Chapter Twenty-Five
It wasn’t until hearing the crescendo of the thunderous applause from the family and friends of our campers, gathered at the
Regent Theatre, that I realized it was over. Summer was basically over. I’d been so caught up in making sure the kids weren’t
too nervous, were prepared, that I hadn’t anticipated the letdown.
The afternoon was chaos, but the kind of chaos that made me remember why I loved to make movies and be a part of the theatrical
world. Ben and I were professional all week during the final rehearsals. I knew that if I wanted an instant relationship with
someone who was fun, easygoing, attractive, and also wanted to achieve the same career goals as me, I could have it. I could
simply say yes to Ben and my life would look like a success from all angles. And it would probably be fun. An adventure. Sometimes
I thought I might want that—like when Ben introduced all the campers on stage, watching this massive accomplishment we’d pulled
off with so many kids! I stood in the wings, tears in my eyes. I cried when his parents got up on stage, his mother now looking
a little healthier and more vibrant than she had at the start of the summer. Ben and Neve were thrilled that their mother’s
treatments had worked and she was now in remission. The whole room sang the Firefly song.
“Ben is off to Los Angeles in just a few weeks,” his mother said into the microphone, her voice a little shaky.
The crowd cheered. “Maybe this is his last year as a Firefly leader, but Firefly is all about taking risks and putting yourself out there. Let’s give Ben a round of applause for all his hard work this year, and good luck out in the world,” she said, before her voice broke.
He ran onto the stage and hugged her. Why wouldn’t I want to be a part of this family?
I knew the thing that stood between Ben and I really trying to be together was Dave-shaped.
I started the summer thinking Camp Firefly was a detour, a way to make the best out of a bad situation, to get my movie written,
maybe have a little romance. But it ended up fueling my soul in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
As soon as camp was over on Thursday, the wedding preparation was on. Most guests in the wedding party were arriving at the
hotel in Wellington on Friday morning. Rehearsal dinner was Friday night, wedding on Saturday. I drove home from camp ready
to talk to Dave, to clear the air before the wedding. I wanted to make sure that he knew how I felt, while still being careful
with my heart. He was someone who had left me once when the stress of his life was too great. What if that was a pattern?
I aimed to be as matter-of-fact about it as Ben had been with me at the drive-in. I could say what I meant in a direct way,
just as I’d been admonishing my parents to do the same. I rehearsed what I would say as I drove home, now that the curves
in the road were almost second nature.
But when I got back, Sarah and Kate’s SUV was pulled up right alongside the cabin. They were sitting with my mom around the
picnic table. Dave was working up on the ladder, fixing the siding. He waved at me, I waved back. The pleasantries killed
me. I wished everyone would disappear so I could just deal with Dave and my yearning chatterbox heart.
“Hey guys, is everything OK?” I said.
“The wedding venue fell through! It got flooded. It’s a disaster!” Katie yelled. She ran over and hugged me. She smelled like stress sweat and blueberry vape juice.
“The whole hotel, or just the hall?”
“Just the hall. If it was the whole hotel, we’d be totally fucked,” said Sarah. She had a tarot spread in front of her. An
ironic bad sign.
“What should we do?”
“I don’t know,” Katie said, hitting the vape pen she’d quit months ago. Usually I would get great pleasure from seeing my
mother looking askance at such a habit, but it brought me none.
“What if we have it here?” my mom asked, pouring a big bottle of white wine into four plastic juice cups.
“That’s crazy, there aren’t even any bathrooms here,” I said. “There’s no hall.”
Dave hollered over. “I can help you with that. I know some event guys.” He got off the ladder and came over to the table.
“So you could rent porta-potties. I mean, the crowd isn’t that big, is it?”
“You’re right. It’s not a giant wedding, just fifty people,” Sarah offered, looking around at the grass and garden area.
“The Cherry Valley United Church has folding chairs and tables you can rent. Or maybe the hall could transport those, since
you probably gave them a deposit and everything, right? But I’d be happy to haul them in my truck. Just have the caterers
bring the food here. It’s supposed to be nice weather,” Dave said. “If they have a refrigerated truck, that would be safe
for the food.”
“They were going to be barbecuing anyway, with salads. The theme is summer fun, right?” I said
“And you still have the hotel rooms booked, they’re not that far away,” Dave said.
“Is the hotel still going to offer you the sound system, and the people to set it all up?” I asked.
