The Summer House

A chill swept over my body as tension filmed our table. Spencer stared in confusion at everyone else, trying to gauge the sudden discomfort. To my left, Audrey did the same and across the table Ryan focused with furrowed brows at Brendon.

Jon cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Did I miss something?” I asked softly, tilting my head to the side as my eyes darted between Brendon and everyone else.

Ryan’s features relaxed as he turned to address me, only to be cut off by Brendon’s uneven interjection. “I was just telling them about the funny thing that happened yesterday. You remember, right, Madeline; what happened yesterday? I was just telling them about it.”

My mouth instantly dried. There was something in his shaky voice that alarmed me. “Oh...”

“I just got to the punch line,” he explained, the edge in his voice contrasting his mad grin. “You remember the punch line, right?”

“Sure,” I whispered, staring down at my napkin. The table was once again emersed in silence until I looked back up. Brendon was staring at me with glassy eyes and the only phrase that ran through my head was the cliche I was taught in my highschool English class.

Sacrificial lamb.

But who was the lamb?

“Want to tell them the punch line again?”

His voice cracked and I shook my head, silently pleading. How could he think that I would be able to break that to everyone? How could he decide to break it this way?

Brendon nodded and looked passed my shoulder, a distant fog clouding his usually bright eyes. ”The punch line is--” he broke off to take a deep breath--“I lost eighty-eight thousand dollars.”

Ryan’s furrowed eyebrows unraveled to sympathy. “Dude, how --?”

“I lost eight-eight thousand dollars, Ryan,” Brendon cut in with more vigor, causing the rest of us to freeze. “I didn’t lose it gambling or spending money, either. I got robbed.”

“You carry around eighty-eight thousand in your wallet?” Spencer spoke up beside me, the level of his confusion evident in his tone.

“No, someone broke into my bank account and stole the money.”

“That fucking sucks,” Audrey mumbled.

“It does ‘fucking suck’,” Brendon agreed, mockingly conversational. “It fucking sucks because one of you fucking did it.”

A sharp intake of air circulated around the table and for a split second, time seemed to stop and fill my ears with a high-pitched ringing. I had never seen Brendon like this. I always knew him as a shy and spontaneously spontaneous person who often watched his language around me. To hear him dropping F bombs like a delinquent at the top of his lungs forewarned me of how this would all turn out.

My breathing became slightly labored and I waited for the moment that was making everyone sweat.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Bren,” Jon broke angrily. “How the hell can you accuse one of us of doing that shit? We have our own money - we don’t need yours--”

“I can damn well accuse one of you, Jon,” Brendon said loudly, his eyes narrowing in hurt and fury - hurt from being betrayed or hurt that they didn’t believe him, I wasn’t sure. I noticed his long fingers curled tightly into his palms on the table. “Because I fucking know who did it!”

“Well then who?” Jon challenged in outrage. “Which one of us - people who have been there to put up with your shit for years - people who are financially stable, by the way - robbed your crazy ass?”

“Fuck you, Jon!”

“No, fuck you, Brendon! You are so fucking embarrassing right now, do you know that? Just because you make a low income and you fuck up doing God know’s what out here, you think you can pin it on one of your rich friends and get some free money? You think that just because you’re out here being a saint that you can snap at us for your own damn screw ups and expect us t--”

“It was Audrey, Jon!” Brendon’s voice had risen to a volume that made the rest of the restaurant turn to us. It was wild with abandon and heartbreak, hopeless and begging. “It was Audrey who robbed me - Audrey who emptied my goddamn account!”

“How fucking dare you!”

“She owns Rock and Revel Company, doesn’t she? Well guess which company my money was transfered to? I doubt some fucking punk would rob me just to bring it to my friend’s account.” He threw down the transcript from yesterday on the table and all eyes took in the information printed on the slip.

Seconds ticked by and even the waiters didn’t approach our table. I was sweating in my seat, enduring the almost painful twists of my stomach. I could only watch the horror unfold before me. Brendon had known all along who had done it. He knew from the minute the teller gave him the transcript. He had known all along and he didn’t tell me.

