Camp

 

It was my first time away from home and I was scared shitless.
Olman sent me to girl scout camp. Of all places. Rubik cube meets a dandelion.
We drive up on a hot summer day. I crack open the creaky screen door of the rustic log cabin, scopin’ the bunks and the roommate situation. One with a bible, brush and comb.
Another bed full of Nancy Drew. Another with a sketchbook and origami.
But in the corner, pickin’ softly on her guitar was a pretty freckled girl with
long warm auburn hair. Quick squinty grins traded. We hit it off like a shot.
For two weeks we pledge undying love. She was my girlover. My friend.

My First Weekend Invited
To Her House

4H Clubs? Family dinners? A father tying a child’s shoe? Milk money?
My first introduction to a “normal” family.

When I Invited Her
To My House

At first she thought I was the luckiest child alive. Secret butler pantries. Hidden rooms.
A house full of secrets. We’d spy on people and bring hot trays of food up the spiral staircase
to elderly gentlemen. Runaways were our brother and sister.
Olman had a boss named Jerk. Big shot guy who was a binge drinker.
He’d hide out at our house for his little excursions. Olman sucked up to him a bit.
Ruth had to wait on the guy, being Olman's boss and all. We had fun with him. Mocking. Pretending we were waitresses. “Would you like carrots or peas, sir?”
When Girlover came down from her pristine Vermont farmhouse,
she met the Osborne family. A whole new flawed world opened up to her.
Shit happens.
So Jerk was like, bombed. We play with him like some kind of marionette. Suddenly, the guy awakens from his stupor, pulls Girlovers drawstring jammies down and starts fingering her.
Bro comes to the rescue, pullin’ her off. Lots a wailing later, her dad drives down at 5 in the morning.
Angry voices thunder the night. Then the night whisked her away forever.