S'more to Lose

by Beth Merlin

  When I lifted my head up the room was spinning. My breaths, more like gasps, were fast and irregular, and I was certain I was about to pass out. I climbed off the stool and squatted on the floor, my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth, praying the feeling would pass. Finally, when the familiar tingle of pins and needles started creeping back into my hands and my breathing slowed to its normal rhythm, I opened my eyes. The room was still turning but started to come into better focus. I shifted onto my knees, and only when I was sure I was stable, pulled myself back up to a standing position.

  I peeled my T-shirt away from my body. It was almost completely soaked through with sweat. I pulled it up over my head and tossed it onto the couch. Standing in nothing but my bra and a pair of leggings, I scoured the room for my phone.

  I picked it up off the kitchen counter and searched my contacts. Even after all these years, I couldn’t bring myself to delete her information. Before I could second-guess myself, I hit the call button. Trini picked up on the first ring.

  “This is Trini,” she said.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s Georgica Goldstein.”

  “Gigi, how are you? What a funny coincidence, I was just speaking with Anna about you.”

  “Can we meet? Have lunch? Coffee? Whatever works for you?”

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  “Okay. Let’s meet in an hour at Abraco on East Seventh by my apartment.”

  I hung up and changed clothes. I was still shaky, so I called for an Uber to take me downtown. When the car pulled up to the coffee house, Trini was waiting outside for me. As soon as I saw her, I broke down in tears. She rushed to the car and helped me climb out and get inside. We sat at a small table in the back, and Trini called over the waiter. She ordered a pot of chamomile tea and two scones.

  I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and my nose with the cloth napkin from the table. Trini sat back in her chair and waited for me to compose myself. I took a few deep breaths to slow down my heart, which was beginning to race again. The waiter brought the tea, and Trini poured some into a cup, added a touch of milk, and slid it in my direction. I took a small sip and placed it back on the table.

  “Do you know why the English put milk in their tea?” she asked.

  I shook my head no.

  “In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the china cups tea was served in were so delicate, they would crack from the heat of the tea. Milk was added to cool the liquid and stop the cups from fracturing.”

  “You’d think I’d know that after all the time I’ve spent in London the last few years.”

  Trini poured some for herself, leaned back in her chair, and folded her hands in her lap. “So, what’s going on, Georgica?”

  I hesitated for a moment before all my frustrations came spilling out like a stream. “I put pencil to paper and nothing comes. It’s like the finale of Top Designer and my last few months at Diane von Furstenberg all over again, only now, the whole world is gonna find out I’m a big fraud.”

  “Do you remember what I said to you all those years ago, when you were struggling with your final collection on Top Designer?”

  “Figure it out?”

  She laughed. “Yes, my annoyingly famous catchphrase, but I believe I said a bit more than that.”

  I moistened my lips. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

  “No, I didn’t think you would.”

  The waiter brought the two scones in a basket with butter and jams and set them down at the table. Trini reached in, split one in half, and covered it with strawberry jelly.

  She took a bite and said, “You were deeply in love with that guy, but he was dating your good friend. As I recall, you went on Top Designer to get away from him.”

  “I was trying to escape from a lot of things back then. Law school. My parents. Basically everything in my life, but yes, Joshua was the single biggest reason.”

  Trini nodded as she continued to nibble on her scone. She laid it back down on her plate and brushed the crumbs from her fingers. “It was about six years ago we sat at the table in the back corner, and I tried to talk you off a ledge.”

  “I didn’t realize this was the very same coffee house we met at during my Top Designer breakdown.”

  “I’m not surprised. To say you were hysterical would be an understatement. You could’ve won your season. Easily. You know that, right?”

  I shook my head. “There were so many talented people on the show with experience and education. I didn’t know what I was doing half the time.”

  “Exactly. You worked completely on instinct and slayed each challenge. But then, right when you were at the finish line, you buckled.”

  I clasped my hands together and rested my chin on top. “I remember.”

