It’s Not Summer Without You

JEREMIAH

As soon as I heard Belly come up the stairs, I met her in the hallway. “So? What’s going on?”

“My mom’s calling your dad,” she said gravely.

“She is? Wow.”

“Yeah, so, don’t, like, give up already. It’s not over yet.” Then she gave me one of her wrinkly-nose smiles.

I clapped her on the back and practically sprinted down the stairs. There was Laurel, wiping down the counter. When she saw me, she said, “Your father’s coming over. For breakfast.”

“Here?”

Laurel nodded. “Will you go to the store and get some things he likes? Eggs and bacon. Muffin mix. And those big grapefruit.”

Laurel hated to cook. She had definitely never made my dad a lumberjack breakfast. “Why are you cooking for him?” I asked.

“Because he’s a child and children are cranky when they haven’t been fed,” she said in that dry way of hers.

Out of nowhere, I said, “Sometimes I hate him.”

She hesitated before saying, “Sometimes I do too.”

And then I waited for her to say, “But he is your father,” the way my mom used to. Laurel didn’t, though. Laurel was no bullshit. She didn’t say things she didn’t mean.

All she said was, “Now get going.”

I got up and gave her a bear hug, and she was stiff in my arms. I lifted her up in the air a little, the way I used to do with my mom. “Thanks, Laure,” I said. “Really, thanks.”

“I’d do anything for you boys. You know that.”

“How did you know to come?”

“Belly called me,” she said. She narrowed her eyes at me. “Drunk.”

Oh, man. “Laure—”

“Don’t you ‘Laure’ me. How could you let her drink? I count on you, Jeremiah. You know that.”

Now I felt awful too. The last thing I wanted was for Belly to get in trouble, and I really hated the thought of Laurel thinking badly of me. I’d always tried so hard to look out for Belly, unlike Conrad. If anyone had corrupted her, it was Conrad, not me. Even though I was the one who bought the tequila, not him.

I said, “I’m really sorry. It’s just that with my dad’s selling the house, and it being our last night, we got carried away. I swear, Laure, it’ll never happen again.”

She rolled her eyes. “ ‘It’ll never happen again’? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, hon.”

“It’ll never happen again on my watch,” I told her.

Pursing her lips, she said, “We’ll see.”

I was relieved when she gave me another grimace-smile. “Hurry up and get to the store, will you?”

“Aye aye, sir.” I wanted her to smile for real. I knew that if I kept trying, kept joking, she would. She was easy that way.

This time, she really did smile back at me.