Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The Hot Spring
“I see your one M&M,” Wyn said, pushing an orange-colored candy to the pile, “and raise you four black licorice whips.”
“Call,” Hadley said, laying down her cards.
The three of us followed.
“Son of a bitch,” Wyn hissed, looking at me. “You won. Again. You promised you wouldn’t cheat.”
“I didn’t,” I said. “I swore I wouldn’t and I didn’t. This was luck. I swear.”
I took a drink from my huckleberry soda, and then gathered my winnings, sliding them across the sleeping bag.
“Pee break,” Poet announced.
Hadley handed her a flashlight.
“Wyn, will you come with me?” Poet asked. “I’m not scared of the dark. I’m scared of the critters that live in the dark.”
“Sure.” Wyn moved the battery-operated lantern out of her way so she could unzip the tent flap. “We’re women. We go to the bathroom in groups. Even when camping.”
“Especially when camping,” Poet said. “Because, nature.”
The two of them climbed out of the tent and I zipped up the flap behind them. Their footsteps faded into the distance.
I popped a piece of candy into my mouth while Hadley scooped up the cards. “This is fun,” she said.
“Yeah, it is.”
“In fact, I don’t know how my bachelorette party is going to top this. Speaking of … what do you have planned for my bachelorette party?” she asked.
“Oh, I just thought this would suffice,” I teased. “So I’ve gone ahead and canceled the hookers and blow for your actual party.”
She grinned.
I laughed. “I’m not telling you what I have planned.”
“Do Wyn and Poet know?”
“Nope. It’s going to be a complete and utter surprise.”
Wyn and Poet returned to the tent and by tacit agreement we put the cards away and I began to divvy up my candy winnings equally between the girls.
“So, let’s talk about boys,” Hadley said.
“What about them?” Wyn asked.
“Any of them on the horizon?” Hadley asked.
“The only man in my life is the little boy I nanny for,” Wyn said. “But I’m thinking about seeing a male therapist. Would that count?”
“You’re joking. Aren’t you?” I asked.
“About the therapist? Yes. But I was trying to evade the line of questioning,” Wyn said. “Was it effective?”
“So, no men for Wyn,” I said. “Poet?”
“None for me either,” she said, her brow furrowing. She glanced around for her bottle of cider, found it, and took a long drink.
The three of us looked at each other, and then waited.
“I’ve been lying to you guys for years,” Poet said. Her eyes were wide behind her glasses. “And I think it’s time I come clean.”
“You can tell us,” Hadley said gently.
“You’ll judge me,” Poet lamented.
“No,” Wyn said. “We won’t.”
I gently pressed the bottle of cider to Poet’s mouth and urged her to take another drink.
She downed another healthy swallow, took a deep breath, and blurted out, “I’m a virgin.”
Finally, Wyn broke the silence. “How?”
“What do you mean how?” Poet glared at her.
“I mean, how,” Wyn repeated. “You date.”
Poet nodded. “Yeah.”
“And you’ve had relationships,” Hadley said.
“Not long ones,” Poet muttered. “Look, I’m not trying to stay a virgin. I mean, it’s not like I have some sort of attachment to my hymen.”
I raised my eyebrows and my lips quivered. “Tipsy Poet is funny.”
Poet glared at me.
“Sorry, continue,” I said.
“I’ve tried losing it,” Poet said. “Several times. But when it gets down to the wire and the clothes are off, I don’t know, I just can’t. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” Hadley said. “Nothing is wrong with you.”
“Everything is wrong with me,” Poet wailed. “The three of you have had sex. Lots of sex. Lots of great sex and I’ve been pretending for years that I know what that’s like. But I don’t and I want to!”
I took her free hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Have you ever considered that you just haven’t met the right man yet?” I asked softly.
“I’m doomed,” she mumbled.
“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Wyn asked. “And how did you not even tell me? We’ve known each other since we met at Camp Eaglewood when we were eleven.”
“Camp Eaglewood?” Hadley asked.
“It’s in upstate New York,” Wyn explained. “We were in the same cabin and she was the only one who’d talk to me because I was the weird, tall blonde girl who cursed in Norwegian.”
“You were exotic,” Poet said. “You’re still exotic.”
“This isn’t about me,” Wyn said. “Except for the fact that even I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Poet said. “I’m twenty-three years old and a virgin.”
“I’m twenty-three years old and got pregnant after I thought I was infertile,” Hadley said.
“I’m twenty-three years old and get into bitch fights at bars,” I added.
“And I’m twenty-three years old and my habitual sleeping partner is a mini dachshund that hogs the bed,” Wyn said.
“The point of all that is what?” Poet asked.
Hadley grinned. “We’ve all got shit.”
“Yeah, but your shit turned into a love story and a wedding,” Poet said to Hadley.
“Alls well that ends well,” I said with a grin.
“I haven’t ended well,” Poet said bluntly. “That’s my entire point!”
Wyn let out a giggle, and then that got Hadley started. I couldn’t help it either and burst into laughter. Finally, Poet joined in.
When we were all under control, Poet set her cider bottle down and got up again.
“Where are you going?” Wyn asked.
“The hot spring,” she announced. “I’m dunking myself in hopes that the magical healing powers of the spring are real.”
As the sun rose the following morning, Hadley popped out of the tent, upchucking the contents of her stomach. I lazed in my sleeping bag for a moment, but then my stomach rebelled too.
Oh no.
I slid out of my sleeping bag and quickly made it out of the tent barefoot. I found the closest spot I could, and then puked behind a shrub.
Why the morning sickness had to show up now, of all mornings, was anyone’s guess, but what a sense of humor the universe had.
“What’s with all the puking?” Wyn asked as she popped her head out of the tent and rubbed her eyes.
“I’m pregnant,” Hadley snapped.
“Yeah, that I know.” Wyn looked at me. “Then why are you puking?”
“Too much sugar last night,” I lied.
Her gaze narrowed. “Hmm.”
“So much noise!” came Poet’s voice. “It’s early.”
“Yeah, what time is it?” Wyn asked.
“Almost five,” Hadley announced.
“Excuse me?” Wyn screeched. “Five? As in five a.m.?”
“We’re really far north,” I said, standing upright and wiping my mouth. “In the summer it gets light really early and dark really late. The sun didn’t set until nearly nine o’clock last night.”
“Oh crap,” Poet muttered.
“What?” Wyn asked, looking behind her.
“I just got my period,” Poet groaned.
“Time to pack up,” Hadley said.
“This sucks!” Poet yelled.
“Early,” I grumbled. “Loud.”
“You’re one to talk,” Poet snapped.
“Nature,” Wyn said. “Bringing out the best in us.”
“There’s good news,” I said. “The Diner will be open by the time we get back. Let’s pack up and get out of here.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Poet’s distraction had saved me. But how much longer was I going to be able to keep my secret a secret?