The Summer House

“What are you doing?"

I jumped and dropped the jar of baby food I had picked up, hearing its tinkling shatter as it fell to the floor of the kitchen.

I had just come back from a trip to town; bright and early and without Brendon. When I awoke, I couldn’t bring myself to disturb the serenity in his sleep - still curled peacefully onto his side after filling the night prior with tired ramblings. It was then that I made the quick decision to make up for the plan that had so terribly backfired two nights ago.

Ever since we came home from that upsetting dinner, Brendon had been...lackluster. Ever since we came home after that upsetting dinner, I had been plagued with Ryan’s voice and the guilt that attached itself to my bones because of it.

You’re higher up in status than we are, why don’t you give him your money?

“Madeline?”

I snapped back to my senses, watching Brendon’s stunned and perplexed form slumped against the frame of the kitchen entryway. The red t-shirt he wore to bed rode up, revealing the taught skin of his left hip just above the waistband of his black boxer-briefs. He scratched the back of his disheveled head, looking around at the white plastic bags I had set around the entire kitchen while centering his red-framed glasses.

I cleared my throat nervously and reached for the paper towels on the counter. Every second that ticked by wiped off some of the confusion on Brendon’s face and I knew I had to explain quickly before he got jumpy. “I just picked some stuff up this morning from the grocery.”

“Some?”

“I noticed the cabinets were getting bare,” I mumbled, crouching down to the broken mess at my feet. A padding of footsteps echoed in the kitchen before Brendon’s slender fingers gently pulled the towels from my hand and began picking up the shards of glass. “Thanks.”

“I don’t need you to pay for me,” he replied, though the confidence I expected to come attached with the statement was thwarted by genuine gratitude. “You shouldn’t have to do this.”

“I care about your Grandma too, y’know.”

The tiny smile that pulled at his lips after that statement drew a sigh of relief from mine.

His eyebrows abruptly knitted. “I can’t accept this. Give me the receipt, you have to return everything; I can’t pay you back.”

I arched a brow at him and pulled the receipt out from my back pocket, holding it up to eye level. Brendon dropped the towels and made to take the strip of paper, only to frown deeply when I jerked it out of his reach.

Keeping my eyes connected with his, I stood up and tore the foot-long receipt down the middle.

“Madeline!” Brendon yelped, jumping to full height and grabbing for the two pieces. I stepped back and turned the two into four, then four to eight, smirking as he asked me what the hell I was doing.

“Sorry, Brendon,” I shrugged, stooping down to finish cleaning up. I threw the pieces into the mess, satisfied when they immediately grew transparent. “I think I lost the receipt. Looks like this is all yours.”

I waited for his reaction as I wiped up the remains of string bean and paper mush from the tiles. When my green eyes finally looked up to meet his brown ones, I was delighted to see they were shining.

“Thank you - thank you so fucking much,” he sighed, engulfing my body in a crushing hug. I didn’t fail to notice the grin on his face just before my cheek pressed against the cradle of his shoulder. “I just -- Jesus! I could kiss you right now, Madeline.”

“Not that I would mind,” I muttered under my breath, my voice muffled further by his shoulder. I was shocked when the thought slipped out my mouth, but glad that the timing made it impossible for him to hear.

Brendon pulled away from me with his shy smile in place, head bowed and hands stuffed hastily into the front pockets of his jeans.

That was the last time I would see him smile in the next 48 hours.

-x-

A spill of orange and lavender colored the sky - a parting gift from the setting sun. With every passing minute the shadows lengthened and the water sparkled in more enchanting tones. The evening song of crickets played the soundtrack to our evening as Brendon and I sat on the edge of the cool dock.

The last 48 hours seemed to darken considerably in terms of the quality of our time spent together. In the morning, it was no longer the routine coffee and comfort, but rather a wake up call dive into emergency, followed by a silent and cold rest of day.

Brendon’s Grandmother was getting worse. The morning after I stocked his lake house full of food, he and I awoke to a harsh coughing and crash. Georgia was yelling for us to help through all the wheezing gurgles, her voice touched with a wild panic. She never used to call us for help, so it was highly blood-chilling when she did.

