My mom told everyone that story before adding on how she made her own clothes. One would have assumed she grew up in a sweatshop.

  I watched Erin as she rocked next to Ma, attempting a basic pattern. She was concentrating so hard on looping the needle through each eyelet. It was hard to tell if she was really interested or trying to be polite. Either way, it was a sweet gesture. Watching them together reminded me of two old women catching up on the day’s news and world drama. It was what I envisioned for my future. Here it was, happening, right in front of me.

  *

  Later that evening, once Erin had gone back to her neck of the woods, I took a moment to reflect on the day. Looking out from the porch, lightning bugs lit up the yard. Before long, Ma joined me.

  “I don’t like the way you cater to her. It’s too much,” she said.

  I couldn’t think of what I had done to warrant her response. I paid it no mind and relished in the stillness of the night.

  Despite Ma’s comment, much of the summer while she remained in Maryland was filled with Erin and her chatting like old women playing cards. I felt like an outsider watching their interactions, but secretly, it was what I had always envisioned for my partner and my mother.

  There was a cross-familial connection I longed for with a partner, one where the person I loved meshed well with my family and I with theirs. This type of relationship was what I had seen on television. I didn’t know at the time I, too, could have such an experience.

  On the Fourth of July, Erin brought one of her cousins on our family outing, which included a huge fireworks show on the Potomac River. From where we sat perched on the hill, we could see the fireworks over the Capitol Building across the river, as well as the smaller fireworks being ignited in communities across DC and Alexandria. Despite her cousin’s young age, I finally felt Erin was letting me into her world.

  *

  Ma left a few days later which was bittersweet. We hadn’t spent much time together since before I left for college. Those two weeks were the first time since coming out I had seen my mom engage with someone I liked. Watching their interactions gave me hope for what was possible with my family and with the future of Erin and I.

  A week after Ma returned home, I headed to California with Gigi and Terri. I had never been to California, so it seemed like a good time to hitch myself to the wagon and tag along.

  “You want to go to Cali with us?” I mentioned the trip to Erin earlier in the summer but didn’t think to invite her until that point.

  “No, thank y—”

  Before I could let her reject me fully, I went into interrogation mode. “Why not? Is it the money? I’ll pay for your ticket.” I kept going. “You have somewhere to stay. When are you going to get out of DC?”

  “Peyton.” Her voice was gentle despite my frantic tone. ”Go have fun with your family. I’ll be here when you return.” With her reassurance, I figured we would pick up where we left off once I got back.

  Unfortunately, Erin had other plans.

  While in San Diego, there was radio silence from her. No phone calls. No texts. I tried to bring the experiences I was having—boat rides, roof top pool parties, dining on the Pacific—to her through text messages and photos, but they remained unacknowledged. Erin’s issues, whatever they may have been, weren’t going to keep me from enjoying my trip.

  When we finally returned to Maryland, I had less than a week remaining in my summer vacation. I called and texted Erin, but she was withdrawn. My trip to California had changed something between us, though I wasn’t sure why. With two days left, I had made every attempt to see her with no luck.

  Then, finally, she called.

  She was taking a trip to Atlanta and Orlando before vacationing with her family in August. She lamented the summer had passed her by and she had nothing to show for it. Considering I had to pass through Atlanta on my journey, I invited myself on her trip.

  “Let’s go together! I can ride with you down to Florida and leave my car at my parent’s house in Atlanta,” I said decisively. Being a teacher was turning out to be a better gig than I could have ever imagined. That summer off had been just what I needed.

  “I’m not coming back through Atlanta,” she said, putting a wrench in my plans.

  “Let me follow you to Orlando. I want to make sure you arrive safely.”

  It was a no brainer to escort Erin to Florida after Atlanta. I had another week and a half before work resumed.

  “You don’t have to follow me down. I can handle the drive.” I should have known she would say something of the sort, but I was unwavering.

  “No, I don’t have to. And you don’t need me. I want to.” I wasn’t ready to let our summer together end so soon. “I would feel better if you didn’t have to make that long trip alone. I’ll leave once you get to where you’re going.”

  *

  Later that evening, as I was packing, Erin texts me.

  I’m leaving at six in the morning if you’re coming.

  Cool. Should I come to your house or do you want to meet me here?

  Erin would drive her car and I would take mine. I had enough money for gas and food to get to Florida before payday. Another benefit of being a teacher was getting paid during the summer without having to work. Money wasn’t going to ruin this experience.

  After a few minutes, she replied.

  Neither… If you leave at six, we’ll meet up somewhere on ninety-five before Richmond.

  Cool. See you tomorrow.

  seven.

  The drive down to Atlanta was the fastest I had ever driven. I blasted my music and rolled the windows down which seemed to fuel my speed. At one point, I looked down at the gauge and saw I was going ninety-five. I wasn’t bothered by the speedometer, but Erin wasn’t impressed with my recklessness. She reprimanded:

  I’m not waiting for you if you get pulled over.

  I replied:

  Stop texting and driving.

