Marilyn explained the living arrangements on the ride over. “The nonbunking female staff lives over the hill.”
“Over the hill?” I asked. “Nonbunking?”
“As a division leader, that’s DL, you’re nonbunking, meaning you don’t live with the campers. The counselors sleep in the cabins with the kids. You and the other DLs are over the hill.”
“Oh, I get it. It’s because we’re old?”
Marilyn seemed confused and pointed beyond my shoulder, “No, it’s over that hill.”
Ted laughed along with me.
Marilyn pulled up to tiny cottages surrounding a gravel parking area. She stopped in front of a tilted, whitewashed wooden building that looked as if staples and duct tape might be holding it together. I was pretty sure that one good huff and one good puff would topple it. She picked up her clipboard and scrolled down with her finger until she reached my name.
“Here are the keys for room two.” I must have looked concerned because Marilyn added, “It’s my favorite room. I decorated it myself with furnishings from my grandmother’s house.”
I had my doubts.
“Later I’ll show you the Cubs’ bunk,” Marilyn said.
“Cubs, like the baseball team?”
“No, like Woodlands’ creatures. Your daughter Zelda’s a Woodchuck and Hazel’s a Chipmunk, and the youngest campers, the group you’ll be taking care of, are the Cubs.” Marilyn glanced at her watch. “I’ll be back in half an hour to pick you up for your first meeting.”
Ted threw the duffel over his shoulder and followed me up the three wooden steps. The screen door slammed behind us, rattling the building.
“Trust me, it won’t be so bad,” Ted said. “The only time you’re in your room is to sleep. The firmness of the mattress will be the deciding factor.”
I fumbled with the lock.
“Can you move a little faster? All kidding aside, your bag isn’t getting any lighter.”
I opened the door and Ted dropped my stuff at the foot of the double bed. He pressed his hand on the mattress. “This feelssolid. You should be fine.” He stepped into the doorframe. “Are you good for now?”
“I feel like I should tip you.”
“The camp has a strict no tipping policy.” He smiled. “I’ll leave you to unpack. See you at the meeting.”
After he left, I felt a wave of loneliness. The last time I’d felt this alone was when my parents drove off, leaving me in front of my college dorm, where I knew exactly nobody. I had put myself in a similar situation: no friends and a shared bathroom. What had I been thinking?
I took a deep breath and surveyed the room I’d be sleeping in for the next two months. The bed was two short steps from the door, a four-drawer dresser with a warped mirror hung over the bureau against the opposite wall, and a few misshapen hangers hung in a tiny closet in the corner. Surprisingly, the room didn’t have that dank, musty smell I associated with cabins. Maybe because the room was filled with sun streaming through the catty-corner windows. In contrast to the basic items in the room, matching frilly lace curtains reminded me of my Grandma Mimi’s. I bounced on the mattress and my butt dipped backwards into the middle where it sagged. I counted in my head the number of nights I would have to sleep here—sixty-two.
I can do this. I must do this. I will do this.
A stream of light fell across my face. I decided that was a good omen.
The bathroom was a decent-sized square with a window that looked out onto the woods behind the building. The sink had two separate spigots, hot and cold. The last time I’d seen plumbing that ancient was at least twenty-five years earlier at the bungalow colony I had stayed in with my brother and parents. You had to turn on both taps, cup your hands, and flip back and forth to get the right temperature to wash your face.
I was pretty sure showering would also be challenging. I pulled back the shower curtain to check out the fixtures and was relieved to find a shiny new showerhead poking out of the wall—there wasn’t a hint of rust.
I had explained to Zelda and Hazel that my experience at their age was a day camp in upstate New York where you lived in a two-room cottage with your parents. They finally understood when I said it was like the movieDirty Dancing.
The door across from mine opened and a well-coiffed petite blonde stepped into the hallway, wearing huge sapphire studs emphasizing her blue eyes, as well as several gold chains around her neck and a diamond tennis bracelet. She looked like she was ready to attend a gala. I felt underdressed. I had purposely left my engagement ring home. Why would I need to wear expensive jewelry at camp? I wasn’t sure if I should’ve worn my gold wedding ring, but it was on my left ring finger where it’d been for the past fifteen years. I touched the gold filigree posts that were used to pierce my ears when I was sixteen.
“Hi, I’m Abby. Room one.”
“Hi, Abby. Lori, room two.”
Before we had a chance to talk, we heard a short, sharp toot. I peeked out the screen door and saw Marilyn sitting at the wheel of her golf cart.
