Chapter 8
Miles found it hard to believe that the weekend he was currently intimate with brought the world into the third week of March. In most ways he felt as though he had just arrived on the east coast. This made sense, since it was mostly the truth. But even that half of his feeling was jet-lagged because it only seemed like he had been at
The date meant that they were at about the halfway point. April was definitely where the downhill roll would gain momentum, as summer camp began in the middle of June and as it stood none of the current program staff was planning on staying for that kind of chaos and stringent authority. It saddened Miles in a way. He had started to get into a flow, a far-reaching circadian rhythm, of motions at the camp. In the short time he had spent on that side of the continent he had met friends, saved a few coins, and happened upon a lover. It was the most excitement he had seen in a while as far as social capitol was concerned.
It was as if the group he was with had been lifted up, spared the real world, for a short amount of time and been given an opportunity to live a life of leisure. Miles could see why the Greeks had lauded that aspect of culture so much in ancient times. He could also see how some people could become addicted to it. There were no such cases among them but every now and then staff alumni would drop by and tour the state of things at Ontanogan. Most of those folks were still working in the same field at places around the country and seemed perfectly happy to continue doing so. In truth Miles felt a bit of that invisible drug seeping into his skin. He couldn’t say whether the dealer dwelt in the air, the water, or the sounds of people enjoying themselves that surrounded him every day, but as many times as he basked under the influence the potential permanence of the buzz frightened him back into reality.
He was going to graduate school in August. He had gotten accepted right before he moved to
He was going to graduate school in August. He had come into his current situation with a plan. Come to think of it, he had come into his current situation with the light-hearted idea of not having the pressure of worrying about whether he should be trying to find a girl because a camp was supposed to be innocent and impotent. That notion had exploded into spectacular fireworks which were steadily blinding him.
What would happen? Miles did not know. He pushed the thought out of his head for a moment while he divided arrows between archery stations in Davis Lodge. Miles slid five arrows into four different milk crates which had been turned on their bottoms before leading a string in front of them all to mark the danger zone.
He could not keep the demons at bay for long, however. It did not help that no one was interested in his station at the start of the day. The most unyielding fact was that he and Sophie had to stay together. The kind of long distance that would happen across continents was dizzying to think about and never ended well on any path Miles walked it. Ending it was…well, sometimes he wished their relationship was more casual, as casualness would have made a clean break an option. That was not the case.
He was fairly certain that a person had to get married to get a green card; that was how it always happened in the movies anyways. They had talked about that kind of permanence in a code of sorts but Miles was still wary. Again, those kind of romances only happened in the movies. He knew he could get a visa to England for three months to ‘travel’, or up to a year if he had a job waiting for him, but he was going to graduate school in August…
“You look distraught, love. What’s wrong?” Sophie knew Miles’ moods no matter how well he tried to mask them, in only ten weeks of knowing him.
“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it right now, really.” A butterfly of fear fluttered through Sophie’s eyes and was almost gone before Miles caught it. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll talk tonight.” Miles squeezed her hand. Sophie could tell by Miles’ demeanor that his mood had something to do with her but not about her. The revelation gave her enough consolation to silently grace his cheek with the butterfly resting on her lips.
Lunch had done nothing to help Miles’ predicament. The way Sophie had reacted to his tone as though she had known exactly…He hated that he had scared her, if only for a second. Sophie was the most perfect thing he had ever found and he wanted to keep her that way. He realized the power in the ability to make her feel that way and realized what a monster he felt like for making her feel that way, unintentionally or not. It was unnerving to think that any of his decisions would have to be reached with someone else. Miles had been so used to being his own person for so long that he didn’t know if he knew how to share decisions.
Life on the ice rink was a little more active than the morning had been for Miles. He played a game of broom ball, which amounted to hockey played with brooms and a grapefruit-sized dodge-ball, with a group of five kids that needed even teams. When a dad came down to check on his successor Miles stepped out and let him go a round.
The weather was warming in at least leaps, if not bounds as well, by that March. The ice was slushier than it had been and the stamina it took to sit outside for two hours in a cheap plastic chair making sure everyone was wearing cheap plastic helmets had lessened.
