Camptown Ladies

by Mari SanGiovanni

  Erica and I both saw a fire ignite in Dad’s eyes. “Airflow is the key,” Dad said. He paused to make a pompous stride forward, closer to the tower. “It’s simple enough, but you still have to do it just right, so the structure doesn’t collapse while it’s burning. If it collapses, that would create a lot of smoke, which can snuff it out entirely.” Dad studied the tower and said, “We’ll need to use a basic tee-pee construction of birch bark for the inner heart of the fire, since that’s the best wood we have here on the East Coast for igniting. Then we’ll surround it with an overlapping square log structure. That’s the safest way to build it high, with the minimum danger of collapsing.”

  It did not occur to Dad that he was surrounded by expert builders and Erica let him think he was directing the whole thing, from selecting the perfect spot for the fire to the method in which they would move the tower. Before long, Dad was tearing into that tower like he had been dying to get rid of it, shouting out instructions to Erica’s men, who had been instructed by Erica to do whatever Dad said. The crew sprang into action as if they were in boot camp.

  When Dad clumsily stumbled over some wood in his haste to scout out the best location for the fire, Erica turned to Uncle Freddie and said, “I’m counting on you to be second in command on this project. And by second, I really mean first.”

  Uncle Freddie laughed his wheezy laugh. “You got it, boss.” And with that, he trailed after Dad, directing him away from the trees to suggest the more open field. Dad put his arm around Freddie and said, “You sure you’re OK with us using Aggie’s tower?” Uncle Freddie nodded and said, “You sure you’re OK?” I heard Dad laugh at him.

  Lisa had hurried off to The Dove and Erica and I were left standing alone. “Well done,” I said. “Thanks for handling Dad.”

  Erica wouldn’t look at me, but she gave a small smile and said, “I’ve worked with men long enough to know when you want them to do something, best to make them think it’s their idea,” she said. We both fell silent then, and she finally looked at me as my stomach flipped over and over under her stare. Good Lord. Nobody should be that beautiful.

  I started walking as I said, “So, Vince is off to Vegas for a bachelor party.” Erica followed at my side. “Worried?”

  “Why would I be worried?” she asked.

  I thought, Of course she shouldn’t be worried. What man in his right mind would think there was any woman more spectacular than her? It was likely that anyone who ever fell for her still loved her today, and always would. She had no worries about that. I was the one with the worries.

  I blurted out, “Lisa knows something happened between us.”

  Erica stopped walking, but she didn’t look at me. She stared straight ahead and said, “You told her it was over.”

  “Yes,” I said, with the ridiculous hope she would fight me on this. How could it be over? How could she start over so soon after that last kiss? It was a kiss that haunted me, and I was convinced it always would. This is how I wanted it to go, I reminded myself. This is how it had to go.

  She turned toward her truck and called over her shoulder, “I have some things to do off site, but I’ll be back late afternoon to check the crew.”

  When she walked away, I felt a hard lump settle in my throat as I often did these days. Clearly, she was using any excuse to be away from camp to avoid being around me. When Erica turned back to look at me as she was driving off, I realized I had been frozen there, staring after her truck. Lisa was beside me again, and, feeling caught, I stupidly waved to Erica’s truck. For a moment, I thought Erica saw me in her rearview mirror and that she had waved back, but I realized instead that she was wiping her hands across both of her cheeks. Had I made her cry again? My stomach turned.

  Lisa grabbed my waving hand and pulled it down to my side. She was not angry, and instead pity filled her eyes. She held on to my wrist and said, “We now officially have cable in the store. Come see.”

  “Don’t drag me in there to see a friggin’ football game.”

  “No, much better! Hurry, before a stupid kid comes in to buy candy or something.”

  She dragged me by my arm into the store, which was empty. Mom had made a Wal-mart run for supplies as we were out of black licorice again. I saw the cause of my sister’s excitement. The installation of the widescreen TV had been completed high on the wall in the back of the store, and as luck would have it, Lisa had found the movie Desert Hearts on cable. Except for the danger of someone walking into the store, it might have been the perfect distraction, but I’d watched this movie before with my sister, and she watched it like a football sport announcer—if a football announcer narrated a sex scene. As Lisa’s luck would have it, the famous sex scene was about to begin, and off she went:

  LISA: Oh, Lordy! Helen Shaver in that sherbet-colored robe. Raspberry, yummy, my favorite. Just makes me want to lick her silly. You think the director chose that color for this reason?

