by L. B. Dunbar
We were in the small coffee shop in Elk Rapids before a day at the beach when George Carpenter, a long time classmate but not really a friend, walked into the place. He was friendly to everyone and girls loved his geeky innocence, but I knew better. George had been pinning after Debbie Swartz, Jess’ girlfriend, for years. As the most popular girl with her outrageously developed body and her bubbly personality, she was coveted by all. But most of all by George, who was like a puppy dog given a bone if Deb looked at him.
I was in line for an espresso when on this particular day, George spotted Britton through the large window, entered the café, and laid the charm on thick. He was spouting off his credentials like he was on a job interview. President of debate. Member of National Honor Society. Volunteer tutor. Blah, blah, blah. He wanted to know who Britton was and she was telling him some simple facts when he suddenly said, “We should go out sometime.”
Britton blinked at him, stunned. “Well, if you’re friends with Gavin Scott, then I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Gavin Scott? He’s a womanizer. How can you know him?”
Britton blinked at him again and looked over at me paying for my drink. I returned to the table and George held his ground.
“What’s up, Gavin?”
“George. What do ya want?”
“Well, I was just asking our new visitor out, and she seems to be a ‘friend’ of yours?”
“That’s right, she’s my girlfriend.”
Britton blinked at me this time. I hadn’t referred to her with this title before.
“Your girlfriend? Weren’t you with Stephanie Kurtz a week ago?”
“No,” I leveled a look at Britton. It had been months ago, but there was no need for that detail.
“Jamie Stubeck, then?”
“No.” Beginning of the school year; months after Britton left the previous summer, but that detail wasn’t necessary either.
“Pammie Carter?”
“You’re an ass. She’s like my sister. Go away, George.” Never. I had never been with Pam, Jess’ sister.
George looked at Britton. “When he dumps you, I’d love to show you around. I’ll wait for you.” He smiled sheepishly.
It was Britton who surprised us both. She stood and walked up to George, almost pressing her body against him, but thank god, I thought, not touching him.
“You’ll wait for me. That’s sweet.” She pushed her hair back behind her ear, and I knew she had stunned George. He looked like he’d been tasered. She’d ensnared him.
“When I’m done using him for his body, I’ll be ready for you.”
I gasped. She reached for my newly purchased espresso.
“For now, here’s something to let you know how hot it’ll be with me.” She calmly poured the small cup of hot liquid down the front of George’s pants.
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. The coffee shop manager didn’t think it was funny, though, and told us to leave, even though Britton offered to clean up the mess. We walked down to the bakery, which also sold coffee and Britton went inside. She ordered me another espresso.
* * *
I drank the espresso too quickly after Gee read me the book. I had no other excuse to stay and Britton walked me out to the front porch.
“Think the neighbors will talk?” I joked as I noticed an older couple out for a Saturday morning walk. The sun was shining brightly in the early hour of the morning.
“They will now,” she laughed.
“Come to the fireworks tonight with me?”
“Gavin.”
“You can bring, Gee. Bring Ben. It will be my whole family and the Carters.”
“Gavin.”
Gee ran out the door and hugged my legs, then turned to run back inside. Britton caught his little arm.
“What do you say?”
“Thank you for coming over.”
Britton laughed. “Not that. Thank him for carrying you.”
“Thank you for carrying me home last night.”
“Anytime, little man.” I smiled and a mischievous thought came to my mind. It would be a sneaky thing to do, but…
“Gee, want to see the fireworks tonight in Elk Rapids?”
“Gavin!” Britton shrieked.
“Ask your mom if she will bring you to the fireworks, will ya? Use those dimples on her.”
Gee smiled brightly at his mother and his dimples did shine.
“Mommy, can we please go to the fireworks? Please?” He dragged out the last word in a long exaggeration, pouting his little lips and batting his eyelashes.
Britton laughed.
“Maybe you should use your dimples too, Gavin? We can double-dimple her.” Gee made himself laugh and Britton smiled. I was stunned. I didn’t have dimples.
Gee ran back in the house and Britton leveled a glare at me. But she was biting her lip and that gave away the smile she was holding back.
“That was mean, Gavin.”
I approached her from where I was standing off the low porch.
“Please.”
“I’ll think about it,” her voice hardly hid the smile.
I was level with her as she stood the one step up on the deck.
“Please?” I whispered.
“We’ll see.”
“Please?” I begged and gave her a full-wattage smile like Gee had tried.
“Okay, maybe.”
I laughed. I would take it for now.
I kissed her quickly on the cheek and walked backward for a few feet, trying to give her the innocent face her son had tried.
“I don’t have dimples, so it doesn’t work as well, does it?” I finally called out.
“Yes.”
“Yes, you’ll go?” I stopped short, stunned that she’d consented.
“Yes, you have dimples.”
Take 22
Under the Moonlight
I checked out of my hotel and felt a pinch of loss at leaving Traverse City behind. It felt as if I was leaving Britton and Gee as well. I still didn’t have a definite answer for the fireworks tonight in Elk Rapids, but she hadn’t said no.
