Page 64 of A Summer to Save Us

W hen I wake up the next morning, I immediately know that something is wrong. It’s too cold. The protective, warm arms that held me are gone.

River is gone.

The second I realize it, I jump out of bed and run to the bathroom.

“Riv?” I call out, much too loudly and notice in passing that I can still speak. But despite this realization, the ominous feeling continues to rise within me. The bathroom is empty.

He left.

He’s gone.

I run back in only my underwear. The wig and sunglasses are no longer on the couch where River left them; only the empty condom wrapper is there.

I wipe my forehead. Yesterday. This night.

I love you . Suddenly, the bad feeling becomes an absolute certainty.

I said I love you , which fulfilled my list. River made every wish I had come true, but in the end, it was that deep love—that closeness—that brought my words back.

I made myself vulnerable, risked being abandoned like I was by Mom and now that’s exactly what’s happened. He’s gone, possibly forever.

Still alive for you, June .

I have to save a girl, I promised myself. No—I promised June .

Memories tumble as if through an hourglass. Everything slows.

What happens when he pays off his debt?

Can he die then?

Suddenly, my heart races and doubles its beats, and pure adrenaline floods my veins. Oh no! He wants to finish it alone! Without me. He wanted to save me because he was irretrievably lost. And maybe he knew that from the beginning. Maybe I was never truly part of his plan.

Panicking, I pace the hotel room. I find a few things belonging to me that he didn’t take and stuff them into an unused garbage bag from the hotel before pausing.

Why didn’t I realize, actually anticipate, that he would leave? I mean, I was afraid of it, yet ultimately, I didn’t believe it one hundred percent. He’s Asher Blackwell. He can’t just run away.

But that’s exactly what he did for a whole summer.

Nervous, I pull on River’s clothes from yesterday—the oversized jeans with the alarm button clipped on and the black sweater. Something is bothering me, like the hole in the newspaper where the photo of Ben Adams used to be. With my heart pounding, I glance around and force myself to calm down.

“Concentrate!” My own voice still catches me off guard. I wait until it has faded from my ears, and then squint as if to focus my gaze. After another look around the room, I spot a white origami swan sitting on the dresser next to the king-size bed.

I notice immediately that it has handwriting on it, so I unfold it. It’s a sheet of printer-sized paper with River’s handwriting, leaning to the left and filling the entire paper.

Social Phobia:

· Fear of other people’s negative judgment is based on negative self-perception. This leads to a distorted perception of the ego.

Thought Patterns of Social Phobia:

· If I show emotions and physical responses, it gives others power over me.

· I have to suppress physical reactions, even normal ones, because others will see there is something wrong with me.

· I must not allow myself to have emotions because they weaken me and make me vulnerable.

What to Do with Social Phobia:

· Confrontation! Evoke and endure social conspicuousness! Deal with rejection!

Behave in such a way that you stand out, for example:

· Deliberately make a mess in a local establishment.

· Ask someone to let you go ahead of them at checkout, even if your shopping cart is full.

· Walk around with an umbrella even when the sun is shining.

I lower the paper for a moment as tears well up in my eyes. Causing confusion in the supermarket , I complete his list and find the items underneath.

Trembling, I read on.

·Allow feelings and recognize who you are! Learn to love who you are!

Mutism:

· Selectively mute children often speak normally with familiar people and/or in familiar surroundings.

· With strangers and people outside the home, however, they remain persistently and stubbornly silent. They often also avoid facial expressions/gestures.

Causes of Mutism/Selective Mutism:

· Loss of a parent

· Traumatic experience

· Crisis within the family environment

· Illness of a family member

· Illness of the patient

· Unclassifiable

He underlined three points. My whole body is shaking because I don’t know what it all means. Was I merely a project? Okay, he once said he’d read up on mutism, but there’s a difference between reading up on something and taking meticulous notes.

On the other hand, it also shows that he took my problems seriously while I ignored his. I only wanted to keep living in my dream world and shut out the world.

I wipe my eyes impatiently and read on.

