Short Story: That Summer By The Lake

Short Story: That Summer By The Lake

Picking up the photograph of Lena I traced my finger along the curve of her cheek. She stared back at me; her dark brooding eyes seemed to gaze into the distance. God, she was beautiful.

She was sitting in a small boat on the edge of the lake. I clearly remember that afternoon and how at first Lena had refused to be photographed, but after I’d sworn never to show the picture to anyone, she agreed and to my delight even unbuttoned her blouse.

That chapter of my life I’ve never shared with a soul; except when Cecile, my girlfriend occasionally asks about the girl in the photo. I lie and say Lena is a cousin. Whether or not she believes me I don’t know, nor do I particularly care.

Recently however, I’d decided to put Lena and that summer by the lake out of my mind. And it worked for a short while; that is until last week when I’d popped down to the grocery store and bumped into Mrs Butters. She charged over when she spotted me at the magazine rack.

‘Have you heard the news?’ she gushed, her watery blue eyes huge behind her thick glasses.

I’d shrugged and picked up the latest copy of Home Decorating.

‘Lena’s coming home!’ and without waiting for a reply she added, ‘Makes you wonder why now … after all this time?’ her over-sized eyes bored into mine.

The blood drained from my face and I hurriedly mumbled something then fled the store; however not before Mrs Butters called after me.

‘If I were you, I’d steer clear of her! Remember poor Michael!’

Mrs Butters words echoed through my head.

‘Michael,’ I whispered. His name stuck in my throat.

Up to the time he’d arrived in town, Lena and I had been inseparable. I’d never understood what Lena saw in me as we were so different. Like night and day, my mother used to say.

Glancing at my wristwatch, I could hardly believe that in a little more than three hours time, Lena would once again be walking the very streets I walked; breathing the same air. My stomach lurched as I tried to imagine how it would feel seeing her again?

‘Max, what are you doing?’

Quickly, I slid the photograph behind the vase of daffodils and turning to face Cecile replied, ‘Nothing.’

God, she bored me senseless. There was no fire in her soul, no passion running through her veins. Only last night in a heated argument I suggested she move out and find someone who could appreciate her more that I did, but Cecile being the long-suffering type replied that she’d never leave. She had reached up and as she stroked my cheek she whispered, ‘I love you! And I think before too long you’ll see how much you really do need me!’

She beamed at me. ‘I heard from Mrs Butters that the girl who caused that scandal all those years ago will be arriving here any second, hey?'

Her remark caught me off guard and I almost choked on my drink.

‘Yep, apparently today is a big day for our little town!” she said lightly and crossing over to the window, cupped a hand to her ear and asked, ‘Listen, can you hear it too?’

I shook my head. ‘Hear what Cecile?’

She laughed, ‘The whole town holding its breath for the return of that girl – your cousin!’

Cecile glanced in the direction of the lake and then quietly asked, ‘They say you two were in school together and quite close; how come you’ve never mentioned that to me?’

Sighing I replied, ‘Because it isn't important.’

Cecile’s eyes narrowed slightly and without uttering a word, walked over to the mantelpiece and slipped the photo out from behind the daffodils.

‘Actually Max, I don’t care if the two of you were joined at the hip … because I’m the one with you now and that’s all that matters!’

Strolling towards me she placed her arms around my waist and hugged me tightly as she said, ‘I’ll give you a shout when supper’s ready.’

Flopping onto the couch, I held my head in my hands. An image of Michael flashed before my eyes; so real I was certain if I reached out I’d be able to touch him.

‘Michael,’ again I whispered his name.

Hardly a night passed without Lena or Michael haunting my dreams. They’d visit me and for a time all would be as it was before that summer.

Shutting my eyes, I allowed the memories to unfold back to that bittersweet time when Lena and I were sixteen years old. Lena was meant to spend the school holidays with relative’s upcountry, but her father had fallen ill so she stayed to help her mother take care of him. I’d been thrilled, but we had to be careful as our families hadn’t approved of our friendship.

I’d overheard Lena’s father complain to my mother that he thought our friendship wasn’t appropriate and that it had all the ingredients for trouble.

I remember how Lena had laughed when I told her of her father’s fears.

‘So, who cares what he thinks?’ she said and reached for my hand.

I recalled the emotions that soared through me as she lifted my hand to her lips and kissed my fingertips.

But my response had been stupid and naive to say the least. So desperate, so eager for my feelings to be reciprocated, I’d reached towards her. To my dismay, Lena shoved me away, an expression of shock on her face as she’d said, ‘Max, you’re like family to me - I can’t feel the same way about you, I can’t!’

Most afternoons during the holidays, Lena and I would head for the lake; our lake. It was our favourite place. We’d lie on the grass and talk about our dreams. She wanted to be a film star – I an artist.

