Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
WILDER
“Hey,” I say to one of the staff in the main building. “Uh, could I possibly use the pay phone? I want to check on my brother.”
“What’s your name?” the staff member asks.
“Wilder Price,” I say, using my wife’s name.
She checks her books and then nods while reaching into a container full of quarters. “You have ten minutes.”
I take the quarter from her, thank her, and then head into the UK-style pay phone that’s off in the corner. I shut the door behind me, pick up the receiver, drop in the change, and then dial Mika’s phone number.
I turn toward the main building so I can see if anyone walks up behind me and wait as the phone rings.
I’m hoping that Mika answers; he shouldn’t be at the bar just yet.
After a few rings, the phone picks up, and I hear, “Hello?”
“Mika, it’s me.”
“Oh, hey. I’m glad you told me about the weird phone number that might call, because normally I wouldn’t answer.”
“Yeah, they took our phones. How are you? Feeling good?”
“Feeling good,” he answers, a hint of something in his voice.
“You sure?” I ask. “You sound a little off.”
“Yeah, nothing like what you’re thinking.”
“What’s going on?” I know I have ten minutes, but my brother will always come first before what I’m going through.
“Do you really want to know?” he asks.
“You know I always want to know.”
“Digestive issues.”
“Oh.” Relief washes through me. “Uh, sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Other than that, everything else good?”
“Yeah, man. Thank you for checking on me. How is everything over there?”
I tug on my hair as I say, “Well, I thought it was going okay. We had a session with the therapist today, and what I thought was really good banter back and forth actually turned into so much more.”
“What do you mean, so much more? Like…did you guys kiss or something?”
“What? No.” I let out a sigh. “Listen, I have to make this quick, because I only have ten minutes, but after our session, we went back to our cabin. I thought we’d nailed it, you know, convincing the therapist that we had a lot of issues, and when I started talking to Scottie about it, she withdrew, which made it seem like she’d experienced the things we were complaining about. I know you probably want to keep your relationship with her confidential, but…did she go through a bad breakup or something? That was the kind of impression I got.”
He’s silent for a moment. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Didn’t tell me what?” I ask.
He sighs and then says, “She’s divorced, man.”
“Wait, what?” I stand taller. “Divorced?”
“Yeah. That’s what brought her to New York City. She met him in college, got married young, and then a few months ago, the divorce was final. She was in Ohio but came here to make something of herself, to start a new chapter.”
“Fuck, really?” I drag my hand over my face, guilt consuming me, because here I thought we were just having fun. I had no idea that she was pulling from experience. “I–I had no idea.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you. She didn’t mention it at all?”
“No, this is the first I’m hearing of it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought she would have told you when you first met. But yeah, if you guys were going at it today, she probably had flashbacks. She and Matt, they weren’t…well, they weren’t connected in the end. A lot of fighting. A lot of distrust. A lot of anger.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“That’s not my story to tell,” Mika answers. “But I will say this. She might act like she’s tough, but I know deep down, she’s still hurting. Being at this camp, around married couples, acting like her marriage is failing, it can’t be easy on her.”
“Shit,” I say, rubbing my palm over my eye. “Okay, I, uh, I need to go find her.”
“Hey, Wilder,” Mika says before I can hang up.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful with her, okay? She needs a good guy on her side.”
“You don’t have to say it twice,” I answer. “Love you, Mika.”
“Love you, Wilder.”
I hang up the phone and head out of the booth with one thing on my mind: finding Scottie.
The day has gotten away from me. After hours upon hours in a therapy session, we are now closing in on dinner time as I walk around camp looking for Scottie, trying to act casual, like I’m just walking off the intense session I had with my wife, even though deep down inside, I’m desperate to find Scottie.
I feel like such a jackass. I was simply trying to play along with her energy, but she was hurting, projecting, and now she’s struggling with whatever is going on in her head.
It’s why I need to find her. I don’t want her alone right now.
