Page 12 of That Summer Feeling

She’d changed into a black cotton midi dress that hugged every inch of her with the kind of generosity that made artists want to draw, and she’d taken her hair out of the braids to let her curls flow freely. She wore very little makeup. Just a swipe of blush across her cheeks and three strokes of mascara on each eye. I knew because I’d counted, watching her as we’d gotten ready, transfixed by her ability to justdothings. Hastily apply cream blush with her fingers and put a tiny dot on her lower lip and make it look breezily perfect, then swiftly run a mascara wand over her eyes while telling me a story about how she’d burned her thigh with a flat iron in high school and promised never to use one on her hair ever again.

“You look amazing,” I said to her. “Really amazing.”

Nerves made me repeat myself. We were a group of adults gathered together for what felt like a school dance, holding the same anxieties we’d had as kids but either better or worse at managing them. All day we’d been together in various places around camp, too skittish to really connect yet, waiting for the cloak of night to better disguise our nerves.

“Tell me that one more time and I might start believing you,” Stevie said to me.

We’d pregamed outside the building with shots of tequila Stevie had packed in her bag and some limes she’d grabbedfrom the mess hall. The citrus sweetness on her breath suited her just as well as her clothing did.

“You look amazing.” This time I whispered it, trying for playful.

The bartender handed over our cocktails. Stevie appraised me as she took a quick sip of her drink. “Would you believe me if I told you how amazing you look too?”

I’d put on a dark green top and black cropped jeans, then pulled my hair into a bun atop my head to keep it out of the way. It was a fine outfit. More than I’d do on a usual day. Not as youthful as my preferred looks, but Dara’s comments had been echoing in my head as I’d packed for the trip, so I’d thrown in as many of my “adult”-looking clothes as I could find.

“No,” I said.

She brushed a stray hair off my neck. “Well, you should.” She looked into my eyes for so long I forgot what we were doing.

Then her golden god of a brother strolled into the event hall, letting out a loud whoop of excitement designed to catch the attention of everyone in his general vicinity. He’d put onhisversion of dress wear, which was a gray suit jacket over a plain white tee, tucked into board shorts. He also had on flip-flops. I wondered if the lesson he was meant to teach me was laughter. He looked ridiculous, in a somewhat endearing way.

“Am I supposed to go hang with him?” I asked Stevie.

“Absolutely not,” she answered quickly. “You have to get to know me first.”

“Liking somebody’s familyisimportant.”

“Exactly. You get it.”

“My ex was an only child. I only had his mom to contend with,” I said.

“How’d that go?”

“She tolerated me in the most bare-bones way someone could put up with another person without ever actually speaking poorly of them.”

“The good news is,ourmom loves everyone,” Stevie told me. “Even when she shouldn’t. I’m ninety-nine percent sure she sent a birthday card to my ex.”

Staying quiet allowed me to skip the canned laughter I normally would have offered that comment. I’d sent Ethan’s mother birthday flowers back in March, and I planned to do it every year for as long as she was alive. If ever the impossible should happen and I got Ethan back, no one would ever be able to say I’d behaved inappropriately while we were apart.

“Oh god.” Stevie’s eyes bored into mine. “You do that, don’t you?”

“How do you know that?”

“Because of the face you made when I said it.”

“I made a face? I didn’t mean to. I just—I want his mom to like me,” I admitted. “I hate that she’s probably telling people I’m the one who didn’t do enough in the marriage. I’m trying to prove her wrong, I guess. Or have her regret the joy she must’ve felt when he told her he left me.”

Never in my life had I laid out the truth that plainly. It felt exhilarating, in a “riding your bike downhill but not being sure the brakes are going to work at the end of the decline” kind of way. I actually had to wiggle my toes to remind myself I was on flat land.

“No amount of kindness you pay those types of people will ever change their minds,” Stevie said.

“I’ll still try,” I told her. “Just in case.”

“You and my mom can end up in a lifelong battle, then.”

“Wait until she sees what I can do with a Fourth of July fruit basket,” I joked. “Arbor Day tree-planting kits? Your mother doesn’t stand a chance against me.”

Stevie pressed her hand over her heart. “Finally.Someone who can knock that nice lady down a few pegs.”