Summer Forever (5 page)

Work is swamped with BMX kids the next day. I don’t know if it’s because we were closed yesterday, but today we have at least twice as many riders as normal. It’s also getting colder outside, now that it’s November so people are probably finding indoor activities to do instead of face the cold. Whatever the case, I can’t even take a coffee break until noon. And at noon, I no longer want coffee. I want lunch.

“Ollllllie,” I whine, slumping across the front counter as if I’m in the middle of acting out an elaborate death scene. “I’m hungryyyy.”

“So go to lunch!” he says, appearing from his office which is off to the side of the front desk. “You’ve been busy all morning, you could use a break.”

I stand up and frown. “Yeah, but look around. It’s way too busy to leave. I can’t leave you here all by yourself.”

“Sure you can. I’ll survive.”

I sigh, glance at the coffee maker in his office and then back out at the massive BMX park behind me. Maybe I could just power up on caffeine and skip lunch, or take a late lunch if it ever does slow down. Or… “Hey, let’s just order pizza and have them deliver it.”

Ollie glances over at me, taking his eyes off of the spreadsheet on his computer for the first time all morning. “Now that’s a good idea.”

“Sweet,” I say, feeling as if I’ve solved some epic world problem. “I’ll order pizza.”

I spin around from Ollie’s office to the front desk, where I grab the business phone before I look up at the customer that just walked in.

“No need to order pizza,” the customer says. Wait. That’s not a customer.

I drop the phone and scurry around the front counter, where Park awaits, bags of takeout food in his hands. “Babe!” I squeal, throwing my arms around him. He can’t hug me back because his hands are full, but he leans his head on mine in what can be considered an armless hug. “Why are you here? I thought you were busy today?”

After I had gone home last night, Park and I stayed up on the phone for another hour and he had explained that although he had exciting news to tell me about what he and Jace had been up to lately, he couldn’t share it with me until after today. Today was a big deal and he said he’d probably be busy until late in the afternoon. The curiosity has been killing me, but after your boyfriend quits his professional career, moves across the country and buys a house, pretty much nothing else he does can be considered surprising.

Park sets the bags on the counter and leans over it to wave at Ollie from the opening of his office door. “Ol, I brought Chinese food.”

My boss lets out a whoop because we all know he loves Chinese food. Park gives me a look of enthusiasm, and although he’s not actually bouncing on his heels like a child on Christmas morning, the look in his eyes says he’s just as excited.

“What is it?” I ask, peering up at him suspiciously. “You’re here when you’re supposed to be busy, and you’re smiling like you have…” I take a guess, “Good news?”

He nods, biting his lower lip. “Very good news.”

I lift an eyebrow. “How good?”

“Well, let’s just say it makes up for quitting my job.”

Park joins me behind the front counter and we dig into our food. Luckily, it’s finally getting slow at work so I don’t have to do that weird shuffle of pretending I’m not eating when customers come inside. I open a container of eggrolls. “Okay, now that my stomach is no longer trying to eat itself, tell me about this good news.”

Park smiles and stares at me for a weirdly long time. “I think it’s good news. I hope you do, too.”

“Okay, now I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared. It’s just a lot. Jace and I are taking on a lot of stuff here and I want you to be cool with it because I want us to be cool.”

“We are cool,” I say. “As a cucumber.”

“Oh my God, you’re a dork.”

I point my half-eaten eggroll at him. “Tell me the news!”

He takes a deep breath and stands a little straighter. “Well…since Jace got kicked out of professional racing, he’s been working at Mixon Motocross Park giving lessons to other riders.”

“I know this, but what does it have to do with you?” I ask, a bit impatiently.

“And now that I’ve quit, I’ve been thinking that teaching young riders all of my amazing knowledge would be a fun thing.”

“Have you actually worked with kids?” I interject, tossing a look over my shoulder to indicate the kids on BMX bikes behind us. “Kids kind of suck.”

