summer lovin’: a story of teenage heartbreak (part 6) “the aftermath”

After camp, I had an honest chat with the friend who made room for me at her house the first year.

As it turns out, he got his way not by sticking up for me, but through less savory means. He told her the shiny penny beach house story, kissed her, got drunk with her, and did some things that I had never done before.

She blamed him for seducing her, but she did know better. She had experience and a few more years of knowledge than I had.

(Of course, I’m not a victim, either; I’m just a woman who, as a girl, got caught up in something my mother had always warned me about.)

Still, that stung worse than anything he had done. Our friendship was never really the same, and we don’t talk now.

As for J? He’s actually been in a steady relationship for a couple of years now with an athletic girl who knows what she wants. I’m still friends with his sister, though we don’t really talk much.

My boyfriend back home became my ex right after we both admitted we were no longer in love that summer.

I reconnected with my first love at the end of the same summer, and now I’ve been happily married for nearly four years. Our love is too comfortable to allow for nervous anticipation, but I still see fireworks and I love him more fiercely than I thought possible in my lifetime.

Sometimes, it takes a huge mistake to open a door you were meant to go through, and that’s what those days and nights of summer lovin’ all those years ago taught me.

I should have known better, but I’m glad I didn’t.