The crowd in arts and crafts, Miles’ second station after lunch, was thinner than times past. The lack of queuing seemed to reinforce the warming weather and people’s desire to have their weekend of outdoor recreation outdoors.
Regardless of subtle shifts in the air Miles put a fair number of shrinky-dinks and sculpy creations into the sickly toaster oven behind the arts and crafts counter where he sat in yet another cheap plastic deck chair that was probably the standard white hue before some creative soul had thrown paint brushes at it from across the room hundreds of weekend family camp groups before.
Miles liked the arts and crafts room for some reason. He wasn’t anything close to an artistic person by nature, but in a place where faces and moods and scenes changed weekend to weekend, a bit of history was nice. The walls were painted by “Arts and Crafts Specialty Track 199-“ and “Girl Scout Troop #-“, so on and so forth. There were pictures of every Arts and Crafts Summer Specialist going back to the eighties on one wall. Miles had been surprised when he had first noticed the current full-time Team -Building Director at the office had her picture on that wall in the 1989 position.
However enjoyable the last station of the day was, it was still the last and therefore always seemed to drag on much longer than any other part of the day. Miles tried to keep himself amused by finally learning how to make boondoggles, the most popular craft of any camp anywhere as far as he had heard, but at the end of the day he was no closer to having any idea how to begin the process of creating annoyingly bright key chains than when his shift had started.
Miles hoofed it back to the dining hall where he knew he would still have to wait as long as anyone else for dinner. He told himself to act like his usual cheery self to assure Sophie that other than his own over-analyzing everything was fine.
He met Sophie at the staff table with their customary secret smile to which he added an unabashed peck on the cheek.
“Well,” Sophie said, surprised by the public and technically illegal display of affection, “You seem a bit more chipper than this afternoon.”
“Forgive me. I love you, sweetheart.”
“Miles! In the middle of a crowded room of guests! Are you having a mid-life crisis?” He laughed.
“I hope not. I wouldn’t make it to fifty at that rate.”
“Well, sit down before you make a scene.” She led him to the bench and they sat. With more subtlety than Miles had exercised, Sophie leaned against his shoulder and whispered, “I love you too, Miles.” She squeezed his hand under the table and nothing more was said about affections for the rest of the meal.
“You’re on what tonight?” Miles asked as they cleared the table.
“Just dishes.”
“Mm. I’m on snack. I’ll do dishes with you if you hang out on snack with me and Jabari.”
She smiled. “Ok. Something is up, isn’t it?”
“Now why would you…?” She continued grinning with the realization that Miles would not be bowled over so easily.
“Come on. You’re rinse bitch.” Miles rolled his eyes. The prime position in the dish room was at the end of the washer where the racks of clean dished were pushed. You waited, rounded them up, and stacked them onto carts and crates where they were rolled out at the next meal. That person rarely even got wet. The person putting dirty dishes into the front end of the machine was the next level down on the totem poll. They had to endure the hot sprays of steam and the occasionally poorly rinsed rack of plates. The rinse bitch was the bottom rung. That poor bastard had to take in all the dirty dishes (anything involving syrup at breakfast was the worst) and pre-rinse them before they went through the machine. Ketchup, tartar sauce, half-gnawed chicken bones, gravy…whatever was served at that meal ended up on the rinse bitch’s shirt (and sometimes in their ears or noses or mouths, depending on how well they aimed the fire-hose strength sprayer).
Miles accepted his role after uttering a silent prayer that the geriatric radio wasn’t comatose that evening and followed Sophie into the unintentional sauna.
Miles saw the reason for Sophie’s bargain fiddling with the radio. Paul was trying futilely to find something to listen to besides the one station that came in but only played heavy metal or Howard Stern, neither of which was very appropriate to be blaring at a steady stream of grade-schoolers bringing trays of used dishes to the receiving window of the dish room.
