8
Wyatt
In the summer, there are a lot of last nights. The last night before the first kid leaves, meaning the last night summer is still intact. On the last night before Wyatt’s family was heading back to Florida, all the kids had a bonfire on the beach, right in front of Wyatt’s house. They sat around the fire on scattered beach chairs and blankets. Wyatt arrived late because the silence between his parents felt particularly charged, and he wanted to help pack up the car and stash the pool toys to smooth things over.
He spotted Sam with her friends but was stopped by Travis and Michael, who, at long last, were offering him a beer. “Did you soothe the savage beast, buddy?” Michael asked.
“At least I packed his car . . . we’ll see,” said Wyatt, taking a sip. He was surprised at how good this felt, being grouped in with the older guys. He wasn’t going to turn to check, but he hoped Sam was looking.
Olivia, a girl Michael knew from the restaurant where he worked, took Wyatt’s half-full beer away and gave him a full one. He felt like a celebrity. She pulled him down to sit next to her on a blanket by the fire and started talking about the other girls she worked with. It was almost white noise, a series of stories about small sins and failures that amounted to nothing. Wyatt tried to concentrate as the second half of a beer loosened him up. He wondered what Sam and her friends were talking about.
When he finally turned to look, he saw Sam get up, grab her towel, and walk back toward the dunes. She was headed home, and he was leaving at seven the next morning. He sat for a second watching her, knowing he’d get shit from his friends if he went after her, but also not understanding why she wasn’t saying goodbye. She might be coming back, he thought, but he couldn’t risk it.
He got up and followed her onto the narrow path between the tall grasses of the dunes. “Hey,” he said, and she didn’t stop. “Sam. Wait.”
She stopped and he caught up with her, her head still down. “What?”
“Are you leaving? You know I’m leaving tomorrow. I wanted to say goodbye.” She was still looking down. He put his hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. “It’s just . . . The summer’s over. You’re leaving. And suddenly you’re a jerk with a beer and you’ve just left me already.”
“Sam, you know I was going to come talk to you. I always come talk to you.” His hand was still on her shoulder. “You’re my person on the beach.”
Sam wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m being stupid. I’m just sad.”
“Let’s be in better touch this year. Like text me sometimes and tell me what you’re reading, and I’ll tell you how boring it sounds.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Are you really going home already?” The thought of it was excruciating to him.
“Yeah, I’m not into all that out there.” She looked up at him, and this next part would live in his memory in super slow motion: her hair fell over her eye, the piece that she sometimes braided. He took his hand from her shoulder and touched it and brushed it away behind her ear. Now his hand was on her neck and his heart was racing and he had to stop this right now before he ruined everything.
And that’s when she kissed him. At first it felt like she was testing it out, brushing her lips against his to see what that might feel like. Then it was a slow, warming-up kiss that he wanted to dive all the way into. He kept his hand on her neck and pulled her to him with his free arm. When their bodies were touching, Sam pulled away.
“Okay, now I’m embarrassed. I have no idea why I did that and I need to go home.”
“Sam.” He pulled her into a hug and buried his face in her hair.
“No, really, I’m going to be so weird if I stay here. I’m sorry, I don’t know what my problem is.”
Wyatt smiled at her, feeling suddenly in control of things. “Sam, it’s nothing. Just text me tomorrow. I’ll be bored in the car.” She hugged him again and walked toward her house. It wasn’t nothing.