Perfect Summer by Bethany Lopez
Faith
Did he just say one thousand dollars?
Someone was calling my name. I’m not sure for how long, but it finally registered, and I followed the directions to move off the platform.
I was in shock.
People were murmuring as I walked past them with my basket. My eyes were on Mitch, who seemed pretty proud of himself and not at all regretting the amount of money he’d just spent to have lunch with me.
Once I reached him, I stopped and asked, “What did you do?”
He grinned and said, “Bid on a fancy picnic lunch with a beautiful woman and donated to a good cause.”
“Mitch,” I whispered. “That was too much. You could have lunch with me anytime.”
“Could I?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked at me. “Maybe I got caught up in the moment.”
I shook my head and let out a small laugh. “You’re insane. Let me go make sure my mom is good with watching Hope for a while longer and we can go find a spot to set this up.”
Mitch nodded, took the basket from my hand, and said, “Lead the way.”
Once I spoke with my mom, who looked inordinately pleased to see Mitch carrying my basket, we started to the edge of the square.
“Where are we going?” I asked as we walked away from the open grassy area.
“Trust me,” Mitch said mysteriously, holding out his hand for me.
I looked at it for a beat, then made a decision and placed my hand in his. My heart gave a little jump and my hand tingled.
We walked across the street, past Java Jitters and the barber shop, and crossed another street until we were at the public picnic area by the creek.
When we stopped right next to the bank and Mitch put the basket on the ground, I turned to him and said, “This is where we had our first date.”
He simply smiled and laid out the blanket.
I sat down, my gaze on the creek as Mitch began pulling items out of the basket.
“It’s so peaceful here,” I murmured. “I can still remember that day … We were, what? Fifteen? I was so nervous I must have changed twenty times, but by the time my dad dropped me off here I was practically vibrating with excitement. You looked so handsome in your letterman’s jacket and your mom had packed enough food for four people.”
“It was a good day,” Mitch stated.
“Yeah, it was.”
“Wow, this is quite a spread,” he said as he pulled a bottle of wine out of an insulated bag.
“I wanted to make sure whoever bought it got what they were paying for, although never in a million years would I have guessed I needed a basket worth a thousand dollars. I still can’t believe it.”
Mitch grinned and said, “Don’t worry about it, Faith, truly. I’m a bachelor who rents a place pretty darn cheap and owns his own business. I’m doing okay.”
“Okay,” I replied, fiddling with the edge of the blanket as I admitted, “I am flattered. I was worried no one would bid at all and I ended up with three gorgeous men in a bidding war. It was pretty nice, actually.”
“As long as you’re pleased with the victor,” he said, watching me in that thoughtful way of his.
“Very pleased,” I told him softly, leaning forward to reach into the basket. “Here, let me help.”
I pulled out the cutting board and knife and then grabbed the French bread and chicken salad. Once the sandwiches were made, I placed them on the plates next to the fresh fruit and asparagus salad Mitch had plated up.
“This all looks delicious, where did you get it from? I’ve never seen any of this at Wren’s or the deli.”
“I made it,” I replied, laughing when he looked over at me in surprise. “I’ve learned a few things over the years.”
When his face fell, regret filled me.
I knew we needed to talk, but I hadn’t wanted to ruin the picnic by bringing up our past.
“Do you want to…” I let my sentence trail off because I couldn’t bear to bring it up, but I didn’t want him to think I was unwilling to talk about it either.
“Uh, yeah, I guess we should get it out of the way, right?”
He opened the wine, poured two glasses, and handed me one.
I took a fortifying sip of the cool, crisp liquid and said, “Okay, I guess I should start at the beginning, unless you have questions.”
“Please, go ahead.”
I started off by telling him about my panic attacks, my need to be perfect for everyone and everything, and the pressure I was under. I told him about the decision to move to Chicago and the talk with my parents and how I’d found a therapist and eventually the right medication.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I knew you were stressed about school and getting good grades so you could get the scholarship, but I had no idea it affected you like that. You know you could have come to me, right? I would have understood and tried to help you.”
After taking a deep breath I replied, “I know you would have wanted to, but, Mitch, I also knew you’d either try to talk me into staying, or you’d give up everything and come with me, and I didn’t want either of those things to happen.”
“Why?” he asked, and the look on his face broke my heart.
“I loved you, Mitch. With everything I had, as only a teenager with her first love does, but I was terrified. The first time I had an attack I thought I was dying. And when I thought about going to school or settling down to get married and have kids with you, it would send me into another panic. I needed to get away and I needed to do it on my own. Maybe it was to prove to myself that I could, or maybe it was because I thought if a part of my life here came with me, nothing would be different in Chicago.” I reached out and placed my hand over his. “My therapist helped me realize I was putting all of this pressure on myself to be perfect. The perfect daughter, student … girlfriend, and taught me how to deal with it. I can usually stop a panic attack from happening now, once I feel it coming on. The medication helps too.”
“I’m so sorry you were going through all of that, and I was clueless. I wish you would have told me, but I can understand now why you had to leave. We were just kids, I’m sure it was terrifying for you to go through that.”
“Thanks. I can’t tell you how many times I picked up the phone to call you over the years. To apologize and see how you were doing, but I was afraid you hated me.”
“I don’t. I never could.”
“I am sorry, Mitch. I know I handled things badly.”
He nodded and took a drink, then asked, “It seems like Chicago was a good choice. You’ve got the salon and Hope. I was sorry to hear about your husband.”
My stomach clenched at the mention of Jed, and I gave Mitch a pleading look.
“Can we save talk of him for another time? I’d like us to enjoy the rest of this meal and I’m afraid any talk of my ex would spoil it.”
“Yeah, of course. No more talk of the past, let’s focus on the present.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile and settled in to enjoy the rest of our time together.