But then Michael arrived in town and it wasn’t long before Lena began spending less time with me. The times we did bump into each other all she could speak of was how wonderful he was.

I loathed him and tried to drive a wedge between them, but no matter what I did, nothing worked. I became obsessed. I spied on him whenever I had the chance and once even followed him and some girl to the lake. I’d hidden in the shadows and watched.

The following day I’d tried to tell Lena, but she refused to listen and suggested that I was behaving like a jealous lover.

‘So what if I am,’ I’d said. ‘Surely you’ve guessed by now what you mean to me!’

Lena had stared at me; a confused expression in her dark eyes. I’d reached for her.

‘I love you Lena!’

But she’d held her hands over her ears.

‘Max, stop it!’ she’d yelled, but I continued, begging her to give me a chance. She’d repeated over and over, ‘I love Michael …’

That summer afternoon I’d followed them, angry that she’d taken him to our special place. Much later I heard their laughter as they splashed about in the water. I’d rolled over and stared at their naked bodies. Droplets of water sparkled on Lena’s shoulders and breasts; her long dark hair clung to her face. In that instant I knew she was lost to me.

Lena called to him that she’d join him later as she wanted to swim across to the other side of the lake. I’d turned away; I couldn’t bear to look on Michael’s body as he headed towards their bundle of clothes.

I’d crept quietly on my knees towards Michael; not uttering a sound as the stones dug into my flesh. For a moment I watched as he lay sprawled out, his eyes shut with a satisfied grin on his face.

To this day I can’t explain what came over me. It was as if my mind had emptied of all reason. My hand reached for a rock beside me; the only thought in my head to destroy the person responsible for me losing Lena.

After hitting him a few times I’d collapsed breathless beside him. I’d expected him to stagger to his feet, but he hadn’t and lay still, blood trickling down the side of his face. I felt exhilarated as I’d leaned across and snatched his shirt from alongside him then crept back to the safety of the thick bushes.

I grinned; they never did find the shirt.

The story goes that when the two were discovered, Lena couldn’t speak and when questioned by the police all she did was babble incoherently. Apparently they came to the conclusion that Michael had raped Lena and she’d killed him in self-defence. Poor Lena suffered an emotional breakdown and was sent to a sanatorium. The odd thing was, despite my love for her, I’d felt no sympathy.

Later I heard, thanks to Mrs Butters, that after a few years she’d been released.

Although questioned, no one had ever suspected that I’d been involved. Fooling my mother had been an entirely different story though. I’d often caught her staring at me, her eyes filled with uncertainty. She’d been the only one who ever suspected my true feelings for Lena.

Feeling claustrophobic I crossed over to the window and thrust it wide open. Nothing stirred outside. It was as if time ceased to exist; a sense of expectancy hung in the air.

I heard a car door shut and glanced across the road towards the house where Lena had grown up. There she was; all the old, familiar emotions resurfaced. I had to see her and this time I decided, she wouldn’t escape me.

‘Max?’

I spun around. Cecile stood in the doorway watching me with an odd expression in her eyes.

‘By the look on your face, I gather she’s arrived.’

I nodded. Cecile walked slowly towards me; her hands behind her back and said, ‘I’ve known the truth about what happened that summer for a very long time, Max.’

My heart almost stopped when she brought the bloodstained shirt out from behind her back.

‘Remember when we were renovating and I was looking in the garage for paint to match the colour in our bedroom?’

Again I nodded.

‘Well, that’s when I found this … it was hidden at the bottom of that old trunk of yours …’ her voice trailed away.

She thought she was so smart.

Cecile edged closer towards me, stopping centimetres from my face, so close I could smell the fragrance of her hair. It clung to my nostrils. She stared up at me, her eyes almost feverish as she reached for my hand and placed it over her heart.

‘I don’t care what you did Max! I love you!’

Reaching up she caressed my cheek. ‘Don’t you worry about a thing, your secret’s safe with me …’

My mind raced.

Again Cecile spoke.

‘Did you hear me? I said your secret’s safe with me, Max … Max - ine!’

I cringed. Not since a little girl had any one called me by that name: I’d made it clear to Cecile from the beginning that she alway refer to me as Max. I glanced at her; she seemed a little too desperate for my liking and desperate I decided was too dangerous an emotion for Cecile.

Smiling, I gathered her in my arms. And as I held her close was certain I smelled her fear. I liked that.

‘Thanks for loving me so much,’ I whispered into her ear and as my hands caressed the small of her back, I smiled; a plan already taking shape in my mind to ensure that she never would. My hands moved gently up to her long slim neck. She moaned softly. This was going to be so easy, I thought as I tightened my grip around her throat.