““Darren’s been quiet since we stripped down to our bathing suits and waded into the water, like his mind is somewhere else. I make small talk, but he gives a lot of halfhearted, one-word answers. “Is something wrong?” I finally ask. Darren cups a hand and repeatedly scoops at the water, letting it leak out between his fingers. “What do you see happening a few weeks from now?” I try to meet his eyes, but he’s focused on the water. “What do you mean?” “I mean at the end of summer, when you have to leave. What happens after that?” I open my mouth to speak, but not a sound comes out. I want to say a million things. I want to say that watching him walk off that train, then realizing I had no way to get in touch with him, nearly killed me. That I can’t believe I’m expected to say goodbye to him again. That I think about him. A lot.””
