later scene from "summer"

I always end up writing the scenes I'm really looking forward to before the rest of the story's actually gotten there; a bad habit, I think, but oh well. Here's one between Olivia and Ryan a few weeks into summer (end of June, maybe?) If you have no idea what I'm talking about it might be a good idea to go back to my portfolio and read the beginning of Olivia's story (which actually IS in chronological order.)


Hearing the front door close, I turned. It was Ryan, wearing long khaki shorts and an open, striped button down over a t-shirt. He ran his hand through his hair a couple times, messing it up a little. Stop it, I told myself as I realized I was watching him. Turning back to the basketball hoop, I dribbled a couple times.

“Hey, Olivia.” I glanced over when I heard him speak, gave him a quick nod, then looked back at the basket.

“Hey. How’d the drum lessons go?” I dribbled and shot. Damn.

“Great. Cam’s a fun kid, and he’s getting pretty good.” Ryan stopped a few feet away from me, and watched as I missed another shot.

“I’m not a basketball player,” I told him grudgingly. “Things that require height really aren’t my thing.”

“I’m decently tall, and I’m no good either.” He shrugged. “As a kid the only sports I played were on Sega, so that might have something to do with it.”

“Sega.” I laughed. “I wasn’t allowed to get one.”

“Probably a good thing.” His voice was cheerful for someone making fun of himself.

I bounced him the ball. “Want to take a shot?”

He took another couple steps towards me, and turned to the basket, shooting the ball. He made it.

“I thought you said you’re no good.” I eyed him skeptically, and he shrugged again, retrieving the ball and tossing it over. “Beginner’s luck?”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the corner of my mouth turning up in a smile. I missed another basket. “So what’re you doing, now that you’ve graduated?”

“More school,” Ryan answered, grinning. “Decided I can’t get enough of it.”

I laughed. “Really? What’re you going for?”

“I’m going into law, contract law, I think.” Ryan dribbled the ball a little, then threw it at the hoop. It swooshed through, and I caught it as it bounced back towards me.

“I have to admit, I have no idea what contract law is.” I glanced at him, then took a shot; it bounced back off the backboard.

“It’s pretty boring; that’s what everyone tells me, anyway.” He grinned and shrugged, then tossed the ball back to me. “I think it seems kind of fun, though. I’d be legal advice to anyone who enters into any kind of contract, personal, real estate, whatever. There’s a bunch of different kinds of contracts, and, well, for instance, if someone violates their option on a contract then I’d be the one to go after them and make them keep their agreement. Or I’d be the one to defend the guy who says he didn’t violate anything.”

“Well, I’m glad that you understand that, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t.” I dribbled the ball. “But who cares if anyone else likes it anyway. You’re the one that’s going to be doing it, not them.” My next shot made it through the basket, and mentally I congratulated myself.

“Yeah, I do like it. And maybe I’ll actually be able to afford a house on Cape in a couple of years,” he joked. He went over to get the ball from where it had rolled into the bushes, and the late sun glinted off his dark hair.

“What school are you going to?”

He returned, carrying the ball. “Brooklyn Law. Fairly decent school.”

“Hey, that’s near me,” I exclaimed. “I go to NYU.”

“Yeah, I know.” We made eye contact for a moment, then he looked down at his sneakers. “You’ll have to show me how to use the subway.”

I couldn’t think of a reply, and after a few seconds passed, he added quickly, “It can’t be too hard, though. I figured out Boston’s pretty quickly.”

“Yeah,” I found my voice, “but Boston’s a lot easier. Like four lines as opposed to fifteen.”

We took a few more alternating shots, quiet but for the smack of the ball against the pavement. I was turning over his comment in my head—did he really mean he expected us to see each other in the city? Or was it just an innocent, friendly aside? Did I way overanalyze things?

“What’re you thinking about doing after graduation?” Ryan asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh Christ, don’t ask me that. I practically had a mental breakdown a month ago wondering the same thing.”

He laughed a little. “Why? Stressed out about it?”

I nodded. “I suddenly realized I only have a year until I have to get a real job that pays for bills. I have absolutely no experience in anything, and the only things that I want to do aren’t going to make me any money. And if I want to go to grad or law school, which I have no idea if I do or not, then I pretty much have to know where I’m applying by the end of the summer.”

“What is it you want to do?”

“Well, if I could do anything at all in the world…” I shrugged, and tossed the ball. “I’d want to write.”

“Write books?”

I nodded.

“What kind of books?”

“Any kind. I just love to write.” I caught the ball again, and tossed it to him.

“Well, you can do that. You were such a good journalist in high school, I’m sure you’d be a good author.”

“Yeah, but…it’s not very practical, don’t you think?” I looked at him.

Ryan smiled, shook his head, and shot the ball. “Take your own advice, why don’t you.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But still, writing doesn’t pay the bills until you’re published, and there’s no guarantee about that.”

“Hey, Liv.” Ryan tossed me the ball. “Don’t take everything so seriously. You want my advice, you’re twenty years old, not forty. No one expects you to be a success at anything right away. Just enjoy being young, and not having many responsibilities, and do what you want to do. Everything else will follow.”

I widened my eyes and paused in surprise. I didn’t expect such a frank comment from him, and it essentially was the same advice my parents had been giving me, though I knew they wanted to see me in a job where I’d be pretty financially secure. Somehow, though, it sounded different coming from Ryan.

“I’ve got to get going. I’m meeting some friends for a movie.” He turned to leave, and took a few slow steps, then turned back. “You wouldn’t want to come, would you?”

“No, thanks, but I’ve already got plans with Sam,” I answered quickly.

“All right. I’ll see you around.” He held up his hand, and took a few backward steps. I gave a short wave goodbye, and then he turned, reached his car, and drove away a minute later.