21. Jack
TWENTY-ONE
Jack
Before the desperate need to get Nat out of my house consumed me, I used to think of construction and building and repairs as their own kind of peace. Being able to put things together, making something new and sound out of something nonexistent or broken. All of it was rewarding.
But right now, none of the peace I usually carried through a project was with me. Instead, a vicious countdown ticked down in my head. It was a maddening need to finish this cabin and get Nat out of my space. Today. I needed to be done.
I attacked the problem of renovating Nat’s cabin with a ferocity that almost surprised me.
Ripping out the floors and taking down walls last week had been fun.
Now, I was in the decidedly less-fun stage of putting it all back together again.
No matter how much I pushed myself, the sweat, the back-breaking work, it didn’t feel like enough.
Ideally, there would be a team helping me restore the cabin this week, but unfortunately, work commitments and life obligations had come up with my go-to crew, leaving me on my own.
I rested with my hands on my knees, taking in the space, wishing more could be done.
It had been a painstakingly long project already, but due to supplier issues, there would be at least another couple of weeks before the cabin could be finished.
All the time I put in today felt as unnecessary as the anger I’d been hauling around for my roommate.
I pictured her upset face when she’d realized what I’d thought about her. How wrong I’d been.
Trying to apologize had been impossible.
The words hadn’t come out right last night, and before I could get it together, she’d cut me off.
I had thought the worst of her. I’d thought she’d known who I was dating at the time and that she’d just tried to act like it hadn’t happened.
Like she was proud that she’d gotten away with it. And I’d been dead wrong.
So many things were coming back to me from that summer.
Someone had dropped out of the last session, and when I’d told Gia, she’d jumped at the chance to visit.
She’d wanted to see me, sure, but she’d also wanted to be in someone else’s pod so she could have the authentic camp experience.
She’d become fast friends with Jamie, Emerson, and everyone else she’d met, and she’d told me at the first campfire how much it meant to her.
Then she’d been spotted making out with another counselor.
My blood had boiled the moment I learned about her infidelity, but now, looking back, I just felt sad. Gia and I hadn’t talked afterward, other than confirming it was over. Of course, she’d been trying to reach me sporadically over the past few weeks, but I didn’t owe her anything.
Confrontation was overrated. Gia and I hadn’t fought afterward. It just had its ending. A door that had quietly closed.
My parents had always jumped from fight to fight, and it was usually a tug-of-war between them and us kids.
We’d often been encouraged to pick sides when we were younger, and as we got older, we’d found ourselves trying to keep the peace between our parents.
For too many years, one would apologize to the other, they’d get back together and be happy for a few weeks, before the fighting inevitably started up again.
Apologies never meant much, and even if they meant it at the time, placating words never stuck.
When they finally gave up and got a divorce, I’d had plenty of time to see how bad relationships could be.
“Whoa, still at it, Hawthorne?” Lamar adjusted his sunglasses and gave me a lackadaisical smile as I picked up some nails I’d just spilled while thinking of my family. “You know you’re about to compete, right?”
I grinned back at him. “Needed to get out of the house.”
Lamar came closer. “And this has nothing to do with the brunette living at your place, then?”
“Nope,” I said, letting the P pop. “Definitely not.”
“Well, whether you’re avoiding your roommate or not, the obstacle relay starts in twenty minutes.”
“Right. Obstacle relay.” The last place I wanted to be. Actually, that was the infamous finish line mud pit I’d practically tackled Nat into. I shook my head, but I couldn’t shake the memory of how she’d arched so perfectly into me. How she’d kissed me back as if she needed my lips to breathe.
Shut up, brain.
“We have odd numbers, don’t we? I’ll sit this one out—” A part of me cringed at the suggestion. This was a perfect summary of how out of sorts I was. Giving up on the competition? The Jack of yesterday would have smacked himself upside the head.
Lamar grabbed my water bottle off the floor and handed it to me.
“Not this time. We’re meeting at the mess hall to assign obstacles to our teams. Just remember, your preference doesn’t matter.
What matters is that campers make their choice and we get what’s left. Five bucks says you get the mud pit.”
That would be just my luck.
