Chapter 4
four
. . .
The sun rose over an empty camp, taking its time moseying across the sky, as though it was also delaying the inevitable.
Birds chirped like I was frozen in the intro to an old Disney cartoon.
No voices from other cabins, no oversized lifted trucks and SUVs with blacked out windows ambling down the gravel driveway.
My bliss was temporary.
I threw on my swimsuit, and checked the clock.
I put a pot of coffee on the stove, and checked the clock.
I slid a pair of jean shorts up my legs, and checked the clock.
Everything I did to get ready for my day was paired with a looming countdown ticking down the hours until this mysterious “celebrity” guest would arrive.
Each minute was one closer to whatever cameras, partying, and general debauchery this person and their entourage would bring upon the camp like a plight.
I had yet to be swayed that this guest was an actual celebrity. Sue and her lack of modern-day pop culture knowledge could probably be convinced that anyone with more than a few thousand Instagram followers was famous.
The VIP guest in question was probably some washed up D-lister or wannabe outdoors influencer.
Two equally infuriating options that I wanted nothing to do with.
I was devising ways to avoid being in the background of whatever douchey dude-bro video content the “squad” would inevitably be making.
I flinched in anticipation of the endless cannonballs they’d be doing off the dock.
Last night at dinner Sue insisted, over and over, it was one person staying here. When she asked for meal quantities and requests he told her it would be him and him alone for every meal.
She had to have misunderstood. I wasn’t the type to believe that my aging aunt had lost her marbles, but this instance might sway me.
One sane person wouldn’t book out an entire camp, even under the pretense of privacy. And no celebrity would travel this far from civilization without someone accompanying them.
Wasn’t the concept of a “celebrity entourage” a known thing, even to out-of-touch off-the-grid Gen X’ers?
It wasn’t worth the argument, she’d see the chaos for herself later this afternoon.
I had better plans to pursue. Hours of solitary bliss.
I dug through one of the paper shopping bags filled to the brim with snacks, only to see something else got to one of my treats first.
“What the hell,” I muttered as I pulled out the half eaten bag of cheese puffs. A few tumbled through the chewed hole in the bottom onto the ground. “Goddamned mice…”
I wouldn’t let this one hiccup put a damper on my day, I’d mourn the loss of my third favorite snack and get on with my plans.
This morning was my only chance to escape unnoticed. I’d hop into a kayak and head to a quiet cove tucked away halfway down the lake. It wasn’t visible from camp and for most of my conscious life I considered it to be my own hidden oasis.
As a kid I had discovered it unintentionally while messing around and paddling a kayak around the lake, and it felt like finding real life magic.
The water there seemed warmer, and the views were somehow even better.
I stayed on that secret beach for hours and when I got back I begged Sue not to tell anyone about my “discovery.”
Today I’d go and lounge and tan and read and burn through half the snacks I bought for the trip, then quietly return to camp a few minutes before the guest of honor arrived so I could be available for whatever assistance his majesty required.
“You’re going to be an extra set of hands for us this week,” Sue reminded me last night at dinner. “He’ll be here at two, and your ass needs to be in front of the dining hall then.” She waved her fork around as she spoke, flinging droplets of her homemade salad dressing everywhere.
“I know, I know,” I said. “I’ll be employee of the month for you.”
She guffawed, “that’s my title, hon. Just show up, we’ll see how good of a job you manage for the rest of it.”
What I didn’t say out loud—despite my insides begging me to—was that there was still a strong possibility that the celebrity would change his mind before managing to get onto the dirt road.
He’d see the little town and a grocery store where he can’t buy his high-end collagen powder and run back to the Hollywood Hills. At least I could hope for that.
I turned over the same kayak I’d used yesterday, tapping the bottom and sides a few times to shake out any spiders that had found their way inside overnight. A wolf spider the size of my palm lazily crawled out and I had to muffle a gasp, despite knowing Sue and Randy were wide awake already.
There was an eerie stillness to the lake in the morning, as though it were waking up alongside the rest of us.
Even the birds seemed to have a late start.
