Chapter 5
Chapter Five
I skip sunrise yoga this morning. In my defense, there’s a distinct absence of an actual sunrise.
Instead, there’s a light mist and thick fog that roll off the lake.
Although it’s atmospheric, it isn’t what I’d call a mood lifter.
It’s perfect for the zombie apocalypse later though.
It’s always nice when Mother Nature cooperates with the activities schedule.
It rained overnight, which means the grass will be too wet and slippery for a couple of the planned activities, so I make sure to modify the schedule before the first block begins.
As I pass the arts and crafts cabin, I notice a light on and make a quick detour.
There’s nothing on the schedule this early.
I open the door, not sure what to expect.
Esther and Wendy, our two oldest campers, are seated side by side at the table with a basket between them.
Crochet materials are spread across the surface.
The moment I enter, they both drop their hands below the table…
Well, a couple beats later because their reaction time isn’t what it used to be.
“Good morning, ladies. What are we working on so early?”
“There’s no amigurumi on the schedule today,” Esther explains. “We thought we’d work on a project before the figurine painting starts.”
“What are you making?”
The older women exchange looks. Slowly, they raise their hands to show me.
“I can’t tell what they are.”
“That’s because it’s been a while since you’ve seen one,” Esther says, promoting a snicker from Wendy.
I approach the table for a closer look. “Is that a … plushie penis?”
Esther holds up the craft for closer inspection. “It’s my new side hustle. I’ve been crafting penises and other naughty products for my Etsy store. Bridal parties go nuts for them.”
I examine the plushie. For a penis, it’s kind of cute. “You’re using crochet stitches.”
Esther nods. “That’s why I’ve enlisted Wendy’s help. She’s a wiz when it comes to crochet.”
“Esther had a large order come in right before she left.”
“I didn’t want to cancel on you or them,” Esther continues. “You know how much I love this camp, but I also don’t want to let down my customer.”
“Plus her rating will go down and it’ll be bad for business,” Wendy adds. “Reviews can be brutal.”
“How many more do you need to make?”
The women exchange another look. “Fifty,” Esther admits.
“Fifty? That’s one big bridal party.”
“It’s for the bridal shower. The maid of honor wants to include them in the gift bags.”
“I hope you get them finished so you have time to enjoy the rest of camp.”
“We will,” Esther says. “Even if I have to double my arthritis medication.”
“Please don’t do that.”
I exit the cabin and make a mental note to keep Olivia away from any amigurumi sessions. I can just picture the back-to-school essay highlighting what she did over the summer break.
After posting the revised schedule in the discord group as well as a physical copy on my office door, I head to the cafeteria for breakfast. Bernie is setting out a bowl of bananas as I arrive.
“Everything going okay?” I ask.
“The strawberries are turning already, so I’ll have to buy more for this week unless you want me to skip them.”
There’s no question that I have to skip them. The budget is too tight this year. “How are the blueberries?”
“Ripe and ready.”
“Okay. We’ll stick with what we have for this week. Thanks.”
I take a banana and a small yogurt container and join a group in progress, where I’m greeted with a chorus of ‘good morning.’ I notice Charlie sandwiched between Angela and Stefan.
“How does this compare to your usual five-star accommodations, counselor?”
“I miss my morning cappuccino, but otherwise not too bad. It isn’t every day I wake up to the sound of … nothing.”
“That’s my favorite part,” Adam says. His mask is off as he nibbles on a banana.
I rip off the lid of my yogurt, triggering Chewy’s senses. The Yorkie’s head pops up and he scents the air.
“Do you mind?” Adam asks.
He knows I don’t. We’ve been doing this for years. He dips his spoon into my yogurt and offers it to Chewy. The dog’s little tongue makes short work of the yogurt.
“The rest is mine,” I tell Chewy. The dog settles back down on his companion’s lap.
“Well, I woke up to the sound of Hunter singing in the shower,” Angela says. “His cabin must be next to mine.”
Charlie’s brow creases. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who sings at all, let alone in the shower.”
“Everybody sings in the shower here. It’s basically a competition to see who sounds the best,” Angela says with a wink at me.
“The acoustics are amazing,” Adam agrees, catching on to the ruse.
“What’s your go-to song?” Charlie asks.
Angela is the first to volunteer. “Mine is ‘Juicy.’”
Of course it is.
“What’s yours?” I ask Charlie.
“I don’t sing in the shower.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not much of a singer.”
“Not even when you’re alone in your douchemobile?”
“I tend to play classical music.”
“That’s the beauty of the cabin shower,” Stefan says. “Everybody sounds like Adele.”
