Chapter Twenty #2
“Don’t worry, Ben, I got you covered. Prep your Oscar speech.” I grinned.
I lingered outside behind the main building, staring off at the horses, who had become less terrifying the more time I spent at camp.
I did not feel like the silly drunk girl who climbed a fence to befriend them and then ran, terrified, back over the fence.
I tried to think up a way to start the apology conversation with Neve.
Why did I find her so intimidating? Sometimes you just don’t click with people energetically, I knew, but I could tell that something about me in particular bugged her.
And honestly, underneath all my people-pleasing tendencies, the feeling was mutual.
Was it Dave? Did she still hold a grudge from when he left her for me years ago?
She was married now. Surely that couldn’t be it.
If I really was going to accomplish my dream of being a writer and director one day, I would have to let go of this fear of confrontation.
Fifty percent of a director’s day is confrontation.
Get it together dude, I told those fearful neural pathways and walked over to where Neve was weeding the small herb and tomato garden behind the
winery. I kneeled down so we were at eye level and gripped the edge of the wooden gardening box.
“Hey Neve, look, I’m sorry for what I said back there. I know you care about the kids.”
She shielded her eyes from the sun, looking at me briefly before turning back to the tomatoes. She worked quickly. “My mom
always took care of all this stuff, you know. It is so hard to keep up and teach the campers and keep things organized. I’m
under a lot of pressure. And there’s just something about you that sets me off sometimes.”
“Because I’m not from here?”
“No, god. I don’t know, Ben and I are very different. He’s so charming and people are like, drawn to him, and he’s also impulsive.
We all really cared about the writing teacher who had been here for years, you know? And he just offers you the gig without
consulting us. And then, I don’t know, I’m not good with change, I suppose,” she said, and handed me a tomato, before standing
up. I followed suit.
“Me neither. This whole summer being at the cabins and meeting new people every day, it’s challenging for me too. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, you know.” I smelled the tomato. That perfect smell.
“Yeah. I do care about the kids. I really do. This camp means so much to our family. But honestly, I don’t know how healthy
it is for Ben and I to be hanging on to it like this. It was our parents’ dream.”
“It seems like they really created this special place.”
“They did. It’s hard for my mom to be away from it. It’s been a hard year. I guess I kind of resent how Ben is always acting
like everything is fine when things are really close to falling apart these days. But that’s just who he is,” she said.
“He really does have a vibe about him that’s truly ‘act as if,’ you know,” I agreed.
“It seems to work for him. But it’s frustrating. He’d never remember to weed the tomatoes, you know? Metaphorically and for
real.”
“Thanks for being real about this with me. I really didn’t mean to be such a bitch to you. I just got some vibes about you
not liking me and got defensive. I was worried maybe you didn’t like me because of, you know, Dave and I getting together
back in the day, when you were still dating.”
She turned back to the tomatoes and sighed.
“It’s silly, it was so long ago. I’m married. Dave and I are old buddies, like family. But I am very protective of him,” she
said, a hint of warning in her voice.
“Do you know that Dave left camp and never spoke to me or returned my calls or letters, for years? Like the day after we slept
together for the first time. My first time. I was devastated.”
Her eyes widened. I watched her process this fact and reassess me.
“I didn’t know that. I always thought you were this perfect girl he’d fallen for in a way that was so much more intense than
our connection. That’s shitty he did that.”
“I get why he did, now. You know, his brother and everything.”
“Yeah, but he still could’ve called.”
“True.” It was odd to hear her stick up for me.
“Men are fucking idiots sometimes,” she said, getting back down into the garden plot and pulling out a weed. “But it was so
long ago now, I guess. You guys have patched things up?”
I blushed and tried to make my face neutral. I swore she could see it on my face.
“Yup.”
The way she was looking at me, I felt less and less sure that her feelings had ever changed for Dave. My heart was pounding.
I felt like I had finally reunited with him and was at risk of losing him again. I decided to just level with Neve.
“He broke my heart. Part of me has never really gotten over it. I found it hard to trust men for years, actually.”
“Relatable,” she said, looking at her watch. “I’m so happy my husband is one of the good ones. It’s almost time for the next
session.” She took off the little apron of gardening tools she was wearing around her camp clothes and laid it down beside
the garden plot.
“OK, well, thanks for talking with me about this.”
“I’ve known Hailey and her family for a long time,” she said. “You’re probably right that she shouldn’t go alone to the city,
but her parents should know. I’ll give them a call—they might listen to me because they know me and my folks. I’ll let you
know what they say.”
She reached out and hugged me. I didn’t know what to do so I just accepted it.
Driving home, I felt proud of myself for talking to Neve, being an adult about our conflict.
