About the Author: Jamie Beth Cohen is the co-founder of Write Now Lancaster, a monthly meeting for writers of all genres. She is an accomplished storyteller who has performed on stages in her home state of Pennsylvania, in New York City, and, due to Covid-19, in Zoom rooms across the world! When not working or writing or spending time with her family, Jamie hosts There’s a Column for That!, a podcast about spreadsheets and the people (like her!) who love them. Her writing can be found in The Washington Post, HuffPost, TeenVogue.com, and several other outlets. She is the author of The Alice Burton Novels (Wasted Pretty, 2019 and Liminal Summer, coming November 24, 2021, both from Black Rose Writing). Liminal Summer can be pre-ordered here.
Author Site From the Publisher: “Recent college graduate Alice Burton typically has a Plan A, B, and C. But now that her decisions have real consequences, she’s feeling the delayed after-effects of the night her life was rocked by twin disasters—an injured father and a serious betrayal. Eager to start her ‘real life’ somewhere other than her sleepy college town, she’s laser-focused on a prestigious fellowship in New York City, but her acceptance hasn’t arrived yet and she hasn’t bothered with a back-up plan. Meanwhile, her father assumes she’ll come home to Pittsburgh to work for him—something she’s determined not to do. When blast-from-the-past Chris Thompson, who she might still be in love with, shows up, Alice questions everything, including herself.
Liminal Summer—the sequel to Jamie Beth Cohen’s Wasted Pretty—follows Alice as she wrestles with the choices she has, the person she wants to become, and all the spaces in between.”
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From Liminal Summer:
Campus is pretty quiet, as is the neighborhood behind College Ave. Being in town while classes aren’t in session is magical. I feel bad for my friends who’ve never spent a summer here. They think they know the town—they even think they love the town—but only seeing State College during the school year and thinking you know what it’s all about is like only seeing me at The Hook and thinking I’m just a drunk party girl who flirts a lot. You’d never know there’s this other super over-achieving side of me after the hangover wears off. I know I can’t stay here forever, I don’t even want to, but I can already feel, in every inch of my body and every fiber of my being, how much I’m going to miss it.
At Nate’s place, a pale-yellow sticky note hangs at eye level between the screen door and the heavy wooden door. My brother’s rushed scrawl reads, Listen to the messages and deal with your mail.
Nate never resorts to sticky notes unless he’s really pissed, but I have more important things to do. I grab the cordless, page Meredith, and turn on every fan in the house while I wait for her to call back. Thankfully, she’s quick about it.
“What’s up, Chicken?” she asks.
“Hey, do you have a few minutes?”
“For you? Always!” she slurs.
“You’re drunk. It’s like, two o’clock?”
“It’s also the Friday before Memorial Day, and I’m in the Hamptons, so yeah.”
“Right, I forgot.”
“Forgot? I left you a message yesterday right before I left.”
“Oh, sorry. I haven’t checked messages.”
“We need to get you a cell phone. Want me to get you a cell phone?”
Meredith believes money can fix everything, and while she’s always generous, she’s more so when she’s drunk.
“Thanks. No, I don’t need a cell phone. And, as much as I’d love to wait to talk to you when you’re in a more sober place, I need to talk to you now. Can you focus, please?”
“This sounds serious. Let me go inside.” I imagine her, barefoot with a bathing suit and a sarong, padding from a picture-perfect deck overlooking the ocean to a picture-perfect living room overlooking the deck, while I just head up to my room with its twin bed and desk fan. “Okay. What’s up?”
“Well, it’s about Chris Thompson.”
She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “No!!!! It’s been 362 days since the last mention of Chris Thompson. Why? Why? Why?”
“Shut up. And please tell me you don’t actually keep track.”
“Ehhh, I don’t, but I’m thinking it’s been about a year, and I was sort of hoping if we made it a full 365 days, he’d be out of your system for good.”
“Hilarious,” I say.
“I know you really wanted some sort of closure,” she says, “and to rub it in his face that you survived his unannounced departure and thrived. But, please, can we agree no talk of Chris Thompson anymore? We’ve graduated. We’re supposed to be adults or something.”
“He’s here,” I say.
“He’s where?” she asks.
“He’s in State College. He’s playing The Hook tonight. He’s doing an in-store at Rod’s tomorrow. He’s here.”
“Oh. This is serious.” It’s like I can hear her sobering up through the phone. “Are you sure? Have you seen him?”
“Yes, I’m sure. And no, I haven’t seen him. Johnny called to tell me. And Cassie said something about the in-store this morning. I just didn’t realize Chris was in the band she was talking about. They changed their name. They have songs in a bunch of commercials right now.”
“Oh, do they do the song in the Sprite commercial? And the Saturn one? They are sooo good. I knew they were by the same people.”
“I don’t know which commercials. So not the point, Meredith.”
“Sorry. Right. Okay. But this is what you’ve always wanted, right?”
“What is?”
