Chapter 18
“Hey, Lori, I heard we have the same day off. Do you want to go on a road trip with me?” Gilda asked.
I had been wondering what I’d do on my day off since I certainly didn’t want to go home. “That sounds great.”
We decided to skip the camp breakfast and be decadent, eating all three meals in restaurants with clean utensils and table service. The idea of no buffet line made me giddy.
The town diner was retro with red and white checkered tablecloths, silver swivel stools with red vinyl covers, and glass domed plates filled with doughnuts and pies along the counter.
We sat down and hot coffee magically appeared, poured into big clean white mugs by a woman wearing a crisp white apron, a teased bleached-blonde bouffant, and a big friendly smile. “I’ll give you gals a minute.”
I inspected the spoon before using it to swirl the cream in my coffee.
“What’re you doing?” Gilda asked.
“The cleanliness of the utensils in the dining hall are sketchy. I wipe them down before I eat because I’m convinced I’m going to get lockjaw.”
She smiled. “I know for a fact that your tetanus shot is up to date so you’re safe.”
“How do you know that?”
“One of my many jobs is making sure all senior staff medicals are filled out and filed.”
Sipping the piping hot coffee, I sighed.
It wasn’t made from dirty water, but it was freshly brewed and delicious.
My stomach grumbled while reading the two-column list of items I could add to my eggs—feta cheese, spinach, and tomatoes with a side of crispy bacon.
It was heavenly sitting in that kitschy diner before I even took a bite.
As we ate, Gilda showed me an itinerary she got from a TV show about hidden gems in New England.
I loved walking through quaint towns, so I was game.
We mapped out our trip as we ate. Gilda suggested dinner at the fancy restaurant directly across the street where I’d sat waiting for Ronnie while nursing a drink. At least now I’d get to try the food.
As we paid the check, I noticed the sheer, frilly curtains on the windows. They looked like the ones in my room. Maybe I’d find some at a yard sale during our adventures.
Gilda’s itinerary included an antique toy store and a small shop known for its Madagascar vanilla beans. We walked around a bit and then drove to a bakery owned and operated by ex-convicts. We bought onion and olive rolls, sharing them for lunch.
We leisurely drove to the next destination where we cruised the local shops before stopping for homemade ice cream.
Without my usual hesitation, I ordered a double-scoop cone with cherry vanilla and triple chocolate—I deserved a treat.
The daily fruit, yogurt, and salads always left me wanting, and I refused to eat the greasy, carb-heavy dinners.
I licked the cone. “This is completely decadent.”
“I’m so happy you joined me. I’ve been wanting to do this drive forever.”
We sat on a bench under a tree enjoying our treats. Gilda dug into an ice cream sundae that had a mound of whipped cream and a maraschino cherry on top.
When we were done, we crossed the street to a store called Secondhand Rose that had a big red flower painted on the window
There were racks of clothes, shelves filled with knick-knacks, dishes, and tchotchkes of all shapes and sizes. Gilda was picking through books, and next to her I saw a copy of We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. It was one of my kids’ favorites.
I wandered off to a back room that was set up like the kitchen in the bungalow colony. A faux green marble-top table with chrome edging stood in the middle of the linoleum floor surrounded by matching chairs. The windows were covered in a white cotton eyelet.
I asked the shopkeeper, “Do you have any other curtains?”
“In that box over there, in the corner.”
I rummaged through the pile, sneezing from the dust mites and musty smell, but I kept going—I was on a mission. I found something that came close. They were sheer and frilly but had embroidered yellow daisies on the trim.
They were five dollars, so I decided to buy them, despite the daisies. I was walking to the front to pay when another book caught my eye, The Boy Scout Handbook. I randomly thumbed the book open and found myself looking at a chapter on how to build a campfire.
“I think I’m going to buy this,” I said.
“Why?” Gilda asked.
“The last time I tried to build a fire was at a condo we rented last winter in Vermont. I didn’t know that you had to open the flue. Hell, I didn’t even know what a flue was, so I ended up setting off fire alarms as the entire apartment filled with smoke.”
“Where was your husband?”
“Out skiing with the girls. When they got back, they made me feel like I was completely useless. It was not one of my finest moments.”
“Yeah, I hate when my family gangs up on me. I always remind my girls that I wiped their asses, and they need to treat me with a little more respect.”