  Once we got within the perimeter of Atlanta, I kept my speed in check. Super speeder laws in Georgia added an extra two hundred dollars to the total fine. I wanted to get home, but I didn’t want to pay extra to do so.

  We pulled up to my parent’s house around two, almost an hour earlier than we should have arrived.

  I’d always been open to people meeting my family. Since Ma and Erin were already well acquainted, I was less concerned with first impressions. Erin had been to Atlanta before, but she’d never experienced it with someone who was from the city. It was my time to shine.

  After dinner, Ma pulled out the family album and began showing Erin pictures from my childhood.

  “Peyton was into everything as a baby.” Ma told her the story of me hiding in a cabinet, scaring the babysitter to the point the police were called because she thought I had been kidnapped. Erin laughed hysterically. I didn’t see the humor in the situation. Erin continued to thumb through the pages, asking about the people and places.

  “I want to see where you grew up,” she said without looking up.

  “That can be arranged.” I started planning the next day’s adventures in my head. “I have a couple of places I want to go I think you’ll enjoy.”

  *

  I arrived at her hotel early the next morning. I had offered for her to stay at my parents’, but she had already pre-paid for her room. We spent the entire day and a full tank of gas traveling from Union City to Buckhead. We drove by places I had lived in as a kid and visited hangout spots I frequented as a teenager. Our tour ended in the heart of Atlanta’s Old Fourth Ward.

  “Have you ever been to The Varsity?” I asked as we strolled back to the car near the King Center. It was unusually cool for the summer. The breeze gave me chills. My skin prickled where my t-shirt didn’t cover my arms.

  Erin grabbed my hand and leaned her head against my arm.

  “No, but I’d love for you to take me,” she held me tighter, creating warmth between us.

  I smiled deeply. Even if she didn’t say “I love you,” she did say “love,” and that was enough for me.

  *

  We arrived in Orlando the next afternoon. The traffic merging from the B-Line expressway to I-4 was a parking lot. I never understood why people vacationed in Florida in the middle of the summer. The heat was treacherous.

  Although I only wanted to ensure her safe arrival and leave, Erin invited me to stay for a few days since I was in no hurry to get back. As a sign of appreciation, I called up a friend and got us tickets to Walt Disney World.

  Erin slept with the television on. The quickest way to remove intimacy, both physical and otherwise, is through the incessant light dancing from the idiot box. Sleeping in the living room, there was no intimacy of any sort to be had. I was lucky if we spoke after retreating to our respective beds: me on the pullout, her in a king, and both all alone.

  Our trip to the park was going pretty smoothly aside from a few minor hiccups here and there. We walked hand in hand through Animal Kingdom before hopping to another park. At exactly four o’clock, the skies opened to torrential downpour, and we were exposed between outposts at EpCot without shelter. As the rain came down, we hurried to the closest pavilion.

  There was a sweatshirt in my car, but little good that would do us in the middle of a downpour. While waiting on the storm to pass, I tried my hardest not to stare, but the beauty of the moment was not lost on me. We had been together almost a week in a quaint one-bedroom condo, and her drenched in a White t-shirt was the closest I had gotten to seeing any hidden parts of her body.

  Finally, when the rain let up, we made our way across the park, leaving a wet trail in our wake. Once back in the car, I spread the gray University shirt across the cloth seats to protect them and turned the seat warmers on.

  The sun shone brightly, bringing along its radiant heat.

  “You okay with riding with the windows down?” I asked, assuming the air would bring about an unbearable chill.

  “Sure.”

  She leaned forward and cranked the window gear, letting the warm air in. I followed suit before pulling out of the lot and heading back down I-4 toward the resort.

  Falling asleep by myself for almost a week, I fantasized about our life together.

  We would spend the nights in the bed reading and sharing our dreams. There would be love making and sleep. She would nudge me to keep my snoring to a minimum.

  There was no way a TV would be in the bedroom. That was for sure.

  In the morning, we’d wake early and enjoy our coffee before forecasting our day. Out in public we were besties or a couple on holiday. At night we were total strangers. That is, until my last night on this journey.

  Over dinner, she asked, “What would it take for you to stay one more night?”

  I took a sip of my cosmopolitan and placed the half-empty glass back on the table. There was seriousness in her I hadn’t witnessed in the five days we’d been together.

  “To be asked.” I was in no hurry to get back home to Baton Rouge. Since I was now living alone, there was nothing and no one waiting on me there.

  “Will you?”

  “Will I... What?” I smiled. I wanted her to ask me to stay. After inviting myself on the trip, I needed to know she wanted me there.

  “Will you stay one more night?” She reached her hand across the table and touched mine.

  I didn’t need to be convinced, but I appreciated the effort.

  “Of course.” I placed my free hand on top of hers. “Would you like dessert?”

  Later that evening, as I was removing the seat cushions from the bench of the couch, she called out from the bedroom, which was just down the hall passed the front door, “You can stay in here with me tonight.”