“Closure.”
Sometimes I don’t know what I want until Meredith tells me what it is, but once she says it, I know she’s right. “Right. Yeah. Closure.”
“Ohhhhh nooooo…”
“What?!”
“Oh gawd, you don’t want closure. You want him.”
“I don’t know. Is that what this feeling is?”
“Describe it.”
I can’t describe it. I can only remember what it was like to be alone with him, and I can’t talk to Meredith about that because she never liked him.
“Alice?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I … I don’t know. I just know I like how I feel when he looks at me.”
“No, you liked how it felt when he looked at you five years ago. And then he left town and didn’t even say goodbye, so, functionally, he’s an ass, and you can’t trust him. But, I’m all for closure, so, if he’s still hot, and only if he’s still hot, just fuck him and be done with it. Please. And then we really never have to speak his name again.”
“Do you think it’s that easy?”
“What? Fucking? I do think it’s that easy. He’s a musician on tour.
Isn’t fucking why they go on tour?”
“No, I mean, you think closure’s that easy? Like, we fuck and that’s it?”
“I certainly hope so. Because if you fall for him, I predict disaster.”
She’s so right.
“What if he’s married?” I ask her. “He could be married, right? He’s what, twenty-five now? Do twenty-five-year-olds get married?”
“Why did I think he was so much older than us?” she asks.
“Back then, I think he seemed older because he had his own place.”
“That place was a shit hole.”
“Again, not the point, Meredith! Not everyone can live in a place up to your standards.”
“Not this again.”
“Not what again?”
“Nothing,” she says.
“Can you please help me?”
When I thought about seeing Chris Thompson again, I always imagined it would be a chance run-in. I never thought I’d have time to think about it, time to prepare.
“Sorry, yeah,” she says. “I guess my best advice is to look hot and don’t go to the show alone.”
“Shit.”
“Shit, what?”
“Zach.”
“What about Zach?”
“I forgot. He asked me out. He wants to get dinner before the show tonight.”
“What?! Oh my gawd, Chicken. He finally asked you out?! And you didn’t lead with that?!”
“Yeah. Sorry. The whole Chris Thompson thing scrambled my brain.”
“Oh. Okay. Well that’s actually perfect. Go to dinner with Zach. Show up to the show together. Make Chris jealous. Then if something happens with him, great. If nothing happens, you still have Zach. It’s a no-lose.”
“Not for Zach it isn’t. Shit. Should I ask Zach if we can go out tomorrow?”
“I mean, you could. But he’ll be at the show anyway, right? Wouldn’t that be weird?”
“I guess.”
“I think you give Zach a chance.”
“Oh, I see. You think if I commit to Zach in the next few hours, I won’t hook up with Chris Thompson. Is that it?”
“No, I know you’re a total slut. Lord knows that wouldn’t stop you.”
“Ha ha. You know, it would be easier to take your advice if you didn’t hate Chris so much on my behalf.”
“Well, someone has to. Remember, it’s me who gets to stick around and pick up your sorry, crying ass when he bolts, so I think I have a say here.”
“Whatever. I can’t believe Zach picked today to ask me out. After four years of me making myself incredibly available to him. And he talked again about me staying here and making me assistant manager.”
“Oy! Not that again.”
“Listen, just because you live in New York City, doesn’t mean you get to ‘Oy!’ Oy is my thing, Daughter of the American Revolution!”
“Blah. Blah. Blah. I thought we were supposed to be planning your night.”
“Yes, please, let’s. My heart is racing. Am I too young to have a heart attack?”
“You know, you could have avoided all of this if you came with me this weekend. I told you, you should have come to the Hamptons.”
“Let it go, Meredith. We can’t always do what you want to do.” The thing about having a best friend who pays for everything is that most of the time she gets to make all the decisions.
“Alright. Let Zach take you to dinner. Look hot. Play it by ear. Don’t fall in love. That’s all the advice I got. And I want to head out to the beach anyway.” She’s not happy with me, but she won’t say it.
“But what do I wear?”
“Where’s Zach taking you?”
“I don’t know.”
“And the show’s at The Hook?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s tough. Because you want to look hot, but not too dressy. You absolutely can’t look like you’re trying too hard. For either of them.”
“I know.”
“Are you tan?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
“Okay. What about that deep mauve t-shirt dress you got at The Gap?”
“Okay. Yeah.”
“With my Steve Madden slides. I left them in your closet the last time I was there.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“But you really need to do your nails, and your toes.”
“Isn’t that trying too hard?”
“Maybe. Just do your toes then.”
“Okay, I can do that,” I say. “Thanks, Meredith. Have a good weekend.”
“You can thank me by giving me all the details. Tomorrow. If not sooner.”
“Of course. I’ll call you.”
“Later, Chicken. Oh! And one more thing.”
“What?
“Do not forget a condom!”
This excerpt from Liminal Summer is published here courtesy of the author and should not be reproduced without permission.
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