The locals typically take the rest of Labor Day week off from Tuesday through Sunday. We've busted our asses all summer, and it's time to just chill. We go fishing, kayaking, paddle boarding, hang out at the beach, and pool-hop from one soshes' house to the next. I usually read three or four novels, spend time with my mom and go to bed early, but after that completely unfulfilling, pitiful goodbye to Piper, I'm a fucking mess. I can't concentrate on reading a book, I don't want to answer questions from my mom, and I can't sleep for shit.

Trina tries to get me to lay out on the beach with her one afternoon, but I turn her down. Ben asks me to join him in the flatbed of Herman the truck to watch a wicked storm roll in, but I decline. Boone wants me to go fishing one morning, but I'm not feeling it. Cece invites me to dinner with her and Wyatt, but I haven't spoken to him since the boating incident the other day. In other words, I say no to everything. I'm perfectly fine stewing in my own self-pity and longing for my girlfriend to be with me.

"Al?" My mom knocks on the door four days after the inevitable goodbye. "Can I come in?"

"Why?"

"Cause I miss you," she says.

My lips tug up slightly from my place on the couch. "Door's open."

She glances around the room, which I'm sure smells stale. I haven't so much as cracked a window downstairs since Piper's departure. "Are you having a séance in here?"

"Light is overrated," I respond, tossing my copy of Wuthering Heights onto the coffee table, which is probably not the best choice of novels to read at this particular moment in my life.

She stands in front of the unlit fireplace. "When's the last time you ate?"

"I don't know." I have to think about that for a second. "I'm sure I consumed something yesterday."

My mom sticks her hands on her hips. "I know you miss her, kiddo, but this isn't good for you—isolating like this and not taking care of yourself."

"If you're here to lecture me," I begin, pointing over the sofa. "There's the door."

"Have you talked to Piper?" she asks, ignoring my directive.

I hug one of the throw pillows. "I talk to her every day."

"Does she know you're living like this?"

I don't bother making eye contact. "Living like what?"

"Like a hermit."

"We don't talk about that kind of stuff," I sigh. "I don't see the point."

My mom scoots my legs over and sits next to me. "Al, she wouldn't want to see you all holed up."

Maybe if I close my eyes, she'll leave. "She doesn't have to—we can't see each other at all."

"Don't be a smart ass."

I open my eyes and let out a light laugh. "I'm not being a smart ass—I'm being honest."

She rests a hand on my leg. "You're not usually one to sulk."

"I had to say goodbye to the woman I love after three short months together," I respond. "And it was a piss-poor farewell because of Wyatt's fucking boat."

"I'm sorry, hon." She squeezes my calf. "Sometimes life's not fair." My mom has said those exact words to me for 20 years, pulling them out at premier moments of suckiness.

"Tell me about it," I chuckle in a self-deprecating sort of way.

We sit in silence for a moment, and it's then when I realize I'd been listening to a record at some point, and the needle is scratching the record while it spins.

Eventually my mom gets to her feet. "Are you planning to go to the lobster bake tonight?"

I haven't missed the annual end of summer lobster bake my entire life, but I haven't even thought about it.

"Is today Friday?" I ask, lacing a hand in my greasy hair.

"You don't even know what day it is?" she scoffs. "Oh, Al…"

"Yes, I'm going to the lobster bake." I sit up and groan. "I should probably take a shower."

"Probably." She moves towards the door. "We can walk over to the Thompson's house together if you want."

I stretch, feeling my stiff, aching muscles get some relief from atrophy. "Yeah, I guess."

It'll be my first time in public since Piper's departure, and I know it'll be good for me, but the thought of leaving the house makes me anxious. Inevitably, someone will ask questions about my girlfriend that I'd just as soon avoid. I doubt I can pretend that I don't miss her—my friends will see right through me. If I'm honest and tell them how much I miss her, they'll think I'm whipped. It's a lose/lose situation.

I pad into my bathroom and turn on the water, opting for a freezing cold shower to inject some life into me. It's not healthy for me to sulk like this, and I have to put an end to it. I'm in charge of my emotions and how I react to setbacks; I can't let Piper's departure get the best of me. While under the cold water, I make a promise to myself that tonight's lobster bake will be the turning point. I can give myself permission to be sad, but I can't let it affect everything I do.