He shakes his head. “Not motocross kids. Anyhow, Mixon is a little too small for Jace to keep doing this as a full time job, and they’re a racing track first of all so a lot of times the races are getting in his way of taking on new clients. And I need a job, so Jace and I have been collaborating on buying some land down here and opening a facility that’s just dedicated to training people in motocross. No races to get in the way.”

“Like a training camp?” I ask.

He nods. “We were thinking of having actual camps, too. Like in the summer, we could do a week-long camp where kids come to ride every day and practice their skills. We can teach hole shots, jumps, tricks, cornering—all kinds of stuff. It’ll keep me in the sport of motocross but I won’t have to travel anymore and I can stay here with you. Make a life with you.”

The last part he said sends chills down my spine. “I think this is a really great idea,” I say, temporarily ignoring that last thing he had said. Making a life with me implies too much, is too emotional, too important. But the job thing? That’s a good idea. “It’ll be really good for Jace, too since he has a family now. What does Mr. Fisher think about this?”

Mr. Fisher is the owner of Mixon Motocross Park and Jace’s boss. He’s been supportive of Jace so far in his career transition and I’m pretty sure it was his idea to hire Jace as a trainer at the track. Park smiles. “Mr. Fisher is totally on board. He wants to be an investor.”

“An investor? Wow. That’s fancy business talk,” I say, poking my boyfriend in the ribs. He grabs my hand and kisses it quickly before letting it go. “I know. It’s a big deal. That’s what Jace and I have been doing lately, getting all the business stuff in order. We’ve been looking at land and we found a great place that’s between Lawson and Mixon. It’s about sixteen acres and it has a pond in one corner of the land which would be great for watering the track.”

“Wow,” I say. “So…that’s where you went this morning?”

He nods. “We made an offer on the land. And they accepted our offer immediately.”

My eyes go wide. “Seriously? You just bought sixteen acres of land?”

“With Jace. We’re both half-owners. Mr. Fisher is lending us his equipment to rip up the land and build a few tracks and jumps for it. After a while, we’re hoping to earn enough money to buy our own tractors and stuff.”

“Park, this is a big deal,” I say, but it’s more of a thought to myself. Lately I’ve been thinking of expanding my art and trying to create a business for myself with it. Now Park is taking that leap himself, making a business out of something he loves. “It might be crazy, but I think it could work.”

“I think so, too.” Park stabs his fork into his rice and then takes both of my hands in his. “It’s risky and it’ll be a lot of hard work, but Jace and I have made names for ourselves in the motocross world. People know who we are and they know we’re skilled. I’ve already talked to dozens of amateur racers and their parents and these people are willing to pay to have professional racers teach their kids. But I need your support, babe.”

“Of course you have my support,” I say, lifting up on my toes and kissing him.

From the side office, I hear Ollie yell, “Gross!” but I know he’s just messing with us. I look back at him and stick out my tongue.

As soon as my work shift is over, I check my emails and find that I’ve sold six paintings in the last hour alone. I don’t even have to do the math to know that my piddly part-time hourly wages at C&C don’t even come close to what I’m earning with my paintings. If I were to quit my job and focus solely on my art, then I’d earn more than my paychecks are now.

Hell, I’m already earning more than my paychecks are now. I drive home and think about all of the things Park told me earlier today. He and his best friend are taking a leap, starting a company, and changing their destines. They want something and they’re going for it.

I’m battling my own career ideas, too. I hate college, I love my art. The choice should be simple. But I feel overwhelmingly guilty when I think about quitting college. Mom and dad would probably be pissed. Actually, scratch the probably. They would be totally pissed.

At a red light, I lean my head against the headrest in my car and stare at the roof. Why is being an adult so freaking hard? Why can’t I just throw caution to the wind and follow my dreams like Park and Jace are doing?

I’ve legally been an adult for two years now. But I don’t feel like one. I mean, I still live with my parents and I’m still a virgin. It seems like everything in life is going on, growing up and taking control of life while I’m just sitting here idly wishing I could do things but not actually doing any of them.