A country station almost made it but couldn’t quite find its way through the blizzard of static storming inside the boom box. Miles did not consider that a great lost but instead pondered the fact that any one of them could purchase a new radio for fewer than ten bucks. Hell, they could all pitch in on it. Why no one had ever mentioned or thought of the idea before made Miles shake his head as he took up his position at the window. He had made use of one of the cheap cotton aprons that were available to shield one’s clothes from splatters and crumbs. Miles usually never bothered since they usually wore staff shirts to do the dishes but he had to serve a snack immediately following his new chore and did not think it would look to appetizing to the guests if he were decorated in ketchup and chocolate pudding.
By that point in time everyone on the staff had done dishes more often than they would care to recount so it always flowed as nicely as it could. Paul did not ask why there was an extra person in the room because he could no doubt see that things were going faster with the extra help.
They were almost done when Jabari poked his head in the door of the dish room. “What the hell are you doing in here, man? We’re supposed to be baking breadsticks.”
“Just helping Sophie out. She’s going to do snack with us.”
“For real?”
“Yeah, man. Actually, if you want to get some of those things baking you could get out of here if you want. Sophie and I can handle it. Unless you need the hours.”
“Thanks, man, but I do. I just got that NCAA 2000. I need to make up for it.” He disappeared to heat marinara sauce and put the frozen snacks in the oven.
Ten minutes later they were hosing down the floor and draining the dishwasher to conclude another trio of hot squares at Camp Ontanogan. Paul was finished for the night so with a hasty farewell he loped out into the night toward staff row leaving Jabari, Miles and Sophie in the kitchen to run the snack station.
“What was the activity tonight?” Jabari asked.
“Campfire in the archery building. Emma and Gerry are running it.” Sophie answered.
“Shit. That girl can stretch a campfire all night,” Jabari groaned.
“Not with Emma there. She won’t stand for it.”
“Well, that’s something.”
Fortunately for the trio the radio in the kitchen that the full-time cook staff used did work as a normal radio should and Miles soon found a Top Forty station that would not pollute their camper’s ears. Jabari moved the first pan of breadsticks from the oven. Half of the stock was immediately liquidated by the three of them along with a fair amount of marinara sauce.
“Man, why are these things plain?” Jabari looked around and found an industrial plastic bottle of garlic powder. Miles followed his lead and commandeered a tub of butter from the fridge and grabbed a brush from the racks of utensils above the counters. They souped up the next batch that went in and were quite proud of their creativity. By the time the first trickle of people found the dining hall the place smelled like a regular Italian restaurant.
Serving snack was one of the easiest ways to bank hours. The only drawback was that it was the last activity of the night and lasted until about ten at night. Other than that little drawback it was merely a matter of watching people help themselves and refilling whatever was running low.
Emma and Gerry walked behind the counter to where Jabari, Miles, and Sophie were serving and made themselves plates. They made small talk as well about how their activities went; by then the banter was the equivalent of asking someone how things were. They stayed until everyone was served. Once everyone went through the line the dishes were tossed in the dish room, any food wrapped up for the staff lounge since it couldn’t be reserved, and the kitchen doors locked. The guests could stay in the dining hall until kingdom come for all it mattered, the staff were only supposed to ask that the last ones out shut off the lights since the room was left open continuously for access to coffee, tea, and hot chocolate between meals and for night owls and early risers.
“So are you going to tell me what you were pouting over at lunch or am I going to have to guess?” Sophie asked as they walked home in the dark.
“Oh, you know. Just thinking about the future.”
“Come on, now, that won’t do you any good.” She twirled in front of Miles’ track. “You…” she continued, brushing her index finger across his lips…”And I…” she put the same fingers across her own, “Are going to be together. We decided that however that happens will be the way it is. We decided, remember?”
“I know, but-“
“No buts! You’re not allowed ‘buts’. You banned my ‘buts’, so I’m banning yours. It’s only fair.” She concluded her proclamation with a flourishing kiss and spun back to his side. She wrapped both of her arms around his left and kissed his shoulder to drive the point home. “Unless you’ve decided on something contrary to our decision…”
“No, no.”
“Don’t worry, then. And if you insist on talking about it, I’m going to have to use my powers of seduction.”