  A reward, perhaps, for choosing to stay one more night. I had a long drive back to Louisiana tomorrow. Maybe the least Erin figured she could do was give me was a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.

  “Are you sure?” I responded with a hint of skepticism in my voice.

  “Yeah, unless you want to sleep out there.”

  That surely wasn’t the case. I turned off The Nanny and headed to receive my reward.

  She pulled back the quilted blanket on the other side of the bed. Climbing under the comforter, I could feel the harmony of my libido starting to crescendo. As much as I saw this as an opportunity to make my move, I also wanted to be true to the type of person I thought she deserved.

  “I snore.” It came across more as a question than a statement of fact. I was embarrassed, but from what I had heard from others, she deserved to be forewarned.

  “I know. I’ve heard you all week.” Her words stung. How was I going to be perfect for her if I had already, unknowingly, began to expose my flaws?

  We spent the next hour or so watching The Golden Girls until we eventually drifted off to sleep. When I woke to the sunlight peeking through the curtain, she was tucked snuggly between my arm and my chest.

  As she stirred awake, I felt her body press into mine. Erin felt like home. We were where we were supposed to be. With each other.

  Erin stretched awake, rolling over onto her back next to me. I took the invitation to explore her body, lifting her shirt, making use of every pleasure pleasing skill I’d fumbled my way through over the years. Her body relaxed then tensed with discomfort. Moments later, our first experience together was over. Even in her attempt to seem pleased, she failed.

  I had never been so deflated after an intimate experience as I was that day. To top it off, I had no idea when we would see each other again or if I’d ever be able to redeem myself. She was headed back to her job and life in DC, and I was headed back to mine in Louisiana.

  eight.

  On the back end of my summer of love and one of the worst sexual encounters of my adult life, I went back to work. Inspired by an idea Erin had given me that older kids needed the same things as younger kids, I set out to build a classroom space any emerging teen would enjoy.

  The reading corner made of beige cinder blocks was transformed into butterflies, Erin’s favorite, and sweetgrass. A giant oak tree climbed the wall in a corner backlit with a huge window. It was amazing what a little butcher paper and some scissors could do to a 60-year-old classroom. I couldn’t wait for my kids to fall in love with reading in this space. I sent Erin a few photos.

  I took your advice. Tell me what you think.

  While in Florida, Erin had mentioned she needed some house slippers and some other odds and ends while lounging around. I picked out what I thought would suit her nicely and packaged it up.

  Using the die-cut machine, I pierced some additional butterflies to cover the package before mailing it off. Applying shades of blue and pink, I layered them on the butcher paper wrapping to add an illusion of movement.

  Nice.

  Through text, it was challenging to read her tone. We hadn’t really spoken since Florida outside of a few text messages. It constantly felt like pulling teeth trying to get her to engage.

  When my co-teacher Syd walked in the classroom, I was even more secure with my design.

  “What is all of this?” she said, smiling. Her eyes were curious, as classroom decorations had never been my thing in the year we had worked together.

  “Big kids need the same things as little kids!” I said proudly, parroting a conversation between Erin and I in IKEA.

  “My kids are too old for that,” I had told her, referring to the stuffed bean bags in the children’s section.

  “Big kids are just larger kids. They would get the same thrill,” she had said.

  “You must’ve had a good summer. Whatever or whoever it is, I like it!” Syd shared in my joy. It had been a terrific summer.

  I finished up the package and moved it to the side of my desk. Despite our limited communication that week, imagining her face when the box arrived kept my spirits up.

  *

  Back-to-school season in Louisiana reminded me of my freshman year at The University. In early August, the city came alive with newness as people descended from far and wide. Fall meant football, and Baton Rouge was a football town. Whenever I wasn’t teaching or attending football practice to support my students, I filled my social calendar with happy hours and networking events.

  It was all I could do to keep Erin off of my mind. I checked my phone obsessively. Phantom vibrations in my pocket added to my stress. I pulled my phone out to check it every hour. Nothing. No text. No missed calls.

  “Are you expecting a call?” Syd asked over drinks the Friday before kids returned.

  “Yes... No. Erin’s out of town with her family this week and we haven’t spoken much.” I felt a huge relief releasing that load.

  “Why don’t you just call her?” She motioned for the waitress who was walking by with a tray of drinks from the bar. We usually went to the daiquiri shop, but I wanted to try La Playa, a new taco shop downtown with bomb-ass margaritas.

  “I don’t want to be a buggaboo. She isn’t the clingy type.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to let her know you miss her. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Syd was right. There was no harm in reaching out.

  Hey....

  I didn’t really know what I wanted to say. I continued.

  Hey. Hope you’re not having too much fun without me...

  That wasn’t it. I stared at the screen. Don’t overthink it! Just tell her what you want.

  Hey. You’re on my brain. Holla at me when you get a moment.

  I pressed send and turned the phone face down on the table just as the waiter finally made her way over.

  Erin and I weren’t in a relationship. We had no titles and there were no obligations. The time we had spent together made me long for the securities and randomness that came with being a couple. I missed the us I thought we were creating.