  MARIE: Oh, sure.

  LISA: Oh fuck, the dark-haired one is hot, too. Which one do I want? Which one do I want?

  MARIE: You may not have to decide right now.

  LISA: Woo-ho! Here’s where Helen peeks around the corner of the room and the dark-haired girl surprises her by getting naked.

  MARIE: You know Helen is the actress’s name.

  LISA: Wait for it. Waaaaaait for it—boom! Naaaaakid!

  MARIE: You’re ruining this movie for me. Again. Forever.

  LISA: Now, Helen hesitates.

  MARIE: Vivian hesitates.

  LISA: She tries to make the dark-haired one take her clothes . . . but, then, lowers her hand . . . she doesn’t hand them to her! Oh no! She does not want her to put the clothes on . . .

  MARIE: I have eyes. I can see all this happening.

  LISA: Helen wants it, she wants it so bad! Oh! Here is where she nervously tucks that piece of hair behind her ear. And it falls out, and she tucks it back again. Oh, she is soooo uncomfortable with this.

  MARIE: Well, you should have your hair out of your face at a time like this.

  LISA: So, what’s up with the messy hair, anyway?

  MARIE: I don’t know, you brought it up.

  LISA: I’d still fuck the crap out of her, even with that rat’s nest hair.

  MARIE: You should call her agent. She’ll be so relieved. (Lisa hits my arm, hard.)

  LISA: Uh-oh, she’s locking the hotel room door. Here’s where they are gonna make out! Look how much they want it. Look at that. Don’t tell me that ain’t real!

  MARIE: It’s not real. It’s a movie.

  LISA: Bullshit! That scene earlier, when Helen watches the dark-haired girl with that guy on the dance floor? You could practically see her get wet right on screen! Nobody acts that well. Bold choice wearing those tight cowboy jeans when you really think about it.

  MARIE: You’re disgusting.

  LISA: Oh, God. Listen to the make-out noises!

  MARIE (I am starting to laugh now): I can’t hear a thing over the pig commentary.

  LISA: Oh my god Jesus! . . . The nip to nip touch is coming soon . . . but first the little string of spit during the make-out. . . there it is! Boom! She crushes it!

  MARIE: Lisa, seriously, shut up. The whole camp can probably hear you—

  LISA: The nips, the nips! Touchdown! Yessss!

  (Lisa was now jumping up and down with both fists in the air as if she herself had pulled the woman across a finish line made of tits.)

  MARIE: Really? Jumping? You have watched this a million—

  LISA: Holy shit! Here’s the quick cutaway to the pussy, right there, got that one by the sensors, then Helen’s gonna come, right on top of her! That’s so hot!

  MARIE: Usually, but right now, it isn’t.

  LISA: Hey, can you do that? So economical, no fingers, no toys, just the rubbing. I need to learn to do that. Good option, easy clean-up. Respect, Helen, respect.

  MARIE: There’s something wrong with you.

  LISA: Whooo-hoo! Here it comes! B
oom!!! Yessss—Score!

  Just then, we hear a man outside rushing toward the camp store with two very young kids in tow as he says to them, “I have to stop in and check the score!”

  This sends Lisa diving for the remote, desperate to shut off the TV before the kids get an eyeful of tits, just as the guy runs into the store, looking totally confused to find the TV shut down.

  Lisa flings the remote back onto the counter as she says, “Damn! Cable went out just as there was a touch down. But it looks like there’ll be a big spread.”

  I lose myself in a belly laugh that doubles me over the counter.

  Twenty-Eight

  If a Lesbian Falls In The Woods, Does She Make a Sound?

  Erica came back as promised to check on the crew. She had changed into a thick cream-colored sweater in anticipation of the cool night air. The light color set off the warm hue of her skin and the light shade of her eyes. I was working with Lisa at the Dove Gaio Mangia, when Erica scanned the hall before spotting me. I looked away from her and busied myself with the buffet table, but Lisa had witnessed the exchange.

