I entered the studio and the screen door slammed behind me, immediately getting everyone’s attention.
“Hey, Lori, anything wrong?” Maggie asked.
“Are we on the clock 24/7? It hit me during my run that we’re truly at the Bergers’ beck and call for the next eight weeks.”
“Seven days times eight weeks multiplied by twenty-four hours a day, that makes, let’s see . . . 1,344 hours,” Roger said.
“Are we talking consecutively?” Abby asked.
“Less our days off,” Maggie said.
“Math aside, he knows when we’re sleeping . . .” I said.
“. . . he knows when we’re awake,” Abby added.
“And there are enough eyes and ears around here that he definitely knows if you’ve been bad or good,” Maggie said. “I’ll get you coffee while you fill us in.”
“I met Mike down by the lake—the guy who lives in the trailer at the waterfront. There was something, I don’t know, something salacious about him, you know, part sexy, part skanky.”
“Salacious Mike. I love that. Can we start calling him that? At breakfast later I’m gonna say, ‘Hey, Salacious Mike, can you please pass the salt?’” Maggie said.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to make fun of a military man, especially a Navy SEAL. They can kill you with their bare hands,” Roger said.
“What Lori says is true. We bartered our freedom in exchange for free camp for our kids,” Abby said.
“That makes me feel dirty,” I said.
“Your feelings match the coffee—both dirty.” Maggie handed me a cup.
“What’re we gonna do with this revelation?” I asked.
“We signed on to work here for the summer, so let’s reframe it as a fun adventure we get to share with our kids.”
“You know, Maggie, I find it irritating how you always see the big picture so clearly and put it into words so succinctly.” Abby dunked a cookie into her coffee.
Maggie shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
“I guess I can get through anything as long as I can see the light at the end of the tunnel,” I said. “At least we have each other for the next eight weeks. I’m happy we’ll be sharing this experience together—otherwise I think I’d lose my mind.”
“How bad can it be? Mindy and Bethany keep coming back year after year,” Maggie said.
Abby and I trudged up another hill after having spent most of the day walking up and down the stairs of the four Cubs and four Chipmunks cabins.
We had decided to do the bunk assignments together. The cabins looked bleak with only the bare bunks lined up against the walls.
We sat opposite each other while I flipped pages to find the info on campers in cabin one. I read the special needs out loud.
“Let’s see. Sarah is afraid of the dark.”
“We should put her in the back because the bathroom light will be on all night,” Abby said.
“Good idea.” I wore a roll of masking tape like a bracelet and wrote Sarah’s name in black sharpie on a strip that I stuck on the bunk where she would sleep.
We spent the rest of the day making beds and putting away clothes, toiletries, and sports gear sent ahead by parents. This way when the campers arrived they’d be greeted with familiar items from home.
In the last cabin, Abby started laughing. “Where should we put Samantha? She’s afraid of sharks.”
We just lost it, giggling uncontrollably. When we caught our breath, Abby said, “In all seriousness, it’s important deciding where these girls sleep.”
