Ross

Impact Zone. (noun). [im-pakt zone]. The location where the waves break.

"Ross, I have something to tell you."

My stomach rolls at the words, and I wonder if this it, if this is the end. Today has been too perfect, too good for a short summer to endure, and the tremor in Riley's voice is the harbinger of news that I'm afraid will break my heart.

Her green eyes are wider than ever, and I glance to her phone, dropped in the sand, and her trembling hands that hang loosely by her side. Even her lower lip shakes and her eyes are glassy with tears.

No. No, this can't be the end. I'm not ready. I'll never be ready.

"Is--is everything okay?" I ask, taking a tenuous step toward her.

Her gaze breaks from mine and she cross her thin arms over her chest. Her glassy eyes scream melancholy, and I want to pull her into my arms and tell her it will all be okay, but what if it won't? What if this is the end?

"No," she murmurs, her chin falling to her chest. "I'm leaving. Tonight--now. I have to go."

I move towards her and take her hands, untangling her arms from her chest, and holding them in mine. "What are you talking about? The summer's not even over yet--you don't have to go anywhere!"

Riley lifts her chin to look at me, her hands icy in mine. I can feel her starting to shake. "I have to go, Ross. It's Cornell. They're going to let me interview for readmittance. I could--I could study clinical psychology, maybe work at a school or...or something. My parents pulled strings and I have to go. I can't risk losing this."

And I know in that moment that I can't ask her to stay even though I want to beg her on my hands and knees to never leave my side. For all my empty talk of summer flings and temporary romance, the churning in my gut tells me that I'm not ready for goodbye. Not yet. Not now. Not ever.

But if Riley has a chance at pursuing her dreams, I can't stop her. I'm going to leave in just over a month anyways, and I know she would never ask me to give up the internship for her. I just--I thought we had time.

My hands drop hers and I pull away. "Now? Tonight?"

She nods, looking at the sand. She kneads her lower lip between her teeth, making it red and swollen and I wish a kiss would make everything go away, but it won't. I've known since the moment we met that this was only for the summer, but...

"Are you coming back?" I ask her, and I let the hope blossom inside of me. I need a chance. I need time to prepare for the inevitable separation.

"I...I don't know," she says, again crossing her arms and turning away from me so she doesn't have to look at me, so I don't have to look at her.

Not yes. Not no. I don't know. She could come back for a final goodbye, but then again, she might not. She might get in her car and drive away and never come back to Long Beach Island. I might never see her again.

"Ry..." I try to finish the sentence, but I can't seem to sort out the words jumbled around in my mind. I like you, love you, want you. Stay. Go. Never leave.

"I don't want to go," she murmurs, and I see the tears rise into her eyes and start to overflow, one dripping down her freckled cheek.

I can't handle the space between us and I reach for her, pulling her into the spot carved into my body just for her. She leans her cheek against my collarbone, her head fitted perfectly beneath my chin, and wraps her arms around my middle.

Don't go, I want to tell her. Maybe if I asked her, she would stay, but this is too good of a chance to pass up--she could return to Cornell, pursuing a degree in something she actually cares about. She'll get great grades because she's a genius, find a perfect job, get married, and have the settled-down life she's always wanted. It's not something I can give her. I'm not even sure that's the future I want, but I know beyond a shadow of doubt, I don't want to say goodbye.

Riley pulls away from me and I lean towards her, wanting to grab onto her fingers, her hair, her waist, anything that will let me keep her here.

"Will you walk back with me? I only have a few minutes," she says, wiping at her cheeks, red from the brief tears. "Can't keep Colonel Eugene Olson waiting." She smiles up at me through the tears and her attempt at humor, her attempt at making this lighter, only makes everything worse.

"Of course," I say, and I pull my shirt over my head, scarcely knowing what I'm doing. I feel like a robot as I walk beside her, and I try to tell myself that this is real, that the end has finally come.

We can't say anything else as we walk back to the Coventry's house--I wait on the front step of A Pizza the Action while Riley packs her stuff. I pull my knees to my chest and run my hand over my face and through my hair, trying to gather some steely courage I've never had.

I've never been good at goodbyes.

Even when Mom left us, it took me years to finally accept that she was gone. Almost everyone in my life--except for Mom and now Riley--has been a permanent fixture, withstanding the test of time. Sure, the kids and Javier and Earnest and the rest have grown and changed over the years, but they've always been here, just like the peeled boardwalk to the beach and the rickety lifeguard chairs.