“I thought you were trying to discourage me from talking.”
“Either way I don’t think you’ll be doing much of it.”
“You think pretty highly of yourself.”
“It’s got to be hard to talk when-“ Sophie whirled in front of him again and grabbed Mile’s jacket at the biceps. She kissed him again, forcefully at first, and then let her tongue mingle with his for a long moment. “-I do that.”
“Why yes. Actually, it is hard.” After a flash of a quizzical look Sophie felt what he was insinuating.
“Oh my gosh. I didn’t even do anything!” She cried. Her shock was betrayed by a devilish grin.
“Anticipation is a hell of a catalyst.”
“Well. I’ll have to make sure never to do it again, I guess.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“Me? You!”
Their conversation had carried them to Miles’ cabin before they realized it.
“Listen, darling.” Sophie stopped Miles before he opened the door. “I don’t mean to brush off your worry, but a while ago you talked me out of what would have really been a terrible decision by telling me to live for our moments together. I took that to heart. What’s more, I realized that you were actually right.” She smiled at what could have been a clever jab had she not been serious. “You need to heed your own advice because I’m starting to like having moments with you.” She smiled and kissed him warmly. “And if we have enough of them it might get us through some of the crazy times ahead of us. Now get in there. You know I wouldn’t want to be labeled a tease.”
The thing the movies never show as they fade into a night of passionate and ambiently lit sex is how spent the lovers are in the morning from expressing their desires. Miles did not need a television to know how that felt as he shuffled into the dining hall on Sunday morning. He did not feel sorry for himself when he thought about what caused his fatigue. He felt sorry for everyone at the table that was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Miles smiled at his joke and yawned. It was Sunday. Sundays did not matter. The parents and their kids already thought the staff were great by that point and some of them even gave a little wink if they saw anyone looking like they had spent the night living like there was no tomorrow. Thank you, James Dean. The whole Sunday morning scene made Miles happier than he was on the other two days of a family camp weekend.
Until he got to the eggs. They were always there, always exactly the same. As a kid he had loved those eggs. They were always so perfect, never burned or pale, always straight out of a commercial and there to greet him at every buffet he had ever graced. However, living at a camp Miles was privy to certain information. The magic of perfect scrambled eggs was lost once he had discovered they came out of the same kind of cartons his milk was poured from. Miles lamented his lost innocence as he nonetheless flipped a scoop of eggs on his plate, which doubled as body armor for the U.S. military, at least in his imagination. He added some more Tyco food and returned to the staff table.
“You know what, Sunshine?”
“Hmm, babe?” Miles smiled. Sophie was mushy for a good day or so if she was exhausted from love. She was looking straight ahead though not focusing on anything. His empty fork was held in the air ready to joust any other bit of cutlery that dare intrude on its territory.
“We haven’t thought of anything to do this weekend.”
“Oh, we haven’t. Well, it’s not a payday this weekend.”
“Yeah. And truthfully I haven’t socked away as much money as I had hoped over the last few months.”
“Are you implying something?” Miles chuckled. He had never spent more time talking in innuendos and subtleties in his life. He loved it.
“Only that it’s been worth every penny.”
“I’m afraid it might be one of those sitting around watching T.V. and drinking wine type of weekends.”
“Not much of a moment, is it?”
“It is what we make of it.” Sophie smiled and Miles knew why.
“Could you be any cheesier, Scarlett?” Cheesy or not, it didn’t change the fact that Miles would have taken her on the breakfast table if given half a chance.
“I could, if I knew the name of the guy in that movie. God. Why do you make me laugh when I’m so tired?”
“I don’t know. Hey. I’ve got an idea. Let’s drive to Concord on Saturday. Window shop. Get something nice to eat. We can swing that.”
“Concord is two hours from here.”
“What else have we got to do? We can leave in the morning and be back late Saturday night, sleep in Sunday morning…it’ll be something. Do you really want to stay here for an entire weekend?”
Sophie sighed. “You know, I would be, if it wasn’t for you. Sometimes I feel as though I’m using you.”
