The Summer House

I pulled into a parking spot and marched across the lot, shifting the cellphone to my other ear as I entered the lobby of the building. Brendon had called not even 20 minutes into the drive to town, playfully inquiring about what I had up my sleeve. “I’m just in town getting something. I’ll talk to you when I get home, okay?”

“Madeline, where are you really?” Brendon questioned with an abruptly suspicious tone, catching me off guard. My step stuttered off the straight path I was walking and I struggled to keep my voice even.

“In town,” I said in bewilderment, eyes widening as I stared at my dimly lit reflection in the silver elevator doors.

“Are you sure?”

“Where else would I go?” I asked defensively.

“I don’t know, where else would you go?”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, pushing down on the button that pointed up. “I like this game, Brendon. Ask me another question.”

“I’m just curious,” he mumbled, his embarrassment implied.

“I’m in town." I looked around the lobby before stepping off the elevator. The doors slid together and I hit the fourth floor button. “And I really have to go now, Brendon.”

“Call me when you’re on your way home, okay?”

I ignored the anxiety in his voice and agreed, hanging up just as the the elevator doors slid open again. My eyes were trained to the golden numbers nailed up on the off-white doors.

When I reached 6D, I took a deep breath and knocked, holding my breath as the door swung open.

“Hey Madeline. Thanks for agreeing to this.”

“Jon." I stepped inside the hotel room and sighed, looking down at the bags that were empty and haphazardly strewn on the floor, originally intended to be packed and gone last week.

My eyes wandered to the cream sofa passed the closest room divider and I found Ryan smiling at me, almost critically. I shifted to my other foot and made my way over. “Hi Ryan.”

“Hey Madeline. How’ve you been?”

“Been better,” I said bluntly, looking around the suite for anyone else. “Where’s Spencer?”

“Spencer got called away for a photoshoot back in Vegas,” he answered, crossing his ankle over his knee. “He wanted to be here though but, y’know, work comes first.”

I nodded and sat down on the fouton. Though it wasn‘t conveyed, I was nodding in a grudging fashion, secretly angry at them for following that phrase to a T. I was familiar with their ‘work first, people later‘ policy because I had seen its result in Brendon. If Jon‘s boss hadn‘t wanted to spend more time in Cabo with his mistress and if Ryan‘s publishing company didn‘t phone him to tell him they were overstaffed for the week, neither would have put in the effort to fix their friendship with Brendon that they were putting in now. I wanted to believe that they would have tried hard to patch things up with him when he went back to Vegas, but, of course, there was no way to confirm that.

“So what do you need me for?” I asked, folding my hands neatly in my lap.

Jon sat on the arm of the recliner across from me and offered me a weak smile. “Brendon won’t answer our calls and we really want to make it up to him for what happened. We just need you to convince him to come to dinner with us tonight. We want to apologize.”

“Jon wants to apologize,” Ryan corrected, grinning playfully, though it slipped off his lips when I didn’t return the gesture. “I didn’t have a bad hand in all this, but I want to make sure Brendon’s gonna be okay.”

“Have either of you talked to Audrey about returning the money?” I asked, eyeing them both carefully. They turned their gazes away from me, and I noted how both of their faces fell.

“She said she would pay it back at the end of the summer,” Jon answered quietly.

“But Brendon needs it now,” I stated, my fingers clenching into fists. “Did you try to convince her otherwise?”

“She’ll return it eventually, Madeline.”

“That's not good enough,” I growled, slipping to perch on the edge of my seat. “It’s not her money--” I faltered and took a deep breath in, my heart aching in my chest. “You’re Brendon’s friends,” I pleaded. “You’re supposed to help him!”

“We’re Audrey’s friends too,” Ryan corrected. “And she’s in trouble financially--”

“Financial trouble,” I interjected loudly, gripping the edges of my seat on either side of me. “Is hardly a synonym for stealing. It’s Brendon’s money and because of her, Brendon is in ‘financial trouble' now. Why are you turning against him?”

“We’re not turning against him!” Jon exclaimed, holding his hands up in defense.

“Well if you support Audrey so much, why don’t you give her your money and let her return Brendon’s?”

Ryan shook his head. “I don’t want to get tangled up in this.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to help you two if you’re not even going to make an attempt to help him,” I growled, finally getting out of my seat. My chest was heaving from all the pressure and I felt like crying. How could they do this to him?

I pictured all the times Brendon beamed and laughed in my head, and compared it to the depression he was in now. The obvious contrast made my chest ache.

Jon rose from his seat too and stood square with me. “We are helping Brendon. He needs to learn not to trust everyone so easily--”

“Not even people he’s been friends with since birth? Are you insane, or is that the money stuck up your ass talking?” My feet started angrily towards the door and Ryan jumped up.

