The Summer Bucket List

Chapter 16

Farah’s POV

I found myself standing unsteady in front of Gaddisson’s doorstep. It’s dark and quiet. My mind spun in dizzying circles yet my body felt numb. I knocked on the door and called August, many times. A few seconds later, it opened and Marie showed up behind the door.

“Farah?” she smelled me. “Did you drink dear?”

I ignored her. “Where’s… August?” I swallowed past an enormous lump in my throat. “There’s something important that I wanted to tell him.” I couldn’t even look steady in her eyes.

“He’s not here. And I don’t know where he is, Dear.” My shoulders dropped. I was suddenly going to fall when, in an instant, Marie caught me. “Oh, Dear. Come here.” She let me in, and laid me on the couch.

“What’s happening here?” It was Gabriel. “It’s Farah. She’s completely wasted. And she’s looking for August.”

“Okay, I’ll try to call him. Wait here.” Then, he walked back upstairs.

My face tilted on the ceiling, blankly staring at it. My eyes were getting blurred from the tears that were slowly seeping through them. “What’s wrong, honey?” Marie whispered. “You know you can always tell me the things that are bothering you.” Marie said softly. “Remember, when you were just a little girl? When you said you were scared of being alone, and your mom and dad were out of town. So, August and I stayed at your house for a whole night. I couldn’t stand leaving you alone at your house, scared and uneasy.” I slowly sat, and covered my face with my hands. I couldn’t help but let my eyes fill up with tears.

“I’m sorry, Marie. I lied.” I sobbed. She looked keenly at me, sat beside me, and gently rubbed my back. I couldn’t contain the heavy emotions that I’m feeling right at this moment. I dropped my guard, I ignored being sympathized, being pitied. I broke the walls that I built for decades. Maybe this time, I deserve to be pitied. I’m not as strong as I thought I am.

“My parents died in a car accident sixteen years ago,” I sobbed. “I left California and lived with my aunt in Washington. My life after that, became miserable. I did lie for the sake of not being pitied by everyone, because it became everyone’s reason to hurt me and ruin me. I’ve been carrying this burden for years, and it gets heavier every day. I thought I was strong enough to keep the truth to myself, but I am not.”

“It doesn’t mean that if you’re crying right now, and spilled your painful past means that you’re weak. Vulnerability doesn’t make you weak. It’s your fear that people might hurt you when you feel vulnerable. But it also takes a lot of courage to open up despite being afraid, and only the strongest people can do that. And you’re one of them, Farah. You're not weak, so don't be too harsh with yourself.”

I sobbed so hard in Marie’s arms. I leaned all my weight against her and just cried like a puerile girl. She hugged me tightly, and hugged me even longer as tears continuously slipped out of my eyes and wet her shirt. I genuinely felt my mother’s embrace in her arms. I wanted to stay in that position forever. I deeply yearned for this. “I’ve been gone for a long time because I'm scared. And I thought I came back in Morehead for the Summer Bucket List, for my last summer before I married Easton. But I was wrong. I came back for August. I came back, because I love him,” I whimpered in her arms.

August’s POV

I came home to find Farah wasted and lying on the couch while her head leaned on mom’s lap, as she slipped her fingers and rolled it down on Farah’s hair. And dad was sitting on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, watching them. She was sleeping tightly, her eyes puffed and bloating from obvious cries.

“She’s been looking for you,” Dad said, not looking at me. “Is she alright?” I asked.

“She’s not, and I think you two need to talk.” Mom spoke. Then suddenly, someone calls Farah’s name outside. Dad peaked through the window. “Ooh, it’s the fiancé,” Dad said.

“What should we do? I think she needs to stay,” Mom said, concerned.

I blow out a heavy breath. With enough courage, I stepped outside and faced him. His face grinned instantly when he saw me. “Where’s Farah? I need to see her.” His voice rattled in a quiet rage.

“She needs space.”

“What?” He marched forward, but I stopped him. “What are you doing?” His voice ragged.

“Enough.” I looked at him, eyes cold. “You’re in no position to say that. I am her fiancé, and I am going to get her no matter what.” He pushed me aside. I grabbed his shirt, yet it was his fist that greeted me. I punched him back. We fought. He punched me hard on my lips, instantly slashing blood out of it.

He held my shirt with his two hands. I did as well. “You’re just her childhood best friend, August. I am her future husband. I have more right towards her,” he said, enraged.

“You don’t have the right to her, or to anyone. And I’m not just her best friend. She loves me and I love her too,” I defiantly replied, slapping him with the truth.

He was shell-shocked, couldn’t say a thing. He was about to punch me again, when…

“Stop!” It was Farah. She marched towards us. We instantly ceased. Mom and dad stayed at the porch, concerned. We parted as she stopped in front of us. She stared heavily at us, with trace of past cries in her eyes. But all of a sudden, she walked straight passed us and entered Easton’s car.

Easton followed, he glanced hard at me before he slipped away. I watched them as they sped away from my house. I caught a glimpse of her through the car window, but she just stared straight and cold.

…

Farah’s POV

I walked straight inside the house, attempting to escape from Easton’s shedding rage. He slammed the door shut. “What’s gotten into you, Farah?!” I continued walking, trying hard to ignore him. He followed. “I’m talking to you!” He spun me forcefully in his grasps. I slouched in pain. It shocked me. He never did this harsh thing to me. He was always gentle despite everything. Maybe it shocked him too. He removed his hand, and I watched him as he took heavy breathes, calming himself. “I need an explanation, Farah. We were just fine until after the party. Tell me, what’s wrong? Why are you suddenly doing this s**t?”

I paused. “Everything’s okay. I’m okay.” I lied. His brows crossed.

“You always say that, but deep inside you’re not,” he told me, firmly. “You always lied to me, though I know the truth, I never tried to confront you.” I looked at him with googled eyes. The look of someone who was guilty-shocked. “I lied because I don’t want to hurt you.” I said boldly.

His voice dropped to the lowest tone I'd ever heard from him. “You knew that it would hurt me, yet you still lied.” His response left me with questions and realizations at the same time.

He stared gloomyly at me for a lingering moment. ” It wasn’t the lies that hurt me, Farah. But the fact that you were still able to lie in front of me, when you knew from the start that it would hurt me.” Then he walked coldly past me.

I stood there, frozen, shook, and devastated, all at the same time. His words were like ice poured all over me that shocked the deepest part of me, the part of me that cares for him — the empathy. It woke me from the reality that Easton exists, Easton is here, and has always been.

I forcefully recalled our memories together. Those five years with him in every season. How he supported me, how he stayed with me despite the loneliness and uncertainty I carry. And how selfish I am to set that aside. How self-centered I am to lie to him knowing that it would hurt him. I have never been true to him. I have never truly appreciated him. It’s a spiraling thought and a kind of regret in my head that I never genuinely noticed — his constant efforts and care. Despite the lies I told him, he remained stabled from his purpose of marrying me, when, in fact, it was the meanest red flag, that is unjustified to loyalty and trust.

I sobbed in tears. I was hit by a simple, brutal realization that this town is not for me anymore.

Morehead was completely fine without me. I was holding on in life, until I got here. Maybe if I wasn’t here, August still had Jessica, and maybe me and Easton would not be in this mess. Maybe everyone’s summer would have been perfect if I hadn’t come back here.

Maybe my life here in Morehead ended sixteen years ago, and now maybe I don’t belong here anymore.