by C. T. Musca
We stay around there until the bugs get too annoying, and then we head back to the campfire where most people are. I see Sandy with the same friends she was with earlier, but I can’t see Jeremy.
“Sandy, have you seen Jer?” I ask her.
“No. Where have you been? And what’s with your eyes?” I guess I was gone longer than I thought, and that the joint has affected me in another way.
“Oh, we went for a walk. The campfire was so smoky; it was bothering me.” Good cover, I think. “We should head back in a little while. It’s almost eleven.” If Mom and Dad are up, they’ll have questions for us, so maybe it’s actually in my best interest to go later and face the consequences of bringing Sandy home late.
“Can’t we stay a little bit longer? Everyone is here,” she pleads.
“Okay, no more than half an hour, though.” I figure Mom and Dad should be in bed by then.
I go back to Alyssa, but she is much too interested in Grant. They are now holding hands, making it awkward for Elliot and me. Elliot keeps looking at me, like he wants to do the same thing, but I am anything but interested in him. He seems boring, and his nostrils are way too big for his face. If Amanda were here, she would have made some hilarious comments about the objects he breathes in during the course of a day. The thought of Amanda makes me a little despondent. I wish she were here with me. I wonder how she is doing, if Dan called her, or if she’s sent me a letter. I will check the mail tomorrow.
I set off to find Jeremy myself, since Alyssa is preoccupied. Elliot looks as though he wants to join me, so I say that I’ll be right back, having no intention of doing so. I don’t want to go too far from the campfire since Sandy is there. I walk down a few different paths which all lead to the beach. Maybe he is smoking a joint like I was earlier. It’s unlike him to leave us like that. I turn down another path, which is a little more wooded than the previous paths. I hear rustling in the bushes and think there might be an animal or something. As I get closer to it, I see Jeremy’s sandals. I go closer but then realize he is not alone. He is with a girl, and I assume that it is Tina, though I can’t really be sure. Her face is blocked because Jeremy is making out with her. My eyes widen, and I step back, breaking branches as I go. They hear me and stop kissing—and whatever else they’re doing. I retreat quickly, but I know that Jeremy has seen me. I can hear them talking as I make my way back to the fire. Shortly after, Jeremy comes up.
“You ready to go?” He says it matter-of-factly, without saying anything about what I just saw.
Winter 2010
The holiday season always gives me a peculiar feeling that I can’t quite explain. I remember loving Christmas as a child, as I suppose all children do. I loved decorating the tree as a family, singing Christmas carols, exchanging secret Santa gifts with the class, and eating all kinds of candy and chocolate. Now, I don’t have a tree in my apartment, I don’t sing, we rarely exchange gifts at work, and I have been trying to keep my calorie intake to no more than sixteen hundred a day, which doesn’t allow for candy or chocolate. Maybe the peculiar feeling is sadness. I wonder why we lie to our kids about Santa, and tell them that if they’re good, they’ll get more gifts. Isn’t that the first rule of parenting: don’t bribe? We train kids to believe that this time of year is magical. When we grow up, we realize the truth: there is nothing magical about it.
Tonight is our staff party, to which I agreed to go, solo. Dr. Roerke is also going alone, as he and his wife recently separated. This news came as a bit of a shock to me, and thinking back to it, I am sure this is what Patrick and Deb were whispering about a few weeks ago. Dr. Roerke’s wife was always pleasant, and they seemed to have a good relationship. But that just goes to show that appearance is often different from reality.
Cindy asked if we’d mind if she brought a friend, one of her girlfriends from university who is in town for the weekend. Of course no one minded. Deb and her husband are coming. I think they look forward to going anywhere without the kids. They are actually making a date out of it and going to dinner before the party. Deb invited us all to join them, but we all know that they don’t get a babysitter too often. Patrick was seeing a girl but for unknown reasons they broke up, so he too will be going single.
I’m not really sure what to wear to this thing. Cindy will be wearing something too short or too tight, or both. Deb will pick something from her closet that has probably been there for years but only gets worn on special occasions. After perusing my closet, I decide on black jeans and a grey turtleneck. I know I might be a little hot in this sweater, but I don’t intend on dancing, so I should be fine.
