Page 36 of One Last Summer
“I don’t know, I’ve just felt… hollow.”
Sam made a sympathetic face as she listened, the coffee bubbling behind her.
“I guess I thought I could just channel all my sad breakup feelings into work. I’m long overdue for a promotion, so why not focus on that? But I’m a mess there, too, so much so that we’re, like, two weeks out from the biggest pitch of my life, and my boss forced me to take a vacation because she thinks I’m burnt out.”
My chest ached as I talked, almost like I could physically feel it cracking open the more I shared.
“Forced you how?” Sam asked as she slid the mugs across the counter and reached for the coffeepot.
“Literally stood up in front of our entire office the other night and announced it in the middle of a party. On her assistant’s desk.”
Sam froze for a moment, mid-pour, and then turned to look at me, jaw dropped open in shock. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I know.”
“Oh, Clara, that is awful,” she said softly as she finished filling our cups.
“It definitely wasn’t the best Friday night of my life,” I said with a tight smile, before walking over to the fridge to find some cream.
“So what do you think?” Sam asked as she dumped sugar into her cup and swirled it around with a spoon. “Are you burnt out?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my mind racing back to the article I’d scanned last night. “I think I’m scared that if I slow down, or really stop to think about it, I’ll find out. And maybe I don’t want to know.”
It was an admission that left me feeling raw and exposed, and I lifted the coffee to my lips, almost as if I could block more painful thoughts from leaving my mouth.
“Come on.” Sam tucked her free arm through mine, and the gesture comforted me more than any words could. We headed back out into the main room of the dining hall, stopping to pause in front of one of the giant plaques that hung along the wooden beams of the ceiling. Each year’s Color Week captains were listed underneath the Pine Lake logo, and I followed her gaze up until my eyes bumped into my own name, which sat squarely next to Mack’s.
“I’m bummed you never got your letter.” She swiveled to glance at me, an apologetic pout on her lips. “I would have loved to hear what fifteen-year-old you had to say.”
She wanted me to live a completely different life than I have so far, I thought. But I was still smarting from discussing my dismissal from work. Revealing that I had failed to live up to fifteen-year-old Clara’s lofty life goals was even more painful, embarrassing even.
So I took another route.
“I kissed Mack,” I blurted out as I slid a chair out at one of the tables, plopping down to sit. “Last night, out on the diving dock.”
“Oh my god!” she squealed, dragging out the chair across from me and slowly steadying herself into the seat. “You need to describe every second of what happened, in detail.”
Propping her elbows on the table, she looked up at me with an expectant, gossip-hungry grin.
“Okay.” I fiddled nervously with the rim of my mug, tapping it like a drum. “It was hot. Like, volcano exploding after one thousand years, lava destroying every village kinda hot.”
Sam cackled. “That is very specific imagery, Clara.” With her mug clutched between both hands, and her shoulders clenched up by her ears with anticipation, she looked downright giddy. “So how did this village-destroying kiss happen?”
“You know I’ve always kind of liked Mack.” I blew on my coffee, taking a tentative, small sip. “When we were kids.”
Sam gave me a knowing look, head cocked. “I literally had a front-row seat to that crush, remember?”
“Right,” I agreed, nodding. “But I think that’s also why I’m so…”
My heart rattled, an animal trying to break out of its cage.
She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “So attracted to him? Desperate to jump his bones? Climb on board the Mack train and ride it shotgun?”
She pumped a hand in the air, mimicking a train conductor pulling the horn, and I let out a loud guffaw.
“I was going to say ‘constantly annoyed by him,’ but your version works too. He made this whole big to-do about giving me the wireless password, and do you know what it is?”
“Clara.” She leveled a look at me. “Of course I do. It’s pinelake1933.”
