Six Summers to Fall

by C.W. Farnsworth

Time only heals if you acknowledge its passing. Grief has no finite measure.

Up until last night, I hadn’t seen Harper Williams in ten years. Her love life—anything about her life—is none of my damn business. So what if I thought she was hot in high school and she’s gorgeous now? It doesn’t matter that she intrigued me then and fascinates me now.

All my favorite memories of this place—sneaking beers and lazy days on the lake and s’mores and stupid dares—include her.

“Nothing…happened between us last night, right?” I grin. “You’d remember if it had.”

“I’ve never met him, actually,” I reply. “I’m dating his future sister-in-law, Harper.” I don’t consider myself a great liar. But there’s no false note in my voice. It’s easy to lie about something you want to be the truth, I guess.

Impossibly, Harper’s smile brightens. And I somehow just know, the way I know my name and that Dr. Pepper is superior to other sodas and the right second to shoot the puck, that Harper Williams beaming at me while sitting in a canoe is a sight I’ll never forget.

“It’s a tragedy, Harper. And tragedies never make any sense. They’re just weights we have to live with.”

I want him to kiss me. I’ve wanted him to kiss me. When we were teenagers. On the porch, drinking tequila. In the lake, when he was reminding me how to waterski. When we won the canoe race. At the firepit last night before everything got awkward.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I put it right out there, certain we’re both thinking it. “Depends,” he answers. “Depends on what?” “Is it part of this fake date to the wedding thing, or is it just us?” He doesn’t wait for a response, probably because the answer is written all over my face. There’s no one to see this. Whatever we say here—whatever we do—is a secret between us.

But I’m thinking everything about that kiss. Because it felt extraordinary, not normal. It felt like a beginning. Like a world-wrecker. Like a final first kiss. And I’ve never, ever thought that before.

I knew we had chemistry. Up until we kissed, I never realized how combustible it was. How it contained sparks I can still feel every time I catch a glimpse of her.

Some people grow on you over time. Some people make an impact the second you meet them. Harper is in the latter category for me.

I’m so far from perfect that it’s laughable. I’m insecure and messy and broken, and I have a tendency to do or say the wrong thing.

I wonder what shakes that careful control. If he’s this measured and even-tempered on the ice or if that’s where he lets loose. I want to shake his ease, to get a glimpse of everything beneath. To know him, not just the famous hockey player or the teenager who lived next door. And I want him to know me.

I’m pretty sure Harper sees herself as a cloud. Drifting and moody and sometimes stormy. But to me, she’s sunshine. Bright, golden, and consuming.

Every time I’ve called her Sunshine, I think Harper has taken it the wrong way. I think she thinks I’m using it ironically rather than how I mean it—like light personified. Hard to ignore or look away from.

Knowing someone is hurting and hiding it is a sharper pain than seeing it expressed.

At this point in my career, I’ve seen hundreds of people wear my jersey. Maybe thousands. But this feels very different. This is the person I could see taking my last name, not just wearing it.

“You look incredible in anything you wear, Harper. But in this?” One hand slips back under the polyester shirt, cupping my breast and pulling another moan out of me. “In this, you look like mine.”

“I only called you Sunshine ironically once,” he tells me. “Every other time, it’s been because that’s how I feel around you. Bright and happy. Being around you makes me so fucking happy, Harper.” “I’m falling in love with you,” I whisper. His fingers continue playing with my hair, my favorite smile appearing. “Good. I’ve been falling for a while, baby.”

“I fell in love with you during your dance routine to that Spice Girls song,” he tells me. “And then again, when I saw you in that pink bikini. When you dropped that lime. When we kissed for the first time. When you caught that fish. When we danced at Amelia’s wedding. When you showed up at my game, wearing my jersey. And I’ll fall in love with you a thousand more times.”