26
I FELL ASLEEPpissed off at Mack.
I woke up pissed off at Mack.
And I dug out my camp to-do list from underneath my pillow, where I’d stored it for safekeeping during the night, still pissed off at Mack.
I burned with anger at myself for getting swept up in the sensation of his body against mine, for letting all his ridiculous talk about rocks, and being weird, get to my head. A lover may have been a part of younger Clara’s plan. Passion? Sure, fine. But feelings? Love?
She hadn’t mentioned a bit about it, not a word.
With good reason, I thought, steaming.
I leaned over the edge of the bed and searched around my purse for a pen and my notebook. Paper smoothed out, I dug the tip of the pen into the center of the box labeled “Take a lot of lovers. Or at least have one passionate love affair,” and checked it off.
I pressed down so hard that the paper split, a little tear ripping through the box. I let out a bitter, frustrated growl and flung my notebook to the floor, where it landed with a sharp slap.
“Clara?” Sam’s concerned face appeared through the screen door. “Are you finally awake? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, squinting at her through the bright-white sunlight. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”
The sun wasn’t shy about taking up every inch of window space around the cabin; it beamed into even the dustiest corner with its arrogant, high-noon energy.
Wait, what time was it, exactly?
I yanked my phone from its charging cord and squinted at the numbers on the screen: 11:24 a.m.
Oh, fuck.
“I literally just took a nap in one of the chairs by the waterfront,” she said as she shuffled inside, and I could tell by her tone that she was annoyed I’d even asked. “The doctor said to take it easy, not hole up on bed rest. I’m fine.”
“Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” I shrieked, shimmying out of my sleeping bag to stand.
“Did you have big plans today? Were you supposed to run a marathon or something?” She was beside me now, massaging the small of her back with the heel of her hand as she watched me, perplexed.
“Wait, are you having contractions again?” I studied her closely, like an archaeologist in front of a newly discovered dinosaur bone.
“Jesus Christ, Clara, I will tell you if I don’t feel well, okay?” She let out an exasperated laugh. “Besides you’re the one acting like you’re going into labor, not me.”
“I really wanted us all to make friendship bracelets this morning,” I explained, rummaging around my duffel bag for clean clothes. “And then do the relay this afternoon. We put it off yesterday because we didn’t want you to miss it.”
Hopping into a pair of shorts, I yanked them up to my waist with one hand while somehow wrangling a tank top over my head with the other. I moved into the bathroom still struggling to get my arms through and was just shoving my toothbrush into my mouth when Sam caught up to me.
“Oh, honey,” she said, and I could tell she was preparing to say something she knew would disappoint me. “Everyone’s already kind of gone off and done their own thing.”
I paused, mid-brush, a tiny blob of toothpaste foam dribbling off my bottom lip.
“Seriously?”
Sam nodded, watching as I spat and spooned water into my mouth with my cupped hand.
“Eloise and Linus went to go ‘check out a van,’” she said with air quotes. “Nick and Trey have been on some long walk since breakfast and aren’t back yet.”
“But they went on a walk yesterday,” I said, dabbing the water off my chin with the edge of my shirt. “How many walks can a practically married couple go on? They’re acting like my grandparents.”
“I don’t think it’s that weird.” Sam shrugged, her curls bobbing as she moved. “Regan and I went on a lot of walks. We’re in our mid-thirties, Clara. We’re practically boomers.”
I slumped back down on my bed, defeated.
“I just had this whole plan about how today was supposed to go,” I said. “Mack even helped me get all the relay stuff out of the office yesterday.”
Just saying his name out loud left me feeling frazzled and confused.
“I know you did,” she said sympathetically. “And it’s very cute how excited you are to do all this camp stuff. You’re like a little kid.”
“A very tall little kid,” I corrected.
“You were basically this tall when you were eleven,” she said. “Look, I think this week just means completely different things for everyone, especially since it’s our last time here. We’re all in very different places, you know?”
I nodded. I did know.
