One S'more Summer

by Beth Merlin

  “You can’t be cold?” he said, noticing my tremble.

  “Maybe it’s the sunburn,” I said, taking the tube of aloe out of my pocket and rubbing it into my arms.

  “I can get your back for you if you want?”

  Since my objective for the day had been to erase the mark on my chest, my back was the only part of my body that wasn’t burned. I didn’t tell him that and passed him the tube. I moved my bucket in front of him so he’d be able to reach me.

  “Bet you’re wishing you’d taken my advice, Princess?” he said, rubbing the aloe between his hands.

  In that moment, I was happy to have disregarded it so that he had a reason to have his hands on me. My hot skin drank in the cold lotion. He massaged it into my back and shoulders while I leaned into him.

  “Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he said in an almost-whisper.

  “No, not hurting me,” I said softly. “You know, three years may seem like a really long time to be working on something, but some artists work for years on their masterpieces. It took Michelangelo more than four years to complete his fresco on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.”

  “Where’d you learn that? On one of those tours that takes American teenagers through the greatest hits of Europe?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied straightening my back again.

  “Did your parents take you as a present when you graduated from high school?”

  “For my sweet sixteen,” I said.

  He started laughing. “See, Princess, you aren’t too hard to read.”

  Eric shouted to him before I could respond. “Yo, Perry, we need you over here with your guitar to play something,”

  “I should go.”

  I nodded. Perry slowly brought his hands up the length of my arms and let them linger on my shoulders for a moment. All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I turned to look at him. Our eyes locked for a just a moment before he quickly drew back and away from me. I wrapped my arms around myself, wondering if I was chillier from the sunburn or the sudden cold shoulder from Mr. Gillman as he walked away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  True to his word, Jamie came up to see me the following Saturday. I was just finishing breakfast when I heard my name being paged to the office over the camp’s loudspeaker. Although I’d only been at camp for a few weeks, it felt more like a few years, and I couldn’t wait to see a familiar face. Waiting for me in front of the office, Jaime stood holding a large cardboard box, which I assumed was the sewing machine. He was dressed completely wrong, in white linen pants, a light blue button-down shirt, and aviator sunglasses. Upon seeing me, he put the box down, and I rushed over to throw my arms around him.

  “Whoa,” he said, putting his foot back to steady himself. “I missed you, too.”

  I stepped away from him to fully take in his look. “What exactly are you wearing?”

  “You don’t like? I was channeling Robert Redford in Out of Africa. Who are you channeling, Dirty Harry-et?”

  I wore ripped jean shorts and a Camp Chinooka tank top—not at all the perfectly coiffed Manhattanite fashionista he was used to seeing. “I’m just worried your white pants aren’t going to make it out of here in the same pristine condition they arrived in. But yes, you nailed it, Robert Redford in Out of Africa. I totally see it. You look great.”

  “Well, you, my dear, look skinny. What have you been eating, or rather not eating?”

  “It’s not intentional. I’ve been sustaining myself on s’mores and ice cream. Who knew it would be a better diet than Atkins?”

  “S’mores?”

  “It’s a camp thing. Chocolate and toasted marshmallow squished between graham crackers. So good you always want some more or s’more, get it?”

  He pulled out a bag of bagels from H&H, my favorite bagel shop in New York. “Not really, but rest assured, I come bearing carbs.”

  “And cream cheese?” I asked, my stomach grumbling.

  “Two kinds, scallion and vegetable.”

  “Bless you.” I didn’t even bother to split a bagel before devouring it, breaking off pieces and dipping them into the scallion cream cheese.

  “What’s that?” I said, eyeing the familiar green-and-white coffee cup stacked on top of the box.

  “A skinny vanilla latte, but it’s cold now. I was looking for a place I could dump it.”

  “No way! What are you crazy?” I said, grabbing the cup and gulping it down. It was cold but delicious. I was convinced I could feel the caffeine hit my bloodstream instantly.

  “Addict much?”

  “I haven’t had a cup of real coffee in weeks. I basically had no choice but to do a full detox. It was harder than when I gave up cigarettes.”

  “You smoked for like a week,” he said, laughing. “You know, I think I was wrong to give you a hard time about working here. You’ve lost weight, given up caffeine, and are clearly putting much less emphasis on your looks. It seems like you should be paying them for these accommodations. In fact, who can I talk to about booking myself a room?”

  “This man, actually,” I said, pointing to Gordy. I walked Jamie over to introduce him. “Gordy, this is my friend, Jamie Malone. He very kindly drove up my electric sewing machine and some fabric so I can get to work on the costumes for the show.”

  “Any friend of Gigi’s,” Gordy said, extending his hand. Then he stood back and stared at Jamie like he was trying to place him. “Do I know you?”

  “Jamie was on the first season of Top Designer with me,” I interjected before Jamie could burst into his usual speech about how he was completely robbed.

  “Can’t say I watched that. You weren’t a camper here?”

  “No, sir. My parents sent me to a Bible camp in West Virginia one summer. I got kicked out three days in,” Jamie answered.

  Gordy shook his head and walked away.

  “Nice one, Malone. Now he thinks I hang out with degenerates at home.”

