Page 57 of That Summer Feeling

“I might be wrong to even say things like this,” I continued. “It’s not the nicest way to put it. I haven’t had time to figure out how to communicate this in some way that gets my point across without sounding too harsh. And that’s the whole problem. I’m so afraid to be right or wrong with all my choices that I don’t end up making any. I don’t even have a real career. I’ve never let myself pick, just in case I chose something that wasn’t optimal. So I’ve cobbled together a life of side jobs, always waiting for the big event to arrive.” I threw my arms up. “There is no big event! And I’m finally learning how to put myself out into the world without being so worried about how I’ll be received. No more stressing over who is gonna feel upset about what.”

All these examples I’d never really let myself examine for what they were now seemed to be on the lowest shelf, easiest for me to reach.

“Remember how we’d watch a show together, and I’d pause to talk to you about why that character had made a certain decision or something?” I asked. “You know what you’d do almost every time? You’d look at me and say, ‘Why do you care so much?’ ”

The phrase echoed in my mind. Every time he made me feel small for having too many feelings about something that didn’t involve me.

“That’s the thing, Ethan. I’malwaysgonna care too much,”I said. “And you’re never going to understand that. Your best trait is your patience, though. You’d listen to me all night. You’d let me run out of words, take a break, and launch in again. But when I was done, you’d still look at me and wonder why I cared so much.”

He didn’t even want to get a word in edgewise. He let me finish my thoughts because he didn’t expect me to say no. I’d never once rejected him. Not when he picked our house. Not when he chose our every vacation destination. Never.

“Thank you for coming,” I said to him, really meaning it. “I know this isn’t how you imagined this going, but it was actually really helpful to me. I know now that I’ve always felt like too much around you. And I don’t want to feel that way anymore. I want to feel like I’m just enough.”

His cheeks reddened. He was embarrassed, but he was also understanding in the same way he’d always been. “You’re welcome,” he offered. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I’m sorry too. That I couldn’t be all of myself for you.”

He never had many words to give me, which would have been fine if he gave anything else. But he didn’t make up for his silence with any kind of passion or touch or thoughtful gesture.

I’d spent years trying to assimilate to that way of being. Now that I knew how full I could be, how much space I could take up in not just life, but love, I couldn’t evenimaginegoing back. It wouldn’t be a future I could see with him. It would be a revision of our past, done solely because I regretted making the mistake of marrying him in the first place.

“I hope you’re happy,” he told me. It could have soundedcutting. The nice thing about spending so much time in his life was that I could tell he really meant it. He did hope that for me.

“I am,” I said. “And I hope that for you too.”

He gave me a kiss on the cheek, and he took the bus back down the mountain with the first round of departing visitors, walking out of my life the same way he’d walked in, with an ease almost too effortless to be real. I would always love him, in the same manner I loved all my past memories—with gratitude for what he’d given me, and the perspective to know I needed more going forward.

An hour later, Bess decided to leave on the second bus.

“I’m glad you did this,” she told Dara and me as we hugged her goodbye. “I like what this place has done to you both. I keep picturing you as kids again.” She nearly cried. “It’s really sweet.”

“Join us next year?” I asked, hugging her tightly.

“Probably not,” she said, patting my back. Her honesty made all of us laugh. “You two are making the changes I never could,” she admitted, whispering. “I hope you never stop.”

Dara and I sent her off with waves and tears.

Once all the guests were gone, I headed to my cabin to wind down. I appreciated the chance to go to bed earlier than usual. Dream about what the hell had just happened and hope that it made sense to me in dream logic land, because it sure didn’t on my waking planet.

My husband had divorced me over Valentine’s dinner. We’d filed the papers and paid the fees and got it all done without incident or issue. That night at camp,I’ddivorcedhim. I’d let the hope of a future together drift into the trees and float off, gone like a paper lantern wish, designed to self-destruct.

I lay on my bed and closed my eyes, not even washing my face or changing. It was that kind of day.

Then Stevie tapped on my shoulder and said, “What do you think you’re doing, trying to sleep? Get up! It’s lake night.”

26

Attending a summer camp required knowing a lot of rituals. Having never been to one, I was surprised by every custom. “Lake night always follows visitors’ day,” Stevie explained with all the obviousness of someone who had done this so many times she’d neverdreamof lying down between events.

“Sorry. I didn’t see it on the itinerary,” I said.

“This is the Camp Carl Cove secret menu. If you have a visitors’ day, you have to have a lake night.”

“Weird. That’s exactly what I ask for at Starbucks.”

She laughed at me, then tugged on my white dress. “You need to change. Put on a swimsuit with some warm clothes over it.”

My green suit hung in the bathroom over the shower, still air-drying from our early-morning swim. I left it there, wanting to keep that memory preserved. I opted instead to wear myblue bikini with an oversized sweatshirt over it. I returned to find Stevie in a similar outfit, waiting with our bedroom light already turned off.