Chapter 13
Note to self:
Eye contact is key to making new (naked) friends.
The second the door swung shut behind Zip, I turned to Theo and clutched his arm. “He was naked.”
“I think that pretty much covers it.”
“No, nothing was covered.” I bit back the urge to laugh. “His little zipper wasn’t covered at all.”
“Ali,” Theo said, his voice sounding choked like he too found this situation hilarious.
“Oh,” I breathed. “Do you think this is some kind of weird cult? Did we stumble into a Netflix docuseries?”
The door opened as I asked that, and Zip chuckled. “No, ma’am. Just a resort for nudists. It’s our busy season, being the summer, and we’re packed full right now.”
“With naked people?” I asked, my voice faint.
Keep your eyes above the waist, Ramos. Do. Not. Look. Down. Do not.
A small frown creased Zip’s face. “Well, sure. We like to think we’re born exactly the way we should live.”
Theo cleared his throat and my eyes darted to his face. His cheeks were flushed pink, but his eyes danced with amusement. “We appreciate any help you can give us.”
“Of course. Always best to help someone in need when you can.” He opened the door and waved us outside. “Come out here and meet George.”
George, as it had turned out, was a giant of a man who was wisely clothed seeing as how he worked with tools and whatnot. He offered to take us back to the car for a look. The three of us squeezed together in the front cab of George’s truck and headed out.
While I’d packed my backpack with a change of clothes, toiletries, and my medication, George explained our water pump was shot. The good news? He could replace it. The bad news? He wouldn’t be able to get the part from Amarillo until morning.
When it became clear we’d be stuck here for the night, Zip offered us an empty cabin.
“You’re in luck,” he said. “We’re all booked, but this one was out of commission until the AC got fixed and that happened today. It’s small but it will do, I think.”
Zip wasn’t kidding. The cabin was a tiny little one-room wooden structure, rough around the edges but charming. It had two twin-sized beds, a round table with two chairs, one dresser, a microwave, coffeemaker, and a TV we were warned got one channel “sometimes.” But it was neat and clean, had AC, and a small shower so I wasn’t complaining.
After Zip had gotten us settled in the cabin, he explained there was only one hot spot for the entire seventy-acre property. He lent us a golf cart, gave us directions to the community center a half a mile away, and the Wi-Fi password to use when we got there.
“Help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen,” he said. “Should be something to make sandwiches with. It’s on the house.”
“This place kind of reminds me of that summer camp we went to,” Theo said, as we bounced along the faint dirt road in hopes of finding that great and hopeful sign of civilization, Wi-Fi. “Remember that one summer we all went?”
“Naked guy. Three o’clock,” I whispered.
“Noted.”
“I hated that camp.” The next year, I’d flat-out refused to go, and no amount of cajoling or bribing had worked to change my mind.
“What? It was great. There was swimming and archery and campfires and all kinds of things to do.”
“Yeah, that’s because you were at the boys’ camp.” I swatted at a mosquito. “The girls had lots of arts and crafts. Lots.”
“Naked couple on our left,” Theo said.
“Not totally naked,” I pointed out. “They’re both wearing tennis shoes and socks. Very sensible.”
He choked back a laugh and raised a hand when the couple called out a greeting in passing. “It wasn’t all that bad.”
“I mean, I would have gone with a sandal but to each their own.”
He bumped me with his shoulder. “The camp, I mean.”
“I was forced to make five thousand macaroni necklaces.”
“I remember that. I still have the one you gave me.” He turned left on the path. The motion caused me to lean into his side. I caught a whiff of soap on his skin; we’d showered after we’d gotten to the cabin.
“You do? That was a long time ago.”
“I guess I’m good at holding onto things.” He shot me a small smile.
I hummed, secretly pleased. Granted, I’d been nine at the time and had made said necklace under extreme duress and everyone I knew had gotten their very own handcrafted macaroni necklace, too. But I bet none of my brothers had kept theirs.
“You really didn’t like camping?” Theo asked.
“I didn’t like that summer camp. I loved camping. Remember that place we used to go to on the Frio River?”
