The Summer of Yes

by Courtney Walsh

Maybe there really is more to this life than climbing ladders and shattering ceilings. I’m proud of what I’ve done, but I’ve done it. And maybe it’s okay if I move on.

In the back of my mind, I hear Georgina saying, “You tell them yes.” And all at once it hits me. Sometimes a yes has to start with a no. No, I’m not okay with this. No, I don’t want to spend my life doing this. No, I don’t agree with this. And the kicker: No, this is not the kind of story I want to tell.

It’s time for me to say no. To the things that are keeping me from feeling alive. And if I have to get a job at Starbucks to fill in the gaps, I can do that. I have money saved up. I can move somewhere less expensive. Somewhere on a coast . . . “I quit.” I stand.

I’m shaking and a little out of breath. No is my new yes. The Summer of No. Or maybe the Summer of No More.

“Publishing is a hard business, Miss Tate,” he says. “We’ve found our niche is in—” “Pure and utter trash,” I say. “I know.”

“I read that proposal Miss Worthington sent you,” I say. “Oh?” he asks. “Are you in publishing?” “I’m in the book.” He frowns. “I don’t understand.” “The ‘older woman’ she talks about. The one she goes on the trip with.” Realization washes over him. “The manuscript didn’t mention—” “No, because before now I didn’t give Kelsey permission to use my name,” I say. “But after reading it, I think it’ll be fun to collaborate with her on this project. It’s a good story. An interesting story. And full of revelations that I think many young people will be able to relate to. Things I wish I’d known when I was her age.” “Well, if I’d known—” “That’s just it, Mr. Goldfarb,” I say. “It shouldn’t matter. The story is good. The writing is stellar.

“I’d be happy to take another look at the proposal,” Charlie says. “With this new, uh, development, I think we’d be very interested in working with you and Kelsey.” “I’m sure you would,” I muse. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to . . . reject your proposal.”

I’m not sure we can trust you to do right by it.” “I can assure you, I will put my best people on it,” he says. “And I can assure you, your best person just quit.”

“I’m going to lend Miss Worthington my name for her book. And help her get it published. And then I’m going to hire her to help me write my memoir. And I’m going to get that published too.”

“And you’re going to help me write my memoir,” I say. Another pause. “I’m sorry, what?” “I spoke with a friend in publishing, and she agrees it’s a good idea. I figure if I’m getting a new kidney, I should have some time. But you cannot make me the villain.” Then, absently, I add, “No one is the villain of their own story.”

“I can recognize talent anywhere, in any field. And you’re one of the most talented I’ve seen. Ever.” I pause because I want her to let that sink in. “And there’s one important thing I forgot about being a young woman with dreams.” “What is it?” she asks. I draw in a breath. “We all need someone to believe in us.”

“I’ll come visit you in the hospital.” “Please don’t,” she says. I step back and point at her. “Doing it!” “Fabulous,” she says dryly, rolling up the window. “I’m giddy with anticipation.”

Kelsey: I bet I could’ve loved him. Ravi: Don’t kid yourself, K. I think you already

Wait. I don’t have a job here anymore. I could move. Do I want to move? I think of Driftwood. The sands, the water, the ease, and the sun. Could I be happy there? Who am I kidding? God probably vacations

“Thank me for what?” I slide the bowl over to him and return the carton to the freezer. He takes a bite of ice cream, then says, “Because of you, I get to save my mother’s life tomorrow.”

Georgina’s eyes drop to our hands, still clasped together. She raises a brow and I let go, but Hayden grabs my hand back. “It’s fine,” he says, then to his parents, “We’re seeing where this goes.” Dylan grins at us. “I approve.” “I’ll reserve judgment,” Georgina remarks. Classic Georgina.

“If you learn nothing else from my life, learn this. Don’t wait to love the people you love. We aren’t guaranteed a second chance—we’re only lucky enough to seize one when it comes.”

I turn to Georgina and smile. “I’m glad you said yes to this ceremony.” “Because you get to wear that gown?” “Because I get to see your son in that tux.” I grin at her and pump my eyebrows.

“The other thing I’ve learned, and I want you all to listen closely,” she continues, “is that life . . . is good. And wonderful. And horrible, and beautiful, and messy, and everything all at once. And that is the beauty of it. It’s overwhelming, but it’s never boring. And it should be lived to the fullest. “And no, that doesn’t mean the biggest car or the best condo. It doesn’t mean a house in the Hamptons or a promotion at work. It means filling your life with the people you love, doing the things that make you feel the most alive.”

“And thank you all,” Georgina says. “For recognizing my life’s work. I appreciate it more than you know, and I hope that in this next chapter, I make a name for myself in how fiercely I love. Because that is the one goal that means the most to me.”