“Good morning,” he said, opening one eye.
I kissed him.
“How did you sleep?” he wondered.
“Amazing.” I stretched. “Thank you.”
“Told you you’d sleep better if we were together.” He grinned, his eyes still closed.
I rolled over. The alarm clock on the nightstand glowed. 11:15 a.m.
“Oh, shit!” I exclaimed. “We have to be back at camp at noon.”
“Who cares?” He yawned, raising his arms up over his head.
But we both cared. We packed our things, quickly took turns showering, grabbed a cup of coffee in the hotel lobby, and got to the car with 15 minutes to spare. Matt drove over the speed limit, lamenting the fact that we missed the free breakfast. I reminded him that once we got back to camp it would be time for lunch.
Just a few minutes late, we jogged down the road to the office to sign back in. I swung open the old, squeaky door, cocking out my hip to keep it from slamming shut, then stopped short at the sight of the diminutive woman in the chair by Joanie at the desk. It took me a moment to recognize the older lady with the uncharacteristically blotchy, pink face. I was all too familiar with the complexion of someone who had recently finished a crying spell. It was like looking in a mirror. Fear seized my chest, wrapping itself around my lungs.
“Aunt Lucy? What are you doing here?” My voice shook.
Silence. She looked lost. She clasped her hands together, as if in prayer, and put them to her lips.
Matt stood beside me silently.
Tears filled Aunt Lucy’s eyes before she could respond. “Honey, it’s your dad.”
The words rang in my head over and over again, like a siren, giving me an instant headache. I expected to feel something sudden, but the 60 milligrams of Prozac muted my surprise.
“What happened to Dad?”
Aunt Lucy squirmed in the chair as the assistant camp director, Ellie, came bounding into the office through the side door, two little girls following her eagerly.
“You get to do the CD, but I get to make the announcement!” the blonde one said, her freckles dancing on her cheeks as she bounced up and down in excitement. The redhead nodded excitedly.
I caught eyes with Ellie, who sensed the discomfort in the room. “Sorry, guys,” she began. “We’re just blowing the bugle for lunch, and then we’ll be out of your hair.”
Aunt Lucy’s lips were pursed, holding back an inferno of emotion and information that I could see all over her face. She was disheveled, her shirt untucked, her hair brushed but not its usual, rounded shape, her face lacking makeup, making her look at least 10 years older. Her hands were folded in her lap over her purse, clutching a used tissue.
Ellie opened the CD player and handed the disc to the redhead, who popped it into the deck of the old sound system. She closed the plastic door and jubilantly hit the play button. The loudspeaker above the office played the scratchy sound of the beginning of an old 45 record, which led into the peppy bugle song “Come and Get Your Beans,” the camp call to line up for a meal. The song took an eternity. Then, Ellie handed the microphone to the blonde girl and turned it on. “Lunchtime! All campers and staff report to the Lodge,” the little girl announced proudly.
Ellie patted the girl on the back and quickly put the microphone away. “Good job, girls. Let’s head on out now,” she said. “Sorry again,”she offered as the screen door to the office slammed loudly behind them, thanks to the tight spring hooked onto the frame.
“I’m going to grab lunch too. Give you all some privacy here,” Joanie echoed from her station at the desk. "I'm all set with the mail, anyway." She stood up, pushed her chair in, and put her hand on my shoulder on her way out, her head down the entire time.
Then we were alone, the three of us. Aunt Lucy took a deep breath.
I cleared my throat. “What happened to Dad?” I asked again.
Aunt Lucy’s eyes grew thick with tears. “There’s been an accident,” her voice cracked.
My throat closed. I brought my hand up to my head, pushing the hair out of my face, and saw that I was trembling. Matt placed his hand on my lower back, stroking his thumb up and down along my spine.
The words echoed ones I was far too familiar with, so holding it together was close to impossible. Lucy quickly realized the error she’d made. “He’s okay,” she corrected herself. “He’s alive. It’s nothing like that.”
I exhaled.
“But it’s still bad, honey,” Lucy continued. “He came to see me in Boston for a few days. Your dad’s been suffering a lot since everything happened with your mom.”