“You’re higher up in status than we are, Madeline,” Ryan called just as I touched the polished gold doorknob. “Why don’t you give him your money?”

I took a deep breath and looked off to the side at a blue vase with wilted yellow roses. The tears that were welling up in my eyes stung and I gritted my teeth in a valiant attempt to keep them from falling.

My lashes fluttered on my cheekbones as I spoke. “Be ready for dinner at 7. We’re going to Fizzoli’s tonight, not your shitty, pompous restaurant.”

I exited the suite without another word or sound from the two boys. When I got back out the Chevy, I could hardly see straight. A veil of red fell over my vision and it was all I could do not to go back into the hotel and rib them.

Something flickered in the distance and my eyes narrowed hatefully, my grip on the steering wheel blanching my knuckles.

-x-

“You said you would call on your way back,” Brendon said when I walked through the door. He frowned at me from the couch, his arm slung over the back of it. My raccoon slept soundly beside him, though I noted a few fresh claw marks in the upholstery.

“I forgot,” I mumbled, sitting down on the loveseat beside the couch. Brendon’s frown deepened and he slowly got up, eyeing the raccoon for a second before filling the seat beside me. “Sorry.”

“What did you go into town for?” he asked. I wondered for a moment if he knew what I was up to the whole time, but by the way I was acting it was only right that he would be curious. The cartoon on the television was quickly replaced with a seamless blank screen.

“I went to talk to Jon and Ryan.”

Brendon visibly froze. “You said you were in town,” he said darkly.

“The hotel is in town,” I answered quickly, and felt ashamed when I was met with a disapproving frown.

“Now is not the time to get clever, Madeline.”

“They want us to have dinner with them tonight,” I went on, ignoring the sting of his comment. “Just us four.”

Brendon let out a breath of air. “No.”

“They want to apologize,” I said, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I could barely count what they had set up as an apology. Ironic again from my perspective, words failed to do anything in this situation.

Another one of our signature, contemplative silences hung over our heads. I could feel the weight pushing down on my shoulders as the quietness of the house rung in my ears. My eyes darted to the raccoon and I willed it to wake up and start clawing at the couch cushions.

“Do you think I should go?” Brendon finally asked in a whisper, and I internally groaned.

No, I didn’t think it was a good idea for him to go. But they were all he had back in Vegas, and I wanted to think that Jon and Ryan would consider what I said about giving him money. If I lived in Sin City, or if Brendon was going home with me at the end of the summer, I would have told him to trash his friends and look for better ones.

So, painfully, I nodded.

-x-

Five hours later, we sat in one of the leather booths of Fizzoli’s, sipping water around the tension that nestled itself around our table.

“Look, I’m real sorry for not believing you about Audrey, Bren,” Jon began after our entree’s had arrived, circling the rim of his glass with his index finger. To my right, Brendon shifted closer to me and placed his fork down on his plate. “I’m sorry for yelling at you and telling you you’re a fuck up. I was way out of line.”

I expected Brendon to chime in with some sort of forgiving line, but was surprised when he remained mute.

“It’s just that Audrey’s our friend too and it’s just instinct to defend her...”

“It was just pure instinct,” Ryan supported. “Jon didn’t mean to turn on you.”

I raised a brow at him but kept my thoughts on the matter to myself; Brendon had to deal with this one alone.

“I really hope we can move passed this, man,” Jon sighed. “It’s not something worth tearing our friendship apart over.”

“He broke the bro code?” Ryan let out a sheepish chuckle.

“Yeah,” Brendon nodded finally, one corner of his mouth lifting infinitesimally. My shoulders slumped against the seat but I bit down on my two cents. “Party foul, George.”

Ryan’s face fell stony and I couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow in confusion. Jon snickered and Brendon turned to me, as if reading my mind, and explained that it was Ryan’s real first name.

I couldn‘t bring myself to douse the light banter no matter how against it I was because this was how Brendon wanted it. I let the modification roll off my tongue. “Hor-hay.”

Brendon threw his head back in silent laughter before offering me his hand to highfive.

“No,” Ryan interjected, looking alarmed. “Let’s not start with that. It’s Ryan, and only Ryan.”

“So are we cool?” Jon asked. Brendon sobered up but nodded all the same, and the three exchanged small grins. I knew I should have felt relief at this point but the ball of tension in my stomach tightened. I was waiting for the real gesture of apology, if there would be any.

But the night wore on and the boys conversed like nothing happened the week prior. Brendon occasionally fell silent beside me but I was too wound up to really make anything of it. The minutes ticked by and I felt the sinking sense of disappointment drag me down. I had lead Brendon to an unfair, incomplete apology from his friends, and I couldn’t help but think in those gaps that Brendon didn’t speak that he only felt obligated to forgive them because of me.