Cece and Neemah's family has always hosted the end-of-season lobster bake on their deck that overlooks the ocean. They string long, plastic tables together, drape them with red and white checkered tablecloths and keep them from blowing away by dotting the center of the tables with iced-down buckets of beer. Everyone is responsible for contributing something, and this year, my mom and I are bringing the corn and potatoes that'll get boiled with the lobsters.

After my shower and a quick turkey sandwich, I head outside to shuck corn. I haven't been outside much since Piper left, and as I raise my hands high in the air for a good stretch, I breathe in through my nose, taking in the familiar scent of saltwater and lilac. I don't detect the sweet smell of honeysuckle, so I step around the corner to see that they're done blooming. The lilac is on its last leg as well, but the blue and white hydrangeas are still holding on. I grab the sack of corn out of the shed, then sit on my front porch to begin shucking.

Of course, this reminds me of Piper's first experience with shucking corn at my mom's house. The memory brings a smile to my lips, and I allow it to linger. There's nothing wrong with conjuring up fond memories of the time we spent together; in fact, it's probably healthy. I turn on the radio and listen to the Oldies station, then take a selfie holding two ears of corn and send it to Piper.

As expected, Piper has adjusted well to college life in one week. She likes her roommate, takes interesting classes and enjoys the freedom of not having to check in with her parents for every little thing. Tonight will be the first time she's going out with friends, and I'm sure she'll appreciate that freedom even more. I believe her when she says she misses me, but she's entered a whole new world while I'm stuck in the same cycle on the island.

I reflect upon one of the first questions she asked when we met: Do I stay here because I want to or because I feel like I have to? I've chewed on that question for months, and I think I know my answer: I stay because I don't know what else is out there or how I'd fit in with the outside world. I'm not certain if that's wanting to stay, but it's definitely choosing to stay. Fear isn't something I've associated with myself, but I suppose it comes into play when I consider leaving Oyster Island.

"I was just about to do that," my mom announces as she steps outside.

I issue a small smile. "I wanted to feel productive."

She gives me a straight-lipped smile like it's good for me to finally get out of my house. She pulls up a chair and grabs an ear of corn. "I see you've showered."

"I did." I break a piece and put both ends into a bucket. "It felt good."

"There's something about a shower that makes you feel re-energized," she comments.

My phone chimes, indicating I have a text message. I pick it up and grin as I read Piper's text: Wish I was shucking corn with you and is followed by three red heart emojis.

"I take it from your smile that Piper messaged you?"

"Yeah." I type a quick text back: So do I.

She tosses her corn into the bucket, then picks up another piece. "How's she enjoying college?"

"So far, so good," I respond, moving back to the task at hand. "She's going out for the first time tonight."

"She's not 21." My mom gives me a look. "Does she have a fake ID? I had one when I was 19. Didn't work for shit though."

I chuckle, picturing my mom getting turned away from a bar by a huge bouncer. "I'm not sure what 'going out' entails. It might just be to a friend's house or something. Besides, Northampton is a small town. I think there are only two or three bars."

I don't know the first thing about college life other than what I've seen in movies or read in books, which is to say I think there's a lot of drinking on weekends and maybe random hook-ups when everyone is inebriated. I choose not to focus on the possibility of Piper hooking up—she wouldn't do that to me.

"Well, I hope she has fun."

We finish shucking corn, then I scrub the small potatoes in the industrial sink in the shed. I grab a flannel shirt in case the breeze picks up after sunset, and then my mom and I walk to the Thompson's house.

I deliver the five-pound bucket of corn and potatoes to Cece's dad, who is setting up the boiling station underneath their house on stilts, and then I join the crowd on the deck upstairs.

"You're alive!" Ben comments upon seeing me.

"Where the hell have you been?" Trina asks. "I was beginning to worry."

"I needed some down time," I respond, taking the longneck that Brian hands me.

Trina taps her bottle against mine. "We're glad to have you back among the living."

Wyatt and I haven't spoken since his boat broke down, and when I see him at the other end of the deck, I take a deep breath. We can't go on like this—not only is he a good friend, but we live on the same small island. I need to be the better person and forgive him.

I walk his way. "Hey."

He releases Cece's hand. "Alex, hi."

