Flickers of Summer

The first time I saw Camilla, she was sitting on the hood of a beat-up car, a cigarette dangling from her lips and a sketchbook balanced on her knees. Her eyes met mine, and it felt like she had already unraveled me. I should’ve walked away then—maybe everything would’ve turned out differently. But instead, I walked toward her.

“You always stare at people like that?” she asked, not looking up from her sketch.

“Only when they’re sitting on cars that might explode any second,” I shot back.

She smirked, closed the sketchbook, and extended her hand. “Camilla.”

I shook it. “Jace.”

That summer wasn’t like the others. With Camilla, everything burned brighter, faster. We spent nights driving down endless roads with no destination, windows down, and music blasting. Days were stolen moments in the hidden cove by the lake, her laughter mingling with the sound of water. She showed me her world—raw and untamed. I showed her mine—steady, predictable. Somehow, we made it work.

But there was one night that defined us. It was late July, and the fireworks stand just outside town was about to close for the season. She grabbed my hand, pulling me into the truck she borrowed from her cousin. “We’re making our own show,” she declared.

We ended up on the cliffs overlooking the lake, setting off firecrackers like kids. I’ll never forget the way the colors reflected in her eyes, her face lit up with pure joy. She turned to me suddenly, her voice quiet, vulnerable. “Promise me something, Jace.”

“Anything,” I said, meaning it.

“Promise you’ll remember me like this. Not the mess, not the running—just this.”

“ OK” i say with a hint of apprehension she must have picked up on.

“ NO, say the words.  You have to say the words for them to be true.” 

I swore I would.

But Camilla was a storm, and storms never stay. By August, the cracks in our perfect summer were too wide to ignore. She started disappearing again, leaving nothing but vague notes that were never explained enough. When I pressed her, she shut me out.

One afternoon, while waiting for her at her cousin’s house, I stumbled across something I wasn’t meant to see. A letter tucked into a worn journal. It was from someone named Aiden, someone who spoke of her like they knew her better than I ever could. The words “I’ll always be waiting, whenever you’re ready” stuck in my mind like a splinter.

I didn’t ask her about it. I couldn’t. But it gnawed at me, coloring every moment we shared after that. I told myself it didn’t matter, that whatever past she had wasn’t mine to question. But deep down, I knew it was the beginning of the end.

The last night I saw her, the air was thick with the promise of a storm. The horizon flickered with distant lightning, casting fleeting shadows over the old lighthouse. She’d called me out of the blue, her voice shaky, the edges of her words unraveling like she was holding herself together with fraying threads. “Meet me,” she said. “Please.”

When I arrived, she was pacing near the edge of the cliffs, her silhouette outlined by the angry sky. Her hair whipped wildly in the wind, her arms crossed tight as though trying to hold herself together. She didn’t look at me when I called her name.

“Camilla.” I stepped closer, but she took a step back, her body tense. “What’s going on?”

“I’m leaving,” she said abruptly, her voice raw and jagged. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Her words hit me like a gut punch. I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked. “What are you talking about? Leaving for where? For how long?”

She finally looked at me then, her eyes glistening in the dim light. “I don’t know. I just... I have to go. I can’t stay here. I can’t stay with you.”

“Why not?” My voice rose, more desperate than I intended. “Why can’t you let me help you? Whatever it is, we can figure it out. Together.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You don’t get it, Jace. You never did. You’re... good. You’re stable. You have a future, and I’ll ruin it. You deserve someone who isn’t running from ghosts.”

Her words cut deep, but I wasn’t ready to let her go. “I don’t care about the ghosts, Camilla. I care about you.”

She froze, her lips parting like she wanted to believe me but couldn’t. “You think you do,” she whispered, “but you don’t know everything. If you did, you’d let me go.”

“What don’t I know?” I asked, stepping closer. She flinched but didn’t move away. “What are you hiding?”

For a moment, I thought she might tell me. Her mouth opened, but then she closed it, biting back the words. Instead, she reached up and cupped my face with trembling hands. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does. What matters is that you’re better off without me.”

Her lips found mine in a kiss that tasted like rain and salt and goodbye. It was fierce, desperate like she was trying to pour all her unsaid words into me. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet, her voice barely above a whisper. “Promise me you’ll be okay.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not without you.”

She stepped back, her hands falling to her sides. “You will be,” she said, more to herself than to me. And then she turned, walking toward her car without looking back.

I stood frozen, watching as she climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and her taillights flared against the darkness. I shouted her name, but the wind stole my voice.

And just like that, she was gone, disappearing into the storm that swallowed the horizon.

…. Now, as I lie here, drifting in and out of consciousness, her face flickers in my mind like a film reel stuck on repeat. I hear her laugh, feel the warmth of her hand in mine, and taste the salt of that last kiss.

But something else is there too, something I’ve buried deep. A memory clawing its way to the surface.

I see her cousin’s house, the journal, and that letter. Aiden wasn’t just someone waiting—he was someone she left behind. Someone she ran from. The storm inside her wasn’t just chaos; it was guilt. She carried it with her, dragging it through every place she tried to escape to, including me.

The realization hits me like the crash itself. I can’t tell if it’s the pain in my chest or my heart breaking all over again.

The world grows darker, the edges begin blurring, but her voice whispers through the haze: “Promise you’ll remember me like this.” sends an echo through my ears..

“SIR!” I hadn't noticed the paramedics rushing around me. Cutting through my clothing  “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” the paramedic asks.

I use every ounce of energy to weakly say “Jace”

 I hear her voice again  “Say the words….” this time a little closer

“BP is dropping” one paramedic shouted “Push another epi”

“SIR STAY WITH US !!” they begin yelling.

“you have to say the words for them to be true.”  As I close my eyes I see her smiling and waving at me like she did all those summers ago.

“I remember. I’ll always remember.”

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEPP.