Chapter Seven
“Good one again, Val. Have you considered stand-up comedy as a profession? You’re on a roll today,” I insist.
She looks up at me with a slanted smile and raises her eyebrows. With those two motions, I know immediately. I’m sharing my cabin with Valentina. Fuck. You have got to be kidding me. This is just my luck.
“I am not sharing a cabin with you, let alone a bed.” I laugh, incredulous.
“Who said anything about sharing the bed?” Valentina points to the cot once more. “Like I said, that’s where you’ll be sleeping for the week.”
“Ab-so-fucking-lutely not. This isn’t a part of my plan.” I rush to the door and scream out Sofia’s name into the camp so loudly that I alert a few vendors to my direction.
“Someone get Sofia now!” I shriek.
Valentina winces. “Ugh, you’re so loud.”
I turn around to see Valentina put on her headphones and place a pillow over her head in the most obnoxiously dramatic fashion.
I can’t imagine sharing a space with this person for an entire week.
I scan the room slowly, inspecting all of her things.
The nightstand near her is covered in crumpled-up receipts, a wallet, and two empty mugs, undoubtedly dirty with coffee or, in her case, kombucha.
I feel the urge to pick up the mugs and clean them, but I resist. There’s a pile of clothes on the floor next to the nightstand, possibly whatever she wore the day before, which she stripped off before throwing her body onto the bed.
I highly doubt she took a shower before doing that.
The towel she used whenever she did decide to shower is lying on the floor.
A sad, wet ball of 100 percent cotton. How could someone who has only been here a day longer than me have already made themselves at home so quickly?
The bed looks as if she just rolled out of it in the morning and didn’t bother to make it.
I sigh hopelessly. There is just no way this is going to work out.
We’re absolutely different people. She’s messy and unorganized.
I’m…not that at all—the complete opposite.
“Hey, you two,” Sofia pipes up as she enters the cabin. “I see you’re getting acquainted.”
Her smile drops quickly when she sees the look of utter dissatisfaction on my face.
“Okay, Isa, I know. I know. I’m so sorry, but this was super last minute for me, and all of the other cabins are taken,” she whispers.
“So not only do I have to share a cabin, but it’s with her, and there’s only one bed? You’re joking, right? Please tell me this is a prank you’re playing on your prima because I haven’t seen you in years.”
“I wish it were.” She smiles awkwardly. “At least you have your own little bed.” She points at the cot. I look down at it—a mere few inches off the ground like an elevated dog bed. I’d probably end up spooning a few field mice from that height. I look back at her.
“I know, prima. But hey, it’s just for a week. And you’ll be spending most of your time doing wedding activities and talking to Luciano anyways, right? Or maybe you two can get…acquainted better.” She winks.
“Sofia!” I whisper, turning around quickly to see if Valentina is listening, but she seems lost in whatever music is blaring loudly into her eardrums.
Sofia shrugs, her grin playful. “What? You two have always had—something, you know? You fight like you’ve known each other forever—and you have. We were inseparable. Maybe all this tension is because there’s something more underneath.”
I glare at her. “We fight because we can’t stand each other.”
“Sure, sure.” Sofia waves her hand dismissively. “But sometimes the best relationships start with a little heat. Anyways, I have to go and get ready for dinner tonight. Bye!”
“Wait, I’m not do—”
But before I can finish the sentence, Sofia is already halfway to the other side of the camp. She couldn’t have left any faster. I turn back toward the bed and see Valentina still lying there with the pillow over her head. I can hear the music softly escaping the earbuds. I yank one out of her ear.
“Are you seriously napping right now?”
Silence.
“Well, I really think I should get the bed, Val.”
Silence.
I have half a thought to toss her off the bed and spread my limbs out toward each corner, taking over the entire mattress.
Maybe I’ll hide her blankets or steal them in the middle of the night and use them for myself.
Perhaps I’ll fill her pillow with wet leaves.
I could just pee on the bed and assert my dominance.
Thanks to Maria, my peeing on the bed wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to Valentina.
I walk over to my new bed for the week—the saddest little cot.
I can already feel my back aching. Don’t I have to deal with enough in my life?
An overbearing mother, a failing restaurant, impossible puzzles from my dead father, and now a crappy bed?
This just simply won’t do. I march over to Valentina and poke her in the ribs.
“I deserve the bed.”
She squeaks at the impact of my finger against her skin.