The girl beside me - the girl who seemed to be chipper and kind and welcoming and was someone I would make an effort to be friends with just for him suddenly felt nonexistent to me.

All heads turned towards the pink-haired girl to my left with wide eyes. Even Jon, who seemed the most offended by the accusation, closed his mouth and stared blankly at Audrey, who was quietly gripping her water glass. He waited for her denial of the claim with raised brows but behind the expression was the realization of the disturbing truth: one of their own was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

My heart sank as I realized the madness Brendon must have been feeling. Having been robbed was bad enough. Having been betrayed by a friend was worse. Having been betrayed by someone he was in love with must have meant the world was ending.

“How could you?” Brendon uttered in broken air and disconnected flutters. His eyes were pink with retained tears.

“My business was failing,” Audrey sobbed, face pinching as tears uncontrollably slipped down the plains of her face. Her words were disjointed and drowned with guilt. “I couldn’t declare bankruptcy, Brendon. I’m so sorry! I was going to pay it back by the end of the summer --”

“Don’t you understand what the fuck I’m doing out here?” Brendon yelled, a tear escaping his left eye and disappearing into his jawline. “I’m taking care of my dying Grandmother! I’m using all my money to feed her! Do you know what two thousand dollars buys?” Before she could open her mouth, Brendon went on. “It gets a week’s worth of food. A week. I don’t know about you, Audrey, but I’m praying to God she lives a lot longer than that.”

A squeaky, stifled sob escaped her lips and she began chanting apologies, reaching over to grip his sleeve. Brendon closed his eyes tightly and took in a huge breath of air. For a few seconds his face pinched and unpinched as he fought the urge to cry, bottom lip quivering with effort.

Ryan and Jon looked away and when I glanced at Spencer, he had his elbow on the table and his hand over his eyes. The devastation rolled over everyone in crashing, unforgiving waves.

“I’m so sorry,” Audrey wept, tugging at the fabric of his suit. “I’m so sorry, Brendon. Please, I’m so sorry.” When he refused to open his eyes, she turned to me helplessly and desperate. “Madeline, help me --”

At the utter of my name, Brendon’s eyes opened. “Don’t you even think about bringing Madeline into this,” he hissed, getting up. The muffled scrape of chair legs against the carpeted floor hit my ears and made goosebumps rise on my skin. He stared down at me sadly and made his way over.

“Where are you going?” Audrey cried, grabbing his sleeve again. He jerked it out of her reach and put his hands on the back of my chair.

“I can’t even afford to eat here,” he hissed, gripping the back of my seat.

“I’ll pay for your dinner,” she pleaded, reaching over to him again only to have him step away. She let out a wild sob and wiped fruitlessly at her tears. “Please, stay, Brendon. Let me fix this--”

“Oh, that’s rich, Audrey!” Brendon snapped, causing Ryan, Jon, Spencer and I to jump. “You’ll pay for my dinner? With what? My money? I bet you even flew in on my dime.”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal! You always let me use some of your money and I thought Madeline would be able to pay for everything until the end of summer! I was going to pay it back before summer ended!”

At her admission, the whole table shifted in fury. Except me - the one who probably had the most right to be angry for her statement. I hung my head and frowned. This was why I didn’t keep friends in Los Angeles - they didn’t see the problem of taking advantage of someone else. Sure, I would have happily paid for Brendon’s expenses but for his friends to see me as a piggy bank stung despite the fact that I had only really known them for under two hours. And the fact that Brendon’s troubles stemmed only because she knew of the potential my wallet held made me want to sever ties with him too.

I truly believed that they were people I might be able to keep in touch with but, at Audrey’s reasoning, I knew I couldn’t.

“Is that what friends are for to you?” Ryan spoke in a dangerous coolness. Audrey turned to him with shock and confusion, supporting the fact that I didn’t belong with them.

When she didn’t answer, I took my cue to stand up, hesitating when I saw Spencer surface from behind his hands. I felt nauseous with pressure and heartache and I tried to convey my sincerity to him - he was someone I was really hoping to get to know.