"I know I've given you the cold shoulder this week, but I was really angry," I admit not caring if Cece hears our discussion.

He turns fully towards me. "I know."

"He's felt like shit all week," she adds.

"Good." I raise my eyebrows. "You've had problems with that plug since last year, and you knew there was a possibility it could get dislodged again."

"I thought I'd fixed it." Wyatt shrugs. "It's not like I was intentionally keeping you away from Piper. I like her; I like the two of you together."

I tighten my jaw and glance at the ocean over his shoulder. I know he didn't intend to prolong our fishing trip, but it's the principle of the matter.

"I wish there was a way I could make it up to you," he says in an earnest tone.

"Maybe one day there will be," I reply. "Until then, let's move past it."

He holds up his Budweiser. "Friends?"

"Friends." I tap my bottle against his.

Cece smiles. "I'm so happy the air is clear."

I give her a side hug. "Me, too."

Over the course of the evening, we tell stories about our summer experiences and even the older locals get tipsy with all the free-flowing beer leftover from the soshes' parties. It's the one time a year when my mom gets drunk, and I enjoy every minute of it. There are tales about things that went wrong over the summer, things that were surprising and of course, gossip about who hooked up with whom. We talk about Wyatt and Cece and a few of the sosh kids who apparently became couples over the summer, and then the discussion turns to me.

"Are you and Piper going to try to stay together now that summer is over?" Shana asks.

"Yeah." I take a long drag from my third beer of the night.

"Do you think it can last?" Cece's mom asks in a skeptical tone.

I set my bottle down and tinker with the Tecate label. "I hope so."

"I think it will," my mom chimes in. "They have a special connection—I've seen it firsthand."

"I agree." Ben raises his beer to his mouth. "Piper's not like most of the other soshes."

I lift my eyes and take in everyone's expression. They all nod at Ben's observation, which surprises and pleases me greatly.

"What she and her family did for us was really special," Trina adds.

There are murmurs of agreement.

"Maybe that'll be an annual thing?" Wyatt says. "Wouldn't that be cool?"

The conversation drifts from my relationship with Piper to ideas about the best party ever, and I'm relieved. I've never enjoyed being the center of attention, and now that I know most of the locals don't have a problem with me and Piper, I can relax. (Even if they did, it wouldn't stop me from being with her; this just makes it easier.)

The Thompson sisters made homemade ice cream for dessert, and everyone is over the moon. This is one of the best treats every summer, and we're always curious to see what flavor made the cut each year.

"I know it sounds weird, but this year's flavor is lavender honey," Cece announces.

A few people gawk, but I'm intrigued. They've always made cutting-edge food that seems a little advanced for locals, but the soshes love their modern cuisine.

Neemah and Cece place scoops into little plastic cups, and I take a bite. It's a fascinating combination. It also reminds me that I need to talk to Loralie about her lavender business. I'm just tipsy enough to not be worried about stepping on her toes.

"How do you like the ice cream?" I ask as I approach her in the kitchen.

"It's kind of odd." Loralie makes a face. "I'd just as soon stick with chocolate and vanilla, although last year's blackberry was delicious."

"Mmm." I eat another bite. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Me?" She seems shocked. "About what?"

Might as well just blurt it out. "Have you ever thought about expanding your lavender business?"

"Expanding it?" she asks with creased brows. "No, why?"

I raise my shoulders. "I want to try making something with lavender, but I didn't want to intrude on your business."

"You want to sell it, too?"

"Not in bouquets and sachets like you do." I shake my head. "I was thinking about making essential oils."

"Oh, I'm not into that." She flicks her wrist. "I like making about $500 each summer to have a little extra spending money, that's all. If you want to try making oils, go for it."

"Alright." I smile. "Enjoy the rest of the evening."

Piper is going to be very proud of me.

The Saturday after Labor Day, my mom and I have always gone into Branford to shop for clothes that are significantly marked down at the end of the season. She doesn't get on the water as much as she used to since I do all of the shopping for the soshes now, so it's a treat for her to be a passenger in the Bayliner this morning without having to worry about buying items for other people.

"We lucked out with the weather this year," she comments as we walk down the sidewalk to Main Street. "Last year we got caught in a squall, remember?"

"I do." I smile nostalgically.

