Jackson leads me out of the kitchen to a huge white stone patio, where there’s a set of cozy-looking couches around a firepit and a tray with lemonade and iced tea.
I take in the backyard. The perfectly manicured emerald grass stretches toward the drop to the ocean. The water is choppier ocean-side, the waves a little louder than in Northport.
“It’s so pretty back here,” I say, awed. The sun is only just starting to set, and the few clouds over the ocean are slightly pink. Jackson brings me a glass of lemonade and gestures to the wooden walkway that leads to the shore.
“We can go walk on our beach for a little, if you want?”
“Sure.” We walk their stretch of private beach, and I ask Jackson about his summer plans. He launches excitedly into a spiel about sailing, and something called a regatta. I nod along like I know what he’s talking about, but it’s all a bit hard to follow. I like that he’s excited, though, and I make a mental note to look it up when I get home. When the sky starts to get dark, we turn back. We eat in the kitchen, at two place settings on the corner of the island. I try to relax, but the lobster ravioli is so good I can’t quite keep my cool.
“My friend Maddy wouldlovethese,” I say, finishing off another two that Jackson just added to my plate from the pan on the stove.
“Take some back for her,” he says. “I’ll make you a to-go box.”
“If I don’t finish them first!” I laugh, and he looks pleased as he sits down next to me again and pulls his chair a little closer.
“Have you been to Italy?” he asks.
“No,” I sigh, trailing my fork through the sauce and letting my knee bounce off his. “Someday, maybe. Have you?”
“A couple times. You’d love it. The summer is hot, way more humid than here, but there’s so much to do.”
“And eat,” I say, taking a final bite of the pasta on my plate.
When we’re done, we take bowls of ice cream out back. Jackson starts the firepit, and I ask him about where else he’s traveled. When I tell him about the Paris fellowship, he asks to see some of my paintings. My chest tightens for a moment, but I brush it off and show him the start of my self-portraits for the application. I tell him about how I hope to finally get to travel through Europe next summer with Maddy.
“Wow.” He leans closer, putting a hand on my knee. “These are great, Sera.”
“They’re just sketches,” I say.
“They’regoodsketches,” he whispers back, looking me in the eye and brushing a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “They look just like you. You’ll get in.” I shiver at his touch and scooch closer.
“You think so?”
He grins again. “I know so.”
I reach out and trace his bottom lip, smiling as his blue eyes glow in the firelight.
“Can I…” Jackson starts to ask, looking at my lips.
I nod once.
He takes my face gently in his hands. The kiss is sweet. But when he pulls away, I feel like I’m still waiting for something. The kiss feels like a question I don’t know the answer to.
I’m still thinking about Jackson’s lips when I flop onto my bed at home. Next door, the house is dark and quiet, but out my window I can see Luke’s room is lit up. His curtain is drawn closed except for one corner, where I realize he’s put up his old tin can phone line. It’s not connected to mine anymore, and hasn’t been since before we were ten, but the sign is unmistakable. He’s up to chat if I want to. My throat tightens, and all at once I feel a deep, aching sadness for what could have been.
Chapter Eleven
Sera
On Thursday, Mom and Abbi drop me off at the middle school softball fields before they go to get mani-pedis. We had to stop by the pharmacy first, because the extra labs Dr.Lee requested last week finally came back and she wanted to adjust my meds a little. Even though the dose is only a tiny bit higher, my family’s being a little clingy, as they’re prone to do whenever we’re reminded of how bad last year was. What they don’t know is that I called the salon and paid ahead, now that I’m making my own money. I can’t wait for them to come back all annoyed that I’m taking care of them instead of the other way around.
Maddy pulls up at the same time, running late with her little sister, who shouts an angry “I told you so!” before sprinting toward the fields.
“Hey!” Maddy gets out of her car and walks over to pull me into a hug. “Hi, Mrs.Watkins. Hi, Abbi,” Maddy says.
“Hi, honey,” Mom says. “How are your parents? No more issues with the landlord?”
“They’re good and no issues. He’s been delightfully absent since you spoke with him.” Maddy switches her regular glasses out for sunglasses that are just as big but still cool with their bright orange frames. “Are you staying?”