“I think they bloody well should,” offered my mother.
I looked at the time. “So we have about, what, fifteen hours until guests start arriving for the rehearsal dinner at Stella’s?”
This felt like a film set problem. We could get this done. Marlon, Kris, Hazel, Val, and Yasmin would be here in the morning.
I divided up the tasks and gave everyone their jobs. Dave made some calls to the church for the chairs and found a contact
for the portable toilet rentals. Sarah called the wedding planner at the venue. I called Marlon and asked him to handle the
“props”—the guest book, the table decorations, the little take-home gifts. I’d handle the slide show. The old venue agreed
we could use the AV equipment and told the DJ about the change of venue. In under an hour, we’d figured out all the logistics.
And then Dave emerged from behind his cabin with several pieces of wood. “I think I could probably make a little structure
for you to stand under for the vows?”
“We could wrap flowers around it!”
I gave him a high-five.
Katie started to cry again, but this time out of relief. “Katie, why don’t you take a little nap,” Mom offered. Katie beamed,
the way she always did when our mom did anything motherly.
Sarah pulled me aside to go look at the horses. “Your mom is behaving herself. It’s wild! And Dave, I mean, he seems like
one of the good ones.”
“He’s my long-lost love from when I was nineteen.”
“Is he your lobster?!” She shrieked and jumped up and down, which made Snow run to the other side of the corral.
“I think he might be.”
“What about Mr. Fake Boyfriend?”
“He has made his intentions clear. He’d like to be a power couple. Take on Hollywood together.”
“Huh. I mean, that fits your career goals.”
“It does.”
“And he’s objectively very hot.”
“Yeah.”
“He’s a nice guy, too? He might be the whole package.”
“No lies there.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea.”
“It seems like Dave has your heart.”
“He’s always had my heart. But how do you know if it’s a solid enough connection to build from? What if the circumstances
of our lives are just too different? After we slept together, we’ve been taking time to figure out what our lives could look
like, together or apart.”
“That is very mature and very not romantic.”
“Ben has told me exactly what he wants, why he likes me, what he can offer, like he communicates. He’s clear and confident. But Dave, Dave.”
“It’s entirely possible that you and Dave have a trauma bond, and you need something slower, more intentional, like Ben here.
Feelings could grow and be stronger than something built on a teenage affair.”
“You sound like an internet therapist.”
“True. Plus, what am I saying? Katie and I have the sizzle, the spark, it’s never-ending, but we also built our real, steady
love over years of trial and error and commitment. You can’t survive on that first-year sizzle. That’s not what real love
is.”
“You sound too wise for a real estate agent.”
“Shut it!”
And that’s when I heard it. A tiny meow. Then a loud yowl.
“Did you hear that?”
“A cat?”
I followed the cries into the grouping of red maple trees behind the barn.
The meows turned to howls, louder, and more insistent.
Eventually, after scraping my legs with burs and angering some squirrels, I got as close to the sound as I could and looked up to see a familiar combination of orange and white fur, what I estimated to be two stories up in a tree.
He looked so tiny. I got dizzy holding my neck at that angle for longer than a few seconds.
His meow was terrified, different than his usual tomcat greeting.
“Okanagan!” I yelled, gripping the bark of the tree. “Come down baby!!” He moved a little closer to the trunk of the tree
but then stayed put. He yowled again, this time more desperate. But didn’t move. I tried various calls of encouragement, nothing
worked. Sarah hovered behind me.
“Real drag that cats don’t know English.”
“You stay here,” I said to Sarah, “in case he comes down. I’m going to get Dave. He has a ladder. Google how to coax a cat
from tree!”
Fifteen minutes later I was holding open a tin of extremely stinky sardines while Sarah shook the treat jar like mad at the
bottom of the tree. No dice. Okanagan seemed calmed by our presence but not brave enough to shimmy downward. Dave improvised
a combination of his roofing ladder and some rock-climbing equipment to try to reach him. Okanagan, despite being a very smart
hunter, apparently wasn’t great with heights. When Dave reached about one branch below him, anchored to the trunk, I worried
for them both.
“Should I call the fire department?” I asked Sarah.
“Maybe?”
Dave remained calm and focused. He held an open backpack in his left hand, his plan after watching a cat rescuer on YouTube
who would scruff the cats and put them in a bag for the descent, to prevent being clawed by a freaked-out cat. Dave and Okanagan