“Looking for the wife?” I turn to the right to find—I want to say Chad—sitting on a bench eating an ice cream sandwich that looks fucking delicious. One of those Chipwich things.
“Yeah, have you seen her?”
“Surprised you don’t know where she is.”
What is this guy’s problem?
“We decided to take a break from an intense therapy session,” I answer.
He slowly nods, almost as if he doesn’t believe me. “Intense, huh?”
Eyeing him, I answer, “Yeah. Intense.”
“Well.” He takes a bite of his ice cream sandwich. “Good luck with finding her.” Then he leans back on the bench and crosses one leg over the other.
Fucking weirdo.
Ignoring him, I scour the camp for Scottie, searching until I spot her sitting on a bench under a large oak tree, looking out toward the lake that borders the property. Her legs are tucked into her chest, and her arms are wrapped around her shins, squeezing them in tight.
I approach slowly, not wanting to scare her away or cause a scene.
When I step on a branch, she turns her head, and that’s when I see her tear-soaked face. She quickly wipes at it, but it’s too late. I’ve already seen it.
Fuck, I made her cry.
My stomach twists in knots as I close the distance between us. When I reach her, I ask, “Can I sit down with you?”
She shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. “Do whatever you want.”
I’ll take that as an invitation to join her.
I move around the bench and take a seat next to her, keeping a few inches between us. Leaning forward, my forearms on my thighs, I stare out at the lake as well.
After a few seconds of silence, I say, “I talked to Mika.” I glance over at her, but she doesn’t say anything, so I keep going. “Was calling to check on him. He’s doing well, but, uh, he told me something about you?—”
“We don’t need to talk about this,” she says.
“Scottie,” I say softly, turning toward her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were divorced?”
She shakes her head. “Please, Wilder. It doesn’t matter.”
But it does.
It clearly does.
I can see it in her defeated shoulders.
I can hear it in her heartbroken voice.
But I don’t want to push her. She’s already been pushed enough today, so instead, I’m just going to be here for her. I drape my arm along the back of the bench and scoot an inch or so closer to her, letting her know that I’m here for her.
And then we sit and stare out at the lake together, letting the sound of nature fill the silence between us.
The lake ripples at the shore while a bird sounds off in the distance, and the sun slowly starts descending behind the tall pine and oak trees, still providing a lot of sunlight. Off to the left, some of the couples are moving toward the dining hall, their laughter in the far distance, but Scottie just keeps her head forward, her chin now resting on her knees.
Taking a chance, I scoot closer and place my hand on her back. When she doesn’t shake me off, I give her a gentle rub.
From the corner of my eye, I catch her lip start to tremble, and then after a few more seconds, a tear falls down her cheek.
I can’t let her just sit there and cry in silence, so I say, “Scottie, come here.”
Ready for her to push me away, I brace for her response, but when she leans into me instead, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and let her lean on my chest.
She shakes under my grasp as she cries into my shoulder.
And I don’t bother saying anything, because what is there really to say? Instead, I hold her. I hold her as the sun dips behind the trees.
And I hold her while the lights around the camp begin to turn on.
I hold her until there are no more tears left for her to shed. I hate that I misunderstood her today. I hate that she’s experienced so much pain that she needed all this time to vent and feel. I hate that she’s hurting.
Mika said she needs a nice guy. Well, I’m going to make sure I’m that guy for her.
Scottie walks out of the bathroom in a matching green spandex short and shirt set, her hair wrapped up in a towel and her lotion in hand.
When she spots me sitting in the chair under the nipple picture, she offers me a soft smile.
“I grabbed a quick snack for you and a water,” I say, pointing to the table. “I thought you might want to eat something in case dinner comes with a sideshow again.”
“Thank you,” she says softly as she moves to the seat next to mine. She sets her lotion on the table and then turns toward me.
When she looks up, her walls seem lowered, like she’s allowing herself to be vulnerable—it’s the first time I’ve seen that — and she’s exposed rather than guarded.
