Based on the book Summer sisters, I own nothing characters or otherwise.
The city is broiling in an early summer heat wave and for the third day in a row Elena buys a salad from the Korean market around the corner and has lunch at her desk. Her roommate, Maia, tells her she's risking her life eating from a salad bar. If the bacteria don't get you, the preservatives will. Elena considers this as she chomps on a carrot and scribbles notes to herself on an upcoming meeting with a client who's looking for a PR firm with an edge. Everyone wants edge these days. You tell them it's edgy, they love it.
When the phone rings she grabs it, expecting a call from the segment producer at Regis and Kathie Lee. "This is Elena Gilbert," She says, sounding solid and professional.
"Lena?"
She's surprised to hear Caroline's voice on the other end and worries for a minute it's bad news, because Caroline calls only at night, usually late, often waking her up from a deep sleep. Besides, it's been a couple months since they've talked at all.
"You have to come up," Caroline says. She's using her breathy princess voice, the one she's picked up in Europe, halfway between Jackie O's and Princess Di's. "I'm getting married at Lamb's house on the Vineyard."
"Married?"
"Yes. And you have to be my Maid of Honor. It's only appropriate, don't you think?"
"I guess that depends on who you're marrying."
"Damon," Caroline answers, and suddenly she sounds like herself again. "I'm marrying Damon. I thought you knew."
Elena forces herself to swallow, to breathe, but she feels clammy and weak anyway. She grabs the cold can of diet Coke from the corner of her desk and holds it against her forehead, then moves it to her neck, as she jots down the date and time of the wedding. She doodles all around while Caroline chats, until the whole page is filled with arrows, crescent moons and triangles, as if she's back in sixth grade.
"Lena?" Caroline says. "Are you still there? Do we have a bad connection or what?"
"No it's okay."
"So you'll come?"
"Yes." The second she hangs up she makes a mad dash for the women's room where she pukes her gut out in the stall. She has to call Caroline back, tell her there's no way she can do this. What can Caroline be thinking? What was she thinking when she agreed?
Four weeks late Caroline, her hair flying in the wind, meets Elena at the tiny Vineyard airport. Elena is the last one to step out of the commuter from LaGuardia. She'd spotted Caroline from her window as soon as they'd landed but felt glued to her seat. It's been more than two years since they've seen each other, and three since Elena graduated from college and got caught up in real life-a job, with just two weeks vacation a year. No money to fly around. Bummer, as Lamb would say when they were kids.
"Going on to Nantucket with us?" the flight attendant asks and suddenly Elena realizes she's the only passenger still on the plane. Embarrassed, she grabs her bag and hustles down the steps onto the tarmac. Caroline finds her in the crowd and waves frantically. Elena heads toward her, shaking her head because Caroline is wearing a T-shirt that says simplify, simplify, simplify. She's barefoot as usual and Caroline is betting her feet will be as dirty as they were that first summer.
Caroline holds her at arm's length for a minute. "God, Lena…" she says, "you look so… grownup!" They both laugh, then Caroline hugs her. She smells of seawater, suntan lotion, and something else. Elena closes her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent, and for a moment it's as if they've never been apart. They're still Leanna and Carolina, summer sisters forever. The rest is a mistake, a crazy joke.