For years, our parents would pack up all us kids, Theo included, and we’d head for a campground on the Frio. It was days of living in our swimsuits and playing in the water until our fingers pruned and our arms got tired. (Or I saw a water snake.) Then we’d beg my parents for a few dollars and race to the camp store to buy the cheap popsicles they sold. At night, we’d make s’mores on the campfire and lay out under the stars listening to Cal point out the constellations the rest of us could never see.
“It’s been a while since we’ve all gone,” Theo said.
The last camping trip we’d taken had been about four years ago. Alec had come with me; Theo had brought his girlfriend at the time whose name I couldn’t even remember now. She’d been nice though. Frankie brought Ruth; Cal and Melanie were there too; in fact, that would have been when they met for the first time. It had been bittersweet. I remember sitting around the fire one night, longing for the day when it had just been my brothers and Theo and me, when Abe was with us, and we were kids.
Growing up really sucked sometimes.
“We should go again,” Theo said, pulling me out of my memories. “It would be fun.”
I smiled. “It would be. Maybe we can talk Abe into coming with us, too. It’s not the same without him.”
“That would be nice.” He turned his head, a mixture of sadness and hope swimming in those blue, blue eyes. I felt that in my bones. This mission Cal had sent me on seemed important for so many reasons. It was more than just getting Abe to agree to come to the wedding. It felt bigger than that.
“Do you talk to him a lot?” I traced the edge of my shorts. “I mean, I know you talk. Abe’s mentioned that to me. I know how close you two were. I never really thought about how hard it was for you when he left.”
He paused, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. “We talk a lot. At least once a week.”
“Good, I’m glad because?—”
But Theo leaned down and whispered, “Naked guy on a bike coming right at us.”
I turned my head away. “I don’t want to look.”
“Then don’t.”
“But I have to.”
“You do not.”
“I can’t not look. It’s like passing by an accident or coming across a pimple-popping video.”
He huffed a laugh and then waved at the man as we passed.
I looked, hoping my red face would be taken for extreme sunburn and not a level of embarrassment I had yet to experience in my life. “Ouch. That looks so uncomfortable.”
“Yes, it does,” he said with feeling.
You know what’s weird? Being unexpectedly stranded at a nudist resort. Even weirder? Being unexpectedly stranded at a nudist resort with your brother’s best friend whom you’ve secretly been half in love with for half your life and there are naked people everywhere.
EVERYWHERE.
Shiny, happy, smiling naked people.
The community center was a long, one-story building, much bigger than I expected. We parked the golf cart and climbed the porch steps. The large set of doors, flanked by bulky wooden rocking chairs on each side, was unlocked. They opened to reveal a long, wide room that took up most of the building, sort of an all-purpose area to hold large gatherings.
A handful of people crowded around a table playing a heated game of (naked) Monopoly. At the other end of the room, a (naked) group of people were seated on couches around a television in a sectioned-off area.
“Hello there,” a voice called out. A woman easily in her seventies sat (nakedly) knitting. “You two lost?”
Theo and I looked at each other and grinned.
“Why would you think that?” Theo asked.
“Looking a little overdressed for this party.” She winked and then directed us to the corner of the room for the strongest signal.
While Theo checked his messages, I called my mother. That phone conversation went about as well as I expected. She was beside herself. When she asked the name of the place where we were staying, I made up something generic but assured her we were safe.
“Do you get any strange feelings from the owner?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Does he seem like a man who is looking to make a dress from your skin?”
She had no idea why I laughed so hard, and I wasn’t about to explain. “Please stop watching true crime documentaries. Please.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, after she was sufficiently convinced I wasn’t going to be murdered in my sleep, “I sent you the link to my video online. It’s getting so many views. Watch it and tell me what you think.”
Next, I called Mack to let him know we’d see him in the morning and then listened to him tell me about the WWII documentary he’d watched earlier in the day. And while I wasn’t at all interested in Operation Overlord, I’d sensed lately that Mack was lonely. It had been a year now since Grandma Grace died and the History Channel was not a substitute for human interaction.
Both of us were quieter on the trip back to the cabin.
“I’ve never stared at so many foreheads in my life,” I said after a while.
“Or ears.” Theo grinned. “This has been the weirdest day of my life.”
I nodded. “We’re never telling anyone about this.”
“Not a soul.”