  “At first, you blamed your creative block on the press, the time constraints of the show, a lack of technical training. But then you turned the conversation to Joshua and your friend. What was her name?”

  “Alicia.”

  “Right. Alicia. You told me all about how you met each other at camp as kids. How you’d been in love with Joshua your whole life, but he didn’t feel the same way. And as you prattled on and on about your perfect friend and perfect Joshua, I realized I wouldn’t be able to help you out of your hole. You’d already convinced yourself you were the runner-up long before we ever announced that Kharen Chen was the winner.”

  I started to object, but she continued talking right over me.

  “When I heard you’d started G. Malone, I hoped you could finally see yourself for the talented designer you are. But looking at you now, I still see that scared girl who didn’t believe she could possibly be anybody’s first choice.”

  Trini’s words hung in the air as the waiter came by with a fresh kettle of hot water. I reached for it and burned the tip of my thumb and forefinger. Tears sprang to my eyes, the searing pain of the injury releasing all my pent-up emotions. Suddenly, I was sobbing. Trini came around to my side of the table and wiped my eyes with her cloth napkin. She knelt down and took my head in her hands.

  “Georgica, my darling, you’re the only person standing in the way of your success,” she said in her soft Scottish accent.

  I looked straight into her eyes. “If that’s true, how do I fix it?”

  “What’d you do after Diane von Furstenberg?”

  “I left the city. I left everything. Alicia. Joshua. I ran away.”

  She pushed a piece of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. “Where’d you run?”

  “My childhood summer camp. I needed a break from the background noise. I went looking for quiet.”

  Trini returned to her seat. “I assume you found it?”

  I nodded yes and thought of Perry. “That and a lot more.”

  She looked at me, her eyes wide as if I’d just resolved my own predicament.

  “I can’t go work as a counselor at Chinooka again,” I said.

  “No, of course not. But go to that camp of yours for a few days. Clear your head. You can’t hear your own voice with all the chatter. Find that quiet again. You’ll come up with the design.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “The world will keep on spinning. It’s just fashion, Gigi. Just a dress.”

  “What would the Anna Wintour have to say if she heard you talking like this?”

  She waved her hand in the air. “Oh, she’s heard me talk like this. Plenty of times.”

  Trini stood up and threw down some money for the bill. “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah, I think I am,” I said, already imagining the warm welcoming gates of Camp Chinooka. It was time I visited home.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two days later, I was in Thom’s car heading to Milbank, Pennsylvania. Jamie’d offered to make the trip with me, knowing how much I hated driving, but I needed to do this alone. I’d heeded Trini’s advice and reached out to Gordy Birnbaum, Chinooka’s director, to see if
any of the off-season cabins were available for the week. He booked me into one of the refurbished ones and let me know he’d also be up for a few days to check on some of the camp’s improvement projects before it opened for the summer.

  Once I made it out of the city, the driving wasn’t too hard. I programmed the GPS to direct me through more of the back roads and less highway. It just about doubled the length of the trip, but I was happy to turn up the radio and take in the scenery. I stopped twice, each time in a small town with a pretty main street that reminded me of the road trips I sometimes took with my parents to Martha’s Vineyard. Right before the turnoff for Milbank, I pulled off to a grocery store to load up on provisions for the week. I wasn’t sure how long I was staying and wanted to make sure I was stocked up.

  I pushed the cart up the aisles, grabbing cold cuts for sandwiches and a bag of coffee. I’d already bought fruit and vegetables from a farm stand a few exits back, so I picked up a bag of lettuce, some plain yogurt, and granola to go with them. I walked down the candy aisle and smiled when I spotted a big chocolate bar on a low shelf. I tossed it into the cart and immediately doubled back to find a bag of marshmallows and a box of graham crackers.

  I loaded the bags into the trunk, turned off the GPS, and drove slowly through the main square of Milbank. There were some small but noticeable changes to the town. A few mom-and-pop shops had been replaced with some larger chain discount stores. I was relieved to see Rosie’s was still standing, glad this summer’s crop of counselors would get to experience my favorite dive bar and a Chinooka mainstay.