Mutism/Selective Mutism:

Note: For someone who is mute or afraid of speaking, speaking is more than just opening their mouth and talking—it is a way of letting go of their silent identity, a trait deeply rooted in their character. It even forms part of their identity, which is why giving up silence is so difficult .

The basic conflict must be resolved. Silence is always a solution. Every disadvantage also has an advantage. What advantages does silence bring?

If I don’t speak, I am not part of this world. If I am not part of this world, I will not be hurt as much! (Applies to Kansas!)

Create an external bridge to speech: blow, eat, click your tongue.

I remember the evening by the river when River asked me to blow on his skin.

I realize that he did everything he could this summer to give me back my words.

It never was the Big Five that he wanted to work through.

From the beginning, he was concerned with bringing me back to life—getting me to talk, or rather, resolving the basic conflict.

Because that was the key to my liberation.

Dazed, I stand there momentarily and then come to my senses. Maybe I can still catch him. Maybe he hasn’t been gone long.

I hastily fold the paper, grab the bag, and, since I still don’t have any shoes, run barefoot toward the floor’s curved escalators.

I lean restlessly over the parapet, but I can’t see anyone of River’s stature anywhere.

No one hurrying down the escalator. If he doesn’t want me to, I’ll never find him.

He could be blond, black, or red. He could look like a trucker, a rock star, or a businessman.

I press my hand over my mouth as I rush down the escalator, bumping into tourists. So many things suddenly dawn on me.

I’m jumping off a highline in Yosemite at the end of the summer. Well, most likely .

Most likely because he was certain he could save me. But why did he want to save me? Why did he do everything for me if he was going to break my heart afterward?

All of a sudden, I have a terrible thought.

Maybe he doesn’t love me at all but was merely pretending?

I stop, stunned. Was fulfilling my wishes his big goal—something he worked toward and would have done anything for?

Did he deceive me into sleeping with him?

Did he know how to get me to say I love you ?

Of course, Asher Blackwell would know how to make a girl do that.

My heart aches so much it feels like it’s being blown into a thousand pieces. Everyone warned me. Everyone predicted this, and even River said it at the river. Don’t fall in love with me, Tucks. It’s not a good idea. My friends are right. I always leave only broken pieces behind .

I keep walking, reach the Strip, and push my way through the throng of tourists. I don’t even know what time it is.

I swiftly pull my phone out of my pocket and turn it on. Maybe River sent me a message. I was so flustered I didn’t even think of it.

It’s nine in the morning, but there are only messages from Dad and James. Nothing from River. No sign of life.

Shit! Tears well up in my eyes.

“I love you, damn it!” I whisper between all the strangers, not caring if the tears run down my cheeks or if someone hears me.

I don’t care about any of that. River’s words flutter through my mind: Silence is always a solution.

If I don’t talk, I’m not part of this world.

If I’m not part of this world, I won’t get hurt so often.

However, right now, I am getting hurt. My fear is even worse. I pray, pray, pray that I find him before he hurts himself.

Shaking my head, I stare at my cell phone, the battery about to die.

Why am I only now realizing that I can text him? I open our chat, which we set up for emergencies. Not only can I write him, I can even send him a voice message. My pulse is thumping in my throat. I can call him! Of course!

I quickly dial his number, and it beeps several times, then the automatic message announces that he is unavailable, followed by a beep to leave a message.

“Where are you?” I yell, unable to stop crying.

I cry so hard that it hurts, and I can’t breathe.

“You said you would save me, and you did. But you also broke my heart. Please, tell me where you are! Are you going to Lost Arrow Spire without me? We had a deal!” It’s strange to hear myself talk for so long.

I’m sure I sound awkward, but I’ve never minded less. I sob again. “I love you. Come back!”

The silence on the other end of the line is overwhelming. At some point, I am disconnected.

It is quiet around me. I can no longer hear even the noisy people.

Suddenly, I feel it, as if it were a certainty.

Of course, he’s set off for Yosemite National Park alone. I just didn’t want to believe that he was truly that sick. Forever-starry-night . He never intended to live any longer; he simply wanted to save a girl. Save me.

My heart sinks into my stomach, and everything collapses.