1969 by MAndALaptop

I pushed my sunglasses to the top of my head, swinging my bag over my
shoulder.

"Bye, Ma," I said.

Ma leaned over the sink, husking corn quickly, a strand of greying hair dangling
in front of her face. "Where are you off to?" she asked, not bothering to turn around to look at me.

The beep of a car's horn replied.

"Is that Mitchy?" said Ma, her tone changing from monotonous to excited. "Tell that boy I said hello! And tell him to come over whenever he likes."

"I'll tell him, Ma."

She glanced up briefly to smile tiredly at me. Wrinkles creased her tanned face, and water dripped from her fingertips. She had on her faded green apron. When I picture Ma, I always see her in that damn apron.

"Don't be out too late," she said, and then I was hurrying out the door. The
uneven wood creaked underneath my sneakers, and the screen door bounced loudly in the frame.

I stepped out on the porch. Mitch's chipped red truck sat on the gravel road. He grinned up at me, his arm slung around the passenger seat.

"Get in, Daphne!" he said, honking the horn again for good measure. Behind
the car, my family's farm spread out for acres, rows and rows of rows of corn.

I slid in the passenger seat, pushing my sunglasses down in front of my eyes. The thick, humid summer heat seemed to melt the skin right off my body. "Shit, it's hot, Mitch. Won't you turn on the air conditioner?"

"We'll be fine once we're on the road. Come on, you baby. It's the first day of
summer vacation!" He smiled at me and shifted the gear into first, and the truck took off, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Ma said that Mitch could charm anybody with that smile. His green eyes flashed in the sun, blinding and unforgiving in a cloudless blue sky.

"Do you have your bathing suit on?" Mitch said.

"'Course."

"There better not be anybody else at the pond, I swear to god." Mitch glanced at me sideways and switched on the radio. A cheerful tune began to crackle through the speakers. "It's those Beatles again!"

"You don't like The Beatles, Mitch?"

"Don't care for 'em." 

I smiled. 'Course I knew Mitch didn't like The Beetles. We had this discussion every time they played on the radio.

"Anyway," said Mitch. "I'm glad school ended. We don't have to hear Mrs.
Grasley drone on and on about English anymore. Do you remember how boring that class was?"

"It must've been boring, I was asleep half the time."

Mitch laughed, and I smiled. I loved making Mitch laugh.

Mitch and I, we'd been friends ever since the first grade when we were assigned partners for a science project. He lived in town, a good two miles away from the farm, but we always found ways to get into trouble together, especially during the summer. And it was easy when Mitch finally got his license. To me, summer meant Mitch.

I rested my head on my hand and closed my eyes. Mitch was right - the heat wasn't so bad when the truck was moving, and air blew in through the open window.

We pulled up to the swimming pond fifteen minutes later. The first day of summer, Mitch and I would always come here. Usually, we were the only ones, maybe because it was in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by overgrown trees that skimmed the surface, it was just a small circle of murky water.

Mitch and I hopped out of the car and ran to the water. He yanked off his shirt and jumped in without hesitation, his tan, lean body disappearing into the muddy liquid. He popped up a few seconds later, grinning, water running down his face.

"It feels amazing!" he shouted, trying to splash me. "Come on!"

I breathed in the humid smell of mud and wiggled my toes on the grass. A few water bugs skimmed the sunny spots in the water, and stray leaves floated on the surface.

I pulled off my top and shorts and drove in the water. God, it was so refreshing. I swam to the bottom until slippery mud squished underneath my feet, and my vision was nothing but a greenish-brown. When I was younger, the bottom of the pond seemed much further away than it did now.

Mitch and I swam until the sun sank lower in the sky, and then we pulled
ourselves out onto the dry grass. I was so happy. Summer with Mitch made me so happy.

"Can't believe we forgot towels," Mitch said. He ran a hand through his wet
hair.

"Summer vacation makes us dumb," I joked. I ran my hand over my damp legs, wrung water out of my hair. The humidity stuck to us like wet paste.

Mitch leaned back on his elbows and tilted his head towards the sky. Insects chirped lazily around us, and I studied the sharp features of his face. When he was little, he had a face full of boyish freckles. Now his face was handsome - he almost looked like a man. Almost. But Mitch and I, I felt like we would always be kids. At least around each other.

"I like it here, at the pond," said Mitch. "Almost makes you forget the
suffocating town we live in."

I rubbed my forehead, tried to smile even though his eyes were still closed.

"Hey, it's not that bad here, is it?"

"It is."

"I don't mind it so much."

"It is bad. But you make it easier, Daphne."

I smiled genuinely.

He opened his eyes then, held my gaze seriously. His eyes were so deep and
green compared to my brown ones. "Hey, Daphne?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to Nam."

Something buzzed in my ear. I shook my head. "What?"

"I'm going to Nam."

My stomach turned to rocks. God. "Mitch - no. No, Mitch."

"Daphne -"

"You were drafted?"

The answer was on his face.

"You enlisted?" I felt like throwing up. I stood up quickly, my legs wobbly, and brushed grass off my skin.

"Daphne, c'mon. Sit back down."

"Mitch. No." I walked up to the water's edge, then back, my breathing quick. Mitch looked up at me sadly, his skin almost glowing in the evening summer light. "Mitch - why?"

"My country needs me."

"Your country - god, Mitch -"

"Daphne." He stood up too, reached out for my arm. He was a good foot taller than me. I pulled away.

"People die in Vietnam," I said. The buzzing in my ear wasn't going away, and I didn't think it was just the bugs.

"I won't die. Promise."

"Don't say that!" I crossed my arms. Mitch bit his lip and looked out to the
pond.

I cleared my throat. "When are you leaving?" I asked, trying to make my voice colder and less hysterical.

Mitch shrugged. "I don't know. A week or so."

"A week?" It didn't work. My voice shrilled, and I almost punched him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

"What about summer?"

Mitch's face crumbled briefly, just for a split second, and that's when I got really scared. Really, really scared. This was real.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry. You'll have to do summer without me. I'll write you, Daph. All the time."

I reached up to wipe away a tear I didn't realize leaked out. He hugged me, and I didn't push away. I breathed in the scent of his suntan lotion, the smell of muddy water that still clung to his body, his warm skin.

"You're my best friend," he said.

"You're my best friend," I said.

"Are you mad at me?"

I was. "No."

"I don't want to be a farmer, or run the postage office when my pop dies. I can't go to college. I want to serve my country. You understand that, don't you?"

I didn't. "I guess."

He pulled away, smiled half-heartedly. The sky was turning a pastel shade of
pale purple. "I'll be back soon, and then we'll go swimming."

"Okay," I said, the words tasting empty and hollow in my mouth.

That year, summer ended the day it started.

***