Page 46 of A Summer to Save Us

I only notice that reality is coming back when River’s let go of me, and I notice the silence around me.

The song is over, and the audience pauses for a moment of appreciation before clapping.

The applause only slightly penetrates my vacuum bubble, muffled by the intoxication of the kiss.

As if through cotton wool, I see River splitting the crowd with his hands and jumping onto the stage.

He takes the microphone from the previous singer and peers into the crowd, but he’s only looking at me. A shiver runs through my veins. His hair shimmers in the spotlight, his eyes shining a silvery-blue, like mirrors.

“Hi, Littlerock,” he says in his whiskey voice and receives some cheers for that alone. A few girls in front of me nudge each other with their elbows and put their heads together. “Awesome!” squeals a blonde with an artfully plaited braid.

“Are you ready for a new song?” I hear him ask.

The girls’ encouraging squeals are answer enough. He speaks briefly to the band and comes back to the front of the audience.

What on earth is he doing up there? I thought he played guitar. Is he planning to sing?

Asher Blackwell from Demons ’N Saints comes to mind, but River can’t be Asher Blackwell. That’s absolutely impossible. Why would a famous rock star travel around with a mute girl, trying to fulfill her big five?

And if so?

Nonsense. River is Chester’s brother. You know that now .

I don’t even have time to think any further because River sits down at the piano.

For a moment, it seems as if all of Littlerock is holding its breath with me.

In this reverent silence, the first notes of the piano sound like a strange magic—a deep magic of dark colors, almost like our kiss on the water.

River looks at me, and I can’t breathe. I recognize the melody from the first night I spent with him at Sylvan Lake. In my mind, the sounds he plays become images, a story, silhouettes of a girl and a boy.

When he begins to sing, a bittersweet murmur passes through the hall like a wave.

You are my truth above the moon

Guess my love, I’ll see you soon

Little lost girl, I’m not afraid

Arms wide out, don’t hesitate

Goosebumps run down my spine. River’s voice is surprisingly clear, despite a rough aspect, filled with longing and melancholy—beautiful and a thousand times more powerful than Asher Blackwell’s.

It awakens even more images in me: a boy and a girl on a highline, their arms outstretched as if they could fly; a full moon night, black cranes flying, and the stars dying in the sky.

Tonight is ours, maybe we’ll fly

Make up your mind, maybe we’ll die

Kissing my lost girl, I’m everywhere

I’m above the moon, you’ll find me there

My vision blurs because I know River is singing about himself. About him and June. Somehow, I suddenly know. During the interlude, he looks down at the piano keys as if he doesn’t want to look at me, seemingly lost in his melody.

What about June? Why are you so sad? Everything inside me screams, angry and completely confused. One moment, I think I know a lot, and the next, I realize I know absolutely nothing about him.

I barely hear the rest of the song. Only the melody fills my mind as images continue to appear.

When the last note has faded away, I realize that it hasn’t only enchanted me and put me in a trance but also everyone here.

For a few seconds, it’s as quiet as a church before a sermon.

The pigtailed blonde in front of me has her mouth wide open, and her friend fares the same.

I furtively wipe a tear from the corner of my eye.

Kissing my lost girl, I’m everywhere. I’m above the moon, you’ll find me there .

I don’t know why, but these lines resonate with me.

Again and again. They echo through my mind as the audience goes wild and claps in a frenzied state.

They echo in my mind as I step through the wooden door outside in a daze.

I barely feel the cold night air of the desert as I walk along the wide main street with increasingly quick steps, past utility poles with hanging cables, past driveways and wooden houses.

I realize why I’m the perfect travel companion for River. I don’t ask questions. At least not with the insistence that would be necessary for him. Writing everything down in minute detail is annoying and tedious in the long run. With me, he can be whoever he wants.

But is that the best thing for him?

I don’t want him to jump. I don’t want to go to Yosemite National Park with him. I want to help him. But I can’t help him as long as I remain silent. Until then, I’ll allow him to live in a dream world where he can be River McFarley. For a moment, I think about his big five.

“Damn it, stop! Where are you going?” River’s shout lashes out behind me like a quickly thrown rope.