  Lisa was not someone who ever looked worried. She was too strong an influence on the world around her to have irrational fears that she could not make anything bend to her wishes. But even from the distance from the buffet table to the kitchen I could plainly see the worry on her face.

  Without Vince around to help, and Mom convinced she would be needed to supervise Dad (we agreed, a wise choice), it took Lisa and I until nightfall before we had the restaurant shut down for the evening. Tonight, with the impending bonfire, there would be no amateur drag show, and the silence of the hall when we closed down was eerie. I shut down the fog machine and watched as the white cloud lowered closer to the floor until it crawled along the floor, spilling off the edges and dissolving into the damp grass and gravel around the hall.

  The rest of the campground was quiet too. Most of the campers had already gathered in the field and set up lawn chairs and blankets, so the campsites were dark without the usual dotting of small campfires. Lisa was unusually quiet, and that was the most eerie of all. Even Lisa’s little Min Pin, Cindy-Lu, trotted along without once reminding the chipmunks who was boss in these here parts. Lisa’s silence seemed to be rattling her as well.

  Finally, Lisa broke the silence. “You know, even if it doesn’t work out with them—”

  “I know,” I said.

  Still, she cautioned me needlessly, “Remember Hanni,” she said, futilely. I remembered that every day. “Except maybe for that little boy, Buddy, Vince has only loved two people outside of his family.”

  “I know.”

  The open field was alive with everyone at the camp. Erica was instructing the crew to make last-minute adjustments to the woodpile, which towered majestically in the moonlight. Dad, aka Woody, stood closest to the tower, looking prouder than he had at his kids’ college graduations. I knew my sister and I were both hoping that he wouldn’t have second thoughts as the lighter approached.

  “Why don’t we stay on this side,” Lisa said. We were on the opposite side of the field that Erica was on. Not waiting for an answer, Lisa laid a blanket on the cool, dewy grass, and Cindy-Lu immediately claimed it as her own, ready to watch the show. Lisa and I joined her, and Cindy-Lu opted to sit on the end of Lisa’s knee instead, looking like a little bird perched on a building.

  With the preparations for the fire, Erica had not yet spotted us directly across from her. Lisa had given her instructions to light the fire at 8:30 sharp, regardless of whether we had finished closing the restaurant, and the crew prepared under Erica’s instructions to do just that. She made a group of campers move back a few feet before passing the lighter to Dad to do the honors. Dad stepped a few feet closer, then stopped. Lisa and I both held our breath, but were both relieved when he handed the torch to Uncle Freddie instead of Dad.

  Lisa snorted, “Whew, I thought he was going to take the lighter and run for it.”

  When Uncle Freddie lit the wood and the flames quickly licked up the tower, I got more mileage over the joke about Dad forever hearing the Screaming Of The Limbs, and Lisa snorted with laughter, slapping hard at my knee. I wondered if Erica would hear Lisa laughing, but the crowd was cheering and clapping as the bonfire climbed to its full height, and she had not spotted us yet.

  Erica was looking past the crowd for us, and I could see she was disappointed, believing she had to light the fire without us. She had a blanket laid out, and she stayed on one edge, leaving the rest of it open as she stared over the fire and the crowd. I saw her look over to the Dove, where the tiny white lights cast a twinkling glow in the blackness of the night. I thought Erica looked distressed now, and I wondered if she too was thinking about our kiss on that roof. Warmth spread within me, aided by the blazing bonfire. I saw her eyes lower to the large empty side of the blanket next to her, and she shifted herself to the middle. She looked up then, across the bonfire, and her eyes finally met my stare.

  Lisa was saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear her over the pounding in my ears, so I just said, “Uh, huh.”

  Across the fire, I could see Erica’s breathing quicken, her sweater rising and falling as she stared at me, unblinking, unsmiling. Someone in her crew broke her stare by directing her attention to a piece of the fire that had crumbled out of the stone formation, but people were seated safely back and she assessed no danger, so she waved him away. Her eyes snapped back and stayed fixed on me.

