“She is a lot.” She nods in agreement, but it’s one of those sentences where you know there’s more coming. “She’s full of a lot of life. A lot of heart. A lot of love. She’s always been that way, honey. Don’t expect Summer to change that about herself, even for you.”
I let her words sit with me. Let them simmer on the surface before they really sink in. She doesn’t say anything else before she begins to help CeCe put some toys away and get a few things ready for Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow night.
Summerisa lot.
But a realization begins to settle in as I replay my time with her recently. She’s a hell of a lot to handle and for the longest time I looked at that as being a burden, a challenge I didn’t want to take on. I called her “trouble” a lot when she was a kid. Hell, up until a year or so ago, I think I even still threw that out every now and then.
I used to think of Summer and associate words like immature, irrational, downright annoying sometimes. But after spending so much time with her as an adult, especially lately in such close quarters, I can think of about a million different adjectives to describe Summer that are so much better than those. It makes me feel like a real asshole for having that opinion of her when I didn’t even know her. Not really at least.
She’s selfless. Honest. Full of life. Joyful. Free spirited and open minded. And God, she’s sexy, even when she doesn’t feel like she is. She has her insecurities, and even those I find irresistible as all get out.
She didn’t deserve my shit mood today. And I shouldn’t have been so fucking short with her since my injury. Letting Summer into my life has only made it better and I’ve got to get my fucking head out of my ass if I plan on keeping her in it. I know my window to do something about it is closing quickly. If there’s anything I know for sure about Summer, it’s how much pride she takes in being able to stand up for herself. Which is exactly what she did today. She’s strong, resilient, and compassionate. She’s exactly the kind of woman I’d want around for my daughter to look up to. Sheisthe woman.
“You’re on my shit list.” Ford points his finger at me when he walks in.
I’ve barely left my couch in days, and I’m starting to think there will forever be an imprint of my ass on the cushion now.
“Don’t have to tell me. I know.”
Abby joins me on the couch, decked out in head to toe Christmas colors and leans her head on my shoulder.
“You hit her with a little mood swing, didn’t you?” she says quietly as she sits next to me.
“I feel bad about it. You don’t have to rub it in.”
I feel Abby’s head move against my shoulder. “I know you do. And I don’t mean to. She said she was just going to give you some space. But it didn’t sound like she was mad or anything.”
“She left this morning, right?”
Abby nods, and Ford walks over with a plate of food and stands in front of me, looking at my knee.
“Not to sound like a dick, but it’s a grade one sprain buddy. Rehab it properly and you’ll bounce back fine.”
“I plan on it.”
Christmas Eve dinner goes by quickly and CeCe makes out like a bandit from my mom and her aunt and uncle. Holiday food always hits the spot and I never eat dessert like I do on Christmas. The cookies my mom makes were always my favorite growing up, that part hasn’t changed in thirty-two years.
“Hey, Ab,” I call out to my sister as she’s packing up leftover snickerdoodle cookies for Ford. “Do you happen to have a key to Summer’s apartment?”
My sister smiles at me from the kitchen as CeCe lays under my arm, watchingFrosty the Snowman.
“Yeah, I’ll leave it for you.”
“In your last email you said you were helping Chase with his daughter quite a bit, how is that going?” my mom asks as we sit around the fireplace, drinking our coffee this morning.
“It’s great, she’s the best kid. I love being around her.”
Yesterday, Abby sent me a picture of her and CeCe while they were at Chase’s for dinner. I checked in with him earlier, but it was a brief conversation on my end. I’m trying to give him the space he wants and since I’m two hours away that does make it easier at the moment to not just show up at his house.
He sent me more than just one word answers which was nice and unexpected. Knowing Abby, and with Ford’s recent interest in my wellbeing, I’m sure they both told him to stop being so stubborn yesterday. In all honesty, though, Chase has every right to process what he’s feeling how he sees fit. It’s never someone else’s job to tell another person how to handle their stress oremotions. What works for me, may not work for Chase. I get that.
I push too hard sometimes, I know that. It’s like I know that eventually he’s going to get to a mindset where he’s hopeful again and just wants to focus on recovery and I just want to get him there quicker. Skip all the wallowing parts and just jump to the part where he feels better. But that’s not realistic.
“She’s adorable,” my mom comments. “She looks exactly like him. What’s the deal with her mother? Is she just not in the picture at all?”
I never know how much Chase wants people to know about Kristen. I don’t even know the specifics of the night she left, but I know it left him with a lot of trust issues. In a lot of roundabout ways, he’s basically said that he couldn’t convince her to stay. That their downfall was his fault. Something I wouldn’t believe for a second.
“Not right now.”