I drove north on US31 and was thankful that the road to my parent’s farm was south of town since the annual Harbor Days parade would have River Street blocked off. The highway around town would be backed up. I took the winding roads at a leisurely pace, in no hurry to return to my childhood home. With the film festival behind me, I had another week ahead filled with wedding related events and my thoughts wandered there.
Emily Post had told me she was having five bridesmaids: her sister, Rosie; Jess’ sisters, Pam and Tricia; and Ethan’s girlfriend, Ella, plus my older sister, Karyn. Emily felt that the two families were one and she wanted everyone from both families represented. Jess had been rather late in the asking, but Emily demanded their sides match in number. He had originally only asked Tom, his older brother, to stand up with him. He eventually decided to ask Ethan and I, as well as Pam’s boyfriend, Jacob Vincent, the author. That was only four, and we had a discussion about the role of Katie. Emily wanted Katie dressed like a flower girl, but understood that she should stand on Jess’ side of the wedding party. With no parents to walk Emily down the aisle, though, Emily wanted Katie to lead her, as if she was giving Emily to her father or joining them together. Emily had explained the symbolism of it during our disastrous boat trip on Friday, as she believed Katie and her previous diagnosis was what had brought Jess and Emily together in the first place.
I had my own tux, and the tuxes didn’t need to match the same way the bridesmaid dresses did. I wasn’t all that concerned about the wedding details, but I suddenly realized I really did want a date, and I wanted it to be Britton. I had RSVP’d for two, even knowing Zoe might never attend, yet hopeful that I could convince her. Now I realized I would never have wanted Zoe to be present. My thoughts were wandering as to how I could convince Britton to be my date when I reached the end of the dirt drive for my parent’s farm.
Mum and Dad were
probably in town for the parade, as I’d told them I didn’t know when I would arrive. I let myself into the unlocked house and carried my two bags up to my old room. When I got there, I found suitcases and a dress bag hung on the closet door. I had shared this room with Ethan as a child, but now it was obviously being shared between Ethan and Ella. The two single beds had been replaced with a double, but otherwise the room looked exactly the same. Some of my memorabilia had been removed, and I wondered nostalgically where my old baseball trophies, camera equipment, and movie posters were.
I had a partial answer when I went into Karyn’s old room across the hall. A box in the corner had several trophies sticking out from the top, and posters were rolled and rubber-banded. I wasn’t sure where my old camcorder was. A quick glance in the box proved it wasn’t in there. I took in my sister’s childhood room. She hadn’t lived at home for fourteen years, and the room had been repainted light green. A double bed replaced her two singles as well. The original dresser remained, however. It wasn’t exactly a girl’s room, but it wasn’t a guest room either. It felt sort-of like no-man’s-land.
I set my stuff down and checked my email from my phone. I had one from Zeke Steinmann about the Sundance Film Festival invitation, and a later voicemail from him with a firm demand for a return call. I continued checking my email and found one from a Joe Scanlon.
Good afternoon, Mr. Scott –
My name is Joe Scanlon and I am good friends with Mike George. Mike told me he recently met you at the Traverse City Film Festival in Michigan. I’m sorry we did not cross paths, but Mike told me about your proposed documentary on modern immigration in the United States. I was able to have a private showing of your film after your premiere and I am impressed with your work. I would love to discuss with you your plans to make that project a reality. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.
Joe Scanlon
Image Production
[email protected]
The email was dated from Friday, during the time I was stuck on the lake with Zoe. I prayed I hadn’t missed a golden opportunity and I responded immediately with an email and a voicemail.
Image Production was a smaller company in Hollywood, but had a growing reputation for independent types of films such as documentaries. I wasn’t as familiar with their past documentary experience, but I was curious what Joe would have to say about my project. I made a reminder to research the company’s production history.
I had a response to my email after I read through a few more, and Mr. Scanlon listed a few dates he was available to meet with me. After exchanging several emails, we determined that next Tuesday would be better for us both. I would be returning to California on Monday. I did a private whoop-whoop in my head. I was going to meet with someone about my migrant workers’ film, and it didn’t involve Zeke Steinmann. Suddenly, I heard the front door to my parents’ home open and close, followed by voices below. My good mood might just pull me through this stay with my dad after all.
Jack Scott wasn’t exactly an understanding man, at least according to me, and I was quite sure Ethan felt the same way. While it was never expected that Karyn would stay and inherit the farm, it had been a huge disappointment to find out that I, and eventually Ethan, didn’t want to inherit it either.
Sara Scott, on the other hand, was much more sympathetic to following dreams. After all, she had done that herself. While I didn’t see how trading her small British agricultural town for a small American farm town was much of a dream, I did understand that she wanted out of England and that particular community. From my understanding, my father had promised her the world, yet he hadn’t quite delivered it. He did, however, trust his wife and he relied on her opinion. He even went so far as to let her word be final, which is how both Ethan and I escaped.
For me, the trauma came early on. When I’d received the refurbished camcorder in high school, I began making films often and my father saw this ‘hobby,’ as he called it, as something that I deeply enjoyed and openly discussed. For Ethan, it hadn’t been so easy, since our father was prejudiced about the sexual orientation of any man interested in cooking. Although it was obvious that Ethan could cook, and he sometimes did in our home, Dad did not appreciate this talent in Ethan, and he never encouraged it.
