Summer of 1959 was over. It was a different time, a quieter and gentler time. America was at peace or rather it was a time between wars at least that’s what the newspapers said. For me it was the end of summertime and while my life had changed over the summer, it remained the same. Now I was back at school, a new school with new friends, new teachers. But I still missed Sunny.
While waiting in the checkout line at Schnucks one Saturday, a lanky kid wearing goofy-looking glasses, with short black hair kept looking at me. As I grabbed both grocery bags and began my trek home, he stopped me, “Excuse me, but don’t you live on Lackland, right near Charlack? In the Malloy house?”
“Yeah… I’m David Malloy. Do I know you?”
“No. We just moved in from Georgia. I’m Ralph McIntyre. We live down the street from you. We moved into the Murdoch house.”
“You moved into Stinky’s house? So you’re our new neighbors?”
“Yeah. We just moved in, and I start school next week at Saint Ignatius.”
“Hey, that’s where I go to school.”
“Great! My kid sister will go there next year. She’s a year younger than me.” He stopped and turned, “Wait here she comes now. Hey sis, come here and meet one of our new neighbors.”
She was pretty, a petite blonde with tiny brown freckles around her nose and face and wore tight white shorts.
“Hi, I’m Mary Lee.” she said and I saw something wonderful in her eyes and felt weak in my knees. Her smile could warm a winter frost.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“My name is David, David Malloy.”
“Do you have a cute sister named Joanie?” her brother asked.
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“She’s really cute. I met her yesterday walking up to Clarks to get the paper for my dad. She said she also gets the paper for your dad every night. What a coincidence.”
“Yeah, really. What a coincidence.” I said with a smile.
The three of us stood talking for over an hour. He liked hiking, biking, baseball swimming, and exploring. He also thought that Stan Musial was the best baseball player ever. I looked at my watch and saw it was getting late. I knew right then and there we would be the best of friends, the very best.
“I hate to leave you, but I have to get these groceries home or my mom will kill me.”
“It’s okay. My dad is supposed to pick us up here and then he’s taking us furniture shopping for our new rooms.”
“Well hey, when you get situated at home come on over one day and we can talk about the neighborhood and about school and stuff.” She shook my hand and it felt so warm, so soft, it reminded me of Sunny’s soft hands. She brought back too many memories. Suddenly I missed Sunny so much.
One Saturday at home, weeks later, and the house was empty and quiet. My mom laid the baby down for her nap and whispered in my ear, “Follow me,” she said and took me by the hand. We went into her room carrying a flashlight and she had set up a tent just large enough for the two of us. We sat together cross-legged on the floor in our tent and ate Chunky candy bars and drank sodas but not too loud so as to wake the baby. My mom had me read the Boys Life peach pie story to her three times. Wow. It was the best afternoon I ever had, just my Mom and me.
When I was finally finished reading the story, she moved a strand of blond hair from my face and said, “It’s very good David. Very good. It’s a pity Mrs. Corcoran isn’t here to see you win it.” She smiled at me and then suddenly pulled back, “Oh, I nearly forgot, I have something for you. It came in the mail for you today.” She retrieved it from the pocket in her cotton apron and handed it to me.
It was a postcard with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it addressed to me. It came from France—from Sunny. I turned it around to read her finely handwritten note.
David—
I can’t tell you how much I miss you. You will always be in my heart, my mind, and my soul. I will cherish our friendship and hope I have caused you no pain but my heart breaks every time I think of you and the time we had together. Life is short, and perhaps our paths will cross again someday. Please don’t ever forget me, for I will never forget you.
Sunny
“Nice postcard. From Sunny?”
“Yes.”
“What did she have to say?”
“She said goodbye.”
“Really? I always liked her. Maybe you should send her a…”
“She doesn’t want to hear from me, Mom.”
“How do you know?”
“There was no return address on the card.”
My mom stroked the hair on my head and I heard her whisper what sounded like a prayer. “Please Lord; don’t let him grow up any faster than he already is.” I didn’t want to be twelve forever, I just wanted the pain to go away. We sat in silence for a long time, just being together. That was all that mattered. My mom gave me a new blue leather-bound journal book for me to write stories inside.
That night I thought about the past summer. It was sad. Over the last few weeks, I had lost all of my best friends.
I lost a brother but gained a brother, a baby brother.
Timmy was going to reform school; my father said his brother Dutch was back in court and now going to stay in prison for a very long time. Apparently, the police found the missing gun Dutch had used in the robbery he committed—thanks to Timmy. Now even his own brother hated him. They found the gun on Timmy when he was arrested at Sunny’s house.
Mrs. Corcoran had quit her job at the library, and nobody knew where she went. She was the one who guided me in my reading, encouraged me and shared with me her love of books and writing. She taught me how to express myself in my stories. She was the best librarian in the whole world. How could I ever thank her for everything she did for me?
