The Last One (8 page)

“That’s what I said. God, Lo, he was so mean. I’ve never had anyone who I just met hate me like that.”

“Yeah, it usually takes at least a month.” Laura elbowed me in the ribs, and I couldn’t help a tiny smile.

“Whatever, bitch.” I closed my eyes, drew in a long, deep breath and then let it out in a whoosh. “Okay. I am officially letting it go, forgetting about him. Tell me what you’re making over there. It smells yummy.”

“Veggie stir-fry. You sit still, I’ll bring it over.”

I didn’t have to be told twice not to move. My temper was legendary among friends and family, but after the worst hit me, I was drained.

“I’d offer you a glass of wine, but we all know what a lush you are. If I give you something to drink, you might go off and be irresponsible and immature again.”

“That’s me. Don’t forget thoughtless. And idiotic.”

Laura set down our food on the coffee table, and we ate in silence for a few minutes.

“You’re brooding.” Laura laid her chopsticks across the plate. “He really got to you, didn’t he?”

I lifted one shoulder. “It just took me by surprise, I think. I was kind of happy to see him when he walked in, you know? To say thank you for his help, and then he just jumped all over me.”

“Or maybe you wish he had. Jumped you, I mean.”

I screwed up my face. “What are you talking about? I don’t even know him.”

“Yeah, but what he said really bothers you. Meggie, I’ve heard people say horrible things about you right to your face. Nothing ever fazes you. You blow it off, or you laugh. Or both. But for some reason, what this stranger spouted off got under your skin. Don’t you wonder why?”

“Are you saying it stung because there’s truth in it? Is this an intervention? Shouldn’t there be a sign?”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re not an alcoholic. I’m just saying maybe it’s not so much what he said but that it was Sam saying it.”

“Why should it?”

She smiled and raised one eyebrow. “Maybe
he
matters. Maybe you had some kind of ... instant connection. You know, like with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks in
You’ve Got Mail.
Even though he was obnoxious, she was drawn to him.”

I shook my head. “Lo, give it up. This is real life, not a movie, and I wasn’t drawn to him. He’s the equivalent of a grouchy old man, only he’s not old. At least, not that old. And besides ...” I remembered his parting words to me. “It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again. You couldn’t pay me enough to go back to that dinky little town.”

IF I THOUGHT ABOUT Sam Reynolds at all over the next month, it was only a fleeting memory, some little stab of hurt pride as I fell asleep at night. Laura and I were both busy with finals and end-of-the-term projects, and some days we hardly saw each other. Sleep became a scarce commodity as I pulled more than one all-nighter at the studio.

When I did see Laura, I could tell that she was walking around in a state of nerves and excitement. Brian was supposed to come back stateside at the end of May, and they’d planned for Laura to spend the summer living near his new assignment in North Carolina. Brian had to stay in the barracks on base, but Laura was sharing an apartment with one of his buddy’s girlfriends who lived there year-around. I knew she was counting the days until his return, even though she was nervous.

“We haven’t seen each other in over a year.” She was sitting on our living room floor, laying out a chronological drawing project that was due the next day. “What if I’m not the person he expects to see when he gets back? What if we’ve both grown too far apart?”

“Lo, get real. You talk to him once a week, you email all the time ... and I’ve never seen anything like the two of you. No, that’s not true.” I rolled to my side on the sofa, where I’d collapsed after a particularly grueling final exam. “My mom and dad were like that. When my mom came into a room, everything stopped for my dad. He only saw her, and it was the same for her with him. That’s going to be you and Brian. Forever.”

She looked up at me, and I saw the understanding shining in her eyes. “Oh, sweetie, that’s about the most wonderful thing you could say to me. Thank you. I know it’s going to be okay. I’m just—” She put her hands to her cheeks. “You know, a bundle of nerves. Once I know Brian’s back here, on American soil, I’ll feel better. I can’t relax until then.”

“Then we’ll just keep thinking about that. Just a few more weeks, right?” I grinned at her and pushed to sit up. “God almighty, I’m exhausted. That test wiped me out.” I reached for the coffee table to pick up my tablet. “I’m going to check my email real quick and then go to bed. I’m beat.”

“I’ll be up for a while finishing this. Luckily, I can sleep late tomorrow morning.”

I opened up my mail program and scanned the inbox. Junk, spam, a picture of my nephew DJ—I opened it fast and smiled at his sweet chubby face. More junk, something from ArtCorps—

“Laura!” I jumped to my feet. “From ArtCorps! It’s my assignment for the summer.”

She turned to look up at me. “What did you get? Arizona? New Mexico? Ooooh, SoCal?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t looked yet. I’m almost too scared. I’ve been so excited about this. What if I get, like, the mid-west? Or Alaska? I don’t think I’m cut out to be an Inuit.”

“Open it! Come on, inquiring minds want to know.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath, pressed my hand to my fluttering heart and touched the message. My eyes skimmed down the page as I read the high points aloud. “Congratulations, happy to have you on board this project ... report June first, transportation ... supplies ...” My voice trailed off as I read the final paragraph.

“No way. No. Fucking. Way.”

“What? Tell me. Alaska?”

I fell back onto the couch, dropping the tablet onto the cushion next to me. “Someone hates me. Maybe God. Maybe fate or whatever’s out there. I can’t fucking believe this.”

“Meghan Hawthorne, tell me. Or I’ll come up there and smack it out of you.”

I lifted my head and stared down at her. “You’re not going to believe it even when I tell you. Or maybe you will.” I swallowed hard and let my head drop to the sofa cushion. “ArtCorps has assigned me to Burton. Burton, Georgia.”