Was I actually growing and changing the way I’d hoped?
Perhaps. As soon as I hit the highway, my thoughts turned to Dave.
Would it feel the same as last night? When I got home from camp every day, he was generally outside working.
I’d been bringing him iced teas and treats from town on the way.
I stopped in town and picked up some groceries.
In the checkout line, there were Sour Patch Kids on sale, something I hadn’t eaten since camp.
It had been Dave’s favourite pick from the tuck shop.
I threw them on the conveyer belt with my oat milk and blueberries.
I got back in the car and put on a mix of Beyoncé songs, dancing in my seat as I drove.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this stupidly joyful.
Like my brain was rotting and all I could think was Dave Dave Dave.
If I pressed my lips together, I could still remember each and every kiss.
But when I pulled into the driveway, Dave’s truck was gone. He hadn’t returned my text from that morning. I peeked in his
window, trying to see if Baby was asleep on the couch. He was gone, too. I stood in the grass, dumbfounded. I hadn’t even
considered this possibility—that maybe my worst fear was coming true again. I tried to shake it off. He was probably just
at the lumber yard. My mom wasn’t home yet either. She’d taken to walking at the Macauley conservation area every afternoon.
I went inside and sat on the bed with my laptop, trying to revel in the solitude I’d been craving when I made this summer
plan. But the quiet was too quiet. And the shade made me shiver. I stared at the outline for my film, at the gaping hole where the big “all is lost” scene
was supposed to happen. Nothing. Brain empty. One of those moments where it felt like you’d never had an idea in your whole
life. I snapped it shut. I put on my bikini top and a pair of red cotton shorts—the fabric of both smelled like coconut and
banana sunscreen. I’d been living in these as my summer uniform when I wasn’t at work. Surely some sun on my skin, some staring
off at the big, blue sky above the lake would set my head right? I threw a towel and a few cans of orange soda water in my
canvas Paris Review bag and wandered down the path flanked by high grasses.
I ripped a few black-eyed Susans from their stems, popping them behind my ear.
I stretched out on the towel, the dock swaying slightly in the breeze, and called Kate on speaker.
I told her everything. She was very shocked that Dave was my neighbour and that I’d waited so long to tell her.
“Wow, this is big.”
“Do you think he ghosted me for the second time?”
“Well, he’s living next door to you for the rest of the summer, no? It would be hard for him to completely disappear. But
either you’re triggered by the possibility, or this is his MO, or he’s just a stupid guy who never looks at his phone. Either
way, you should prepare yourself, I guess.”
I looked down at the phone on my towel staring up at me from between the V of my legs. I picked at a small hole in the fabric
of my shorts and made it worse.
“I don’t know if I could handle being close to him again and him just leaving.”
“You could handle it. It would suck. But you would be OK. You have a life and inner resources now that you didn’t have when
you were in college.”
“You’re right. You’re right.”
“I learned in therapy a way to self-soothe, so that when I’m triggered, I can remind myself that I’m not a small child whose
mother just took off. I’m an adult who can be my own mother, you know? Speaking of, how are things with Mom?”
“Alternately unbearable and then fine.”
“Fine? That’s amazing! Wow. That makes me feel much less guilty.”
“She’s out hiking now. We’re going to dinner at Lake on the Mountain tonight.”
“Oh, I almost wish I could join you! I feel FOMO.”
“Want me to send her back to your place? I could use a break, honestly. Introverts need to recharge.”
“Aren’t you alone on the lake right now?”
“Point taken. Ben is coming to dinner, to keep up the fake-boyfriend ruse.”
“That is still happening?”
“Yeah, I don’t know if it should but it feels strange to stop it now. Your wedding is so close now. How are you feeling?”
“Very excited to stop spending money and just experience it.”
“One sec.” Another call was coming in. I looked at my phone, hoping it was Dave. The sun was so bright I could barely see
it. Jeff.
“My agent is actually calling me, gotta take it.”
“OK, hugs!”
I clicked over to Jeff.
“Hey! Long time!”
“Hey, how you been keeping?”
“I’ve been working hard on my screenplay. Being here has really invigorated me, creatively. But you know, I’d love to get
back to work soon. Are you calling about the film, or do you have a gig for me?”
“Well, I’m calling because—” and then the phone completely went silent. I picked it up. A warning read that the phone had
gotten too hot and needed to cool down before it could be used again. I wrapped it in my towel, hoping that might do the trick,
out of direct sunlight. No such luck. I gathered up my things and walked it back to the cabin. Still no Dave. I put my phone
in the fridge and then emailed Jeff from my laptop, explaining what had happened. When I finally got the phone to work again
and called him back, I got voicemail.