Short Story Second Draft (Incomplete)

It was a hot, sticky, too-close-for-comfort summer. It was the dead of summer, after the excitement of finally being free had come and gone but before the desperation to cram days full of memories before returning to school. A time of everlasting rosy cheeks and burnt back of the necks, of blisters between the big toes, of beads of sweat along hairlines, of little grains of sand sticking to the backs of calves. The days were long and seamless, cycling and flowing into one another like a deep breath, conscious yet effortless, full of life.

Jenna dangled her feet over the ledge, her heels hitting the cement wall and bouncing back into the open air. The sun hadn’t quite broke the surface of the water all the way, its orange yolk suspended across the lake. So sure, so dependable, Jenna knew the sun would always rise, always be there. She missed her mornings of coming to watch the sun rise on the lake, something she used to do with him when they were together. He taught her that she had something that could be relied on, no matter how tough the day before, something that could give itself to others and carry on. Not like him.

He was an anomaly to the rule of care-free days and perpetual motion of summer, he broke up her resolve, her heart, and her time. A long summer’s day, come and gone and on to the next.

It had started like every other summer day, shamelessly carbon copied and full of nothing. Jenna woke up at seven o’clock, like clockwork, to the annoying ring of the third alarm she had hardwired into her phone. Throwing on whatever nike shorts and home-cropped, cheesy running sloganed t-shirt was thrown over the desk chair, Jenna ran out her door and down the stairs, half asleep, to the kitchen. Per usual, a pot of coffee stayed steaming on the counter, evidence of her dad’s scatterbrained and frantic rush to work in the morning. Pouring herself a full cup, Jenna stepped outside onto her porch, leaning against the wooden railing. The sun was slowly climbing up over downtown, trapped and squeezed in the middle of of buildings. Too slow, Jenna decided, as she hastily drained her glass and grabbed her headphones before heading out the door for her morning run.

Jenna remembered the first time she saw him as she ran through the park, sitting on the top of a wooden picnic table with his pike propped up on the tree next to him. He was reading To Kill A Mockingbird, her favorite book. Burried in the pages, his black-rimmed glasses had slid down his nose, dangerously perched at the end where his nose ever so slightly curved up.

He had introduced himself with a quiet confidence, reaching out his hand and saying simply with a low, soft voice,

“Elliot.”

“Jenna.”

“Hey.”

“Hey back,” she said with a smirk. “I see you’re a regular conversationalist.”

“Fair,” he laughed. “But only when I’m distracted.”

“Yeah, I know, you can’t really break from Harper Lee. I’ll let you get back to Atticus.” you’ve helped me enough as it is”

“Thats true, but I wasn’t distracted by Ms. Lee. I was distracted by you.”

Jenna felt her face turn even more red, thank god she was already flushed from her run.

“Ooh, and you’re smooth, too” Jenna said.

“Oh, okay, well I just thought I’d give it a shot.”

“Hey, I did not say no, did I? I’m just giving you a hard time.”

“Well challenge accepted, I can bring the sass too,” he winked. “I’ll call you sometime.”

“Okay.”

He called that night. Another thing about Elliot, he knew what he wanted and was direct

and to the point. He’d always been that way.

Their first date was a jump off the ledge. The nerves, the second-guessing, the should-I’s, the shaking with anticipation. He picked her up at the place they first met, back at the wooden picnic table.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“So what are we doing tonight?”

“You tell me.”

“Alright.”

There was the moment of buildup, of taking a few steps back and then running, running, and then finally jumping.

[first date and dialougue]

And there it was. The moment of pure bliss in the midst of the free fall. He grabbed her hand, lacing her fingers through his.

“I had a great time tonight, Jenna.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Then there was a moment of silence, but it was a comfortable silence. Not an awkward space or vacuum of things to say, but a mutual understanding.

And then Jenna was falling, falling, falling for him.

The next couple weeks were a summer afternoon, an indefinity of summer of having both nothing and everything to do, . It did not matter what they did, going to the beach, lying in the park, going to the pier, or just talking. As long as they were together, the sun was shining, the times were good.

Then there was the talk. A summer’s night, coming out of nowhere and falling into darkness fast. They sat on her porch swing, rocking back and forth in the otherwise still air. The darkness exposing the hidden sides of his she did not want to see, did not want to know, better left as shadows that could follow them in the daylight. Elliot was, for better or for worse, brutally honest. More honest and truer and more sincere than anyone Jenna had ever met. For better or for worse, Elliot always said what was on his mind. And that transparency came at the price of hurting and being hurt. All it took were a handful of words to make Jenna question everything that had gone down over the past few weeks.

“C’mere,” he said, putting his arm around her and forcing her to meet his gaze. “So, um, where exactly do you think this is going?”

Jenna had to look away. It was the dreaded conversation that she knew would either make her fantasies a reality or break her heart. After a moment, she looked back at him.

“I don’t really know, Lee. I mean, I know I really like spending time with you and really like you as a person. What are you looking for right now?”

“See that’s the thing Jenna. I dont know what Im looking for. I dont know what Im ready for or willing to commit to. I really like you too, obviously. But, but I’m caught, caught between two, two….,” he trailed off.

“Two whats, I’m confused.” Jenna pulled his arm off around her, swinging to face him fully and squarely. “Two whats, Elliot.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Jenna. Either of us to get hurt. Can we just, you know, chill and be friends?” Those two words, be friends, hit Jenna like a truck.

“I mean… sh-sure,” she stammered. “I mean, I can do that. I mean, I dont want you to do anything you dont want to do or make you unhappy. Yeah, thats fine. Just friends. Yeah. ”

He looked taken aback. “Wait, you mean you’re fine with it?”

“Yep, I mean I understand, I guess.”

“Hmm.” More silence. Jenna broke it.

“So just wondering, Elliot, what were these past few weeks exactly?”

“What do you mean?” he asked. Jenna just looked at him, not saying anything and arching one of her eyebrows. His cheeks flushed. “Stupid question. I know what you mean. These past weeks were me trying to get you know you, really. To get to know myself and see what I want. To see if you fit into that. And i just really dont know what else to say to you. Do you want me to go?”

“No.  I dont want you to go. But I think it would be best for right now. I need time to think.”

“Understood,” he said, rocking himself up from the seat of the swing. “So, I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Call me when you’re ready?”

“Sure.” Then out of nowhere, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her head into his chest as he hugged her.

“Sorry, I had to that. Thanks for making it so easy on me, Jenna. You really are something special.” And then he was gone.

It had ended like a summer storm, building, building, building up and then finally breaking with flashes of light and bombardments of sound. And, after the clouds clear, the empty slot of time where the energy can still be felt in the air and everything is waiting to see if the storm will return, if it was or is, if they were truly finished.

Jenna swung her feet back up to the top of the ledge and got up, throwing her bag over one shoulder. She looked out again across the water, the sun now eye level, meeting her gaze. Should I call him?, she thought. After all, it had been a week. And she missed him. His goofy laugh, the way his nose wrinkled when he was concentrating, the way his arm brushed against her shoulder when they walked side by side. But she remembered the dissapointment, the subliminal comments, the unspoken words of that night. The still stinging jab of being lead on and let down. Some things are better left alone, left to be dried out and preserved by the sun. The one who sees all, hears all. The one who, every time, will be there to begin and start the summer days.