  As if on autopilot, I turned the car toward the small gravel road that led to the front gates of the camp. As soon as I saw the familiar distressed wood sign with gold letters that read Camp Chinooka, I rolled down the car windows and breathed in the air. There was something so distinctive about the way the sweet, woody scent of the birch trees mixed with the crisp air of Lake Chinooka that brought me right back to my childhood. I pulled over at the gatehouse, and Herb Henley, the older gentleman who ran The Canteen with his wife every summer, came down to greet me. He was holding a clipboard and a map of the grounds.

  I stepped out of the car and told Herb my name. He checked it against his list and handed me a set of keys. He rattled off a series of instructions and rules about what was open on the property and what was off limits. I was free to use any of the canoes or kayaks at the lakefront as long as I signed them out. I could also use any items in the arts and crafts cabin, minus the kiln, as well as any of the equipment on the athletic fields. The Canteen would be open for a few hours at night and was stocked with snacks, basic toiletry items, and medications if I needed something.

  He let me know there was a Renaissance fair taking place in a neighboring town, and many of the attendees were staying at Chinooka. I shouldn’t be alarmed if I saw other guests wandering around the property in period costume.

  I thanked Herb and reminded him I’d worked as Head Counselor of Cedar a few years earlier. He didn’t remember me until I mentioned I’d worked alongside Perry Gillman a few summers ago. After that, he wanted a full report on how Perry was doing since he’d left Chinooka and made me promise to say hello the next time I ran into him.

  I got back into the car and drove up the road, following the numbered cabins. As soon as I started inching closer to the Birch cabins, I realized where I was going. Of course Gordy would put me up in Perry’s old cabin. It was the nicest one, and he probably thought he was doing me some sort of favor by letting me use it.

  I almost turned the car right around to ask Herb to find me somewhere else, anywhere else, I could stay, but he’d already told me they were sold out of cabins due to the fair. I turned the car off and unloaded my groceries and bags onto the porch. It was close to seven, and the sun was just starting to set over the lake. I leaned over the railing to watch, having almost forgotten how magical the view was from Perry’s cabin. I used to tease Perry that winning the Gordy so many years in a row had earned him Chinooka’s deluxe accommodations. Now, staring at the sun-streaked colors reflecting off the ripples of the lake and back into the trees, I knew for certain. Gordy hadn’t just rewarded him with deluxe accommodations but a million-dollar view to match.

  I pushed my way inside the cabin and turned on all the lights. The furniture had been rearranged slightly, and some rugs and other decorative pieces had been added, but otherwise, everything looked the same. I opened the refrigerator and unpacked my groceries. I put the veggies and yogurt into the refrigerator to chill and grabbed an apple out of the small canvas tote they’d given me at the farm stand. I took a bite and went in search of a TV. I’d come to Chinooka looking for quiet, but this was maybe too quiet.

  There was a satellite dish on top of the cabin so knew the TV was here somewhere. Most likely just well concealed for the guests who actually wanted to be at one with nature. I went into the main room of the cabin and over to what most resembled an entertainment center. Starting with the top cabinets, I found a remote and channel guide. A good sign. As I worked my way down, I uncovered a TV and a DVD/VCR combo. I turned to the bookcases, which were well stocked with movies on disc and tape and ran my finger down a row of classics from Casablanca to West Side Story.

  Then I looked on the shelf below, and there was Perry’s old turntable. The record player he’d shipped over from London along with dozens of his favorite vinyl records. He must’ve donated it to Gordy along with most of his collection, which was piled next to it. Recordings of Debussy, Copland, Stravinsky, Schubert, Berlin, and, of course, Gershwin. I pulled the 1924 recording of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue out of the sleeve, blew off some accumulated dust, and set it on the turntable.

