Page 21 of One Last Summer
“Yes,” I said, fingering the pointy edge of the folded paper.
“Well, hurry up, the clock is ticking. Better start having a shitload of fun.”
“Very funny,” I grumbled, pausing a few feet away from my friends, lingering on the outskirts of their circle of camping chairs centered around the fire pit. “Listen, I just wanted to see if anything new came out of the Creative meeting today.”
“Clara!” Lydia scolded. “I definitely don’t remember ‘check in with work when you’re not supposed to be working’ being something teenage Clara wanted you to do.”
“I know, I know, I’m only going to ask about this one meeting.” Our team had a three-hour brainstorm on the calendar for today, complete with catering, which was Amaya’s attempt at being generous while still forcing people to work on a weekend.
“Not unless you count Delilah trying to sell us on the idea of creating tiny mascots named Barley and Hops, and recounting the time she did a keg stand while tailgating at a Harry Styles concert as ‘anything new.’”
I let out a groan. “Ugh. We’re fucked, aren’t we?”
“Hold on a sec, boss.” Lydia’s voice was muffled, and I paced as I waited for her. Mack stood at the edge of the flames, which spotlit him against the shadows of dusk creeping across the sky. He looked perfectly content, an easy smile on his face as he held a beer in one hand and used the other to poke at the sparking logs with a giant stick.
I shuffled a few steps closer as he lifted the bottle to his lips, the Alewife logo unmistakable in the bright light of the fire. Jesus Christ. Work had followed me here whether I wanted it to or not.
Mack shifted to say something to Nick and caught my eye, the edges of his lips curling up ever so slightly. He gave a small nod as if to say “come here,” and suddenly I was fifteen again, walking back to the junior bunks after campfire with Mack, only to feel his hand slide into mine, tugging me behind a tree.
“I should have sabotaged your laptop before you left,” Lydia said, her voice, still choppy from the terrible phone service, jolting me back to the present. “Listen, try not to worry while you’re up there. It’s a brewery, for fuck’s sake. We’ll figure it out.”
The swoosh of a toilet flushing echoed in the background.
“Are you peeing with me on the phone?” I asked, laughing, still watching Mack.
“Hey, you called me and said it was urgent!” she protested. “Now, can you please go relax? We have two weeks to figure this out.”
“Thirteen days,” I corrected.
“Please don’t ‘well, actually’ me about this,” she said, chuckling.
“Sorry, it’s just been a weird day. Marla and Steve—who own this place—sold it, and we all just found out.”
“Oof,” Lydia grunted.
I cleared my throat, lowering my voice as I backed up a bit so no one could hear me.
“One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“My friend Sam—the one we talked to yesterday—she’s pregnant.”
“That’s cool!” Lydia said enthusiastically.
“No, like, almost about to pop pregnant. She wanted to tell me in person over FaceTime months ago, and I forgot to find a time for us to talk. So she never told me. Until today.”
Lydia sucked in a breath on the other end of the line. “Yikes.”
“I know,” I groaned. “I need to figure out how to make it up to her.”
“You’re a good friend, Clara. You literally created a calendar for the office to track every person’s birthday at work. And you’ve somehow coordinated regular cupcake deliveries off of that schedule. That was extra labor you definitely did not need to do.”
I laughed at her assessment. “Sam’s birthday isn’t ’til November, though.”
“I’m not saying you need to go get cupcakes. Just focus on being present up there with her this week,” she said. “Do things that help you reconnect.”
A firefly flashed its light off in the distance, signaling the arrival of nighttime, and I took it as a sign. “You’re right. You’re the best, Lyd.”