Brendon immediately bolted up from the bed and ran upstairs on shaky legs, stumbling every so often from the grogginess of sleep, skinning knees and elbows on the splintered steps. By the time I managed to register what was going on, he was already on the 3rd floor landing.

The next morning was the same, only I noticed that the coughing sounded worse - more labored and blocked with fluid. This time Brendon and I reacted at the same time to Georgia’s call, and it was at the same time that we were met with an unsettling sight.

Georgia told us to grab the trash can beside the door as we thundered in, and we stared in horrified paralysis as she threw a red-spattered tissue into the bin with shaking hands.

Brendon remained mute for the rest of the day.

No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake him from the blank stupor he had set himself in. I followed him around his house but gave up when it seemed that he had decided to just lay down in bed for the remainder of the day. It shocked me that when I began to make my way over to my side of the lake, Brendon was following right behind me. I felt bad for taking him out of the same roof his Grandmother was in and turned around to go back.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he uttered, staring distantly down at our rippling reflections. Brendon had finally broken the silent spell he was under in the last hour, but anytime he spoke it was always in a halfhearted murmur.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do,” I answered in the same hushed volume, picking at the notebook in my hands. Summer was drawing to a close and I needed to finish up the novel I sent myself out here to write. Despite the crises, and despite the fact that the thought made me nauseous and feel like a hypocrite, I had business to finish. “We can stay out here if you like.”

He didn’t respond, as usual, merely opting to rest his cheek on his bent up knees.
I scribbled another line in my notebook before running my fingers through my tangle of dark hair.
I could only imagine the emotional turmoil Brendon was going through. First, the girl he was in love with robbed him blind of money and trust, then he fell out with two more of his best friends, twice, in the same week. He was more aware of his social status than ever - so painfully aware of how far down on the chain he sat when it came to his Vegas friends (ex and present). Even though I was trying my best to take care of some of the work around the lake house, he was still buried in debt and trouble. Against his wishes, I paid for the groceries and any other bills or fees that came up, though it didn’t seem to do an ounce of help. He was quickly running out of money to support himself, let alone his Grandma or Georgia, and now his Grandmother was on the brink of dying.

I wanted to suggest to him to sue for his money back, but realized that not only was Brendon not the type of person to dig anyone a grave, but that he didn’t have enough money to even pay for a lawyer.

I let out a frustrated breath and ripped out a blank piece from my notebook, drawing a lopsided circle in the middle of the page and filling it with a smiley face. I held it up to Brendon’s face and watched it become semi transparent against the sun.

Brendon’s hand enclosed over mine and turned the drawing around. He stared at the silly portrait in my hand and, for a brief moment, a corner of his lip curled upwards. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

I offered him a smile before moving my fingers to crumple up the picture, only to have it tugged swiftly out of my grasp. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” Brendon asked, folding the drawing neatly and pushing into the front pocket of his jeans. “I’m keeping it.”

“Yes, keep my creations so you can sell them for millions on Ebay when I’m famous,” I joked, snapping my notebook shut and hanging my pen in its metal coils.

“You already are famous,” he chuckled lightly, nudging my shoulder. His eyes weren’t unlike the sparkle of the lake, and that relieved some of the weight in my chest.

I shook my head. “I’m not. I’m really just a local writer.”

Brendon shook his head in the way he usually did, his lips pressed together in a faint smile.

The sun’s final rays were fast disappearing behind the horizon and the moon was waiting to shine its silver light down on us. I laid back on the dock and counted the tiny pinpricks of light in the navy blanket of sky.

Brendon’s boyish face suddenly came into view. He was lying on his side, his head propped up with one arm while the other arm rested perfectly in the gap between his stomach and my side.

I laughed as his bright brown eyes smiled down at me. “What?”

“I just want to say thank you--”

“Stop it. You don’t need to thank me for anything,” I cut in. “I do these things with you because I want to - because,” I paused and took a deep breath. “Because you’re my friend. And what are friends for?”

“Money, apparently.” The bitterness of his response hung chokingly over our heads.