“Um, I just want to, uh, I want to apologize about earlier.”
“Apologize for what?” I ask her.
Her eyes meet mine, her blue to my gray, and she says, “About, um, about crying by the lake.”
“Why the hell are you apologizing for that?”
“Because,” she says, raising her chin. “This is…this is a mutual relationship where we are trying to?—”
“I’m sorry, Scottie, but I’m going to cut off whatever you’re about to say, because I’m telling you right now, I’m not going to agree with it.” I turn toward her and say, “You don’t need to put on a brave face for me. You don’t need to act like everything is okay. You don’t need to act like you don’t have feelings or emotions. Hell, you don’t need to cry by yourself. I’m here for you. Do you understand that? For you, Scottie. No one else. I’m at this camp, in this cabin, for you. I’m here for no other reason. So you can try to act like this is all business, but I refuse to let you go through what’s clouding your mind by yourself.”
She shakes her head. “Wilder, you don’t have to do that. I’m Mika’s friend?—”
“Which means, by extension, you’re my friend.”
She exhales, and I can see her wanting to push me away, but I’m not going to let her. “Please, I don’t want you thinking you need to treat me differently.”
“Treat you differently. How the hell would I treat you differently?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Pity, Wilder. I don’t want your pity.”
“Good, because I’m not offering pity. But I am offering understanding. I’m offering a shoulder to cry on when you need it. I’m offering a listening ear. I’m offering you an opportunity for escapism. I’m offering a reliable friendship.”
Her lips tilt to the side, and she looks away, not saying a damn thing until she sucks in a deep breath and then mouths, “Damn it,” as she starts to cry again.
She dabs at her eyes with the back of her hand, clearly not wanting me to see her cry. But I don’t give a shit. I take her hand in mine, tugging her closer to me, and wrap my arm around her shoulders, bringing her into my side.
And we stay like that for I don’t know how long, her quietly crying and me holding on to her, making sure she knows she’s not alone.
I’ve never been through a hard breakup, or a divorce for that matter, but I’ve seen the toll it takes on a human when they see their loved one slowly slip away. I watched my mom go through it with my dad. Sure, it wasn’t a divorce, but as my dad became weaker, I saw the light dim in my mom’s eyes. I saw her come to the realization that the man she once loved, the man she married, was no longer the same person.
And just like I was there for my mom, I’ll be there for Scottie.
“You okay?” I ask after a few minutes.
“No,” she says, answering honestly, giving me hope that she’s going to open up.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” she says.
“I understand.” I clear my throat. “But I do want to apologize about today. I thought I was feeding off your energy, trying to show Sanders that we’re a couple in trouble. If I’d known about the divorce, I wouldn’t have?—”
“Please don’t apologize,” she says, shaking her head. “You didn’t know. There’s nothing to apologize about. We actually did a good job convincing him. Maybe too good of a job.” She lets out a breath and then lifts her head up. “I think the piercings really threw him for a loop.” She chuckles, which gives me hope.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the first time he’s ever seen a couple fight about that.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind,” she replies.
“And I know I said it before, but I really want to reiterate—us bringing it full circle at the end with the piercings, that was poetic.”
She shakes her head in mirth. “I’ve found that I don’t want to play into your ridiculousness, but I’ll admit, that was a nice touch at the end.”
I chuckle. “See! Isn’t improv fun?”
“No. It’s stressful, and I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”
“Well, it seems like we have a hole we have to dig ourselves out of for the next seven days.”
“Yeah. Any ideas on how to do that?”
“No clue.”
She nods. “Perfect. Glad we’re being smart about this.”
“Ready for dinner?” I ask Scottie, who just slipped her shoes on.
“Yeah.” She stands and presses down her shirt. “Can you tell I’ve been crying?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little.”