Thinking about lack of respect, my mind drifted to the earlier part of the smoke-filled condo day.
Ronnie, Zelda, and Hazel had been getting ready to ski.
I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. I wanted to tell them that I loved them and to have a great day, but instead I overheard a conversation. I held my breath as I listened.
“Why doesn’t Mom ski with us anymore?” Hazel asked.
“I used to carry her skis, and then when you two came along she had to carry them herself,” Ronnie said.
“But we carry our own stuff,” Zelda said.
“True, but it took a few years before that happened.”
“We always had to wait for her at the bottom of the hill,” Hazel said.
“When you two became better skiers than Mom, she gave up for good.”
“We get in so many more runs now,” Zelda said.
“But there’s no hot chocolate breaks without Mom,” Hazel said.
“You can have hot chocolate at lunch. We’re here to ski. Besides, it’s more fun skiing with just Dad anyway,” Zelda said.
“Won’t Mom be bored by herself all day?” Hazel asked.
“Nah, you know how she always complains that she never has time for herself,” Zelda said.
“But isn’t she alone all day when we’re at school?” Hazel asked.
“Your mom manages to keep herself busy—she does yoga, meets friends for lunch, orders in dinner . . .”
Ronnie had made me sound as if I did nothing. But the worst part was that he allowed the girls to giggle at my expense.
Whenever Ronnie disappointed us by not showing up for dinner or recitals or sporting events, I had made a point of not saying anything derogatory about him.
I could see Ronnie on his knee, buckling his boots. He stood up and said, “If you’re ready, I’ll race you to the lift.”
I clearly remembered now that when I finally exhaled, it had come out as a sob. “I’m okay with good-natured, clever teasing,” I said, turning to Gilda, “but it hurts when I overhear my daughters making fun of me, and my husband not only doesn’t stick up for me, he eggs them on.”
Gilda had entertained me with camp stories all day.
My favorite one was when the Swans snatched the sneakers off the porches of the younger girls and swapped them with the older girls’ shoes.
Gilda went on, “It caused mass confusion, but I thought it was so simple yet ingenious. When Marilyn got wind of it, she ranted on about calling parents and punishing the girls. Mindy finally got her to calm down and had to explain to her that pranks are what camp is all about.”
As we were seated in the dining room of the restaurant, I thought when it was first decorated, it would’ve been considered classy. Now it just reminded me of an aging lady in need of a facelift.
“I had a great time today, I haven’t laughed so much since I got to camp,” Gilda said, holding up her wine glass. “Cheers.”
I had been able to let go and relax on our excursion. No campers, no bosses, no wild animals, and no husband. We’d both spent the day giggling—from trying on silly hats at the secondhand store to sharing stories about our daughters to commiserating about our husbands—both attorneys.
We clinked glasses. “You’re fabulous company,” I said.
“You’re much more fun than those alpha chicks, Bethany and Mindy,” Gilda said.
Gilda wasn’t wrong in her description of them.
They were the women I looked to for advice and I wanted to impress during the day and make laugh in the evenings.
I said, “Mindy’s always helpful, insightful, and even-tempered, which I appreciate.
Bethany says she has my back, but I’m never exactly sure where I stand with her. ”
“What do you mean?”
“When I’m at activities with the campers, it seems like she goes out of her way to find something to criticize me about.” I took a sip of wine.
“Give me an example.”
“Yesterday one of the Cubs was sitting under a tree reading a book during volleyball. Bethany marches toward me and starts scolding me for not forcing her to play. Meanwhile I had a long conversation with the mother during orientation that volleyball is the one sport she can’t play because her finger is still healing from a volleyball injury. ”
“She’s learned that technique from Jack. Always approach a situation ready to criticize instead of assuming you have your reasons and giving you a chance to explain.”
“We’re all adults here. We all have children. Give us some credit for common sense. But after the kids are tucked in and we meet up in Mindy’s cabin, it’s like we’ve been the best of pals since the beginning of time.”
“You know, if we were in high school, they’d be the mean girls. But since we’re all adults here, and it’s camp, we have to get along—kumbaya and all that.”
“I enjoy relaxing with a gin & tonic. It’s a great way to unwind and laugh about how ridiculous our days are, but the best part is when we tear into Jack. It makes me feel like I’m not alone, you know—he’s a schmuck to everyone, not just me,” I said.
“Yup, he’s an equal opportunity schmuck.”