“Why the hell do you think that?” She lifts the pillow off her head slightly, revealing a singular eyeball staring back at me in utter surprise.
“Because.”
The eyeball blinks.
“Because I do, okay?”
I know I sound absolutely ridiculous, but I don’t want to tell this stranger that I’m just tired of getting the short end of the stick in my life.
I grew up sleeping on an unbelievably uncomfortable twin mattress until I finally moved out of my parents’ apartment.
I just want to sleep in a nice bed all week. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
“Why do you deserve it?” I squawk.
“Because,” she says, smirking.
I blink.
“Because, I got here first. You were the last-minute addition. So why should I give it up for you?”
“Because I’m tired. I just drove three hours to get here. I don’t want to sleep on a dog bed all week.”
I can’t help but feel silly as I argue my reasoning. I sound like a small child throwing a temper tantrum because I wasn’t allowed to get the candy bar at the supermarket. I’m almost embarrassed by myself. Almost. Not enough to give in.
“Listen, Isa. It’s Isa, right?” Valentina says with a tilt of her head, her tone just a little too casual, as if she’s testing the waters.
“No, I changed my name as of five minutes ago,” I shoot back, keeping my voice light but feeling the familiar heat rise. I know exactly what she’s doing—subtle, almost playful, as if she’s daring me to bite. And for a second, I almost do.
“If you can give me three valid reasons to give you the bed, it’s all yours. But if your only reason is that you’re a little tired, well”—Valentina points to the cot—“there’s your bed.”
I huff.
“I”—I pause, thinking of something clever to say—“broke my back.”
“Well, you’re going to have a hard time participating in the wedding activities, huh? Might as well just head back to New Jersey and leave me the bed.”
Have I mentioned I hate this person?
“Well, fine! Whatever. Keep the bed, Val. I don’t need it. I’ll just sleep on the floor.”
“Great,” she says.
I stomp over to my luggage to begin unpacking my things. I look around the cabin and spot the dresser across the room next to the closet. Clutter has already taken up residence on top of the dresser, making me angrier. I scoot the candy wrapper, watch, and notepad to one side of the dresser.
“This is my side, okay?”
Silence.
“Ugh, whatever,” I retort and open the top drawer. Thankfully, it’s empty. I doubt she brought enough clothes to even need these.
“Why don’t you just keep your stuff in your luggage?” I hear her mumble from the bed.
“Like some sort of wild animal?” I scoff. “I like to see my clothing, not rummage through my luggage like a city rat scouring the trash bins for food.”
“Am I a sewer rat then?” This time, she sits up, looking half shocked and half amused.
“Well, if the shoe fits,” I retort.
She smiles and lies back down, covering her face with the pillow again.
I grab the handful of dresses I stole from Maria’s closet. If I am going to persuade the family to think I am successful and not panicking about overdue bills, I need to dress the part. Unfortunately, my closet is full of thrift shop pieces and definitely nothing designer.
I open the closet door and see a few dresses hung up—clearly expensive ones—a structured beige blazer, and brown corduroy trousers.
So she does have style. I push her clothes to one side of the closet and hang my stack of clothing on the rod.
I turn around to look at her, her head peeking slightly out of the pillow now, but her eyes are closed.
She’s probably spying on me when I’m not looking.
“My side,” I state.
She gives me a cavalier thumbs-up.
I look up at the top shelf in the closet and notice a fleece blanket folded neatly in the corner. I pull it down and inspect it. It’s soft—much softer than the crappy blanket on my cot now, but not as soft as the blanket on the bed already. I throw the blanket on Valentina’s head.
“What the hell?” She finally emerges from under the pillow.
“Let’s switch blankets.”
She inspects the blanket I have thrown on her.
“I’m not sleeping in this burlap sack, but thanks for the offer.”
“Oh, come on,” I insist. “It’s so soft.”
I rub the blanket and nod approvingly.
“Nice try,” she chuckles. “You can use it if you like it so much.”
I tug on the blanket on the bed. She isn’t even lying under it. So what’s a simple switch?
“Listen, I think it’s only fair that if you get to keep the bed, I at least get the nice blanket. Please?”
I tug even harder this time, determined to make this piece of fabric mine.
Valentina reaches down to grab the hem of the blanket, now hanging off the bed, startling me. I take a few steps back as I watch her quickly roll across the bed, bring the blanket with her, and turn herself into a human burrito.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Val?” I shout. “How old are you?”