“You sure?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” I say. “About anything.” I look her in the eyes, but she quickly diverts her gaze as if she can’t stand to make eye contact with me. Not wanting her to brush off my comment, because I need her to know this about me, I close the space between us and then press my finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet mine. “I’m serious, Scottie. I won’t lie to you. Okay?”
“O-okay,” she says.
I release her and then stick my hands in my pockets. “And, you know, if you want to tell your husband that you don’t plan on lying to him either, it would be appreciated,” I say, lightheartedly.
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t plan on lying to you.”
“The way you said that, with such promise and conviction.” I press my hand to my heart. “I truly felt it all the way in my bones.”
“God, you’re annoying,” she says, moving past me. “Do you have the key to our sex palace?”
“Yup,” I say, and then together we head out of the cabin, only to be stopped at the door by Sanders.
“Hello, you two,” he says while holding a football.
“Oh, hello,” Scottie says, taking a step back and running into my chest.
I decide to hold her hips, keeping her in place.
“I’m glad I caught you before you headed over to dinner. I’ve given our day some thought, and I wanted to deliver this to you.” He pulls out an envelope. “It’s your task for tomorrow. I’m also having dinner delivered to you so you can eat in your room and spend some time thinking about the session we went through.”
Scottie takes the envelope and thanks him.
“There seems to be a lot of tension between you, more than I expected, and I think it would be good for you to think about if you want to continue with the camp or maybe…go home.”
“Go home?” Scottie asks.
“Yes.” Sanders twirls the ball on the palm of his hand. “I’d recommend weekly, maybe biweekly sessions with me to work through some of these issues. I don’t know if we’ll be able to handle it during camp though, and I don’t want to put you two in a tough spot. So the decision is up to you. If you’d like to stay, then we’ll see you bright and early in the morning, but if you’d like to go home, we can discharge you around ten. Just stay in your cabin, and staff will come and get you.”
“Oh, okay,” Scottie says.
Sanders looks between the two of us, determination in his eyes. “I see the love you two have for each other. It’s clearly there, but the animosity is clouding it. Without working through that animosity, you’re never going to find the love again.” He grips the ball tightly. “Have a good evening.”
Both Scottie and I step back into the cabin and shut the door behind us. I slip off my shoes and place them over by the dresser before lying on the bed. Scottie takes a seat in one of the chairs at the table and looks up at me.
“Was not expecting that.”
“Yeah, and he wasn’t expecting us to fight over petty things like…bologna. I think we all surprised each other today.”
“I guess so.” Then she glances at me. “Do you really have a problem with bologna?”
I shrug. “I mean, I don’t hate it but I don’t love it.”
“I think you might be the first millionaire to ever say that.”
“I’m down-to-earth, babe. What can I say?”
“I thought I told you not to call me that.”
I wink. “It’s got a good ring to it.” She rolls her eyes and sighs, so I take that moment to change the subject and nod toward the envelope. “What do you want to do? It’s up to you. We can call it quits now, maybe even say that we couldn’t make it work. Thank Sanders and then move on with our lives.”
“I guess we could do that,” she says, staring down at the envelope.
From the droop in her shoulders and the defeat in her voice, I can tell that’s not what she wants to do. But why?
“You don’t want to leave, do you?” I ask her.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Hey,” I say, causing her to look up at me. “Come here. Come talk to me.”
She walks over to the bed, sitting down and leaning against the headboard.
“What’s going on in that head?”
She tosses the envelope from Sanders to the side and drags both of her hands over her face. “God, I’m so sorry I roped you into all this. I know this is not what you were expecting. You probably thought you were going to have a little fun, role-play, and be on your way. You didn’t know you were bunking up with a girl who has a truckload of baggage.”
“You act as if that’s a bad thing,” I say.
Her eyes meet mine. “Isn’t it though?”
“Who doesn’t have baggage?” I ask. “There isn’t one person on this earth who hasn’t opened a metaphorical suitcase and dumped in it. No life is perfect, no journey unmarred. Everyone’s carrying around something. So there’s absolutely no need to apologize.”