Without motor boats or jet skis like the more populated lakes further south, there were no engines running to break the silence or wakes to paddle over.
As I paddled, each splash of cold water spread goosebumps across my bare thighs as I paddled across the lake.
The breeze made the kayak bob up and down over ripples that were turning into tiny waves as I crossed over them.
When I made the turn into the cove, it all stopped.
The wind was nonexistent. The water was calm.
My oasis appeared on my left, the narrow strip of sand like a gold stripe among a field of greens, grays, and browns. I steered the kayak onto the sand and hopped out to drag it further onto shore. I was alone here, save for whatever animals lurked in the woods.
I spread out my blanket and laid out my books and snacks like an altar to the god of relaxation.
I stripped down to my bikini and sprawled out on the blanket, letting the sun warm my bare skin.
The next few hours disappeared into nothing as I let myself become engrossed in the romance novel between a grad student and the grumpy professor she was fake dating.
I finished the book, and an entire tub of blueberries.
I looked at my phone to check the time, it was barely past noon.
I still had time to enjoy this. The sun had toasted the sand, and it was so comfortable I decided I could afford to close my eyes for a few minutes—
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I opened my eyes again and blinded myself from the midday sun hovering above me. I slid my glasses on and flipped over to look at my phone. A few minutes past two. How the hell did I sleep for that long?
I glanced down at myself. By some miracle I avoided getting sunburnt, apparently my pasty winter skin was more resilient than I’d realized. I had to get back to camp as fast as I could paddle or Sue would mount my head on the wall alongside the antique taxidermy in the dining hall.
I kept cursing as I stuffed all my things haphazardly into my bag and threw myself into the kayak. It was a fifteen minute paddle, but if I hustled I could maybe, hopefully, get back to camp in under ten.
My arms pushed and pushed, my biceps felt like they were on fire as I fought the wind that had picked up out on the open water.
Water splashed all over me from the waves and my sloppy paddling.
I barely managed to put my clothes back on, my jean shorts were hanging around my waist unbuttoned, actively getting soaked.
In between my huffing and puffing I heard two voices, water carries sound after all.
Mr. “Celebrity” was here.
Despite my wishing to the universe, he and his crew braved the dirt roads and were now getting the entire oral history of camp from Sue who still likely had no clue who this celebrity was.
The strange thing was, Sue had been right.
There were only two voices carrying, and two blurry figures standing on the shore.
Sue’s voice was unmistakable as her throaty laugh echoed across the water.
She was made for the job of camp host, I’d seen it firsthand time and time again how welcomed she could make strangers feel.
Something about her was instantly likable, which I’d envied at times.
Sue wouldn’t let herself be glanced over in a crowd, she wouldn’t creep in corners at parties.
Sue wouldn’t have let herself last more than a week with Nick.
As the waves slammed against the boat it was impossible to move stealthily in the water.
The conversation was little more than a burbling mess between the two silhouettes on shore, water doesn’t seem to carry sound well enough for my nosiness.
My heart thudded in my eardrums from the strenuous physical activity, further muffling any sort of tone of voice or recognizable words.
Still, I turned my ear towards the shore to listen intently. My heartrate refused to slow down, thumping wildly as I attributed this mystery voice to someone or something buried deep in my memory. Even through the distortion of traveling across the water, I knew this voice.
Who on earth would be here that I would recognize?
It couldn’t be…
No. I shook the thought away. My mind wandered to the worst case scenario, and in no normal universe would that be the case. I corralled my thoughts into thinking about douchey D-Listers and niche influencers again, because that’s who this would be.
I continued to paddle closer, my stomach twisting with nerves. Why hadn’t I bothered to ask Sue before? I’d made an assumption based on no evidence and now it was about to bite me in the ass.
As the figures on the shore grew closer I thought of one very inconvenient problem: I still had to land and exit the kayak without looking like a fool.
Did I not even once consider what his first impression of me would be? Me and my damn one-track mind. Some sort of faux confidence and emotional avoidance had clouded my judgement.
One thing was certain, I’d look like a baby farm animal being born when I extracted myself from the boat and stood up on wobbling legs.