I hadn’t really spoken to my father after the film showing on Thursday and I honestly wanted his opinion, although I expected the worst. At the party, our conversation was casual and sporadic with all the party-going well-wishers. I did want my dad to be proud of me, but most of all I wanted my dad to accept my career, my decisions, and my dreams. I was at fault for staying away so long, but now that I was home, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay away as much.
I found everyone in the kitchen when I went downstairs. In a farmhouse, this is the hub of family life. While in other homes, families might gather around the television or in a living room, the kitchen was the central meeting place to my family. Ethan was making something for lunch while Dad stood in Ethan’s way by the sink, drinking coffee despite the heat of the day. Ella was sitting at the table with Mum.
“Well, look who’s graced us with his presence finally,” Dad mumbled into his coffee mug. Ethan shook his head out of our father’s eyesight.
“Gavin, lovie, how long have you been home?”
“About an hour. How was the parade?”
“Hot,” Dad said, while Ella replied, “Fun.”
“Well, I guess it wasn’t that bad,” Dad mumbled, and it was Mum’s turn to shake her head.
I had been warned that my dad had a soft spot for Ella Vincentia for some reason. He treated her like a princess and doted on her.
“I heard it’s grown quite a bit,” I replied. Emily had been a big source of information during the Friday boat ride. I thought she was only trying to make up for the scene between her and Zoe, which I didn’t feel was necessary. Zoe was clearly in the wrong. I also felt Emily was trying to fill the one million miles of awkward silence during the remainder of our trip.
“Taking the boat out today?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Want to?” Ethan looked at me, hopeful.
“Whatever you want is fine. Is everyone still up for the fireworks?”
“Absolutely,” our mother said rather enthusiastically. I hadn’t heard her so…spunky.
“I invited some friends to join me tonight, if that’s okay?”
“You can’t spend one day with your family?” Dad grumbled.
“Anyone we know?” Mum asked, as if there would be anyone in town my parents wouldn’t know.
“Just an old friend and her son.” There was suddenly a strange silence in the room and only the movement of Ethan working at the counter made any noise. My mother stiffened and my father looked into his coffee mug as if the most interesting things were happening in it.
“It sounds like fun,” Ella said. “I can’t remember the last time I went to fireworks.” I watched my father actually soften in front of me.
After a glorious August day on the lake water, I was starting to feel like I’d returned to the home I remembered. People everywhere were in the spirit of celebration as Harbor Days was the highlight of the summer for this community, celebrating both the water and the season. Although it actually marked the beginning of the end of summer, this day had summertime written all over it with people in the park, at the beach, in the harbors, in town, and at the carnival. I saw many people I hadn’t seen in years, and it felt like a mini-reunion in the center of Torch Lake. The hard part was that we were all older, of course, and not all of us had changed for the better. At twenty-seven, I still considered myself young, but those who were married or had children didn’t necessarily look how I remembered them. It was exhilarating to have people recognize me, and I slowly began to realize that these people shaped who I was. For good or bad, for better or worse, this small town and the people involved in my growing up had a special place in my heart.
By six o’clock, the sun was still shining brightly, but peo
ple were heading off the lake for family reunion dinners and cook-outs with old friends. The Scotts were having dinner in town at Jess’ home that had originally been Emily’s grandmother’s house. Emily wanted it to be a kick-off to wedding week, as she called it. While I laughed, Jess sighed and shook his head at his future wife when she called the coming week by this name.
“Am I turning into a Bridezilla?” she whispered loudly to Jess.
“I don’t even know what that means, but I hope not,” Jess said before reaching for her to kiss her neck. He was constantly touching her, and I realized that my old friend was in love, really in love. Not what I had seen between Jess and Debbie; this was honest love.
While I had thought I was in love with Zoe, it never had the same feeling as it had when I was with Britton. I had grown old enough to believe that the love I felt for Britton was teenage-love, and not true love. Somehow, I was starting to realize real love might not have been what I had with Zoe, either.
We arrived at Jess and Emily’s in two shifts. Dad and Mum had already left by the time Ethan, Ella, and I returned home to shower and dress for the night. Although the day had been hot, the evening would be cool, which was another sign that the end of summer was approaching. I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, throwing an old zippered sweatshirt in the back of the car. I still hadn’t heard from Britton and I didn’t want to push it. I thought about how I’d invited her through Gee. It really was a low blow to try to win the mom through the kid.
Arriving at the older house, I was impressed with the size and the freshness of the home. Similar to Britton’s old place, this house had definitely been freshly painted inside and out. Updated furniture mixed amongst the older wooden antiques. There was a lush garden surrounding the backyard and an old garage that doubled as a writing studio for Emily, who wrote part time and worked part time. A small dollhouse-looking child’s cottage was also in the yard, and Katie was playing near it with Meghan, who was holding up baby Jack as he clutched the small open window of the playhouse. Madison was sitting to the side of her mother, texting on her phone.