“It’s okay.” I tried not to sound too defeated. “I need to finish up this document to send to my boss anyway.”
I paused, debating for a moment if I even wanted to ask about Mack.
It didn’t take long for me to decide that I really, really did.
“Have you seen Mack?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, inconspicuous. “Is he around?”
“I ran into him at the dining hall this morning,” she said. “He had just had a meeting with Steve and Marla and then said he was heading into town for something.”
“Oh. Cool.” My attempt at acting chill and aloof faltered as my face fell, remembering his stony gaze last night, our blistering argument in the middle of the lake.
“‘Cool?’” she repeated back to me, her tone skeptical. “Okay, what happened?”
She shuffled past and sat down gingerly on the edge of her bed, staring at me expectantly, almost like she knew exactly what had gone down with Mack, even without me saying a word.
It took me a minute to recognize exactly what it was: the sixth sense that came along with friendship, knowing everything without knowing anything at all. The realization made my heart swell with gratitude for her.
“We slept together last night, and then immediately got into some stupid fight,” I blurted out, unable to contain the words and feelings bubbling up inside of me. “It was amazing, I hate him again, the end.”
I tucked my hands under my chin and gave her the toothiest, most deranged smile I could muster, doing my best pageant queen pose.
“Oh, Clara,” she said sympathetically, drawing out every letter of my name so that it landed like a slow-moving bomb. “I want to be a good friend and ask if you want to talk about your fight, but I also really, really want to know how the sex was.”
I let out a loud laugh, and then dropped my head in my hands with a groan. “It was incredible. He’s ruined all future sex for me. Do you want details?”
“Are you kidding me right now?” she said, pressing a hand to her chest like I’d offended her. “I want explicit details. Drawings. Maybe a diorama of all the different positions? I have all day.”
“Well, we could go hang out in the art barn,” I said, peering up at her through my fingers. “I could build you a 3D model of our bodies out of Popsicle sticks.”
“Oh my god, yes,” Sam said with an ecstatic moan as she pushed herself up to stand slowly. “Can we meet in, like, half an hour? I need to call my mom first, and you definitely don’t need to overhear that conversation. She’s just going to lecture me about how I should come home immediately.”
“Your mom doesn’t want to hear about Mack going down on me on top of the counter in the boathouse? I could sit in on the call, give her all the deets.”
“No he didn’t!” Sam’s mouth dropped open into a Joker-like grin.
“Oh yeah.” I nodded, feeling better with every second that passed. “The Popsicle sticks won’t be able to do it justice, but I’ll try.”
“Okay, thirty minutes!” she said, twiddling her fingers together with childlike glee. “I’ll meet you in the art barn, where we’re going to play the entire Indigo Girls catalog on my phone—in order—and dig up all the finger paint and get weird and crafty.”
Weird.The word landed in my stomach like a punch, and I blinked back a reaction, forcing Mack out of my thoughts.
Sam clapped her hands together and bowed her head, clearly pleased with her plan.
“Honestly, that sounds just like old times,” I said, marveling at the way Sam seemed to glow, shining in the bright morning light. It hit me—deeper than it had any other time this week—just how much I’d missed her.
“I know,” she said, beaming back at me. “Aren’t you glad you came?”
“More than you know,” I said, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to cry, even though I felt the exact opposite of sadness right now.
“Mom time.” She waved her phone at me, grimacing. “Wish me luck.”
“Remind her that you are a grown-up and you can make decisions for yourself!” I shouted behind her as she headed back out through the door, stopping to look at me with a cocked brow.
“Tell your boss the same thing when you email her!” she said as she disappeared back into the sunlight.
I plopped back down onto my bed and grabbed my phone. After a solid twenty minutes of polishing up the document, I cracked open my email.
Amaya, I wrote. I know I’m on my micro-sabbatical, but I had a bit of an epiphany for the Alewife creative and am sending over a detailed outline. Can’t wait to hear what you think.
And then I hit send.