By the time I get home, I don’t feel any more empowered about my future.

In fact, I feel smaller than ever.

I’ve just done something really stupid.

Last night, after wallowing in my own insecurities, I had stayed up until two in the morning making art. I painted every single canvas I had left, all fourteen of them. I spent an extra hour going through my quotes notebook and searching the internet for more inspiring things to paint on future canvasses. In my sleep-deprived state, and probably slightly high from all the paint fumes, I had made a decision. I was going to quit college.

Mom was awake in the living room, binge-watching a show on Netflix that she’d recently become so obsessed with that she often stayed up late into the night watching more episodes. Armed with confidence and paint fumes, I had marched into the living room, looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Mom, I’m quitting college.”

She snorted and looked back at her television. “Get to sleep, Becca. You’ve lost your mind.”

I was so tired, I did what she said without complaint.

Now, it’s ten in the morning on a Wednesday. I shuffle down the hallway and into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal. I’m off work and school today since I only have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s a perfect day for lounging around and doing nothing.

Mom sits at the kitchen island eating some yogurt and reading the newspaper. “Good morning,” she says with a yawn.

“Hey.” It would be easy to continue on with my day acting as if everything is fine and pretending that last night didn’t happen. But that’s what the old Becca would do. I wasn’t out of my mind last night. I’ve never been more sure of something in my whole life.

If Jace and Park can quit their careers and start a business, then I can find it in me to quit college, which currently isn’t doing anything for my future and start up a business that is already earning good money. If I fail, then I fail. I can always go back to college. But I really want to try this out now, while Becca’s Inspirations are selling like crazy.

“Mom, can we talk?”

My mother’s eyes bulge as she sips her coffee quickly and then sets the coffee cup down with a clink. “Of course,” she says. I can see it now: her head is filling with all the horrors of what I could possibly say next. Mom, I’m pregnant. Mom, I’m in big trouble with the mafia. Mom, I totally crashed your car into a retirement home and killed a dozen nice old ladies.

I smile to ease her fears a bit. “Remember last night?” She nods. “Um, I wasn’t joking about it. I really want to quit college. At least for a little bit.”

She takes another sip of coffee. “Why is that?”

Suddenly the well-rehearsed speech I had formed in my mind while making my cereal is gone. Totally erased from my memory by the power of Mom’s piercing stare. “Well…I’m not doing so well in my classes,” I begin.

Mom shrugs. “You get the same degree with C’s as you do with A’s. As long as you’re passing, who cares?

“That’s just it, Mom. I’m going for a general studies associate’s degree. You can’t exactly get a job with that, and right now I’m not doing great in my classes and I kind of hate it. I think I can have a better career with my art.”

“I’m listening.” Those are the words Mom says to me, but the look on her face indicates the exact opposite.

“I’m making money with my art.”

“Honey, artists never make money. That’s exactly where the term ‘starving artist’ comes from.”

I take out my phone and open up my Etsy store to the page with how much money I’ve made this month. “I made almost two thousand dollars last month and I’m already at fifteen hundred now. The month is only half over so I might end up with three thousand dollars.”

“Wow. That’s impressive, honey.” She scrolls through the website on my phone. “You should charge more than thirty five dollars though.”

“That’s what Park thinks too. I’ll consider it.” Hopefully by agreeing with her, she’ll see things my way. After a few minutes of me nervously watching her look through my Etsy account, she slides the phone back to me. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?” I ask.

“No.”

“But, Mom—I’m making a lot of money. If I quit college I can work harder on my art and sell even more. Park thinks I should expand into prints on coffee mugs and stuff.”

“I absolutely agree that you should expand your business, but honey you take two classes just two days a week. Work on your art during the other five days.”

I stir my spoon around in my cereal which is now so soggy I don’t want to eat it. “But Mom, I hate college.”

“I don’t care, Becca. Your father and I are paying for you to get an education and that’s what you’re going to do. Stop sighing like that.”