We all meet at nine thirty at Club Noir. It’s a nice bistro-type bar that is very dark inside, which makes me feel at ease. Cindy and her friend, Nicole, start with shots. I shouldn’t really say start, since it looks as if they’ve had a few before we arrived. They order enough for all of us, but Deb’s husband, Bud, and I don’t take one. I sip my white wine to show them that I am having a drink.
The night continues this way for a while—a lot of laughs and flirting. Dr. Roerke can’t keep his eyes off Cindy, who is quite inebriated by this point. She has her arms around both Patrick and Dr. Roerke and is laughing about God knows what. Her friend is also pretty drunk, and she and Deb have gone to the dance floor, leaving me with Bud. He is a nice enough guy, but we really don’t have anything in common.
He tries to start a conversation. “How is your apartment?” God, of all the things he could bring up, he picks the most boring and conventional topic. I guess I shouldn’t really complain, though, at least he is making an effort.
“Oh it’s good. I love the area and my neighbours are friendly.” There is not too much more to say about it. I am now racking my brain for anything to talk about. Kids—parents love talking about their kids. “So how old are the kids now?”
“Kris is nine, Katie is five, and Kyle is three and a half.”
I hate that the names all begin with the same letter. I don’t know why, it just irks me. “Do they get along?” I think back to when I was young, and I remember fighting with my siblings, even though the next minute we were the best of friends.
“Yeah, they’re great. Really good kids.”
Bud’s not much of a conversationalist, and frankly, neither am I. We continue to drink and watch the others on the dance floor. Several times Deb tries to get us up dancing, and each time we decline. We prefer the uncomfortable silence here than the awkward dancing there.
I notice Dr. Roerke and Cindy talking off to the side of the dance floor and it appears to be pretty intimate. He places his hand on her hip, which if it goes any lower will be on her butt. She is smiling and obviously enjoying the attention. I wonder what they are talking about—bicuspids and wisdom teeth? I think not. I wonder, now that Dr. Roerke and his wife have broken up, if anything would ever happen between these two. Although there are about twenty-five years between them, they have openly flirted with each other for as long as she’s been at the office. I think that a night like this, with drinks and dancing, could definitely encourage a rendezvous.
“Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit down here?” I am so intent on watching the others that I didn’t even see this guy coming. Who picks up a girl in a bar anymore? It just seems so cliché.
“My friends are on the dance floor. They’ll be back.”
“Do you mind if I sit until they do?” This guy doesn’t get the hint.
“No, I guess not.” I look at Bud for some help here but he has now kind of moved his chair to face the dance floor rather than talk to me. I can’t say I blame him.
He sits down and introduces himself. His name is Cort, short for Cortney. He looks to be much older than I, but he is sort of good-looking, I suppose. He is wearing jeans with a blue dress shirt. He tells me that he works as a financial advisor for the Bank of Canada. We talk briefly; the conversation flows much easier than when talking to Bud, which is either because of Cort or the wine. Deb comes back and tries to get us both
up on the dance floor. He looks at me with a look that says “shall we?” I decide to show everyone that I can have fun, or at least make an effort. Hopefully they’ll leave me alone after this.
I used to go to dances in high school, but that feels like a lifetime ago. We move to the rhythm of a song that I don’t know, and he actually moves pretty well, better than a lot of guys I have seen dance. We stay up for a few songs and I notice Deb raising her eyebrows to me. I pretend that I don’t see her.
I look at my watch and realize that it’s almost one, far later than I thought I’d be out. I’ve had quite a few glasses of wine, and I don’t even remember paying for them; Cort must have been footing the bill. We go up for another dance, and I have to admit that I’m actually enjoying myself. Whoever said that alcohol makes things more fun was right on the money. There’s no way I’d be out past one dancing on a Friday night without it.