  “I was eleven. I refused to wear the camp uniform. Brown shorts and a tan T-shirt? Hideous.”

  “Say no more,” I said, putting my hand up. “How was the drive up here?”

  “It was great. I was with Joan and Judy.”

  “Joan and Judy?”

  “Joan Jetta and Judy Garmin, the car and the navigation system,” he said as if everyone named their modes of transport.

  “I have no words,” I said through a smirk. “So, you want a tour of the grounds?”

  He put his arm around me. “Love one.”

  I took him to the athletic fields and then showed him all the activity studios. I explained that Saturday was a free day. All the studios were open so that campers could finish projects they may not have had time to finish during the week. Most of my girls were, of course, not taking advantage and were instead tanning down by the lake. Within seconds of seeing Jamie, the girls started firing off questions about Top Designer, and he happily embraced his fan base. When they finally backed down, we went to see the Lakeside Amphitheater.

  We sat down on one of the wood benches, and I took out my sketchbook. He thoughtfully looked at each of the drawings for a few minutes before turning to the next one. When he was finally done, he said, “These are really great, Gigi, the wedding dress especially. It’s magnificent.”

  For the pinnacle scene in the show—when Tzeitel, the oldest daughter, married Motel the tailor—I’d sketched a lace wedding gown based off of the black-and-white photograph of my great-grandmother on her wedding day that my mother kept on her dresser. It was an ambitious design and the first time I’d ever sketched a wedding gown. I wasn’t sure I even had the necessary skills to construct it.

  “I may have gotten a little bit carried away for it being a camp production, but once I put pencil to paper, the ideas just came.”

  He flipped back and forth between the pages. “There’s a lot of work here. More work than one person can possibly complete in five weeks.”

  “I could maybe see if some of the campers are interested
in fashion design and get them to help with some of the garments?”

  “That might work for the simpler pieces, but for the wedding gown and the fiddler’s suit, you’re going to need more experienced hands.”

  “I’ll get it done,” I replied.

  Deep down, though, I knew he was right. With all my other responsibilities, even if I had another ten weeks, I couldn’t possibly get all the costumes finished on my own.

  “I’ll help you.”

  “Jamie, when I showed these to you, it wasn’t so you’d offer to help me, I swear. But thank you. Seriously.” I turned and gave him a hug. We sat in an embrace for a few seconds before I heard the rustle of leaves behind me and someone clearing his throat. I turned around and there was Perry, holding his violin case.

  “Sorry to interrupt. We have a rehearsal starting in fifteen minutes. I’m Perry,” he said, reaching his hand out toward Jamie.

  “Perry?” Jamie repeated as he stood up.

  “Have we met?”

  “No, I’m Jamie Malone, a friend of Gigi’s.

  I stood up next to Jamie. “Jamie’s a friend from home. He’s offered to help me out with the costumes for the show.”

  “Good for you.” He unpacked his violin and walked to the stage, where he began warming up.

  “See what I’ve had to deal with?” I whispered to Jamie.

  “I do indeed,” he said, staring at Perry.

  I nudged his side. “Stop. He isn’t that good-looking,” I said. “Okay, he is that good-looking, but he’s a piece of work.”

  Jamie stood up and looked around. “So this is where it all began?”

  “Where all what began?”

  “A life of pining for Joshua Baume.”

  “When you say it like that it sounds so pathetic.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Well, what would you call it then? Gigi, I supported your ridiculous decision to come here when I believed that some time and distance would give you perspective. What you didn’t tell me was that this place is an emotional minefield. Every place you step, you risk getting blown to pieces by a memory that includes Joshua or Alicia or both of them.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “It’s not? Then why can’t you even see what’s right in front of you?”

  “What’s right in front of me?”

  He pointed to Perry, who was standing center stage, still playing his violin as if he were giving a concert at the Met and not in the middle of the woods.

  “Sweetie, I was with Alicia at Kleinfeld’s when she said yes to the dress. I saw her in the big white gown holding the big, beautiful bouquet, rattling on and on to the salesgirl about her incredible fiancé who she’s known since she was nine and the best friend who introduced them. This story is only going to have one ending,” he said.

  “I know that. And I want that ending for her. In my head, I can almost believe there are two Joshuas—the one who has loved Alicia his whole life and the one I loved for all of mine.”

  “Look, three people in the world know you’re here. Me and your parents. You have the freedom to reinvent yourself this summer. Do you know what I’d give to disappear for a few months and reemerge as anybody other than the guy who got kicked off Top Designer first because he couldn’t construct a couture wedding gown out of toilet paper?” Episode “Code Wed” would haunt Jamie forever.

  “Well, it was a pretty ugly dress,” I said with a wink.

  “Some relationships are all passion and fire, but when the smoke clears, it’s just two people looking at each other, realizing it simply can’t be.”

  “Like Rhett and Scarlett?” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Although, didn’t they eventually get together at the end of Scarlett?”

  “What have I told you about mentioning that travesty of a novel?”

  Scarlett was the widely panned sequel to Jamie’s beloved Gone with the Wind. The sheer mention of the book usually sent him into a complete tirade. “But those chapters in Ireland are so moving,” I said, egging him on.

