Even if her optimism about my eyesight feels delusional at times. I envy her for it. And I like her for it.
She reaches up and pulls her hair back in a ponytail. “Do you want to sleep here tonight too?”
I gesture down to my rumpled clothing. The half-eaten pizza. The glass of wine.
She laughs. “So that’s a yes, thank God. You’re so much nicer to have in bed than Ace.”
“Spare me the compliments, will you? You’re making me uncomfortable over here.”
Summer puts her glass down on the coffee table. “That reminds me! I have to show you something.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I saw this article in yesterday’s paper… you’re going to love this.”
“You mean I’m going to trash it.”
“Exactly,” she says, smiling. “I think I put it in my purse…”
She disappears into her bedroom. Ace gives a soft whine and flips over on his couch. The two of us, both obsessed with her. Both following her everywhere.
I shake my head and rise from the couch, stretching. Glance at the printed bucket list with her goals still proudly pinned to her wall.
With the lights on, it’s easy enough for me to read it this time. She’s ticked off windsurfing. Skinny-dipping, too.
But so many of the goals remain unfinished.
My eyes scan down the list, at the plans for a full, rich life, one with travel and experiences. A few years from now, and most of these things won’t be possible for me anymore. I stop at goal twenty-seven.Become a mother.
Something I can’t be a part of, either.
Just like my fucking vision, Summer’s presence in my life has an expiration date. She might not realize it yet, but she will. The life she’s dreaming of can’t include me.
“You really love looking at that list, don’t you?” she says, yesterday’s paper tucked under her arm.
I reach out and wrap mine around her shoulders, giving the list a final glance over the top of her head. “Just looking for more things I can help make happen,” I say.
Before I have to leave you.
20
Summer
Anthony is waiting for me outside the bar. He’s leaning against the building, glancing left and right, hands in the pockets of his gray slacks. I can make out his clenched jaw, even from this distance.
It mirrors the butterflies in my own stomach. I pull my handbag up higher on my shoulder and step straight into his arms. “Hi.”
His hands settle on the low of my back. “Hi.”
“Did you have to wait long?”
“No.”
“You worked from home today?”
He nods, tipping my head back. “Yes.”
“Will I ever get to see your place?”