Her head tilts to the side as she studies me.
“What?” I ask after a few seconds.
“Nothing.” She shakes her head.
“Uh, no, you’re not going to get away with that. What were you just thinking?”
She drags her finger over the comforter beneath us, avoiding eye contact. “Just that, you know, you’re pretty mature.”
“Jesus, Scottie. I’m two years younger than you, which is not that big of a difference.”
“I know, I know. I’m just not used to such maturity in a man your age is all. I mean, even Mika isn’t as mature as you.”
I chuckle. “Mika’s on his own path.”
“That he is.” She pushes her foot against my leg. “Seriously though, you know how to say the right thing.”
“I’m not saying it just to say it.” I look her in the eyes. “I mean it.”
She nods. “I know.”
I turn toward her and ask, “So do you want to go home, or do you want to stay? I’m good either way.”
She looks toward the window, and I can see her wavering on what to do, so I decide to help her.
“Please tell me if I’m overstepping here, but it almost seems like after today’s session, you’re considering staying because you might think it could be helpful. I don’t know what happened in your divorce, and I won’t ask because I know that’s personal to you, but if it seems like being here could help weed out some of the negative feelings you’re experiencing or the animosity or anxiety, then maybe it might be good to stay. If anything, staying might break the patterns of behavior for you. I know I can get into them sometimes, and breaking a routine helps break through some of the baggage we hold on to.”
She stares up at the ceiling as she leans back on her hands. “Yeah. I was thinking that, but I don’t want to keep you. The option to leave is there, and I feel like you should be able to get back to your regular life.”
“But do you really think I want to do that?” I ask. “Why do you think I’m here in the first place? Because my regular life is boring me.”
Her eyes meet mine. “You’d really stay an extra seven days with me, knowing that we could leave tomorrow?”
“Gives me an extra seven days to shower with the fleshy poker. I call that a good fucking time.”
That makes her smile. “I’m being serious, Wilder.”
“So am I.”
And I realize that I honestly want to stay here. It’s not just about experiencing something fun to relieve my boredom now. It’s for Scottie. It could be because she’s such a good friend to Mika that makes her okay in my book. But I think it’s just her too. I like her. I’m enjoying spending time with her. And if this helps her unpack her marriage and heal? Then I’m in.
“I say we do it,” I continue. “Stay. Enjoy the ride. Have fun basking in the knowledge of throwing off Sanders, because he’s probably never met a couple like us before. Enjoy watching the other couples scramble while we win challenge after challenge while bickering the whole time. I say we stay, paint each other’s faces, canoe out in the lake, go on hikes, and just be adults at an adult summer camp.”
Her smile grows ever so slightly. “I mean, when you put it like that, it does sound kind of fun.”
“Exactly. And I say you just let loose. Shake off the insecurities, don’t worry about what your coworkers might think, and just do this for you. Experience everything for you. Because you and I both know you won’t be working with the Brads and Chad forever, so might as well give them a show.”
“It does sound entertaining, but I’ve never done that.”
“Done what?”
“Dropped the insecurities,” she says. “I’ve always tried to save face, put myself out there in a positive light. Make it seem like I’m living a good life.”
“Are you though?” I ask. “In all seriousness, looking back, are you living a good life?”
She pauses, giving her answer some thought. From what I can tell, I’d say she’s living life, but she’s not living it to its fullest. I think she believes she’s making the right moves, but she’s not really making the moves that help her find joy.
Finally, she says, “I don’t think I am.”
“Then maybe it’s time you stop trying to save face and start living without a care. Throw caution to the wind. Do things you may never have done before…like attend a marriage camp with someone you only met a few days ago.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Her beautiful eyes, a soft shade of blue with a unique ring of brown around her pupil, meet mine again. “Will you help me?”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Pips, you’ve come to the right place.”