I took a large swig of my water and cracked my back. An obstacle course sounded like hell. I’d already pushed my body to its limit. “Let’s do this.”
Lamar clapped. “Good. I don’t want to have to change my bet.”
“Bet?”
He looked a little sheepish, like maybe he wasn’t supposed to tell. “Yeah, you know the counselors have been taking bets on which of you comes out ahead during this thing. You’re just so competitive. I never thought we’d find someone who matched you in… spirit.”
I rubbed my neck, which was killing me.
“Though looking at you now, I might need to change my choice.” He winced as if he’d expected me to be treating this like an Olympic event instead of the casual obstacle relay that it was.
“Why do I feel like a horse right now?”
“You’re manifesting your greatest fear?” Lamar guessed.
But horses had nothing on the unease I felt over being close to Nat.
We were being bet on and pitted against each other before I even got there.
My heart tightened in my chest. It would be even harder to get her alone to apologize.
No matter what, I’d fix this before we faced another awkward night at our cabin.
I nodded and ran my hand through my hair, then put my hat back on. “Twenty minutes?”
“Maybe fifteen now.” Lamar laughed as I took off in a quick jog back to my place for a quick change of clothes before meeting my pod at the mess hall.
I showed up to a flurry of campers running back and forth, finding their pods.
Nat waved a sparkly baton, indicating where Andromeda was gathering.
I grinned, but I didn’t catch her eye. I needed to gather my own pod.
This week, my group consisted of half a team of roller derby players, the rest of whom were in Chase’s pod.
They were excited to compete, and a small rivalry had formed between their teams, which promised to be entertaining.
I was glad they seemed to have their shit together.
None of the obstacles were particularly hard, but they’d still present a challenge to the other campers.
My gaze instinctively went to Nat. She stood by Hazel and Lamar, discussing something.
All the counselors were gathering, probably to go over the logistics.
“Be right back,” I told my pod, and I jogged over and stood across from Nat, taking her in and barely listening to Hazel as she went over something having to do with out-of-bounds shortcuts.
For all I knew, they were talking about NASCAR, because when I glanced at Nat, she had me questioning everything.
She looked beautiful, as she always did.
She wore black workout shorts and a loose camp counselor tee, her hair tied up with a bandana as a headband.
But there was also a weary quality to her.
She had bags under her eyes and a sluggishness to her smile that was so unlike her.
When I looked a little closer and saw her bloodshot eyes, I wondered if she’d slept at all last night.
Knowing I was the reason for her sadness was a stab to the ribs.
Nat never looked at me. She turned away from the impromptu meeting as quickly as she could. I did the same and felt oddly hollowed out. I shook off the feeling and tried to concentrate on the relay.
Each of the pods was given a map of the five obstacles and their locations throughout camp.
My group huddled together to decide who was going to do which obstacle. Sue held out her hand for the map Hazel had given us and was clearly their roller derby team captain, ready to assign positions.
“Nat’s gonna do the mud pit,” I overheard as one of my teammates said my name and the word “mud” together.
“Jack?”
“Sorry. I’m really good at an egg carry,” I tried.
They looked at me as if I were speaking gibberish, probably because I’d missed their entire conversation.
The egg carry would be the first obstacle, and it was set up at the volleyball nets in the sand.
There were four other perfectly good activities that I wouldn’t mind doing, and yet the one I wanted to avoid was casually tossed my way.
But I was prepared to plead for anything other than the mud pit crawl.
“I’d also crush that balance beam.” It was a walkover, crisscrossed two-by-fours. “I’m really good with wood.”
My pod member Bethany burst out in a surprised laugh, and the others gave each other what the hell did he just say? looks.
“Okay, that came out wrong. But look at these big feet. Perfect for balancing.”
They didn’t appear convinced.
Bethany gave me a curious look. “I’ll be doing the two-by-four walk for our team, weirdo. We need you to do the crawl.” Her finger was on the front office of the map, where the two-by-fours I’d screwed together last week were set up.
Said crawl meant I’d be trudging through the mud on my stomach under the woven net rope that Nat and I had set the posts for. Any other day, I’d love this obstacle, but now that Nat was doing it, I’d be experiencing déjà vu. Seriously, just my luck.