Summer was slipping away, but I had upgraded my house and most of my tools multiple times. This had been a productive season. It boggled my mind how big my house was now. I felt like I didn't know what to do with it all – a remnant of my city slicker past. My house rivalled my parents' in size, and something about that fact made me uncomfortable.
It filled me with pride to think it, but I had to say that the farm was thriving. I was not even halfway through my first year and I had learned so much, enough to have a working sprinkler configuration, enough to have crop yields valued at tens of thousands of gold.
My successes proved to be a good distraction from my thoughts of Zuzu City, but the glow was fading; I was slowly accepting my good fortunes, and the novelty of erratic shopping was wearing off. There was only so much unnecessary furniture one could buy. I wanted to lie in bed all day, but it was too hot and I had too many obligations. Memories of the city seared my mind.
At this time of year the streets would be crawling with tourists. It was funny how much disdain I had held for the passels of people, wandering with their eyes skyward, clogging up intersections when they missed something. If I were to go back now, I would be the tourist craning my neck to take in the skyscrapers, feeling the flutter of insignificance in my heart. There was some poetic justice in there somewhere, I reckoned.
Summertime in the city was a paradox of sorts; it was simultaneously the best time and the worst time. I recalled going to the beach, and catching fireworks shows at night. I thought of the night markets that ran deep into the evening, bursting with food and entertainment. But I also remembered the hot pavement that sizzled in the sun, and the oppressive reek of garbage as it baked in dumpsters and alleys. The hot smell of garbage was always accompanied by the pungent odour of urine and unwashed vagrants that lined the streets of more impoverished neighbourhoods. It didn't matter how hard you tried to avoid it, it was always there.
Sometimes I disgusted myself with the strange reverence I infused into my thoughts of Zuzu City.
I dragged my feet through my daily chores before retiring to my house, content to enjoy the lingering coolness of last night that just barely remained in the nooks and crannies.
Even into the evening, the heat remained, stifling my zest for life, my joie de vivre. Languorous summer had grabbed me by the throat and was choking the sanity out of me. After sunset, it was nicer being outside, out of the oven that my house invariably became.
These were the best times to visit Sebastian, who also became a cranky monster in the heat. For a brief instant, I imagined us together in a stuffy, hot room, our bodies draped over various pieces of furniture, lamenting the heat, enjoying our shared distaste for the season. There was something all too thrilling about the thought.
This evening, like most evenings, I found Sebastian standing by the lake, smoking.
"Hi," I said cautiously. His gaze was focused out at the water, and I didn't want to disrupt his reveries.
He turned towards me and gave me a smile, just a small one. "Hey, how's it going?"
My heart, traitorous thing, beat almost painfully.
"Pretty good." My gaze fell on the cigarette held between his fingers.
Sebastian noticed my gaze and let out a small, resigned sigh. He made like he was going to put out his cigarette.
Giving him a questioning look, I gestured for him to stop and continue smoking.
"You don't mind me smoking?"
I shrugged. "I'm used to seeing smokers in the city. I'd rather you not for health reasons, but if I'm being honest, I like the smell of tobacco and it seemed like you weren't done yet."
We lapsed into silence, both of us staring out at the lake.
"I wish I could quit cold turkey," Sebastian said, his voice wistful. "But sometimes it feels like the only thing keeping me sane."
"Why's that?"
He seemed disturbed that I had asked a follow-up question, like he hadn't been expecting it, but he answered it anyway. "Demetrius and I don't really get along. And when it comes down to me versus Demetrius, my mom will side with him." He exhaled a puff of smoke. "I mean, I can't say I'm surprised, and she's probably right in doing so a lot of the time, but Demetrius and I really don't see eye to eye on a lot of things."
"So smoking calms your nerves."
"Essentially." He took another puff. "I really want to quit, though. Beyond heath reasons, I feel like there's a symbolism to it. Like a sign that things are finally looking up, so I won't need them as my crutch any more." He exhaled deeply. "I'm not quite there yet, though." Sebastian's mouth twisted with glumness.
My fingers twitched. I wanted to reach for his hand, but my consciousness tugged away that instinct just in time. "I have complete faith in you," I murmured. "When you're in that right place in your life, you'll have the strength and be able to do it. I know you will."
A sardonic smile dripped from his lips. "I hope so. Thanks."
"Plus," I began, remembering a particular scene I had stumbled into. "Demetrius is an asshole."
His look was querulous.
"I walked in on him and your mom arguing once," I continued. "They were arguing about—here it comes—tomatoes. Are they a fruit? Are they a vegetable? Who even knows?"
"Let me guess, my mom said they were vegetables." A hard, faint smile played around his lips.
"Yup. And of course, Demetrius goes full-asshole and says that she's completely wrong for saying so because they're fruit through and through." I rolled my eyes. "I mean, honestly, no one treats tomatoes as they would most other fruit."
"Agreed."
"I was so close to just clobbering him over the head with my watering can. And he was all shades of disrespect when talking to your mom." I shook my head fervently.
"I can't say I'm surprised," he said dully. "But I think you caught them at a particularly bad time. He can be pretty awful sometimes, but I have seen moments where he is completely dedicated to my mom. Plus," he sighed, exhaling another cloud of smoke, "he's actually stuck around for all these years. That's more than I can say about my dad."