All my friends were gone. Even Cora, my confidant, had found a new job. She was going back home to Mississippi to be with her family. She said she missed them. I looked fondly at the darkened basement window where she would stand for hours ironing, sweating but I remember she always had a smile on her face. She was so wise; somehow, she knew that Timmy was evil, something I didn’t see until it was almost too late. And Mr. and Mrs. Jost’s house was still dark at night when I walked home from the grocery store. I waved at their house when I went by it. I even missed them.
I never saw Sunny, Timmy, or Mrs. Corcoran ever again, but I never expected that I would. But now, I had a new kid brother, somebody who I could teach all about exploring, how to identify trees, the best places to hide in hide and go seek, go hiking, and fishing at Lake Saint Louis and he could be the one to climb up the peach trees and pick the peaches for mom’s wonderful pies. I was going to teach him everything important, just like my brother Josh and my brother Jack had taught me. I was now the older brother.
Our new neighbors seemed real nice, and Mary Lee, well, she was beautiful, friendly, smart and… thinking about it, I guess my life was getting better. And it was only nine more months until next summer—nine whole months until summertime. I could hardly wait.
And Sunny? Sunny had moved away but taught me so many things about people and about myself. She was tender, kind, smart, giving, and loving. I missed her a lot. I missed her laugh, her touch, her wit and her sense of humor. I even missed some of the awful-tasting foods she would shove in my mouth to see how I liked it. Even though it tasted like boiled socks, I always smiled and told her how great it was but in fact, she was becoming a very good cook.
But I was saddened by the fact I would never be able to spend my life with her or for that matter even another summer day and lay in a field of flowers on a blanket, drinking a bottle of wine with some cheese and make love to her until dawn. I would never be able to touch her skin, caress her body, kiss her breasts, or hold her in my arms and have lots and lots of children. She was gone and I had no idea where she was. Some people you meet in life are hard to forget, hard not to love and impossible to let go of. I never liked goodbyes.
For many years afterwards, I would look to the stars and whisper her name. I hurt. But if I looked real close in the galaxy of stars I was sure I saw one twinkle and smile at me. It had to be Sunny. Late at night, we would talk and laugh with one another. Or rather, I talked and she listened, as always. She was my guiding star, she was my sun, she was my Sunny. I missed her terribly. So long my sweet. I love you.
–The End
Carol had to choke back a tear when she finished reading the book, she was miserable because it was over but now she wanted more of him to drink up and quench her thirst. She did not want to share the book—or him—with anyone. She cared too deeply.
She knew he would ask what changes she would want to make because it was her job as an agent to package it up to market it to publishers, but she didn’t want to change anything, not even a comma or a word. She saw his soul in this book.
The publishers will kill this book with their changes. They will want to cut it back to fit into a genre or target an audience. Change characters, delete a line or kill somebody off. I can’t let that happen.
Mitchell was her twisted genius, like Ayn Rand’s Howard Roark, and she would fight for him every step of the way. She would accept no changes to this heartfelt story even though her job was to represent him and get the damn thing published. She leaned over and put her head in her hands and wanted to cry. What am I going to do now? She heard a sound behind her.
“Carol?” He asked in his tender tone, sober.
“Don’t look up, Carol… your eyes will betray you. Not to him, never again to him. Whatever you do, don’t look up. He’ll know how much you care if you look him in the eyes. Goddamn him.
She coughed to clear her throat. “I’ll be there in a minute. Go ahead without me Mitch.” Then she saw his shoes standing on the ground before her, not moving.
“Carol, are you okay? Ready to go?” he asked. She saw his outstretched hand reaching to her.
“Yep,” she said still afraid to look at him.
“Carol? Did you finish the story? Did you like it? Cal … look at me.”
She looked up, into his eyes, then looked away but it was too late, he delved deep into her soul. Her eyes had betrayed her. This hurts, she cried to herself. She could feel the pain in her heart. She finally said, “It was wonderful, different…but wonderful. Sorry if I’m so emotional, but it’s your best work. I didn’t want to put it down, I couldn’t stop reading it.” She took in a deep breath and tried to break away from the hold he had on her. A tear rolled down her cheek.
Carol looked at him again, he knew. Damn him and damn his eyes. Damn him to hell, sweet hell. She knew then she could never have him, nobody could. He was a man with a lost soul.
“Ready?” he finally asked handing her his handkerchief. “Time to go face the lions.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m ready.”
They rode in the elevator to the ground floor without saying another word. He turned and saw him check his phone for messages. Then she heard him sigh and slowly slide it back into his pocket.
“Anything?”
“No. I sent her a message right after the reading to respond to hers. I even called but I couldn’t connect with her. I’ll try again later.”
She watched him, that look in his eye, the sound of his voice, it told her everything she needed to know. She knew at that moment, hope as she may, that this was not ever going to work out. Not with him, not ever. Face it girl, he’s in love with somebody else and there’s nothing you can do to change it. She’s a lucky girl.
He said aloud, “You know, depending on what time we finish, I may try to catch an early flight back home.”
“Yeah,” she said weakly.
It was time for his press conference back at their hotel. “Showtime,” he whispered and clenched her hand in his.