I close my eyes and bite my tongue. The last thing I need to do is get into an argument with my mom, but I was really hoping she’d be more open to the idea. “You know this is my dream, right?” I say, in one last desperate bid to win her over to my way of thinking. “Isn’t that the whole point of life? Following your dreams. Finding what makes you happy and doing it? I’ve found that, Mom. It’s my art. I don’t need a college degree to create something that people want to buy.”

“Even so, you’ll need a business degree to run your own business. You’ll need education on taxes and bookkeeping. All of that is something you learn in college, not by following your gut.”

“What if I just take a year off?” I ask. She gets up and pours herself another cup of coffee and I expand on my idea. “Just one year away from college so I can focus on my art and if it takes off like I want it to, then I’ll go back to college. And if it doesn’t, and these last two months were just a fluke, then I’ll know and at least I would have tried. Then I’ll go back to college. See? It works out both ways.”

It’s a lie. It’s a total lie and I hope Mom doesn’t see it that way. The truth is, if I succeed with my art, I’ll be able to hire someone to do my bookkeeping and my taxes. If I end up making a living with my art, then I will do what’s best for me when it’s time for it. But Mom doesn’t need to know all of that. She just needs to agree to let me drop out.

“Honey, I appreciate your effort here, but you’re not quitting college. As long as you live under my roof, you will attend Lawson Community College.”

Since Park is meeting with Jace all day to work on their new business, I rode with him to Mixon to hang out with Bayleigh. The boys are in the living room with paperwork and calculators and we’re in Bayleigh’s room, playing with Jett.

Bayleigh’s eyes light up when I recount the talk with my mom from this morning. “Looks like we know what that means,” she says, punching my arm playfully.

“It means I’m freaking screwed,” I mutter.

“No…” She draws out the word so long that I look up at her and lift an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes?” I say. “She’s not going to let me quit college.”

“She said not while you’re under her roof.”

“Trust me, I heard that part loud and clear. But even if I make three thousand dollars a month, there’s no guarantee I’ll make that every month plus I have to pay taxes on it and there’s no way I could afford my own apartment and all the bills that come with it.” I sigh and rest my head in my hands. Even Jett’s adorable baby smile doesn’t cheer me up right now. “I’ll be living with my parents for a while. That means I’m stuck in college.”

“Okay first of all, you’re lucky because I want to go to college and I can’t until Jett is older, and secondly, you’re totally missing the point, Becca.” She points toward her bedroom door, signaling to where the boys are in the living room. “You don’t have to pay your own apartment bills. You just have to share them with someone.”

“You mean Park?” I ask. The very idea of living with Park makes me lightheaded. “I don’t know about that.”

“Don’t tell me you guys haven’t talked about you moving in yet? I mean, hello! He just bought a house! A man doesn’t need that big freaking house all to himself.”

“We’ve danced around the subject, but we haven’t actually talked about it.”

She leans into me with her shoulder. “Whyyyy not? Come on, Becca! Dooooo it.”

I laugh. “It’s not like I can just pack up my stuff and move in with him. He has to ask me and all of that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Uh, yeah you can. Here I’ll help you pack.” She pretends to stand up. “Let’s go get your stuff and move you in today.”

“It’s not like that. I kind of need the guy’s permission first. Preferably, I’d like it if he asks me to move in. I don’t want to be the kind of girl that begs to live with him.”

“I get what you’re saying and all of that, but you’re not that kind of girl. Park is crazy about you and I know he’d be psyched if you moved in with him.”

Before I speak, I make sure to lower my voice just in case anyone happens to be walking by the door. “It’s easy for you to say that because you have this perfect fairytale romance thing going on. I can’t ask him to let me move in. He has to ask me on his own.”

“He’ll ask.”

“I hope so.” I smile and think about the guy who has captured my heart and is currently hanging out on the other side of Bayleigh’s apartment. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s the guy I want with me for the rest of my life.