“I don’t really know what I would do without you,” he breathed afterwards, eclipsing more of my view of the sky with his softly arranged features. I grinned up at him and rolled my shoulders against the boards of the dock.

Inside, my heart was kicking up a storm in my chest. The only thing I could really register was the throb of my heartbeat in my ears and Brendon’s sweet breath sweeping over the planes of my face. My fingers had gone numb at my sides and I was almost certain that if I tried to stand, I would fall over backwards.

Brendon moved the hand between us to the other side of my body, and shifted so that he could look over his shoulder at the glittering sky. The little shift in position caused his stomach and chest to press against the side of my body.

I shivered, but was grateful when he seemed to take no notice of the reaction.

“Airplane,” he said softly, nodding in its direction. He pulled his head back a little so that I could get a view of it too, but kept the rest of his body in place. I tried to reign control of my heart rate as I watched the flashing wing lights of the distant plane travelling overhead, afraid that he would feel the erratic thumping against my ribs. “See it?”

“Yeah.” I was humiliated at how quiet my voice came out. “I see it.”

Brendon‘s voice came out in a matching whisper. “Aren’t you excited to be going home soon?”

The question and the sadness he conveyed when he asked it left a coldness in the pit of my stomach.

The thought of going back to Los Angeles - back to the busy city full of empty vanity and unforgiving traffic - made me feel hollow inside. The thought of not spending the days lounging around with Brendon in our own bubble of what we defined to be reality made my heart clench. I couldn’t dwell on the idea of not hearing Brendon’s charming and unwaveringly sweet voice greet me in the morning and envelop me goodnight without feeling my throat close up in anxiety. I couldn’t dwell on the idea of leaving him here to fend for himself while he built up his bank account working some horrible job in town or, worse, having him fly back home to Audrey without feeling lightheaded and nauseous.

“No,” I answered, shaking my head for good measure, though he couldn’t see me. “I’m hating the thought of going back to L.A. more and more each day.”

His face remained to the stars. “Me, too.”

“I thought you missed Vegas.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He paused, and I thought he would leave it at that. Of course, Brendon wouldn’t do what I expected him to. “I’m really hoping to stay here a little longer because of my Grandma. But I’ll really miss you when you’re gone, Madeline. This summer has been...”

Another pause. This time, Brendon turned back to me with a charming grin set across his mouth. The red glasses he had on slipped down the bridge of his nose as he lowered his head down to me, and I automatically reached up to push the frames back.

When my index finger landed on the thin metal, Brendon slowly leaned forward. His glasses were pushed back into place, and his pouty lips made contact with the knuckles of my middle and ring finger, surprising me when he placed a soft kiss on the skin that flexed over the digits...

...before dropping down to press an even softer kiss on my lips.

The pressure between us steadily grew, the weight and intensity of the kiss increasing in measured intervals but remaining sincere and chaste. Brendon trapped my top lip between his own, giving it a small squeeze before leaning further into the kiss. His supple bottom lip rested sweetly over the mid curve of mouth, never the least bit forceful or demanding.

His fingers fluttered over the thin flesh of my jaw, tilting it to the side as he proceeded to plant soft kisses to the corners of my mouth. I could feel the shy smile on his face as he did so and I didn’t fight the bashful one it elicited from me. Eyelashes fluttered and racing hearts knocked out of control through the fabric of our shirts. I liked that we were both having trouble breathing properly already, yet the kiss was still endearingly tame.

Brendon shifted his weight and the hand that was propping himself up settled to the other side of my jaw. My face burned between his hands and I was completely lost in the warmth that he was wrapping all around me. Gently, he urged my face forward, bringing both our bodies into a sitting position, our legs dangling over the sides of the dock and hovering just above the water.

My fingers shyly rested on Brendon’s shoulders before sliding up to entangle in his short hair.

The moon left the coverage of clouds and illuminated the entire lake.

The water shone like multifaceted diamonds.

The world ceased to exist in its mask of greed and vanity. There was no one to rob our lives of substance or inflict pain.

No one was dying.

There were no other sounds besides our synchronized breathing and the beat of our kick-drum hearts.

No one else existed besides me and Brendon.

And for the second time that summer, I felt absolute.