Chapter Sixteen
The next day when Ben picked me up, he honked his horn as I was doing up my dress. By the time I got outside, flustered and
a bit hungover, he and Dave were standing below one of the big oak trees, looking up at it. I walked right by them; neither
of their heads turned.
“I mean, I can trim some of it down, but I’ll need to get an arborist for any branches higher up.”
“OK, sure,” Ben said.
There was such thick tension in the already humid air, it felt like molasses.
“I mean, Neve said not to worry about the trees this year, but if you’ve talked about it and changed your minds . . .”
I opened the passenger side door and the sound made them look my way.
“I bet you need a Gatorade.” Ben smiled. “It’s in the console for you.”
“Thanks, and good morning, Dave,” I said, trying to ease the tension.
“Morning,” he said with a half-smile. His face made me feel like I’d done something wrong, though I knew I hadn’t. I turned
up the AC and it drowned out their voices. They looked like the two characters in The Lorax who wouldn’t move aside to let the other to go by. Eventually Ben backed away toward the car and popped open the door.
“OK, thanks, for all you do here. Appreciate you,” Ben said to Dave, then he ducked inside. Dave remained stone-faced and
nodded.
“Sorry about that, I just saw the dead tree limbs and wondered if Dave could take care of it.”
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel like he was in a hurry.
“Hi,” I said, tentatively, taking the cold bottle and giving the top a twist. “Thanks for this.”
He started driving before I’d had a chance to click my seat belt on and get settled. He wasn’t looking me in the eye and launched
immediately into talk about his acting group. I could sense a very platonic energy coming from him as we got on the road.
Or was it regret? Either way, behind my giant sunglasses, I was relieved by the vibe shift. Chewing on antacids and taking
slow sips of the blue sports drink, I tried to make friendly but not too friendly chat.
Eventually Ben spoke about how it sucked that Neve was in charge of the cabins but that she wasn’t direct enough with Dave,
because she had such a soft spot for him. “She’ll let him do anything,” he said, “but these are supposed to be income properties.
She’s letting him make the schedule, even stay until end of October. We could be making money from them by then.”
I just nodded, stared ahead at the houses getting closer and closer together as we reached the outskirts of Picton.
We didn’t say a single word about our make-out session.
I had planned to bring it up, but something about how he was acting, how easily he switched back to friends and colleagues mode, made me refrain.
The drive into town was quick, and I thanked him profusely before getting out and into my car, which was parked on Main Street beside the Tim Hortons.
I went through the drive-through and ordered an Iced Capp as big as my head, hoping I hadn’t made a huge fool of myself in front of Ben or Dave.
But it was Dave I was most concerned about.
I had a sense that Ben was fine. That nothing much rocked him off his axis.
I drove to camp, happy for the ten minutes of dirt road and cornfields north of Picton to quiet my mind. I sat with my coffee
outside the main space, on one of the tables the winery used for customers when camp turned back to a restaurant at 6 p.m.
every night. I looked over my script while the kids did improv hour with Neve. She sounded so carefree and loving while leading
the improv games; it was such a switch from the sour face she often gave me whenever we encountered one another.
My headache was subsiding by the time my students read the first rough drafts of the monologues they’d been working on all
week. I sat on one of the big rocks that were perfect for perching atop and pondering all the sights in the valley. They sat
below in a semicircle and looked up at me like they were little kids.
“Next week you’ll be paired with a director to talk about how you want to write your short film, what your vision is. This
is the fun part, when nothing is set in stone. Don’t be afraid to take big swings! Then the following Friday, we’ll hold auditions
so you can pick your actors. But this reading is just for us, so we can give each other advice for the second draft.”
One by one they brought their papers up to stand next to the tallest purple hollyhock and read. During the writing exercise
time of the workshops, I’d been getting a lot of blank stares. I had no idea what they were going to write, or if it would
feel too much like school. The younger kids all looked to Hailey for cues on how to act. And thankfully, she took writing
very seriously.
Their monologues were quirky and surprising.
Hailey’s showed real promise. I tried to make sure I was giving everyone equal attention and care, but Hailey was so far beyond what the other kids were capable of, it was hard to keep the ruse going.
I had to keep reminding myself that the kids were supposed to be having fun, and maybe learning something too.
But it’s camp. It should be silly if they want it to be, serious if that’s what they’re interested in.
Don’t Type A all over everyone and take away their joy!
I wrote in my writing notebook with a bunch of stars doodled around it.
The kids beamed at the applause and looked very serious when I gave them suggestions for their next drafts. When the lunch
bell rang out and bounced off the valley hills, my hangover was gone but I was exhausted. I poured coffee over a cup of ice cubes and squeezed two creamers on top. Camp coffee was so bad I usually avoided it, but
it was a desperate two-coffee kind of day. I squeezed three squiggles of honey on top just to make it drinkable. The kids
swarmed the buffet table where the rules of pizza Friday dictated that giant, square party pizzas covered every inch of the
red and white gingham tablecloth. The Heathers circled the Caesar salad bowl, making a show of filling up their plates with
dry salad and tiny dots of dressing, then watering down the bright orange “bug juice” so that it was a sickly, mild yellow
colour. I grabbed a slice of pepperoni pizza that was left. I hadn’t eaten a straight-up meat and cheese pizza in years, and
the saltiness cured my hangover almost immediately. I’d already eaten half of it while standing up, clutching the greasy paper
plate, by the time I sat down next to Neve at the staff table.