As we move to the music, I feel Cort’s hands on my hips. I didn’t notice it at first, but now that is all I can feel. I’m aware of their cumbersome weight restricting my movement. He’s looking at me as though he is going to pounce on me, like a tiger in the wild. I immediately react and push him away from me, looking at him in disgust.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” I yell, loud enough for those around us on the dance floor to hear, including Deb and Bud, who has been coerced onto the floor. Cort looks shocked, and I realize that I’ve overreacted. I grab my bag and leave the bar. I run out onto the street and get into a cab that’s waiting by the sidewalk. As it pulls away, I see Cort come out of the bar, looking for me.
Summer 1989
“So, are you going to admit that Tina is your type?” Because Jeremy and I discuss everything, I know that we have to talk about what I saw last night.
“It was nothing. She just started kissing me, and because I had a few beers, I wasn’t really thinking clearly,” he responds.
“Oh, okay,” I say in a sarcastic way.
“I’m serious. I don’t like her. I’m with Sarah and that’s that.”
I guess that’s the end of the conversation. Usually he’d confide a little more, but he must be feeling guilty about what happened. Maybe if he discusses it with me, then it’s like admitting that he really did cheat on his girlfriend, and I don’t think he likes that idea. I drop it too because there is no use fighting with him. I’d never win.
Tonight is game night at the cottage and it’s my turn to choose the game. My sister and I always choose Monopoly, and tonight is no different. We get our snacks and drinks and settle down to play. Mom sits out as she sometimes does. She cleans around the cottage, makes food for the next day, or reads. I have to admit, I don’t mind when she sits out; she is very competitive and gets frustrated if she doesn’t win.
By the middle of the game Jeremy has yet again emerged as the leader, owning Boardwalk and Park Place, along with six other properties. He’s got hotels and houses on most of them and it’s making it tough for the rest of us to survive. Uncle Jack takes some money from the bank, as he’s the banker, and places it on my chair beside my leg. I don’t like to cheat, but I will do it this once to live on in this game, especially since Jer is being so cocky. He keeps saying he is going to take me down and rule this game. This is our last night at the cottage, so I figure I will not go down without a fight.
As I am starting to get a little more money in the game, we hear a knock at the door. Moments later Mom comes in to tell Jeremy that there is a girl at the door. Sandy says, “Aww,” and Jeremy abruptly tells her to shutup. He goes out to the front porch. I can see through the window that it’s Tina. She must know that it’s his last night and she wants to talk—or make out—with him one last time.
The game is put on hold while Jeremy is outside.
“Anyone want anything from the kitchen?” Uncle Jack asks while we wait.
“Sure, Jack, I’ll have a beer. Thanks,” Dad responds.
“Me too,” Sandy says with a smile. “Actually, can you make it a rye and Coke? Thanks, Jack.”
“Okay, kiddo,” he winks at her. “How about you, Ton?”
“I’ll have Pepsi, if there’s any left.”
“Done.” And Uncle Jack is gone and back in a few minutes.
My sister calls to Mom in the family room, “Mom, do you have any more of that casserole—the one that tastes like the smell of suntan lotion?”
Mom replies, “What on earth are you talking about? How can something taste like a smell? Last night’s casserole is in the fridge. Help yourself.”
“More importantly, why would you want to eat something that tastes—or smells—like suntan lotion?!” I add my two cents.
From the window I hear Jeremy say, “Well, it’s not like we’re even going to see each other. There’s no point.” And within a minute he is inside, sitting down and ready to play. It seems that last line must have ticked her off, because she left instantly.
“Okay, guys, let’s get on with it.” Jeremy is all business now.
“What did your girlfriend want?” Sandy asks, not knowing when to cut it out.
“She’s not my girlfriend. Sarah’s my girlfriend. Can we just continue playing?”
The rest of the game is not much fun. Jeremy looks angry, Dad has lost all of his properties and is now sitting with Mom, and I am starting to emerge as the winner. Winning isn’t as fun, however, when I can’t get a rise out of my brother, or when I haven’t really won by myself.
