The Summer of Your Life Read online

  The Summer of Your Life

  Lucy Morton

  Translated by Marcos David Castillo Ojeda

  “The Summer of Your Life”

  Written By Lucy Morton

  Copyright © 2017 Lucy Morton

  All rights reserved

  Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.

  www.babelcube.com

  Translated by Marcos David Castillo Ojeda

  “Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  The Summer of Your Life

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  THE SUMMER OF YOUR LIFE

  Lucy Morton

  Translated by Marcos David Castillo Ojeda

  BASED ON REAL EVENTS

  (Some characters in the story

  are the product of the imagination of its author.

  The protagonists do exist in real life)

  Copyright © 2016

  Lucy Morton

  Copyright Registry Office.

  All rights reserved.

  © THE SUMMER OF YOUR LIFE.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission and in writing by the author.

  Violation of the aforementioned rights may constitute a crime against intellectual property (Article 270 et seq. Of the Criminal Code).

  INDEX

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 1

  KATE

  24 hours before the wedding

  This cannot be happening. It cannot be happening! I want to scream, I want to dance. I want to go to a karaoke. I want to get hammered with lot of mojitos and to sing all night. In 24 hours I'm going to marry the most wonderful man on the face of the earth and I cannot believe that an ordinary girl, like me, has been so lucky.

  I met Martin in a New York pub where I used to go with my friends every Friday. I had just broken up my one-and-a-half year relationship with an idiot like Joshua and all I wanted was to have meaningless sex with a complete stranger that night. I wanted to risk everything. I needed an adventure and a passion. I put on the red dress. Yes, that red, flashy, tight, low-cut and curvy dress that all women have in our closet, but we never dare to put it on. I called Charlotte, Pam, Lucy and Betty, who came running to cheer me up, as usual. It was fortunate to be able to rely on them, not everyone can say they have the best friends in the world.

  “That stupid idiot!”, Charlotte said, who was the vivacious and the wildest girl of them all. “To spinsterhood!” she exclaimed, by lifting her glass.

  “To spinsterhood!” we all scream as one.

  Everyone but Betty who was the most demure person of the group. Always the bookworm wearing her inseparable horn-rimmed glasses with awry bowls, she just smiled quietly.

  “What's the matter, Betty?" Lucy asked. By the way she was a bad-tempered and a cranky one, as though, we put up with her always funny jokes and surrealistic occurrences.

  “Well, I ..." Betty stammered. “I met a guy.”

  We laughed and then we asked her a lot of questions. The truth is that although I was glad for the sweet Betty, I did not want to hear after another sentimental flop and all the details about her beautiful meeting on the subway with an attractive man with whom she had just started a relationship.

  Thanks to my distraction, I saw the most perfect man that God (if he exists), created it. Oh, yes... At that moment I believed in God and in the angels who had brought a brown-haired Adonis to the Earth. He had blue eyes as deep as the sky, and fleshy lips that I really desired from the first moment. I could not help staring at him brazenly, while my friends were still talking to Betty about the guy of the subway. He stopped looking at the bearded guy in front of him to smile me back. What a smile!

  “Kate. Kate. Kate. Kate!” Pam shouted. What's going on? Where are you?

  Pam's squeaky and severe voice caused everyone was staring at us in the pub. I blushed and I got up bravely and I went to the Adonis who had stolen my heart straight from the beginning I noticed he was there. Of course, instead of saying hi to him, I strategically placed myself between him and his friend and I leaned on the bar, talking to the scatterbrained waiter.

  I used my two certain moves: Boobs and ass. Bubble-butt, boobs resting on the bar looking more smooth, round and desirable.

  Adonis's bearded friend rolled his eyes and he went to the bathroom.

  “Martin Logan.”

  “My Adonis had a name!”

  “Kate Spencer.”

  I smiled mischievously when we shook hands. He kissed it, like the Hollywood studs of the golden age.

  “Would you like to drink something? My treat” he offered, gentlemanly and friendly.

  “A Bloody Mary”, I said coquettishly.

  It was the beginning of the best night of my life. Maybe it was not good having stood my friends up. After all, they had stayed with me that night just to cheer me up. And I replaced them with a man I had just met. And although all I wanted that November night was to forget all my troubles originally. I wanted also to kill the pain by drinking alcohol and leaping into any guy’s arms in a filthy pub bathroom. After that, I ended up discovering that it was true what my grandmother always used to say: «When you feel Butterflies flying around your stomach, you will have found the love of your life».

  Five years later, the butterflies are still flying around my stomach every time I'm with him.

  Nowadays along with these butterflies, there is an explosive mix of shaking in my legs and a knot of excitement in my throat. They have joined me to let me know that my life will finally be with the man I love. Forever! In sickness and in health, until death do us part.