The heat was stifling. There was technically AC inside the hall, but it was weak and the big double doors were always open.
I worried my sweat smelled like beer. Neve hadn’t exactly been warm to me since I started work.
My approach when I knew that I was disliked was either to ignore that person forever, or to become a fawning, overbearing idiot.
Neve was both Ben’s sister and Dave’s good friend and significant ex-girlfriend, so I really went for it.
I’d been complimenting her outfits, asking her advice on dealing with the campers, generally being an ingratiating middle school girl.
Nothing was working. So I took the realization that the sixteen-year-old campers might be heading to eating disorder land as an opportunity for feminist bonding.
I nodded toward where the Heathers were sitting together.
“We have to do something about that,” I said, “right?”
“About what?” Neve said, briefly catching my eye before staring at something behind me.
“They way the older girls don’t eat. They need guidance.”
“They’re teenaged girls. Who want to be actors. They’re going to be health conscious.”
“There’s health conscious and there’s not eating enough food to sustain life. When they’re in eating disorder treatment, they’re
going to be describing how the adults around them did nothing, or at worst, encouraged it,” I heard myself getting a little
soapbox-y, but I was surprised she hadn’t immediately agreed with me. It felt like an almost benign observation.
“Wow, I think you’re being a bit dramatic? It’s an issue for the parents. We get involved, we’ll never hear the end of it.
Plus, look. Hailey is eating some pizza.”
Hailey was bringing a slice over to the Heathers table. I admired how much she could just be herself. Then Neve and I both
watched as she picked the pepperoni and cheese off and left the bread. Then two of the other girls went back to the buffet
table and did the same.
“See?”
“You’re overthinking it,” said Neve, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t going to let it drop. Her lack of care bothered me. Why
hadn’t it occurred to me to wonder if I liked her?
“It’s got the highest mortality rate of any mental illness,” I insisted.
If we were dogs, we’d have been snarling.
Ben joined us. “So this looks heated,” he singsonged.
“Elise here thinks we should do an intervention on our leading role girls and their dry salad lunches,” Neve said.
“We need to make sure we’re not promoting the aspiring actors to the eating disorder clinic pipeline.”
“Hailey ate the meat and cheese, the protein, that’s the healthiest part.”
“Debatable.”
Ben looked between us like we were a tennis match.
“We can keep an eye, but honestly, if they want to be actors.” And he raised his eyebrows like, This is just the way it is. I immediately felt the ick for Ben. Neve made a ha sound, and got up. I wasn’t sure what we should do but it felt like we should do something.
After Neve left, Ben looked sheepish. “I didn’t want to get between you and Neve. We have not been getting along lately. But
I’m right there with you. My mom tried her best, you know? She used to decide the menu, and it was basically all tofu and
sprouts and whole foods. Sounds gross but it was really delicious. She wouldn’t have let this all happen,” he said, looking
a bit sad. “But next year my parents will take the reins back from us. It’s a little unsteady in our hands,” he admitted.
“It doesn’t look that way from the outside,” I said, a little put off that he only took my side privately.
“Just give Alan one glass of wine and he’ll give you an earful about how the camp is losing its true spirit.”
“Looks like the kids don’t notice anything different, they’re all pretty hyped.”
“Thanks,” he said, reaching out to touch my arm. A mild zing followed by slight embarrassment about how brazen I’d been in
the truck. He gave me a teasing smirk.
“How’s the hangover?”
“Just a lingering headache, but alright.”
“What are you up to this weekend?” he asked.
“Some writing, some lake swimming, some quiet,” I said. “You?”
“I’m heading to the city,” he said, “seeing a friend’s play.”
We ate in silence for a few beats. I felt a little relieved he was going to be away. I needed to settle in, get some perspective.
I had a glorious weekend by myself. Dave was away with his kid, so it was just me at the cabins with the newly blooming peonies
and the mouthy owl who monologued every evening, the roar of the cicadas at sunset. Okanagan the tomcat had assigned himself
to me, walking me to the lake and back, or out to the horses whom I hadn’t yet been brave enough to ride on my own but went
to greet and brush every day. I won them over with palms full of carrots and sugar cubes. I wrote thirty new pages in my script.
I walked the Lakeshore Lodge trail at Sandbanks, taking awkward selfies on the long, flat rocks with the ocean-like lake in
the background. Marlon phoned and we spoke for a few leisurely hours, catching each other up on what we’d normally chat about
in small moments throughout the week. I prepped overnight oats and a pot of vegetable curry for weeknight dinners. I got braver
jumping off the dock and swam out further than I ever had. By Sunday night, I was ready to socialize again. I made enough
dinner to share if Dave returned in time, but I was already half asleep when I heard his truck.