  Despite witnessing her breathing, there was a coolness in her gaze, an indifference that hurt as much as not having her, and when she finally looked away, I felt a sharp stab in my chest, and the pain increased with each minute she chose not to look back at me. This was worse. Much worse. What did I expect? Isn’t this what I wanted her to do? I had asked her to leave this alone and move on, but with every second I felt her trying, the heat of the fire was suffocating me.

  My eyes burned in fair warning, and I knew I couldn’t fall apart here. I stood up, and lied to my sister, “The smoke’s getting to me.”

  “You wimp, it’s not that bad, but we can move back if you want,” she said, starting to get up.

  I put my hand on her shoulder to make her stay put. “I just have to go,” I said, knowing my voice betrayed me as I walked away.

  I was comforted by the darkness that swallowed me, relieved by the blindness of the black night as I bolted from the fire in the fastest walk I thought I could get away with that would not cause attention from others, beyond my sister. I didn’t want to walk in the direction of the camp where there might be a few latecomers strolling to the bonfire, so I turned toward the woods. I glanced back only once, and told myself that nobody could see me over the brilliance of the bonfire, and walked on. Maybe I even ran a little.

  When I reached the edge of the woods, I felt tears chilling my cheeks, wiped them on my sleeve, and saw that away from the fire the moonlight had lit up my white sweatshirt to a luminous neon blue. I wondered again if I could be seen by the campers, but was comforted by how blinded I was when I left the light of the fire. When I was at last convinced I was completely under the cover of darkness, I let myself think of Erica, of her with my brother, of how much I loved them both, of how selfishly I did not want them together—and I let myself cry as I could not have done anywhere else in the world. Not at the campground, not in my bed at night at the condo. I cried violently, a long and indulgent cry, until I was left struggling for air. But as quickly as I let myself go, I had to stop myself so I could breathe.

  I was leaning against a tree, bent over slightly, making ridiculous sounds trying to regain my breath, when I heard footsteps. Against the backdrop of the bonfire, I saw the distinctive silhouette of Erica, who had gotten extremely close without me hearing her over my gasping. I tried to recover, straighten myself up, but seeing her made me cry harder, and instead of standing, I caved into my shame and covered my face with my hands and dropped to my knees like a total fool.

  She ca
me closer, and I thought any impact would crash against me as if she were a demon in the night (she was, after all, the one person I could not have in the entire world), but when she knelt down in front of me and took me in her arms, I was astonished by her softness, and I could do nothing but bury my face against her shoulder. She only held me and said nothing. She waited for me to calm myself, and it took a terribly long time.

  While she waited, she talked to me.

  “I’m in such trouble,” she said, “I thought it was bad enough when I was confused, when you left California and I couldn’t figure out why I was so unhappy without you, why Vince couldn’t make me happy. But the confusion, that was easy. This, this is hard. Knowing what I want is hard. All I want is to look at you, be near you—all I want is you.”

  When I found enough air to lie, I said, “And all I want is you to be happy with him.”

  “That’s not what you want,” she said, then, when I tried to pull away, she locked on to me tighter, and then pulled her face back to cover my lips with hers, and I was gone. I was a little girl completely lost in the woods.

  I didn’t have the strength to fight it, I told myself this. I told myself I was too weak from the crying, too weak from wanting her, too weak from losing her to fight this anymore—or, did I just make the evil decision not to? Could someone this weak be returning her kisses this hard? I wondered this as her hands moved to the front of my sweatshirt. She unzipped it, and in a brief moment of sanity, I grabbed her wrists, but not before she had already landed both hands on my breasts and set my chest blazing like a satellite bonfire, in a very dangerous location. Bonfires in woods cause forest fires—bad idea, very, very, very bad idea.

  I knew all this, and yet, instead of peeling her hands off, I kissed her harder as I slid my hands from her wrists to let her grab me as hard as she wanted to—and this woman was so much stronger than she looked. The groan that escaped me (which I didn’t recognize as mine) gave her permission to kiss me more deeply, leaving me wondering how something so insanely soft could press so fucking hard against my lips.