“I’m sorry but I have to go.”

Spencer nodded sullenly. He knew just what I meant and for the briefest moment I wondered if it would be so wrong to at least be friends with him. But a voice in my head let me know I had to cut it clean. Spencer’s bright blue eyes dulled. “Don’t be sorry, I understand. I’msorry it has to be this way.”

I let myself be lead away by Brendon, keeping my head down as we passed the room full of awestruck diners.

When we got to the car, Brendon sagged against the metal frame and smothered his face with his palms. The tips of his ears and the part of jaw that was visible were red.

What was there to say? Once again, I was at a loss for words. Phrases like “way to show 'er!” and “you got some Hulk madness!” ran through my head but I made sure to keep my mouth shut. Sorry didn’t seem like it sufficed to cover the nightmare he had just crawled through and anything else just seemed inappropriate. I didn’t even feel the need to break the silence; somehow I knew that he was aware I was covered in my own heartache.

Quietly, I eased the car keys from his blazer pocket and unlocked the doors, gently nudging Brendon into the passenger seat. When I rounded the car I caught him wiping at his face with the back of his hand, full lip tucked under his teeth.

I glanced back at the restaurant one last time before sliding silently into the driver’s seat.

-x-

“I’m not ready to publish,” I said quickly, running my fingers through my locks. I paced the length of the living room with aggravated, staccato steps. “Elizabeth, I really can’t.”

“Sure you can, dollface--”

“No,” I cut with more force. “I really can’t publish early. I’m not near finished yet.”

“It would really impress the publishers if you got it out ahead of time, Madeline. It makes for good money.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, holding back an angry growl. “It’s not your call to make. I need the end of the summer, and that’s that.”

I snapped my phone shut and stood stationary, staring with unseeing eyes at the hardwood floor. My writing career was in so much trouble. I already disappointed my team on my last novel, and if I bombed this one I would surely be dropped and sued for violating contract.

I spun back towards the kitchen, only to see Brendon leaning against the frame. He frowned with half-closed eyes.

“Leaving so soon?”

I shook my head and slipped my cellphone into my back pocket. “Agent is being unreasonable, that’s all. I’ll be here ‘til the end of summer.”

“And then you’re jetting back to L.A.” It wasn’t a question, and there was no reason it had to be. He knew how long I would be here from the beginning.

A dull silence hung above our heads. Brendon looked off to the side and I kept my eyes trained on the ground.

When he spoke, his gaze was still focused elsewhere. “About yesterday...”

“I’m sorry about that,” I nodded, shifting focus from the hardwood floor to Brendon’s sneakers. “I know it must have been hard for you.”

We didn’t speak when I pulled the Chevy into my driveway last night. Brendon was glaring out the passenger window the whole drive and I had numbly pulled the keys out of the ignition before we both climbed out. From there, we shuffled up the stairs to my bedroom, changed out of our formal attire, and wordlessly crawled into bed just to stare quietly at the ceiling all night. Him asking if I was leaving so soon were the first words we exchanged since the throw down at the restaurant.

“No, not that. I was going to say that I’m sorry for...y’know,” he trailed off in a sigh. “That’s not how I see you at all, Madeline. You know that, right?”

I shook my head. I had a few more weeks in the lake house before I had to leave for good. What did it matter how he saw me? “Don’t worry about me, worry about your Grandma.”

At this, Brendon finally made eye contact. I took the time to study his bagged eyes and dark circles, down to the downward curve of his mouth and taut jawline.

“You can’t possibly think that I’m going to ignore what last night did to you, do you? Madeline, come on! I thought we were friends. Don’t let--” he broke off and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes tight before opening them again to reveal an exhaustion that went beyond superficial. “Don’t let her make you doubt that. I’m not Audrey; I would never think that of you.”

Brendon’s cellphone rang before I could respond. He irately fished it out of his back pocket and glanced at the screen before turning it off and drawing out a sigh.

“How are you and Jon?” I asked.