  As the iconic clarinet solo rose above the rest of the orchestrations, I was transported back to the first night Perry and I spent together in this very cabin when he pulled out his violin and played most of the concerto from memory. Back then, we were so blissfully happy in our hideaway. Far from the mistakes of our past, it felt like anything was possible. Perry was finally able to finish his thesis, and I broke through my year-long design block. Chinooka had been our refuge, and we were each other’s salvation.

  Voices outside the cabin snapped me right back to the present. I lowered the volume and stepped out onto the deck. About half a dozen people sat around a large bonfire down toward the lake. I rummaged around my suitcase for my Camp Chinooka Staff sweatshirt and slipped it over my head. I dug through a few drawers in the kitchen until I found a flashlight and tucked it into my pocket for the walk back.

  I followed the well-carved path down to the shore and saw a group of people probably a little younger than my parents milling around the campfire and dock.

  “Mind if I take a seat?” I asked one of the couples sitting closest to the fire.

  A larger man with a reddish beard slid down to make room for me. “The more the merrier,” he answered and extended his hand. “I’m Alan.”

  “Gigi” I answered, taking a seat beside him.

  “Are you here for the fair?” he asked.

  “Just hiding out for a few days.” I held my sweatshirt away from my body, so he could see the Chinooka emblem. “I used to be a counselor here.”

  “This place must be pretty great in the summertime when it’s overflowing with kids and activities.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, it’s pretty special. Are all of you here for the Renaissance fair?”

  “We’re part of a traveling theater troupe hired to perform at the fairs. Sometimes Shakespeare. Sometimes Marlowe. This festival I’m Henry VIII in A Man for All Seasons.”

  I tossed some branches into the dying fire. “Oh, right. The red hair and the beard and everything. I see it. That’s great.”

  “It isn’t Elizabeth, but so far, the audiences seem to be enjoying it. Hey, did you know the composer of Elizabeth, Perry Gillman, was a counselor here? We ran into the camp’s director earlier. Talked our ear off about it. Speak of the devil, there he is. Gordy, come join us,” Alan
shouted over to him.

  Gordy trudged over to the campfire, and I stood up to greet him.

  He pulled me in for a big bear hug. “Gigi, it’s been too long.”

  “How’ve you been, Gordy?”

  “I can’t complain. How’ve you been?”

  “I’m good. Everything’s good.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You can’t lie to me. I’ve known you since you were nine years old.”

  I looked down at the ground. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been better.”

  “You know what you need, don’t you?”

  I shook my head.

  “S’mores.” He looked up and back toward the camp’s Great Lawn. “Too bad the kitchen and Canteen are closed.”

  “I have all the ingredients back in my room. A Chinooka camper is always prepared.”

  He laughed, and I hustled back to the cabin. I grabbed the chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers and hurried back down to the lakefront where Gordy was building the fire back up. Most of the other guests had gone back to their cabins for the night. Only Alan and a woman he later introduced as his wife, Linda, stayed behind.

  I passed around the supplies, and Gordy handed out small branches. We each loaded our sticks with marshmallows and held them over the flames. When mine was mostly toasted, and on the verge of charring, I pulled it out of the fire and squished it between the two graham crackers and piece of chocolate. I took a bite and let the melted marshmallow ooze out the sides.

  “Taste as good as you remember it?” Gordy asked.

  “Better,” I answered.

  He motioned toward the trail. “Let’s take a walk.”

  I followed him away from the lake and up to the Great Lawn. We sat down in the far gazebo, the same one where I’d said goodbye to Joshua and tried to rekindle my friendship with Alicia. Gordy stood up and pointed to some of the improvements he’d made to the camp over the last couple of years since I was a counselor. A new putting green, squash court, and computer lab. Then, he told me about the most shocking improvement of all. He’d finally agreed to remove the shower houses and had installed showers in each bunk. Part of me was sad that future Chinookans wouldn’t have the same authentic camp experience I had, but, deep down, I knew it was probably a much-appreciated upgrade.