“You should try it next time,” Angela tells him. “Maybe you’ll surprise yourself with how good you sound.”
Leave it to Angela to know how to appeal to a man’s ego.
“Maybe.” Charlie offers a dimpled smile that casts a spell on my uterus. Where in his perfect bone structure has he been hiding those dimples? I quickly dismiss the thought. Charles Thorpe is the enemy. The Nazgul to my Frodo.
“You all seem to know each other so well. I’d like to hear more camp stories,” the Nazgul says. “The more embarrassing the better.”
“We don’t share embarrassing stories about each other,” I say in my warning tone.
Angela chortles. “Are you serious? That’s all we talk about—that and when Cricket will finally ditch the vibrator and start dating again.”
Heat flames my cheeks. “We definitely don’t talk about that.”
“Sorry, dear. I meant we as in us.” Angela gestures to everyone else.
“I would rather you didn’t speculate about my romantic life.”
“Or lack thereof. Darling, you wasted the best years of your body on a man who didn’t deserve you.”
“I’m only thirty-two,” I object.
“Fine. You have another two years.” She looks me up and down. “Maybe one, depending on your daily squats routine.”
“Am I supposed to have a daily routine that involves squats?”
“Definitely only one year left. You need to spend less time focused on our activities and more time focused on your own.”
“I do sunrise yoga. That’s basically daily squats for the soul.”
“It isn’t your soul that will attract a man.”
“It will if it’s the right one,” I insist.
“I agree with Cricket,” Adam chimes in. “It’s the inside that matters. If they’re only interested in the outside, then they’re not a match.”
Stefan pounds his morning milk like it’s a tankard of ale. “I’d like my outsides to match my insides. Then I’ll worry about finding a love match.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie asks.
“I can’t expect to form an authentic connection with someone else when I don’t have one with myself.”
“No, I mean how do your outsides not match your insides?”
“I have the heart and soul of a Viking,” Stefan says. “I’d like to embody one more completely.”
“You wear a horned helmet,” Charlie says. “How much more like a Viking can you look? Chainmail?”
“Most Vikings didn’t wear chainmail,” Stefan replies. “Too expensive. Technically they didn’t wear these helmets either, but most people don’t know that. That’s why I wear it, so people can identify who I am without me having to explain.”
“Although to be fair, people demand an explanation like they’re entitled to it,” Adam says. “Believe me, I get it.”
“I thought you were content with your appearance,” I tell Stefan.
“Oh, I am, but with a few tweaks I could fully inhabit my ideal self.”
“Oh honey, we could all use a few tweaks,” Angela interjects. “That’s human nature.”
“I’ve been carting around a pair of custom boots that I haven’t even worn,” he says.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because I don’t think I’d do them justice like this. I need to be the whole package.”
An idea occurs to me, and I send a quick text to Laura at the other table.
Angela stretches her arms above her head. “Speaking of tweaks, I need to go back to my cabin to finish my skincare regime before the fan fiction club meetup.”
“I didn’t know you were joining them this year,” I say.
“Apparently they’d like someone with experience to write the steamy parts.” Angela rises from the table. “Not all heroes wear capes. Ta-ta for now.”
Laura nearly topples over Angela in her rush to get to our table. “What’s the grooming emergency? Is it Chewy?”
Hearing his name, the Yorkie releases a yip from under the table.
I point to Stefan. “This man needs your professional help.”
Laura frowns. “This man is not a canine.”
“I can bark if it helps,” Stefan offers.
“Can you style him so he looks more like a Viking?” I ask.
“Don’t wash it or cut it for a month,” Charlie says. “Problem solved.”
Laura scrutinizes Stefan’s head. “No, no. I’m seeing it. Sort of a punk rock meets the devil.” She touches a strand of Stefan’s light brown hair. “I can work with this.”
Optimism sparks in Stefan’s eyes. “Even if you mess it up, I won’t care. I’ll be grateful you were willing to try.”
Laura pats his shoulder. “Come on, Stefan Eriksson. Let’s see what we can do.”
Adam pins her with a hopeful look. “Can Chewy and I watch? We love a good transformation story.”
“As long as there’s no side commentary,” Laura tells him. “It’s a good thing I packed my electric razor.”
Charlie slides down to my end of the bench. “Looks like it’s just us.”
I swallow another spoonful of yogurt. Before I can respond, Olivia appears out of nowhere, tapping my arm incessantly. “Cricket, can I feed Buffy today?”
“I think I saw your name on the list for tomorrow morning.”
She looks mildly put out. “Can’t I have a turn today?”
“You’ll have to ask Gloria. She’s in charge of Buffy’s schedule.”