"Hey," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. It took a second for me to realize what I'd done, but he didn't flinch away. He merely maintained his gaze out at the lake. "Families are all pretty dysfunctional." I tried not to picture my own mother swelling with indignation at that statement. "We aren't defined by our parents or our families. I'm my own person, and you're your own person. Really, we're this way in spite of our families." I withdrew my hand, hoping he hadn't felt the sweatiness of it.
He was silent for a time, taking a drag from his cigarette every now and then. Somehow the regularity and movement reminded me of an asthmatic relying on their inhaler, or of someone treading water, desperate not to drown.
"You're right," he murmured, and he turned, his gaze sliding to me.
I wondered what I looked like to him in that moment. My cheeks were probably red, flushed from the heat of the evening and my surfacing feelings. A breeze had kicked up moments ago, so my hair, originally clumped with sweat, now flapped around me. My last haircut had been in the city, just a week before I had moved out here. I probably needed another one badly. I hadn't changed my clothes after working on the farm this morning, so I was grubby – a stark contrast to his spotless black clothes. In short, I probably looked like a filthy, unsophisticated farmer, an image so far from the urbanity he wished to be a part of.
I looked away. "Cool," I said in response to nothing in particular. I longed to steer his gaze away from me, but couldn't think of how. His face was too close to mine, and my insides felt like they were on fire. The only thoughts crowding my head were of his mouth and how badly I wanted to taste it.
"I've been thinking," Sebastian began. The words trickled out of him, slow and heavy with intention, and my thoughts crawled sheepishly out of the cesspool of longing they had gone and thrown themselves into. "I know you still miss the city. I hear it in every word you speak, and I can see it in all of your movements."
I wanted to protest and assure him that I had embraced life in the valley, but at the same time, I knew he was right. The ugly truth of it was that it was embarrassing for it to have been obvious enough for him to see. I waited for him to continue.
"And I know we had that weird misunderstanding in the past about going to the city together," he said. I could still feel his gaze on me. "But I wanted to thank you for coming around to see me every day. I really appreciate it. I know that I'm a loner, but sometimes it sucks to be lonely, you know?" He didn't wait for me to answer, and I saw him blush a delicious shade of pink. "So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come with me on a ride to the city."
That beastly, empty part of me had seen this coming, at least that's what it told me, triumphant and boisterous. That part celebrated and pleaded with me to say yes, to accept – no questions asked. But another part of me was petrified. Suddenly this was all too real, the possibility and now probability of going back to Zuzu City – with Sebastian, no less. And that was another whole part of the equation that I hadn't thought of last time. Sebastian would be with me. Did that make this a date? Was this his way of saying he thought of me as something more than a friend? And as the person who knew the city better, was I obligated to be his tour guide? Maybe that was what he wanted out of this. Maybe he wanted me to show him around and help him find a neighbourhood of the city he could eventually call his home. Maybe this wasn't a date, after all, but a step towards him leaving me and the valley forever.
That first part of me deflated just a little bit.
I couldn't do this. I couldn't go on a motorcycle trip to the city – just me and him. I wasn't ready yet, and maybe wouldn't be for a long time still. It was obvious to me now how badly the city had hurt me for this proposal to instill such mixed feelings in me.
In my mind, I composed my rejection. I would be polite and I would hint at accompanying him to the city at a later date. I appreciated that he thought of me, but no, sorry, not this time.
My lips parted, the words ready to go, waiting on my tongue. I turned my head and made careful eye contact with him. I saw that he was scared, but hopeful. His dark eyes reflected the moonlight with a sparkle that pierced my soul.
"I'd love to," I said, shocked and horrified at my undoing. I had betrayed myself once again.
A slow, rich smile spread across his face and I knew with a sinking heart that I would surrender over and over again if it meant glimpsing that smile once more. "Great," he said, slightly breathless. "I was thinking of riding out to the city early in the fall. There should be fewer tourists then, right?"
I swallowed noisily and uncomfortably. "Yeah, there should be fewer people then."
"Cool," he nodded, and dropped his cigarette into the dirt by his sneaker. He ground it out with his shoe, and reached down to pick up its remains. "I'm sure you'll want to be here for the fair, so we'll go sometime before that. Are there any other days that won't work for you?"
"Preferably not the first day of fall. It's best for me to sow seeds as early in the season as possible so I can get as many harvests in as I can," I explained. I wasn't sure how I was able to say this all so calmly to him. My palms were clammy and I felt dizzy.
He nodded. "That makes sense."
"I'm glad," I said weakly.
Sebastian stared at me for a moment, and reached out a hand to grasp my arm and steady me. I hadn't realized how noticeably wobbly I had become. "Are you alright? We don't have to go if you don't want to." His eyes were full of concern and I wanted to weep. "I'm sure you have your own demons back home, and you don't have to tell me about them, so I want you to know that if you don't think you feel ready to face them, we don't have to do this."
He was giving me an out. My pulse raced and I pulled myself up into a more stable state. This was my chance to be a coward and break his heart.
"No," I said firmly. "I'm fine." I paused, exhaling a breath I'd forgotten I'd been holding. "You're right, though. I do have demons back home." I looked away and his grasp relaxed. "But there's still a lot of loose ends that I should come to terms with, a lot of things I left behind and didn't properly say good-bye to."
He nodded once more. "I understand. We can take it slow, we can drag it out into multiple visits if that helps."
"Thanks," I said, truly grateful. The burden on my back was shifting, though the void in my heart still rang empty and voracious. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Me too." He grinned.