There are two clothing stores, two restaurants, a home goods store and a liquor store on Main Street. Umma's Closet is my mom's favorite place to buy casual summer blouses, and it happens to be next to the Branford Historical Society. Of course, that brings back memories of my visit with Piper in the middle of summer. Back then, my only immediate concern was whether or not to go to Ghost Island a second time. Although her looming departure was always in the back of my mind, it certainly wasn't front and center back then. I'd consider those the carefree days of summer when nothing but possibilities laid in front of us.

"Want me to meet you across the street when I'm done?" she asks.

The clothing store across the street is far trendier, though I wouldn't consider myself even a smidge on the trendy side. However, if I visit Piper in a few weeks, I want to look good—I can't show up with a bag full of old jeans and faded t-shirts.

"Yeah, or I'll meet you here." I lift my shoulders. "Whoever is done first."

"Ok." She enters Umma's, and I go to Verve, taking another long look at the historical society and smiling.

The lobster bake was good for me to get out of the funk I'd been in for four days. It was fun hanging out with my friends, and it was refreshing to clear the air between me and Wyatt. I didn't realize how heavily that was weighing on me, and now I feel like all is right in the Sticks.

"Hi, can I help you?" a young, skinny teen with jet black hair approaches me.

I point to a rack of clothes. "I'm just going to browse."

"Let me know if I can be of any assistance."

This is the kind of place Piper would love—cute, fashionable outfits that were made for young women with bank accounts. I usually find a couple of t-shirts and jeans at Umma's with my mom or venture down to the thrift store two blocks West of here. I've only been in Verve once and bought a pair of red shorts from the clearance rack.

I pick up a black blouse and eye the price tag: $88. Hell, no. My budget for this annual trip has typically been $100, and I can buy three shirts, a pair of shorts and maybe even an old pair of jeans for that amount at Umma's or the thrift store. This blouse would be almost the sum of what I'm comfortable spending. I move to the rack against the wall and see a denim shift dress that isn't bad, but it's $50. If I can't find anything as cute as this, I'll fork over that amount, but that would mean I'll need to head to the other stores to round out my purchases.

I glance around the space and see a sale rack in the far corner and slowly make my way over there. I'm surprised to see a number of decent tops and a pair of dark denim jeans that are marked down to half price.

"Can I start a fitting room for you?" the attendant asks.

I hand her four items. "Yeah, thanks." I browse the last part of the circular rack and find a black, cotton strapless dress with eyelet lace at the bottom and a red, cross-body blouse that dips into a low V in the front. It might be too skimpy for me, but I'll try it on.

After I'm satisfied with the items, I head to the dressing room. "I'm ready."

"Great." She opens the curtain and loops it around a hook. "Let me know if you want an opinion about anything."

I nod my thanks, then step into the fitting room. Two of the blouses are awful, but the skimpy red one looks surprisingly good, and it's on sale for $20. I step out. "Do you think this is too booby?"

"Not at all." The attendant giggles. "It looks good on you."

I stare at myself in the mirror and twist to see the back.

"Maybe try it on with those dark jeans," she suggests.

I return to the dressing room and slip into them, and they fit well. "Why are these on sale?" It doesn't make sense that these fashionable jeans would be on the sale rack, so before I fall in love, I need to know if they were put there by mistake.

"They're the last size in that style," she announces. "And we just got our fall shipment of denim last week."

I step out and stand in front of the mirror again, almost unfamiliar with what's staring back at me. I don't even look like myself.

"That's a good look on you," the attendant says. "Are you dressing for a special occasion?"

I smooth my hand down the blouse. "Visiting my girlfriend in college." Damn, it feels good to say that aloud.

"This would be a great outfit for a casual night on the town."

"I like it," I reply. "Thanks."

I try on the other clothes and end up liking the black sleeveless dress, the denim dress and one other top. I add up the prices in my head, and it looks like if I purchased all four items, it'll come to about $130. It's worth it.

The salesclerk takes the items to the register. "Do you have a jacket that could work with all these pieces?"

I didn't know jackets 'worked' with clothing. "I have a coat and a khaki jacket at home."

"I was thinking something like this." She holds up a black, leather jacket; I'm in love.

I've always wanted a leather jacket, but it seems impractical for my lifestyle. If Piper and I continue our relationship over the years, maybe I should buy something other than what's simply practical for island living.

