July

 

Peculiar. That is the only word I can think of to describe the events of that summer. Everything and nothing had changed all at once and I don’t think I was ever able to comprehend just how wrong and right everything was going. Peculiar. 

 

It was July, another wasted summer, spent lonely and bored and waiting for a phone call that would never come. I didn’t hear from him again after that July. 

 

    July is a miserable month. It’s hot and it is about around the time that you figure out that you have wasted yet another summer doing nothing on your bucket list and see just about everyone you didn’t want to see. That July began sticky, I had been working at an ice cream shop, Dairy Delight. It was small and hot and desolate, just the same as the rest of my town. My days were spent scooping ice cream for small children and middle schoolers who rode skateboards and wore jeans in 90 degree weather. On July 3rd,  I came home that evening to a quiet house, the sound of the wind was really the only thing to be heard for miles, it whispered to me as I lay in bed that night, telling me its dreams, my dreams.  I waited for someone to answer my call, silent or not. I waited and waited, but no call back ever came and I sat inside waiting for the denial to swallow me whole. 

 

    It was one particular morning that I remember, July 5th. The day after festivities and fireworks rang through the air and everyone became bored with summer once again. My mirror that morning seemed oddly more dirty than it had on other mornings, specks of water had dried just above my belly button and I could barely focus because the lightbulb above me would not stop flickering. My phone rang, for what seemed like the first time in days and I was quick to answer, considering it was his name flashing on the screen, it was so odd to be hearing from him, I expected him to be gone by now. I answered with a breathless “hello,” I could see him, laying in bed, softly. His voice was still tired with sleep. He wanted to see me on July 5th. It would’ve been easy. I didn’t have to work and I had been waiting for something fun to happen, I was bad at making things happen, so I usually waited until they came to me. This was the first time he had come to me, I didn't see it coming. I never saw him coming, or going. 

 

    I agreed to meet him by the lake, the term lake is used loosely, it could be classified as a large pond.The houses surrounding it sat quiet and but you could see the home owners grilling quietly or reading a book under the shade of their oak trees. I remember thinking to myself how simple summer must be to those people. Nothing about that summer was simple for me. Not that that matters now, nothing seemed to matter after that July, so peculiar.  When I saw him, his sandy brown hair had gotten slightly longer, the summer sun had coerced it into a lighter color, his smile widened when he recognized me. He took my breath away every time I saw him. He picked up his pace as trying to reach me quicker, I had convinced myself that it was because he wanted to see me, up close, the way I saw him. That he too was interested in the way my brown hair rested on my shoulders and the freckles on my face he could only see if he was close enough to kiss me. That he wanted to know the way I moved and sang and laughed. 

 

    He laughed when he reached me, he did that a lot, laughing when there was nothing funny. At least I didn’t get the joke then.

 

    “I hope I get to see you soon.” His voice was so smooth, I could’ve believed anything he said.

 

    “You’re seeing me now?” He just stared back at me.

 

 I let him talk to me all day, he told me about his sister and their dog and the way he too was also wasting his summer. I felt lucky that he had chosen me to be here with him. I didn’t feel that lucky again all summer.  The small concrete shed we sat by overlooked the water, we hung our feet over the edge and the water barely licked my toes when it cashed up against the rock, both of his feet sunk smoothly into the water, creating a line just above his ankles, he kicked water onto my legs during moments of silence, he told me it was because he wanted to hear me laugh. The shed was covered in graffiti, I smiled as he wrote our names in chalk left by strangers who’d been there too, in the bottom corner. Leaving us marked there for just about as long as it took to rain next, rain didn’t come until August. 

 

    July was still in full swing, even after that day, when it felt like time had frozen around us and we might’ve been the only two people in the world who still existed. I remember the summer feeling warm after that. Something I felt in my bones and instead of hiding from it, I chose to enjoy the sun. My friends seemed happy for me, they never questioned me when I spoke of him and even though the subject always changed quickly, I smiled at the fact that my friends were just as excited as I was, it seemed. I finally had a grasp on something that felt real, I wasn’t making it up. 

 

    July 10th was the next time I saw him. He took me to the drive in movie. We saw Toy Story. I remember feeling safe that night. I wasn’t willing to admit to myself that it was only because he was here. I hadn’t felt safe prior to seeing him. I remember him holding my hand that night and the sound of his laugh, I love the sound of his laugh. This time the jokes were made towards the movie, something actually funny, something I could see as well. I understood the joke that night, maybe that’s why I felt so safe. After that night, talking to him was an everyday occurance. It’s what kept me motivated to wake up. 

 

“Work might suck, but maybe he’ll text you. He might even come see you at work,” I told myself.

 

 That made work worth it. He didn't come see me at work that July, to be fair, it wasn’t his fault. I think he was preoccupied with coping with the loss of himself, I think I helped him find his way back to who he was. Maybe, he helped me find myself. It was hard to tell during that July, things were still too, the same, less obvious and more clear. I was unable to tell the difference between dream and reality. With him my whole life felt like a dream.  

