Summer Nights

I woke from the third dream I had had that night to the sound of leaf blowers and workmen chatting downstairs. I groaned and rolled over, almost falling off the small bunk bed I had always wished Grammie would just get rid of. I picked up my phone to check the time and was irritated to see that it was only eight o’clock.

“So much for sleeping in,” I mumbled to myself. I knew trying to fall back into the dream was pointless, but getting up seemed just as unlikely. I laid there, staring at the ugly floral pattern on the bottom of the top bunk mattress, while I tried to remember every detail of the dream. After wasting a sufficient amount of time, I sat up, consequently hitting my head on the metal bed frame.

“Crap!” I muttered. I slowly swung my feet out of bed, careful not to step on our dog, Keira, who was sleeping, paws crossed, on the thick green rug next to my bed. I walked to the door and pulled the old curtain aside. The dark green deck was empty, and the living room across the way seemed to be unoccupied as well.

“Keira, come on, let’s go out,” I said quietly. It was a gorgeous day; the sky above the atrium’s glass roof was clear and bright, the warm salt air blew gently through the screens, and other than the irritating lawn equipment downstairs, the neighborhood was quiet. I opened the glass door to the living room, letting Keira walk in front of me. I walked across the plush, turquoise carpet toward the kitchen, breathing in the familiar scent of the family beach house I had known since birth. The kitchen counters were covered with food and Grammie’s plentiful lists, but I ignored them and grabbed one of the blue bowls that Dad was not allowed to use because he might break one. I reached on top of the refrigerator and grabbed my cereal with one hand, then grabbed the strawberries out of the fridge with the other. I assembled my usual breakfast of Honey Nut Cheerios and strawberries and walked back out to the deck with Keira on my heels. I sat on the deck, enjoying the warmth and reading the novel I had started a few days before for a few minutes of peace, that is, until my baby sister emerged from her room.

While I was considered the smart sister, Kelsey was the dedicated sister. Her obsession with ballet always led people to believe that she was the “sweet girl,” even though I, and our parents, knew that she was far from it. She loved ballet because it gave her control, something she desperately needed to keep from going insane. She emerged from the middle bedroom already in a leotard, her auburn hair up in a perfect bun. Even though at sixteen she was only two years younger than me, she acted like she was ten years older. Her blue eyes moved over the deck, landing on me, still in my pajamas, my hair a tangled mess around my face. She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she walked toward me with the silent and confident steps only a dancer takes.

“For God’s sake, why aren’t you dressed yet?” she asked me in her signature judgemental yet sweet voice.

“It’s only 8:20, Kels,” I said calmly. She rolled her eyes again and opened the door to the living room. Keira jumped as Kelsey shut the door a little too hard, and I shook my head knowingly. If Kelsey started out the day this way, it would only get worse. I love my sister, but she has an attitude on her that rivals mine. While I’m quick to use sarcasm, Kelsey prefers to say what she thinks without a second of thought, and it never ends well. I went back to reading my book but was soon interrupted again when Kelsey walked back out onto the deck, shutting the door too hard as usual. I kept my eyes on the book, even though I knew she was staring at me with that judgmental look that she seemed to have perfected at age three.

“You’re never going to get anything done if you just sit around and read all the time, you know.” I rolled my eyes and said nothing, still reading but unable to focus now.

“Lyssa, don’t ignore me!” I looked up.

“Kelsey, why does my reading bother you so much?” A brief look of confusion passed over her eyes, quickly disappearing behind a disdainful glare as she spoke again,

“I just think it’s a waste of time.” I restrained myself from saying that ballet was a waste of time, though I desperately wanted to retort something I knew would set her off.

“Well I disagree,” I said in a slightly irritated tone. She walked up to me and snatched the book from my hands, stepping back as she did so to avoid me as I tried to get it back. She danced across the deck until she stood on the other side, holding my book over the railing, threatening to drop it into the mulch, still wet from the storm the night before, below on the ground level of the atrium.

