When Summer Comes by Brenda Novak

breathing room. “So what brings you to California?”
    “Figured this was as good a place as any.”
    She had so many loved ones she couldn’t imagine taking to the road, trading her relationships with them for a series of roadside diners and two-bit hotels—even if she was well.
    “Does your family know you’re here?” Who’d been part of his life? And where had they gone? Did they miss him? Care about him?
    Again, there was a slight delay in his answer. “I haven’t talked to them in some time.”
    Why? She wanted to ask, but no amount of effort on her part seemed capable of breaching the walls he’d thrown up. Because he wouldn’t engage in this conversation, it seemed more like an interrogation.
    Convinced that she was wasting her time, Callie let it go. She wasn’t necessarily looking for a friend. She had plenty of those. She was just trying to be one. But being a friend didn’t have to include badgering him into revealing his situation. She could live and let live. After all, she had her own secrets.
    Adjusting the volume on the radio, she fell silent and expected that silence to last—until he spoke.
    “That guy, Kyle.”
    She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “What about him?”
    “You’re sleeping with him, right?”
    Fortunately, the impound lot was coming up. “Kyle’s a long story,” she said, and turned into the drive.
    * * *
    At the farm, the sun bore down on Levi, reminding him of Kandahar in July. In reality, this day, which was somewhere around ninety degrees, was mild by comparison. He’d never felt what the word swelter meant until he’d experienced one-hundred-and-fifteen-degree temperatures in the desert half a world away—while wearing an army uniform and fifty pounds of gear. Still...the blinding brightness of the afternoon sun brought back memories. Once again, he could taste the gritty dust that clogged his nose and throat, the salt of his own sweat, the fatigue of intense exertion. He could also hear the Pashto spoken in the market they policed. Afghanistan had been unlike any place he’d ever visited or previously imagined, but he hadn’t disliked being there. Not in the beginning. Joining the army provided an escape from his father, which had considerably improved his life.
    Besides, at nineteen and freshly graduated from high school, he’d been so idealistic and full of patriotism he’d been eager to face any challenge. He’d just had no idea what those challenges would entail—or how smiling at a pretty girl could turn out to be the biggest mistake he’d ever made.
    “Are you thirsty?”
    Grateful for the interruption, he raised a hand to block the sun. Callie was standing there, holding a glass of iced tea, but for a moment he thought he saw Behrukh in her shami dress and hijab —the way he’d first seen her in her father’s store—and his chest constricted.
    “Levi? Are you okay?”
    The vision cleared. This wasn’t Afghanistan. And Callie looked nothing like Behrukh, who’d been tall and thin with the characteristic dark hair and eyes of her people.
    “Fine.” In some ways, he was better than fine. The impound lot hadn’t given him any trouble about releasing his bike. The guy there had chatted with Callie, flirted a bit and taken a call from her friend Joe, who vouched for him, and that was it. Hooking an arm around one knee, he sat up and accepted the glass she handed him.
    “It’s too soon for you to be working. I wish you’d get some rest.”
    “I’m okay.” He took a long drink, letting the cool, sweet liquid soothe his parched throat.
    “Have you figured out what’s wrong with your bike?”
    He motioned toward it with his glass. “Carburetor’s jammed. I should also change the spark plugs.”
    “Will that be expensive?”
    “Not too bad, since I can do the work myself.”
    “Do you need parts?”
    He squinted against the sun. He was feeling a bit light-headed. Maybe it was time to knock off. While he’d been tearing apart