“Jon can go to hell,” he said, retreating to the kitchen. I followed in his wake and sat at the counter beside him, picking at the French toast he cooked up for lunch. When he sat down, Brendon’s shoulders shrugged. “But I’ll get over that one, I guess.”

-x-

Four days passed and I could tell Brendon was working hard to pinch pennies every time we went out to the grocery. I watched him wince every time the total flashed onto the tiny price screen and was reiterated by the cashier before handing over his credit card. I watched his mood flat line every time we walked back into his lake house, stocking up the cupboards with more force than needed before quickly dragging me outside.

His ideas for new experiences resumed the day after the incident. After we devoured our French toast, he pulled me into the Chevy and drove in the opposite direction of town to an abandoned park. We spent the afternoon reliving our easy childhood, playing on jungle gyms and monkey bars, falling face first into the sand or trying to bury each other in it.

We traded stories of how our lives were like as toddlers. I told him about the horrifying time i wore a skirt to school in first grade and had a boy casually lift it up and wonder aloud what was underneath. Brendon told me about the time he put a Valentine in a girl’s backpack, only to throw up into it right after out of nerves. It got worse when he said he tried to fish out the card so she wouldn’t know it was him.

Both of us howled with laughter that day. It was refreshing to hear his musical voice break out into hysterics, and I gathered that these experiences were no longer just for my benefit. I liked that.

The day after that, we hiked up a small trail to the top of a cliff in the middle of the night. From the peak, we had a clear view of the crescent moon and it’s distorted reflection in the water. We spent a few hours talking and admiring the view until everything went downhill. It turned into the time he coerced me into jumping out of the tree, and at the moment it was a complete nightmare. The only difference was that Brendon wrapped his arms around my frame and flung us both into the crashing waves mid-sentence into his story about his part-time job at the Smoothie Hut in highschool. I screamed bloody murder the whole way down and refused to speak to him all night.

The day after that was significantly tamer. After grocery shopping and cleaning both his lake house and mine, we retired for the day in front of the T.V. Brendon and I spent the whole night watching sitcoms and his DVD of Casablanca, which mysteriously found its way into the small DVD collection I packed with me. During the movie, I felt a true sense of serenity sweep over me despite the events a couple of days ago, and I comfortably melted into Brendon’s side.

Nothing significant happened the day after but today I had something planned after we pushed our way outside again. Even though he was sufficiently distracted during our stints, I could tell that he was still broken up about his fall out with Audrey and hell bent on trying to make ends meet with his whittling supply of cash.

“Hey, Brendon, can I borrow the Chevy?”

His head snapped towards me and tilted in question. Our shoes crunched against the gravel as we made our way down his driveway. “Sure, but what for?”

I smiled innocently. “Just forgot to pick something up in town.”

“Oh, but I can drive,” he frowned. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

I shook my head and nudged him towards my side of the lake. “I was kinda hoping that you would maybe dust around my house while I was gone. Y’know, to save time so that when I get back we can just lazy around or something.”

“I guess, sure." He shrugged and pulled his keys out of his front pocket, tossing them to me. They slipped out of my fingers and fell onto the gravel with a muffled clink. Brendon chuckled as I bent forward to pick them up. “I’m kinda nervous now, Madeline. If you can’t catch my car keys, how are you gonna drive my car?”

I frowned at him and unlocked the red Chevy. “Those two aren’t even correlated, Brendon.”

He laughed again as I got into the driver’s seat and buckled my seatbelt. “Yeah they are. They both require good reflexes, some coordination...”

“Ha ha,” I said dryly, sticking the key in the ignition. “You’re so clever.”

Brendon smiled at me and rested his arms and chin on the ledge of the open driver’s side window. “You sure you don’t want me to keep you company?”

The way I heard him phrase the question and the way the question sounded to me were two different things. The underlying tone in his voice lead me to think he was really asking if I would reconsider keeping him company.

I grinned back weakly and pushed his red glasses back up the bridge of his nose with my index finger. “It’s just for an hour or so. It’ll be fine.”

He stepped back from the car and nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “Just drive safe, okay?”

“Just dust my house, Brendon!” I laughed, hearing him chortle as he waved me off.