  I check my calendar. I want everything to be perfect tomorrow. Having the dress, accessories, restaurant, flowers, church, menu, bridal cake, guests ready... I have worked really hard, hardly without Martin’s help who has been very busy working in the law firm. He was like, “I will trust you on this one, Kate! You’ll be fine". However, that "you’ll be fine," just meant: "We cannot afford a Wedding planner." So I've had to organize everything by myself and I feel very proud, indeed. Perhaps that I am not working now, I consider becoming a Wedding Planner. “How much should they earn?” I ask myself.

  Martin has been marvelous. He left me alone in the apartment we shared for three years and he went to a hotel room. I imagine he will have hanged out to celebrate the last night as a bachelor with his friends. Although we promised not having "crazy" parties in which the fiancé ends up hooking up with a striptease girl. It’s okay, I trust him and I know that they are not going to see that type of women. Martin is elegant and sophisticated. He is careful even down to the smallest detail. Sometimes it makes me a little nervous that he wants to have everything always so organized, but even thought I like that about him. My phone rings, it's Betty. Betty was married to the guy of the subway last year. I just call it like that because I'm too bad for names and I do not remember his. And yes, I know that maybe I'm the worst friend in the world for not remembering her husband’s name of one of my best fr
iends.

  “Is everything ready, Kate?” She asks excitedly.

  “Yes! I've been checking the lists and everything is all set.”

  “And what about Martin?”

  “I guess he is at the hotel. We will not see each other until tomorrow at the altar. At the altar, Betty! Oh God...! I'm so nervous... Were you so nervous that day, too? I do not remember.”

  Betty did not take off her horn-rimmed glasses, not even sheathed in the pretty bridal wedding dress she wore on her wedding day. The guy of the subway stared at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. I remember having envied that look and wished with all my strength that Martin looked at me like that on our wedding day.

  “Of course, Kate," she says, laughing. “Do not you remember? My hands were shaking. Karl was not very lucky at the first try when putting the wedding ring on me.

  I got it, Karl. I would remember the name of the guy of the subway until after the wedding.

  “Do you want to meet us someday?" Should I call the girls?” She proposes.

  “Sure, indeed!”

  5 fours before the wedding

  And as I was saying... A wedding is the culmination of all the love that two people feel for each other. The most important thing in life is to love and to be loved. Feeling those butterflies flying around your stomach from the first day to the last. Until you die.

  “Kate... You've had enough, sweetheart," Betty says, by holding my left arm while Charlotte is doing the same thing with my right arm.

  “No, no... I am not okay.”

  “What's wrong with me? Why am I having a hot potato voice?” Lucy and Pam laugh, while Charlotte and Betty seem to be struggling to carry a fat seal.

  “You've gained some weight, have not you?" Charlotte complains.

  “What time is it?” Suddenly I asked, by having my eyes wide-open.

  “Seven o’clock in the morning, Kate. And there are exactly...” Pam stops for a moment to count it mentally, “five hours left for the beginning of the show.

  “Shit, shit, shit!" I swear.

  I think that I am the only person hearing the sound of my running heels through the morning streets of New York City. The girls, they hurry running after me and I do not know how the hell I can get safely to my apartment. When I look in the mirror I feel sorry for myself.

  “But why did you allow me drinking so much last night?!” I reproach them and pointing them one by one with my finger.

  They say nothing and they hurry to prepare everything I need to be perfect and decent on the altar next to Martin. I wash my face: a grotesque with mascara running, huge dark circles and a pale complexion begging to feel dizzy and hoping to vomit. I clean my greasy hair and my black feet I do not know what they should have stepped on to be in that depressing state.

  “Come on, come on, and come on!" I exclaim.

  And here comes the retching. I lock myself in the bathroom to vomit and when I get rid of all the mojitos, whiskey, Bloody Mary's and Manhattan's, I can take a deep breath and I can stand on my feet normally.

  Time flies by too fast when you're in a hurry. The hands of the clock do not take pity on us and my friends, one by one are going to their apartments to finish getting ready. At ten in the morning my parents come and fortunately, they do not suspect that I have not slept at all and I was drunk as a skunk just a few hours ago. Thanks to a few aspirins and a coffee with salt, I came back to life.

  “Have you put on a concealer, sweetheart?" My mother asks, by examining me carefully.

  “Yes..." I stutter grumpily, by heading straight to the bathroom to put that concealer again which it is not very helpful as seen on TV, by the way.

  This will not have any solution at all. Martin will not look at me even if I was the most beautiful bride in the world. However, he was like, "What did you do last night? A crazy party? Didn’t we agree something?”

  The Wedding

  Now I understand how Bettys’ hands were shaking on her wedding day, because it is exactly the same feeling that I am having right now while I am on my way to St. Patrick's Cathedral where I will swear eternal love to Martin.

  “It's just paperwork. Do you really want us to formalize the relationship, Kate?” He mentioned a year ago.

  When Martin saw my tears, he hugged me. The next day, he proposed me in my favorite restaurant, Balthazar, in Soho.

  “Honey, you will be fine," my father says, interrupting my thoughts. “Just look at you! You look gorgeous!”

  “Well, she would have been even more gorgeous if she had slept just a couple more hours," my mother complained, by rolling her eyes and taking a deep breath that really drive me crazy.