I don’t even turn to see where he is. I wouldn’t win a race against River in fifty years if he even lives that long. The last thought hits me like a punch. I stop without turning.

“Hey!” He’s already caught up with me, grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him. “Can you tell me why you’re running away like a madman?” He glares at me, but it’s the anger of incomprehension.

Because I don’t understand you! Because I can no longer stand you not telling me! I think. I pull my phone out of my pocket and type: You have an awesome voice. With that, I free myself from his grasp and continue to move down the street.

“That’s it?” he calls after me angrily. “That’s all you have to say?”

I wave him off without looking back, even though I’m hurt.

I ask myself what actually offends me about what happened.

Am I jealous of the love he has, or had, for June?

Am I mad because he still wants to jump?

Because the way he likes me isn’t enough to not do it?

I’m above the moon, you’ll find me there .

Dying stars...

“Kansas!” He’s obviously stopped because the call comes from some distance away. “Dammit, stop running!” I can feel his glare burning into the back of my neck.

Then finally tell me the truth! About June? Why were you in Cottage Grove? What’s your name?

“I love you, damn it!”

For a second, I think the world around me is shaking, but I just stumbled.

What did he say?

My heart pounds against my ribs, and not just from running. As I turn, a hundred silver dots flicker through my senses, a tingling sensation that goes right under the skin.

He stands in the middle of the street, his hands in his pockets, his eyes still flickering with confusion.

He loves me.

He loves me?

Damn it!

As if in slow motion, I run toward him, happy that my trembling knees don’t buckle. My world transformed into a universe of shining suns and a thousand moons. The streetlight above River has him standing in a bright light that looks like a full moon.

“I love you, Tucks,” he repeats when I stand before him, his voice quiet but still angry.

Iloveyoutoo.

I want to say it, I want to scream it, I want to get out of this miserable, silent land, but I can’t. The words dance in my mouth. I can taste them and feel them as my tongue taps against the roof of my mouth, but I can only swallow.

I’ve just been silent for far too long.

I love you too! I mouth the words.

River puts a hand on my cheek. “I don’t know where I belong anymore, Tucks. In your world or the one above the moon. With you or with June. I don’t know anything anymore, and it’s killing me.”

I’d like to take out my cell phone and type, What world over the moon? It sounds like June died, but I don’t want to ask, especially not on a smartphone. This moment doesn’t allow it.

So, I grab his hand, which is still on my cheek, and nuzzle it the way I would like to crawl under his skin.

He loves me. The words flow through every fiber of my being as we walk back to Jake’s Motel without touching each other.

Ironically, the gap between us appears larger, as if we were continental plates drifting apart.

And even though he said those magical words, the fear inside me grows.

It seems like we’re sliding even faster toward an abyss.

As if the movement that binds us and divides us, which has long been a force in its own right, has gained even more momentum through the words.

I’m more and more afraid that I won’t be able to stop it anymore.

When we arrive at our motel, River slams the door shut and stands in front of it with his arms dangling. He appears lost and mad.

“If I were selfless, I’d tell you to leave me before things get really bad.”

I have no idea what he means by that, but I walk up to him anyway and grab his arms. It feels like his skin is fire and ice at the same time. He stiffens at the touch, and I drop my hands despondently.

He doesn’t look at me. “Get some sleep, okay? I just need to get some fresh air. Clear my head and stuff.”

He’s going. I know it for sure. Fear springs up in me like sparkling water bubbles. I shake my head violently. You’re not coming back, I write quickly. You’re leaving me alone.

He forces a smile onto his face that looks like it hurts. “No, I won’t,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. “I promise.”

Swear it!

“I swear.”

Pinkie swear.

“Sure thing, Tucks.”

We hook our little fingers around each other, then he leaves, and I stand all alone in the strange room, feeling terrible, even if he said he loves me.

My heart should be brimming with happiness, and I should be dancing like a whirlwind, with music in my ears, like I’m the star of a music video.

But all I feel is a cold fear in my bones.

It seeps into me like poison and paralyzes me.

So much so that I can’t sleep. I wander the room like a zombie.

At some point, I spot the bottle of Jack Daniel’s on River’s bedside table and take a few sips, trying to relax, and drink more when it doesn’t work.