  “Gigi…”

  “I hear you. I really do. I’m right there. I’m on the edge of getting over him once and for all. I just need a little more time.”

  “Darling, take all the time you need.” Jamie kissed my forehead. “Just don’t forget to enjoy the incredible scenery while you’re doing it,” he said, looking over at Perry, who was finishing up his serenade.

  I spent the rest of the day showing Jamie around Chinooka and my favorite spots on the property. He especially enjoyed The Canteen and meeting Rita, who instantly recognized him from Top Designer. She was completely enamored, offering free ice cream in exchange for any show-related gossip he could remember. I reminded her that I’d been a finalist, but she didn’t seem to have any recollection of that.

  Jamie was enjoying his D-list celebrity status at Chinooka so much that I practically had to escort him off the grounds at the end of the day. He took my sketch of the wedding gown and offered to send a muslin mockup of the pattern back in a few weeks. Most of the lace detailing would have to be done by hand, as would the construction of the corset top. I was grateful for Jamie’s offer to partner with me, especially considering I hadn’t even begun work on the fiddler’s suit.

  During my career, I hadn’t worked on much menswear. In order to get the fiddler’s suit right, I’d have to devote a large amount of time to it. I asked Davis to have Perry meet me at my makeshift design studio in the back of the arts and crafts cabin, so I could take his measurements and get started. We hadn’t spoken much since the bonfire, but time was running out. Perry obliged and came to see me the next night.

  I was on the ground hemming a dress from Act One, so Perry didn’t immediately see me. I watched as he skimmed through the racks, stopping to look at each costume for a few seconds before moving on to the next one. Finally, I cleared my throat so he’d know I was there.

  “You made all of these yourself?” He walked a full circle around the dress I was sitting beneath. “Some of them are really quite good.”

  “Thank you.” I reached out for help getting off the ground, and he politely grasped my hand.

  “So what happened?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “To the woman New York Magazine named their Most Talented Up and Coming Designer?”

  “Oh her. She ended up being a big fat failure,” I said, pulling a tape measure out of the pocket of my apron. “Arms out. Let’s get you measured.”

  He stretched his arms out and changed his stance, mimicking Da Vinci’s The Vitruvian Man. I had to laugh. “A little less exaggeration, please. I’m taking your measurements, not giving you a prostate exam.”

  “Okay, work your magic,” he said, adjusting his position.

  “You can relax your arms. I’ll start with your chest and work my way around.” He adjusted his stance as I measured across his broad back.

  He tried to turn his head to speak to me. “So who was that guy I saw you with? The one you were showing around camp? Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Head straight. Jamie? No, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend—maybe my best friend now.”

  He turned around to face me. “Now?”

  Nothing got past Perry. He had an uncanny knack for picking up on subtext. “Things are a little complicated with my best friend, Alicia.”

  “What’d she do to you?”

  “You’re giving me the benefit of the doubt? That’s a first. In this case, though, you’d be wrong. I am entirely at fault. Okay, now arms out.”

  I came around to his chest and stretched the measuring tape across it.

  “I’m listening,” he said, taking a hold of both my hands and lowering them. He relaxed his pose and stepped back from me.

  I took a deep breath. “I’ve spent my whole life in love with my best friend’s soon-to-be husband. She left for London for work and broke up with him before her trip.”

  “And the two of you got togeth
er?”

  I nodded. “When she got home, they reconciled. They’re getting married in a few weeks.” I looked down at the ground. “She doesn’t know anything ever happened between us.”

  “He didn’t want you to tell her?”

  “He did. He actually begged me to come clean. I was the one who didn’t want to say anything.”

  “Why? Were you afraid of losing her?”

  “Yes, of course. But I was also afraid of losing him,” I said with a conviction that took me by surprise.

  I’d never uttered that sentence to myself let alone out loud. I’d thought if Alicia found out about my relationship with Joshua she’d pull away from me and, by extension, he would too. I’d naively reasoned that by saying nothing and giving him up, I’d be able to hold onto them both. The truth was, in staying silent, the person I’d really lost was myself. I looked up at Perry, searching his for signs of disdain or contempt. I couldn’t find either.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “Not judging me too harshly, even if I deserve it.”

  “So is that why you’re here? You’re trying to get over him?”

  “I know. It’s stupid to think I could run away from my life.”

  He lightly touched my arm. “It’s not so stupid. So are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Over him?”

  All the tears and feelings I’d been holding back for the last year came flooding out like a dam had burst. I tried to wipe them away before Perry could think I was any more foolish than I was sure he already did. I turned away from him, but he pulled me back around so we were face-to-face.

  Perry wiped the tears from my cheeks and wrapped his arms around me, drawing me into his chest. He rocked me back and forth while gently running his fingers through my hair. He lifted my chin up and leaned in to kiss me.

  He kissed me softly, like he was afraid if he used too much force I might retreat. I moved my body closer to his to let him know I wasn’t going anywhere, and he pulled me into him. He reached behind me and untied the apron I was wearing, then pulled it up and over my head and tossed it onto the sewing table.