  Yes, I am beautiful. I have looked in the mirror and I have loved myself for the first time in a long time. The elegant, strapless white dress looks good and although I have gained three kilos because of the nerves and too much chocolate bars and nougat ice cream, the zip has not been forced whatsoever. I have left a lock of my blond hair falling on my perfectly made face, but I am afraid that it will be really hot from time to time because of New York’s heat in the middle of July. What’s the idea of getting married in July? Dammit! I should have thought it better and maybe choose November or December. The makeup would remain intact and the roots of my hair and my armpits would not sweat like the way they are doing now.

  Ten minutes later, my parents and I left the white limo full of red roses. The limo will be waiting at the entrance of the Cathedral while Martin is holding my hand. I shudder to think that when leaving St. Patrick's Cathedral I will no longer be Kate Spencer, but Kate Logan. Mrs. Logan. Oh, my God... I get dizzy. Getting dizzy, indeed.

  I take a deep breath as if I were in a yoga class, and under the watchful eyes of the pedestrians walking by our side as if it were a normal Saturday, I take my father's arm and we climb the stairs to the entrance of the Cathedral. No, it's not an ordinary Saturday. Not for me. It's my wedding day, the day I dream of since I was a child. Ever since I put the white pillow case on my head and I ran around the house saying: “It's my wedding day! It's my wedding day! How much time has passed by since then!”

  My mother comes in with some of the guests who are still in the street, by looking at me as if they had seen a Goddess. I say hi to them and I tell them that we’ll catch up later. They understand how nervous I am right now. They nod and enter the Cathedral before me.

  “Are you ready, honey?” My dad asks at the doors of the Cathedral. He will see me saying “I do” to Martin.

  “Yes”.

  “Do you remember how many times you were putting white pillowcases on your head, sweetheart?”

  His question makes me laugh.

  “Of course I remember, dad.”

  I've thought about the same thing just a moment ago.

  All my nerves just disappear.

  The wedding march has a melodic and sophisticated rhythm, played by a pianist placed in the back of the Cathedral. The first thing I do when entering is to look at Martin. Isn´t he handsome! He had his slick-back hair and a five o’clock shadow for two days that has already disappeared. I like it better when he has his beard shaved, so I can see the funny dimples that left a mark on the cheeks when smiling. He seems nervous. He is looking at me and he is not smiling. He's serious, so serious.

  “Is everything okay, Kate?" Dad asks, barely in a whisper.

  No. There’s something wrong. I would like to run away. I would like not feeling so dizzy and this bloody leg shaking that may cause my ankles popping out.

  I look around. The elegant and radiant guests are standing and looking at me as if I were a funny little girl handing out candies on a Carnival Parade. My friends are smiling excitedly by showing their teeth what’s going to happen in a few minutes and I know they are like, "Can you see it, Kate? Can you see that you would not stay single and end up living with seven cats in a tiny and old apartment in Soho?”

  I think I want to vomit. Or die. I examine Martin's face and I am afraid that
he might be the one running away. Why do I have this feeling? I was excited 24 hours ago. I was looking forward for the most important event of my life. And yet, I am here, having seconds’ thoughts regarding my grumpy boyfriend and future husband by staring at me. He does not look at me like the guy of the subway used to look at Betty the day of her wedding. Indeed, he is looking at me, but like when there is something wrong he has to tell me.

  The walking from the aisle to the altar is tiring and tragic for me more than "The Shining". Finally, I stand in front of Martin and I smile at him. “Damn it! Why is he not smiling me back? Why? What the hell is wrong with him? Oh my God! He wants to run away. That's it. He wants to stand me up at the altar.

  I shrug and I questioned by staring at him. Despite being together for five years, he is not reading my expressions well. Or maybe he does not want to read them. He does not seem to want to be there and at the same time, he seems to be in another world. Maybe in another place very far away from me.

  The parish priest begins to speak. We look towards him, the guests make themselves comfortable, and my mother is clapping slowly. I do not know the reason and I look in the pianist's eyes a little bit of compassion for not having received the words I expected from my husband: “You are so beautiful, Kate”.

  The lecture seems forever. I look for Martin's eyes but I cannot find it. Among the guests, his bearded friend, with whom I have never got along, is crying. Is Freddy crying? My mother is not even crying! What is happening here? Martin looks at him. I nudge him and the parish priest looked up.

  “Is something wrong?” The parish priest whispers, by approaching his wrinkled face to us.

  “Yes", Martin suddenly replied.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I do not want to do it, Kate. I do not want. No, no... I...” He starts to hesitate.

  A strange rage takes over my inner self and then I realize what happened. Freddy, his ugly bearded friend, has opened his eyes almost as much as I and he has stopped crying. Martin looks at him in the same way that the guy of the subway looked at Betty the day of her wedding. By holding back my desire to punch and kick him in the nuts, I run out the door of the Cathedral, embarrassed and humiliated before the 200 guests shocked by the uncomfortable situation.