 

    Our first fight came July 14th. It was a stupid fight and I still regret it to this day. I didn’t see him for 3 days after that, the longest I had to go without him for all of July. Those three days felt like an eternity. I went back to feeling empty, waiting for a call that didn’t come. It wasn’t until July 17th, at the park. I was sitting alone when he joined me, apologizing profusely. At that point, I couldn’t even remember what we were fighting about. Fights are funny like that. We spent the rest of that day in the park, people watching, or maybe people were watching us. I pointed it out, he told me they were just watching me. I took that as a compliment. He didn't say much after that, but when he touched my hand I felt whole again. It was easy to feel whole when he was around, his absence is what I couldn’t stand. I could never figure out why his absence left me cold. I searched for lifetimes trying to find that warmth again, but I never could, not after that July. 

 

    He picked me up in his car on July 20th, he pulled into my driveway fast, we left just as quickly. I wanted to hang out with my friends that day, I wanted them to see him too, how happy I was when he was around. They always told me how sad I had seemed lately, they could never figure out the sadness came from his absence. I wanted to prove to them that he was real, I wasn’t making him up. All of my friends claimed they supported me but he could never see them at the same time I could, such odd scheduling conflicts. July 20th, was a funny day. We usually spent the days alone, secluded in places no one could see us. I wanted to love him in places I could call my own, whether that was selfish, I guess I don’t know. That day we went in public together really for the first time, people gave us funny looks but I was so happy that I couldn’t find myself to care. He took me to a diner, one of those old ones, that look straight out of a movie made in the 50’s, the waitresses wore poodle skirts, he made jokes about that. We ate breakfast at 4pm. I remember laughing that whole day, that was the last good day.

 

    Shit hit the fan on July 24th. I felt like I had lost my grip on reality that day, the dream world I had created around us had fallen apart. I couldn’t see him and I was unable to figure out why. My mom yelled at me, telling me to get a grip. She was angry with me for the amount of time I was spending with him. I could never figure out why everyone was getting so frustrated with me hanging out with him. He made me happy, I felt happy for the first time in so long. That July was the last of my happiness, and seeing the end of it drawing near, I started to panic, for no reason other than I could feel him slipping away. I was losing him and I couldn’t control it. No matter what I did, I could feel him wanting to see me less and less. His image was fading, he felt less warm. 

 

    The last day I remember seeing him was a cloudy day. One of those days that you spend inside and everything was gray, from the sky to the road signs to the color of my skin, his skin too. His skin always seemed gray, and no matter how much time we sat in the sun his skin was still cold, I will never know why his touch made me feel so warm. That day we spent in my car, we drove up the butte and sat at the top, a failed picnic sat in the back seat. He held my hand over the console and spoke to me so softly that I could barely hear him. 

 

“I hope I get to see you soon.” His voice was so soft, I could’ve believed anything he said.

 

    ‘You’re seeing me now?” He just stared back at me.

 

    That night when I got home, I turned around to look at him one last time, but he was already gone. 

 

    I can’t recall what happened July 31st, but it felt like I had woken up from a bad dream. My mirror had the same specks of water littered across it, ending just above my belly button, my lightbulb began flickering again. It felt like no time had gone by since I had woken up on July 1st, but it seemed as though my face had aged years, peculiar.  August loomed over me, a dark cloud that was coming over my small speck of sunshine that he gave me. I knew August meant it was over. People walked on eggshells around me all summer, as if it wasn’t obvious, but in July, I was too happy to care. Too consumed with admiration for him that I was barely able to take notice of the weird stares and sideways head nods and sympathetic glances people threw my way. In August though, I noticed. It wasn’t because I was paying any more or less attention to those around me, it was because with him, I had nothing to grasp onto, I didn’t care what people thought of me when I was with him. As soon as he was gone, the stares continued and it wasn’t the two of us getting stared at, it was just me. 

 

    The gaps in my memory cease to be filled with my loss of him. The days spent in between seeing him remain empty space in an otherwise colossal sized hole that he used to fill. Now it is all empty space. I cannot remember that July in the same sense that everyone else would remember a July, not in the same way I remember June or even August. I do not ask about July and I tried not to think about July because I am scared of what would happen if I did. Would I forget about him? I don’t think I ever could or if I ever will. 

 

    My last night was spent in my room, it was August 14th, the desk in the right corner illuminated by a faded lamp and the pictures that hung above it flapped quietly as the breeze flew in through an open window. The smile that covered my face in those pictures was not one that I recognized, it was not a smile that had been seen on my face in a long time. My teeth were too white and my gums were too visible. I did not recognize myself. I went to my bathroom, I cleaned the water off the mirror, and changed the lightbulb. One last look, I was not the girl in the picture. Before leaving the bathroom, I grabbed my final meal, swallowed all of them so easily, I was not scared. I laid in bed, sleep came quickly. My memories of him came to me in my dreams, the trees were telling me our stories through their breeze, I could feel him touching my skin. I did not see him after that July, I did not see him again until that night. He came to me in my dream. It was July again, we were together, I felt his hand fill my entire body with warmth. I never went another day without seeing him. 

 

    “I hope I get to see you soon,” he said.

 

    “You’re seeing me now.” I smiled back at him.