But Riley is different. She's quick and temporal and gone before I could really catch ahold of her. And she's about to be gone, maybe for good. If I don't say something, I'm going to lose her, but if I say anything, I might keep her from pursuing her dreams. I'm not perfect, but I won't be so selfish that I hold her back from a career and a future that might make her truly happy.

I have to stay silent even with every word I've ever learned bursting from my lips to try to tell her not to leave.

The door to the pizza shop opens and Riley reappears before I'm ready with only a suitcase, a box, and a half-empty backpack, her meager possessions. She's changed into a straight black dress that shows off her slender frame and long legs and her hair is brushed into a neat ponytail--she looks nothing like the girl who was just surfing and laughing at her every failure. She's transformed before my eyes.

"So this is everything."

"Uh, let me get that for you," I say, taking her suitcase from her and leading the way to her Honda Fit, parked in the corner of the lot.

It takes us only seconds to load the car and she opens the driver's door, preparing to step inside. "I guess this is it," she says with a crooked smile.

No. It can't be.

But I know I have to let her go for her own sake.

"Ry, I..."

She steps closer to me, planting her palm on my chest. "Ross, don't. Don't make this harder than it has to be. This...we were just a summer fling. It was fun...while it lasted."
But summer's not over yet.

She refuses to lift her face to look me in the eye and I reach for her, my hands resting at the curve of her waist. She sags toward me, her protesting hand curling into the soft cotton of my shirt. Our foreheads touch and her breath burns hot against my neck.

Don't go.

"Thank you," I whisper.

She tilts her head and looks up at me, her eyes so near that I can trace the gold and blue and brown in the pale green of her eyes. "For what?"

I smile at her softly. "I wouldn't be going on this internship if it weren't for you. Even if...even if we never see each other again..."

"Maybe I'll come back before the end of the summer," she says, her words rushed and short. "You never know."

"Even if you don't, thank you," I say.

These aren't the last words I want to say to her, but they're all I can offer. I want to pull her closer to me and kiss her until we both forget about the impending goodbye, but I don't. I back away, and she's gone from me until we're only connected by our hands, fingers clutching at each other in a final desperate attempt at remembrance.

I stare at where our fingers still latch together, and as much as I tell myself to pull away, to let go, my body no longer obeys my mind.

"Goodbye," Riley says, and she forces the final separation, her pale cold fingers pulling away from mine.

She climbs into the driver's seat and starts the car, backing it out of the parking spot and driving to the turn out. She doesn't wave goodbye. She doesn't look at me in the rearview mirror. She doesn't jump out of the car for one final kiss. She drives away, her tires screeching as she pulls from the parking lot.

And she's gone.

As soon as she's out of sight, I crumble. I fall into a crouch in the parking lot with my head in between my hands, and all the words tumble out.

"Don't go. Please don't go. Stay."

But she can't hear me, and expressing what I'm feeling does nothing but remind me what just drove away. Was I wrong? Should I have told her how I feel? That even though it's only been two months, even though we've only barely met, that I love her despite it all? That I want her to stay here or go to Cornell or travel the world as long as it's with me?

I want to run to the beach and scream all the unsaid words in my head and my heart, everything I've never said to Riley and to Dad and to Mom.

Before Mom died, when we first found out about her disorder, when we learned about the dangers of postpartum psychosis, I should have said my goodbyes. I knew the risks. I knew that we had to keep Mason away from her, that we needed to watch the knives and razor blades and pills. I knew she might do something extreme, but I didn't truly understand what it was like to have someone disappear from my life, leaving only a faded shadow.

I was 19 when she slit her wrists--old enough to remember the blood that seeped beneath the bathroom door. But Ivy, who was two at the time, and Mason, who was only a newborn, don't remember her. They don't remember the trauma, but they also don't remember the vibrant woman she was in her younger days when I was a kid. I remember all of it--the good and the bad, the slow fade into depression and darkness--I remember all of it in perfect detail.

And even though I knew she might make the ultimate choice, I never thought she would. I thought that we were enough, the five of us, to keep her here, but we weren't. I never told her goodbye, and then one day, she ended everything.

Mom never knew what she meant to me because I never told her, just like I didn't say the words I should have said to Riley. Now she's gone, and she doesn't know.

If she ever comes back, I swear I'll tell her how I feel.

~~~~~

So do you think Riley will come back? Any predictions on what will happen?

Plus, we finally got the truth about Ross's mom! Was anyone surprised by that? Let me know your thoughts, and thanks for reading!