“Kelsey, don’t you dare,” I said menacingly. I glared as she continued to hold my book over the edge. She looked at me for a moment, seeming to question whether or not she should listen. Then, a look passed over her eyes, and I knew what was about to happen. She opened her hand and let the book fall. It landed in a small puddle left over from the rain. I took off after her, running along the deck as she darted back inside the house to try and get away. When I finally caught up to her, I grabbed her arm, causing us both to stop short and fall onto the carpet. Reminded of how we used to fight as small children, we both started laughing at how ridiculous and uptight we had become and stood up slowly. I looked at her and thought about how much we used to enjoy each other’s company and was saddened by the happy memories that had taken place in the exact spot we now stood, staring at each other like strangers. She shook her head and walked outside to the hammock on the opposite end of the deck where she gracefully jumped up into it, only to almost fall out when she tried to grab the post and stop swinging. I suppressed a laugh as she glared back at me.

“Not funny, Lyssa.” We ignored each other for the next hour, only making eye contact when loud bangs came from the workmen downstairs. When I thought she had relaxed and was calm again, I hesitantly spoke to her.

“Kels, what do you say to us going down to the boardwalk later tonight?” She looked up from her phone, considering for a minute.

“Sure.” I let out a sigh of relief.

“Wait,” she said, “is that lifeguard going too?” I thought about the lifeguard I had briefly dated earlier in the summer, before it ended badly enough that I now avoided the neighborhood pool at all costs.

“God, no,” I replied as I rolled my eyes in Kelsey fashion.

We drove our parents’ SUV downtown around nine o’clock that night and parked near the boardwalk in the space we had automatically parked in all our lives. The small amusement park near our neighborhood, Funland, was the one place where Kelsey and I acted like sisters who actually enjoyed each other’s company. We had been going there since before we were old enough to walk, our parents pushing us in strollers or carrying us on their backs as we shouted for them to walk faster so we could go on the rides. For once, Kelsey ditched her uptight ballerina’s bun for the loose braid she always used after a shower. We both wore faded shorts and t-shirts with flip-flops. We walked, arm in arm, toward our favorite ice cream shop that specialized in frozen custard. It was the place our grandfather had always taken us when we were little, and we went every time we were on the boardwalk. As we waited in the eternally long line, we whispered about the cute boys that passed us, laughing and smiling like I wished we always did. Once we both had our vanilla custards, we walked over to the bench that had seen us so many times in the past eighteen years, I was almost surprised it didn’t come to life and say hello. We looked out over the dark beach and listened to the people around us chatter over the sound of the waves. The smell of beach fries and pizza wafted over the boardwalk, colliding with the salty mist from the ocean.

The crowd had grown thicker by the time we were making our way back toward the rides. We wove and darted through the crowd, something we had gained great talent in throughout the years, finally making it to the entrance. We made a beeline for skee-ball, our childhood favorite that our dad always won, making us feel like small children every time we played around him. Kelsey had never been very good, but she managed to laugh at herself over her pathetic lack of skill instead of being the control-freak she usually was. After winning an extra-large prize between us, we made our way to my favorite ride, The Paratrooper. I had never liked or understood its name, so when I was little I renamed it The Octopus, and the name just always stuck.

“Let’s go, Lyss, The Octopus’s line is really short! Hurry up, for God’s sake!” Kelsey shouted at me as she dragged me through the crowd. We ended up in a turquoise bucket, my personal favorite, and soon we were in the air, soaring over the crowd below with the wind blowing through our hair as we laughed together. I looked over at my little sister, a smile on her face, her bright blue eyes seeming to laugh all by themselves, wind blowing her braid behind her, a picture of happiness. I remembered all the fond memories this place held, from us trying cotton candy for the first time, to the time Kelsey and I ditched our parents at the pizza shop a few hundred feet away to come ride The Octopus by ourselves. As I looked out over the building toward the ocean, I wished that this moment could last forever, that Kelsey and I could always be this happy together, and in that moment, we were.