She hands it to me. "Try it on."

This thing is fabulous. I wish I would've kept the red blouse and fancy jeans on to complete the look. "I don't know if I can afford something like this." I take it off and hand it back to her.

"Normally, this is a $300 jacket, but it's on sale for $75." She opens it and shows me a sizeable rip in the silky lining. "I'm sure anyone who can sew could fix this right up, but my manager decided it would sell quicker if we marked it down."

I scratch my head, deciding if I should fork over another $75. If I do, that's nearly doubling what I normally spend on clothes at this time of year. Fuck it—I made roughly $5,000 more this summer than I have in the past—I deserve it.

"I'll take it."

"I don't want to upsell you," she says with a grin. "But have you considered what kind of shoes you'll wear with these new clothes?"

Fuck. "No, I haven't."

"I recommend something with a low heel for the jeans and even some flats would do for the dresses."

I stare at my flip flops and sigh. It's either these, black Converse, open-toed sandals or steel-toed work boots. "We have some flats you might like; otherwise, if you're concerned about your budget, the thrift store has some good buys." She lifts a foot. "That's where I got these Dr. Martens."

"I think I'll venture over there, thanks." I pay cash for the entire transaction and realize it's the most money I've ever spent on clothes besides buying a new winter coat when I turned 20 that I wear to this day. "Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome, have a nice day."

I walk across the street just as my mom comes out of Umma's with two bags.

"I racked up, hon!" She holds them high. "Four shirts and two pair of shorts for $90!"

"Good job." I stare down at my bags. "I didn't make out as well as you financially, but I need new clothes for when I visit Piper."

She puts a hand on my arm. "I hope you splurged."

I grin. "I did."

We eat pita sandwiches at the café down the street, and I show her what I bought and she does the same. Her positive comments make my cognitive dissonance a little less pronounced, and I know I'll be happy with my purchases when I visit my girlfriend.

"Mind if we go to the thrift store?" I ask. "I need to buy some shoes."

"Not at all." She stands. "Let me see that jacket again."

I pull the leather jacket out of the bag and smirk. This is definitely my favorite purchase of the day.

By the time we leave the island, I've got several new outfits, a pair of simple, black heels and some fashionable boots. I've spent far more money than I budgeted, but my mom reminds me that we do this kind of shopping once a year, and I deserve it.

The last time Piper and I talked on the phone she was hoping to nail down some dates when it would be best for me to visit her at Smith. She would prefer that I'm there when she doesn't have a big paper due or an important exam, and tonight she'll inform me when that will be.

"Hey, babe," I answer. "How's it going?"

"Good. How are you?" she asks.

"Good." I fill a glass with water and sit on my deck. "My mom and I went shopping today, and I bought a few new things."

"Cool," she responds. "What did you get?"

"Outfits for my visit to Northampton."

"Really?" I hear her smiling. "Describe them to me."

I shake my head. "You'll have to see them in person."

"Ugh, ok…About your visit, how does the weekend of October 7 sound?"

It's not like I have any plans, so just about any weekend will work. "Good."

"Can you come up on a Thursday night?" she asks. "I only have two morning classes on Friday, and I was thinking you could sit in on them with me."

I take a sip of water. "As long as they're not boring."

"They're not. I can't wait," she replies. "Tell me about the lobster bake."

I fill her in on the delicious meal, the drunken older folks, and the fact that Wyatt and I made up. I also tell her about my conversation with Loralie regarding the lavender oils.

"I'm so proud of you, Al," she says. "Was she ok with your idea?"

"Surprisingly, yes." I wave to Tim who drives down the road probably on his way home from the late shift on the ferry. "She said she's not into essential oils and I could have at it."

"That's exciting! Do you know how to make them?"

"I looked up a few videos," I reply. "I might try a batch with rosemary first since that's still growing this time of year. It might not be until next spring when I can make the lavender oil."

"I forgot about the seasonality of lavender." I hear her pull the phone away. "I have to go to study group, babe."

"Ok." I return to my living room. "Talk to you tomorrow."

"Love you. Bye."

I hang up and sigh, but it's not a sad sigh—at least not as sad as it has been since she left. It's more one of realizing this is how our relationship will likely proceed in between times when we can see each other. By no means is it ideal, but it will have to suffice for the next four years.