William turns the pages of the book that Bea made for him just a few weeks earlier. It’s the story of her life. When she was born, where she lived, when she came to America. Photos from the last five years, but photos from before, too. Of her, in London, with her parents. He’s studied them repeatedly. The way her smile hasn’t changed. That look in her eyes. The small stuffed dog she held in her arms. He doesn’t want to forget any of the photos, but he wants her to have the book when she leaves. It was her way of joining the two of them together, of blending the past with the present.
She’s in her room, packing with Gerald. He can hear the rumble of their words. He’ll meet her later in the woods, just as they’ve been meeting for the whole summer. She’s already made him promise: no one can ever know. He wouldn’t mind, but it’s important to her. And as things have progressed, as they’ve become more comfortable with each other, Bea’s become more adamant about their rules. Don’t you go touching me in front of your parents, William Gregory, she said, and then she kissed him so hard that he tripped and fell backward onto the pine needles. This is our secret, okay? she said. You can’t be crying or touching me or doing anything on the day I leave, whenever that will be. Crying, he said, pulling her down on top of him and twisting her thick hair in his hands. Why would I would be crying?
In the spring, she convinced him to go to Harvard. She told him it was a gift he needed to accept. Do it for me, she said. She helped him choose his courses for the fall, and the other night he turned to her in the woods. I’m really excited to start, he said. I hate to say that to you, when you won’t be there with me, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so ready to start something new. She had smiled at him and kissed his cheek. I can’t wait to hear all about it, she said. You have to tell me everything.
His stomach hurts. He feels physically attached to her, as though when she leaves there will be a part of him that will go as well. He can say things to her that he can’t say to anyone else. He never has to perform. She is straight with him, honest, and he tries to be the same with her. Mostly she quiets something in him, something deep inside. Last night, they lay on the rocks and watched the dark sky. Those are the moments he loves the best with her, being next to her, holding her hand, neither saying much at all.