Recommendation

I recommend drinking cherry limeades because they taste like the very pinnacle of summer. The flavor is best around June or July, sometime past seven o’clock, after play practice, or during a break, when the neon signs and headlights shine bright in the dark, and your brother isn’t too cool to eat with you yet. Roll down the windows of his Volvo, and listen to music that is too loud and way too embarrassing, songs like the Riverdale, a capella version of “Milkshakes.” Just hope no one you know sees you and Cate laughing way too hard in the back seat. You should order the largest size, a Route 44 (pronounced ROWT), and let yourself forget that this will not last forever. Close your eyes and recline back, for ten more ounces Cate will stay in Meridian, not go to MSA, and be your neighbor forever, so just sing the chorus of “Ayy Ladies” as loud as you can, shouting the “yeahs” with your head tilted towards the stars, close enough to be one yourself. When it feels like you’re almost through, stir the ice around and let it melt back into the drink. James hasn’t left for college yet, and he won’t as long as the syrup is still a little too tangy. When he does, the Volvo will be your own, and next time you will just look out the window at the Sonic on your way to the Canes, staying quiet in the front seat, far away from the conversations around you. But for now, everything is right, and there are six ounces to go, plus the cherry. Order a cherry limeade religiously, one almost every week, and let Cate have the front seat only some of the time. Teeter on top of that beautiful Ferris wheel and never look down, at least until the summer ends. 

I do not order cherry limeades anymore, not since I turned sixteen. Now I get a peach vanilla sweet iced tea. It is not as gross as it sounds. Unless you order it by yourself, some time late after a football game, while you stall for time before going to the afterparty, that’s when it just tastes like sadness. If you happen upon this circumstance, I suggest that you try another flavor of limeade, leaving cherry a pure memory of a singular time and feeling. Strawberry is a good alternative, and less tangy. Then you should call James, who always picks up by the second ring, and tell him how College Spanish is going, and all the people you beat in quizbowl. If you ask, he will tell you Sarah’s latest college mishaps and stories from the jazz band, although you may doze off before he finishes explaining the music theory behind it all. Do not be alarmed if this happens to you. Next you should call Cate, who will ask to FaceTime instead. Do not tell her that your peach vanilla sweet iced tea tastes like sadness. Just clamor on and on, about eccentric teachers, weird kids at MSA, and all the best podcasts. By the time you are through talking, it will be around eleven. At this point, going to the afterparty would be pointless. So roll down your window and lean forward to look at the stars above you on the way home. If you hold your strawberry limeade close and take a deep breath, you might cry. It’s ok though, because soon the starlight will shine on your tears and reflect in your eyes. You might even start to laugh instead.