Later that night I see Jeremy and ask him if he wants to talk about it. I am surprised when he says that he does. “I wasn’t really thinking about anything last night when she kissed me. Maybe I should have. Now she wants to tell her boyfriend. She said she thought maybe we’d start dating or something.”
“Do you like her, Jer?”
“No. Not like that. Not really. I wasn’t lying to you when I said that she wasn’t my type. I wasn’t thinking, and now she’s pissed.”
“So what did you say to her tonight?”
“I told her that I am with Sarah and that I am not planning on telling her about what happened last night. I tried to make it sound like it couldn’t work between us because we are at different schools, but the truth is, I don’t really want anything with Tina.”
“I guess you’re lucky we’re leaving tomorrow, eh?”
“Yeah, but I feel bad about it. She’s nice. I didn’t want to hurt her. I have never looked forward to school so much in my life.”
The thought of school makes me feel a pit in my stomach. I like school, but after two months off in the summer, it’s always the same. I have gotten used to being on vacation and the thought of starting a new school year with new classes and new teachers makes me nervous. I am really looking forward to being home, though. It’s been fun at my cottage, but I miss Amanda and Kaitlyn, and I wonder if Shane will still want to go see a movie.
“Can everyone come here for a minute?” We hear Uncle Jack call from the living room.
We gather and Uncle Jack begins, “Seeing as this is our last night, I wanted to make a toast to all of you for including me in your family vacation, which has become my family vacation too. I appreciate you always making me feel welcome. I wanted to thank you in some special way, so I’d like to give you this.”
Dad takes the envelope from Uncle Jack and opens it. “This is too much and not necessary at all. We love having you come with us.”
“What is it, Dad?” Sandy asks what we all want to know.
“It’s a gift certificate to Nonna’s Italian Restaurant—for all of us.”
“Jack, you really shouldn’t have,” Mom says. She goes over to hug him.
We all go up to hug Uncle Jack after our mom gives us “the look.” I wonder if Jack misses his kids or how often he thinks about them. They are eleven and thirteen. The eleven-year-old, Joey, is in Sandy’s class. She says he is quiet and is often taken out of the classroom by another teacher. She thinks it’s to work on his reading, but she’s not sure. None of us really knows
Lydia, who is in eighth grade. I wonder if being around us makes him unhappier about his situation; we must remind him of the family he doesn’t have. I look at Uncle Jack. He was probably a good-looking man in his younger years. I don’t think the years have been kind to him. He’s a lot greyer and looks a great deal older than Dad, but he is actually a few years younger.
When we finish in the living room, we all go about packing and cleaning so that we are ready to leave in the morning. Jeremy, Sandy, and I pull out the dresser drawer and sign our names on the inside for another year, which has become a tradition. Sandy signs her name in her “new” signature, Jeremy writes “till next year,” and I write, “The Summer of ’89,” like the Bryan Adams song.
We are happy and together, which we know is about to change in a matter of weeks.
Winter 2010
It is the same dream as it’s always been. I am a young girl, maybe ten or eleven, and this older gentleman, wearing a black suit and a black hat, comes up to me. He offers his hand to shake and removes his hat. In his hat is a bunch of lollipops, the kind our grandmother used to buy for us as children—the ones you used to get near the grocery counter wrapped in cellophane. He smiles at me and when he does, I see his teeth are rotten. I don’t know him, but he has a familiarity about him that I cannot quite put my finger on. Although I can’t see my mother, I can hear her voice warning against taking candy from a stranger. I feel uneasy and it’s usually at this time that I wake up.
I never really paid much attention to dreams, never thought that they held any meaning, but the reason I find this one noteworthy is that it recurs. I have never had, or remember having, a recurring dream before. It seems familiar.
I had better get up and begin my day. I was hoping to jog this morning before work, but judging by the weather, it appears as though that will have to wait. It’s freezing rain outside and not the best condition for running.
I get ready for work and I’m out the door before eight o’clock, ensuring that I will have enough time to get my coffee. As I am leaving my apartment, I see an elderly gentleman in the hallway looking for his keys. I have never seen him before; he must have recently moved in. He appears to be a little frazzled, so I decide to intervene.