“I don’t need no education!” Jon exclaimed, slapping his hand down on the table. Ryan burst into laughter and Brendon grinned, shaking his head. I tried to get my mind off the real issue and decided to momentarily drabble in the conversation again.

“That’s a double negative,” I noted, pushing my leftover chicken around on my plate. I twirled my fork on the porcelain and looked up at Jon. “So, yeah, you do need an education.”

Brendon laughed loudly and yet again gave me a highfive before letting his arm slip from the back of the booth and rest over my shoulder. He pulled me closer into his body and I half heartedly smiled, noticing that the sinking pang in my chest wasn’t going away. “My girl’s an English nerd.”

Across the table, Ryan grinned, his eyes darting between me and Brendon. “Your girl, eh?”

“She’s my female friend, therefore my girl,” Brendon retorted, taking a long drink from his wine glass.

“Right.”

The hours dragged on and I accepted that I wouldn’t hear justice tonight. Brendon never inquired about Audrey, and Ryan and Jon didn’t bother to bring her up. I couldn’t even find the will to be properly embarrassed about their teasing and suggestiveness towards Brendon and me. A dull throb rose in my temple as I listened to them finally shift over to the topic of Brendon’s grandma.

“You know, it’s really great that you do this for her,” Jon said, downing his last spoonful of dessert. The remains of the melted ice cream pooled at the bottom of his bowl before being eclipsed by the shiny silverware. “I don’t know anyone else who would drop their lives so quickly for other people.”

Brendon seemed a little upset by the comment. “She’s not ‘other people’, Jon. She’s my grandmother.”

“Yeah, but the world revolves around the ‘me-first’ mentality,” Jon shrugged, leaning back against the booth and stretching out. “It just amazes me, is all. I didn’t say it was bad, man.”

Brendon only hummed neutrally and looked out at the window beside us to the darkened streets. The arm he had over my shoulder slipped to my elbow and gripped it hard. I tried not to flinch as I was pulled out of my reverie.

“Dude, I know you’re in trouble now with your grandma, so I want help you." Jon continued, oblivious to Brendon‘s odd reaction. He leaned forward on the table and kept his voice low, his eyes flickering to me before going back to the table. Ryan froze in his seat, looking warily at his friends. “How about I give you some money to help you out with your grandma? I’ll give you $100,000 - that should be enough, right?”

Brendon’s breathing fell ragged beside me as he bit his bottom lip. His brown eyes stared unseeing at the handful of passing cars. “You don’t have to. I already forgave you.”

“I want to,” Jon insisted, shaking his head. He caught Brendon’s eye and smiled. “I’ll give you $100,000 and you can pay it back when you start teaching again.”

“I can’t...”

“Really. You’ll pay it back, so it’s like using your own money. Just think of me as an advance.”

Brendon released his bottom lip from the confines of his teeth and smiled warmly across the table. Grateful. Disbelieving. “I’ll pay it back, I swear.”

“I know you will,” Jon grinned. The tightness in my stomach uncoiled and I let out a breath of relief. The beginnings of a smile played on the edges of my lips, but just as fast as the air of assurance swept over me came the ugly shock of horror. Jon’s sleepy grin suddenly turned into a serious grimace. “I do have one condition though.”

At this, the atmosphere shifted. Ryan tried to interject but Jon held up his hand to silence him, eyeing the reaction to his deal.

Brendon shrugged, once again oblivious and too trusting. “Alright, what is it?”

“Well, lending you the money kinda puts me on a crutch,” Jon explained slowly.

With every word he uttered, the feeling of nausea in my body increased. Somewhere in my head, I could tell where this was going, but I wanted so much to believe my instincts false. My nails sunk into Brendon’s thigh under the table - as a warning to run with his hands over his ears to spare himself the impending heartbreak, but he merely responded by rubbing my arm.

“And to make up for that crutch, I think it would be fair to ask you to pay a 10% interest for every week you don’t pay back the money.”

And just like that, the world tilted. It made me physically sick when Brendon laughed his musical laugh, and I wanted so badly to chalk everything up to a dirty nightmare. “Nice one.”

I felt even worse when Jon’s expression turned serious and I had to watch the smile melt off Brendon’s sunny face. “I’m not joking, Brendon.”

Our table lapsed into an intense silence as Jon and Brendon stared each other down. Ryan had his face in his hands and I wanted to wring his neck for not putting up a better offer or trying to mend things.

But who was I kidding? The last five minutes made everything about this whole issue irreversible.

Without another word exchanged by either party, Brendon rose from his seat and strode out the restaurant with me by the hand.