of its own," she'd said. "It surrounds the offend ing element like a germ and stops its spread."
"I have no idea why you are making me do this," she'd said to her father, angrily, as soon as she came out.
"That's why I'm making you do this," he had said.
She was tired. Her legs began to ache. She stopped feeling the sand under her feet. She no longer saw the sky. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she let herself into the house and climbed the stairs to her room.
She relished her quiet, empty bed. It wasn't that she wanted what they had. But nor did she want to feel separated from them. She was happy to be alone, but she felt suddenly apart.
She closed her eyes and wished for sleep. She thought of the total time of her run that evening. She'd worn her stopwatch. She tried to divide it into nine miles, to calculate the average, to the sec ond, of each mile.
It was a complex calculation that saw her all the way to sleep.
u
Riley woke early the next morning. When she thought of the beach, she thought not so much about what she'd seen but why
� 95 � Ann Brashares
she'd been there in the first place. She'd left her bag, and it had her pills in it, her penicillin.
She put on her suit and sweat clothes over it. She turned inland and jogged along Main Walk to the big beach entrance. It was early and still deserted. She headed immediately to the chair, but the bag was not where she had left it. She had an uneasy feeling as she looked at the texture of the sand. The winds had been strong overnight, and the sand had shifted. The tide had come in unusu ally high.
She sat down on
She didn't remember until it was late and she was falling asleep in her bed that she'd left her bag on the beach. She forced herself out of bed and back into clothes. She went to the top of her walk and down the dune. It was a beautiful beach, a peaceful night. The
� 93 � Ann Brashares
sky was black on blue with a sliver moon that came and went. She saw the silhouette of the lifeguard chair and tried to see the shape of her bag in the dark. But as she padded down toward the water, she saw two figures in front of her. Immediately, she was stopped by the intimacy of their position. It wasn't the first time she had come upon lovers on the beach. But there was something about these two that struck her. She walked away from them, giving them their space as she walked toward the chair on the soft, uphill sand. Her brain seemed to process slowly and unwillingly, yet it would not let go. She cast another look toward them, not quite able to help herself.
It was almost certainly Alice. She could see very little of the sec ond person, but she knew, somehow, that it was Paul.
She stopped. She didn't want to go closer, but going up the dune would only put her on higher ground, giving her a broader view of things and making her easy to see.
Her surprise was physical. She was astonished, and at the same time she knew. There were many things in life like that. You couldn't imagine it, and then it happened and you couldn't really imagine it hadn't.
She turned around and went back toward the house. She felt a distressing shift under and around her. She felt the wind blowing the loose sand, as though the world was trying to reshuffle to accommodate this discovery. Riley resisted it. She would wait until the storm settled.
Anyway, what did it mean, really? What did it necessarily have to mean? Her impulse was always the same: to protect the past. To shield the future. To keep things the same if she could.
� 94 � The Last Summer (of You and Me)
She tried to clamp down, to steady her heart. Not to feel or think too much. She didn't like people's secrets. She didn't want to find out things she shouldn't know.
She had once gone to the school psychologist in the beginning of fifth grade. It was her father's idea. She remembered the woman telling her about the way the mind dealt with distress. "It has an immune system of its own," she'd said. "It surrounds the offend ing element like a germ and stops its spread."
"I have no idea why you are making me do this," she'd said to her father, angrily, as soon as she came out.
"That's why I'm making you do this," he had said.
She was tired. Her legs began to ache. She stopped feeling the sand under her feet. She no longer saw the sky. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she let herself into the house and climbed the stairs to her room.
She relished her quiet, empty bed. It wasn't that she wanted what they had. But nor did she want to feel separated from them. She was happy to be alone, but she felt suddenly apart.
She closed her eyes and wished for sleep. She thought of the total time of her run that evening. She'd worn her stopwatch. She tried to divide it into nine miles, to calculate the average, to the sec ond, of each mile.
It was a complex calculation that saw her all the way to sleep.
u
Riley woke early the next morning. When she thought of the beach, she thought not so much about what she'd seen but why
� 95 � Ann Brashares
she'd been there in the first place. She'd left her bag, and it had her pills in it, her penicillin.
She put on her suit and sweat clothes over it. She turned inland and jogged along Main Walk to the big beach entrance. It was early and still deserted. She headed immediately to the chair, but the bag was not where she had left it. She had an uneasy feeling as she looked at the texture of the sand. The winds had been strong overnight, and the sand had shifted. The tide had come in unusu ally high.
She sat down on
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