“Oh. I thought that was how I stood a shot in the first place. I mean, a girl as beautiful as you must have wanted-“ A hard elbow to the ribs under the table took the voice out of Miles. “God…” Miles’ breath gradually came back to him…”I…love you.”
“Let’s just leave it at that, then, shall we? No need to muck it up.”
“Hey. This is just a thought, and it’s not as though I don’t want to spend time with just you-“
“What?”
“Well, what about inviting Scott and Kyra?” It was the first time Miles had mentioned Kyra’s name to Sophie since she and Scott had walked in on innocence perceived as guilt. Miles was sure Sophie would be able to see him cringe while waiting for her response.
“It’s cute how you get all nervous about her now. Miles, I know how much you love me. That jealousy…It was refreshing. Almost…Needed, somehow. But it was stupid. Don’t worry. You could walk down the street holding her hand for all I care.” Now Miles actually was cringing. “Still waiting for a whip, hey? Good boy. I love you, Miles. Oh, it’s such good fun to watch you sometimes!” Sophie was almost laughing out loud. “Yes. I think that’s a great idea. Those two are about the only ones here I could stand a day’s conversation with.”
“You… Ok. I’m on the tubing hill-once again-with Scott. I’ll mention it.”
“Hey. Afterwards…after work. I want to take you somewhere.”
“Ok.” Miles knew that if Sophie had wanted to reveal the location she would have without his prompting. They quickly kissed and started out for their morning stations.
“Hey, Scott.” Miles waited for Scott’s attention to fall on him. “You guy doing anything this weekend?”
“I d’know. Haven’t really thought about it. Why?”
“Well, Sophie and I were thinking about driving to Concord tomorrow, early, for a day trip. Do some window shopping; eat some decent food… just a day trip. We were wondering if you guys would be interested.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad. Let you know tonight?”
“Sounds good.”
“Here they come.” The family camps director had let the herd loose from the dining hall. Tubing always bore the brunt of the onrush since it was the first activity anyone saw coming out of the dining hall. Time was never lagging, if one needed to look at snow tubing in a positive light. And as Miles marveled at the audacity in some of the advertising he had seen in the brands he was wearing, he wished the cold was never lagging either.
But with lunch the group left, guiding their Hummers and Escalades and Lexuses (the Lexus being the white trash of New England) toward white collar jobs and private schools. As usual it was hard to tell whether the kids or parents were more spoiled as the staff cleaned cabins and activity stations for another pair of hours after they left.
Miles met Sophie at the maintenance shed where they dropped off cleaning carts before going across the parking lot to record their hours.
They never bothered to talk about the weekend’s work. They held one another’s hands tightly and freely because they were finally allowed to do so and walked with an acquired matching step toward home.
Sophie veered them off course on a path leading to the low ropes element to the east of the staff house. Miles knew better than to assume Sophie wanted to show him a challenge course so he followed without speaking. Eventually she did.
“I led a hike Saturday morning. I want to take you there.” Miles knew Sophie was not a girl overly taken by nature so he continued following with a pique of curiosity.
Sophie walked past the element in the camp’s low ropes course until their route became more of a hike up a foothill. When they eventually arrived at the peak they were both almost winded.
“Look.”
Miles looked. From their vantage point he saw the whole of Camp Ontanogan, draped in snow, below them. “Wow. It looks so little up here.”
“I had never been up here. I had to lead a hike yesterday and Cliff showed me this trail. I don’t think anyone else has been up here. It’s almost impossible to see if you’re not looking for it. I thought maybe it could be for just you and me, right now. I mean, I’m sure other people will find it once the snow melts and the trails are easy to see, but, I thought you would like the view and I wanted you and me to be the first people here that saw it.”
“It’s beautiful.” Miles kissed Sophie. Unexpectedly, even to herself, Sophie reached for Miles…They ended up making love on a patch of frozen earth with a view of their camp and all the hills surrounding it.
They were both a bit out of sorts by the time they made it to Miles’ cabin as darkness fell. Something wonderful and new had happened; exactly the kind of moment they had been looking for. The kicker was that they were smart enough to know about it but not reminisce.
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