Laura didn’t move. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way ...”

Without another word, I handed her the tablet and watched her read the email. When she finished, she laid the tablet on the coffee table and gazed at me. “No fucking way. Well ...” She sat back on her heels. “At least you know the town has a decent bar, a place to dance and a trustworthy mechanic.”

I flipped her the bird.

“Nice. Can you ask them to change it? Switch you? Maybe they made a mistake.”

I shook my head. “I can ask, but it won’t happen. When I signed up, I agreed that I’d work wherever they assigned me.”

“You have to admit, this is weird. I mean, you’ve never been to Burton the whole time we’ve been in school here. Then we just happen to go to a bar, your car just happens to break down there ... and lo and behold, your assignment for the summer is that same town.”

“What’re you trying to say? The universe is conspiring to screw up my life?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I think the universe is moving you to the place you need to go. Now it’s up to you: are you going to roll with it or fight the tide?”

“No ocean analogies, please.” I closed my eyes, trying to settle my mind and think clearly. “I don’t know what I should do.”

“Look, Megs. You really want to do this program, right? You were so excited about it.”

“That’s when I thought I was going to be a hippie artist in New Mexico.”

“Yeah, I get that. But was it really the setting or what you were going to be doing there?”

I pursed my lips. “Will I sound terribly shallow if I say a little of both?”

“Nope. But remember why you wanted to sign up in the first place. It was to teach kids, to find out if that’s what you want to do long-term. Right?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “You’re right. I just thought I’d go a little further from home to figure it out.” I stared down at my hands. “I need to be away from everything. And from everyone. I’m tired of being Meghan Hawthorne from the Rip Tide when I’m at home. Or Meghan Hawthorne who sleeps with lots of boys but can’t keep a boyfriend when I’m in Savannah.”

“It’s not that you can’t.” Laura rubbed my knee. “You choose not to have a boyfriend. Love ‘em and Leave ‘em Hawthorne, right? Isn’t that what you wanted, never to be tied down to one guy?”

“Sure.” I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “I guess. But Lo, it’s exhausting. I need a break from being me. I thought that was what this summer would be.”

“It still can be that. No one knows you in Burton, except that Boomer dude.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And of course Sam.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll be walking into a situation where at least one person has already decided I’m a drunken slut.”

Laura rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You might be exaggerating a tiny bit. But it’s your decision. What’re you going to do?”

I ran my finger along the seam of the sofa cushion. “I think I’ll call tomorrow and find out if there’s any way to change it. But if not, I guess Burton it is.”

At nine o’clock sharp the next morning, I was on the phone, listening to the recorded voice prompting me to press one for help with an application or two for a list of locations where ArtCorps would be sending volunteers this year. I hit zero and waited for a live person.

“Good morning, this is Tina. How can I help you?”

I mustered up my best professional voice, the one I’d perfected over years of waiting tables at the Rip Tide, dealing with rude tourists and testy locals. “Good morning, Tina. I’m Meghan Hawthorne, and I—”

“Oh, Meghan! Hi. I remember your application. Actually, I processed it myself.”

“Wow. What are the odds?” I bit the corner of my lip.

She laughed. “Better than you might think. We’re pretty small here, since we’re just starting out. Everyone pitches in. And I remember you because I was so excited about the location we matched you with. It was a last-minute add, and when I read their needs, I thought about you right away.”

“Oh. Really?” I tried to keep the skepticism out of my voice.

“Definitely. They’re so excited about you coming. We sent them your portfolio, and the home and school association said you were exactly the kind of teacher they’d hoped to have. I spoke to Mrs. Moss yesterday. She was positively giddy.”

“Mrs. Moss?” I searched my memory for the name.

“Yes, she’s your host. She’s been the driving force behind getting ArtCorps to Burton, and she also agreed to open her home to you while you’re in town. She was telling me about where she lives, and I have to tell you, I’m jealous. Apparently it’s a farm house that’s been in her family for generations.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely.” I hesitated, not wanting to sound unappreciative in the face of Tina’s enthusiasm. “I just wanted to check, though, and make sure that there hadn’t been a mistake. I read that usually you try to give applicants their first or second choice of locations. I had said either the southwest USA or the west coast.”

“Yes, that’s true. We do try. But we had a few special circumstances this year. We had a number of people request Arizona or New Mexico. We had intended to place you in northern California, but then one of our volunteer applicants had a family emergency. She’s from that area, and her mother is ill. She asked for a special placement, and when the request from Burton came in, everything fell into place. I’m sure you understand.”

I did, all too well. I’d had my experience with a sick parent, and if giving up my spot in California let someone else have more time with her mother, I was fine with it. I still wasn’t sure about Burton, though.

“So if there’s nothing else ...” Tina was ready to wrap up this convo.

“Just so I can be clear, there’s no other options for me as far as location? No way for me to ... I don’t know, switch with someone?”

“No, we don’t allow switching.” Tina’s voice lost some of its patience. “We’re careful about how we make the assignments. We have a process. Your options are either Burton or withdrawing from the program.”

I gritted my teeth. “Okay, well, thanks. I’m sure Burton will work out fine. I appreciate your time.” I turned off my phone and stuck out my tongue at it. Or rather, at Peppy Tina who’d been on the other end up until a few seconds before. Damn her and her process that was sending me to purgatory in the form of Backwater, Georgia.

“You’re up bright and early.” Laura shuffled out of her bedroom, blinking at me. “Everything okay?”

“Sure.” I rubbed my forehead, where a wicked headache had just begun to blossom. “Guess where I’m spending the summer?”