Page 53 of That Last Summer

“This time?”

And then... then, he smiles. He smiles and a storm of emotion whirls through me. That dimpled smile brings back too many memories. Scents. Flavors. Smiles do have scent; smiles can be savored.

Until this moment, when I remembered my hometown from Boston, it was in a succession of black and white slides. But with that minimal gesture from Alex, those slides are suddenly in color. My whole life is. Or maybe we could simply say that the colors are back. Those colors from the summers I lived with him; the colors that always flooded my life. The colors that, one afternoon in late September, vanished.

It’s as if the universe has frozen and the person in front of me is my Alex again. I close my eyes and remember the taste of him, his touch, his scent. Not the exact way he tasted or smelled, more like sensation that lingers in my mind, unforgettable, a reflection of what it was. It’s as if I saw it in a four-dimensional movie and the cinema filled up with light, mist, fragrance, activating my five senses instantly.

We stare at each other in silence, neither looking away. I think he feels something too, I think that smile escaped without his permission. That makes me laugh and I let my own smile show.

“Goodbye, St. Claire,” I say, not giving him time to answer.

With Jaime on my heels, I make my way back home with a single thought in my mind: this is the first real problem I’ve faced since I arrived, the one that threatens my whole I’m going to be here thirteen weeks and then go back to my incomplete but perfect life theory. Alex’s first smile.

I like Alex’s smile. It’s beautiful. How many more secrets does he hide behind that badass façade?

Pristy the Squirrel: An unusual Sunday.