Walla Walla University - Creative Writing Program Final Project

He insisted on talking to my parents.

I sat next to him on the L couch. I tried to put my legs up next to me to create space between us, but he kept edging closer. It was the middle of summer, but he threw a blanket over us. I wanted to hurl it, but I didn’t want to be rude.

If I didn’t believe in the power of summer camp love, I did now. It was resilient in the worst possible way.

It was my first year working at Leoni Meadows Summer Camp. I didn’t have any friends until I met Mark.

He was skinny, and he smelled like dirt, but he had that long brown surfer hair and my heart was still wounded from recent rejection. He worked the climbing wall and I was afraid of heights. That should have been my first indication of trouble.

Three weeks of flirting by the campfire and I was daydreaming in my cabin about days spent off with him. I mentioned casually that I liked Indian food; he declared that he loved Indian food.

The next day he cornered me on the way to the laundry and told me we both had Tuesday off next week.

I was excited, but also confused. “But the list isn’t up yet.”

“I got connections, girl.” He winked.

The next day the list was hung up in the Programming Offices and I saw he was right. I skipped back to my cabin to plan my outfit.

At Sunday morning flag raising we made official plans to go get Indian food. By Sunday night campfire he shaved his head.

I was horrified. I tried not to be, because it was in support for one of the older staff members had cancer. But, oh. He looked like white egg from a distance. I tried to tell myself looks didn’t matter.

On Tuesday at breakfast he came up to my table. “Shall we go?” Despite his new appearance, I tried to be excited. I smiled over my eggs, comparing the life-sized version before me. I was excited. Just, maybe a little less so.

After breakfast, I walked out to the gravel staff parking lot, dodging horse manure as I stepped. My car sat stoically waiting under a layer of brown dust. Then I noticed the flat tire. Mark tried to show off by changing the wheel outside of the Programming office, rolling up his sleeves and throwing himself heroically in the dirt for my honor. In the end he wasn’t strong enough and Pastor Eddie had to come out to help. Two minutes later we were on our way. I told myself it was the thought that counted.

When we got off the mountain and finally got cell service, Mark told me not to call my dad. He knew what he was doing. I followed him into Les Schwab and we came out half an hour later with no tire. Mark didn’t think it was a good deal to buy four new tires for the damage of one, so we drove down the freeway at 35 miles per hour for over an hour. I continually scanned the freeway for drivers with road rage as we slowed traffic while Mark pleasantly DJ’d, singing along to Ben Fold’s deeply moving song about lost lovers, and replaying especially moving passages when I didn’t show the appropriate response.

When we arrived, Mark really wanted to go swimming in our pool. Normally I liked to wear a bikini in front of a guy I wanted to impress. I went up to my room to change and tried to figure out what I wasn’t that excited. Instead I found myself putting on an old bathing suit from high school and wrinkling my nose in the mirror.

I felt extremely self-conscious walking down the steps to the pool, and clung to the beach towel.

Mark tried to do that cute-Oh-let-me-throw-you-in splash splash woo splash. Despite my very serious protests, I ended up in the deep end with a one-contact casualty. I told him it was okay and trudged back up to the house to put on my spares. I watched him from the window and counted to three hundred. Then I forced myself to go back to the pool.

When I got back he kept trying to pull me into his lap. I had sat on his lap before at camp, but never in water and never in a bathing suit. His knees were boney but I forced myself to sit up on them. Better than the alternative. I eventually was freed when I brilliantly suggested we play catch. No, back up. I can throw farther than that. Oops. Sorry. I’ll just wait while you climb out and get that.

By the time we got out of the pool for good I felt sure his baldhead was pruning. I went back up to my room and put on my clothes, relieved. I took as long as I dared, and when I came back downstairs, I found him trying to pull my brother into a conversation. Rory was quietly polite, but Mark’s questions about Rory’s anime collection felt condescending. I felt my stomach clench as I steered Mark to the other room.

“That was rude.” I said.

Mark raised his hands, “What? I was just asking questions.” He didn’t even bother to look defensive. “Come on, Rach!” He grabbed my waist and started to tickle me. I laughed out of reflex, but quickly twisted away.

I couldn’t believe I had so poorly misjudged his character. And now here he was, in my house, until after our Indian food date. If I could just make through dinner, then he could leave. What was so strange it that he wasn’t picking up on any of my signals; the more I acted disinterested the more he clung onto me like the monkey leach he was.

My dad came home from work just before we were about to go. I tried to give my dad eyes across the kitchen table. “I’ve really missed you, dad!”

My dad looked surprised. “I’ve missed you too.”

“I feel bad leaving you and mom here,” I said. “You know…you guys could come to dinner with Mark and me.”

“Mom doesn’t like that place. We’ll just see you when you get back.”

I had never been denied a dinner date with my dad. In shock I followed Mark out the door to the car.

It was the longest meal of my life. Mark kept trying to play footsie with me under the table and I kept accidentally stomping on his toes. When the waiter asked if we liked spicy or mild dishes, I said mild. Mark said spicy. He insisted I would like it and ordered spicy for me before I could object.

Two hours later I had drank six glasses of water and had eaten barely half a plate of food. I was starving, but I couldn’t force anything else down. Mark didn’t even notice as he cheerfully cleaned his plate and then mine. He offered to pay, but then kept dropping hints on the car ride home about how expensive it was.

As we pulled into my driveway, I realized I didn’t know how he was going to get back to camp for the night. “Who is picking you up?” I asked as we climbed out of the car.

He looked surprised. “I was planning on staying at your place. Why would I go back when you are here?” He tried to run his fingers through my hair. They got caught in a knot and he yanked out half a dozen strands.

So there we were, sitting on the couch in my living room across from my parents. Mark wanted to get to know them. He made jokes about hunting and his gun collection to my Democratic parents. My dad politely laughed but my mom just stared. He didn’t notice.

He was trying to hold my hand on top of the blanket while he spoke. I kept batting it away, but eventually let him hold it just to stop him from bothering me.

He wanted me to tell them about why he shaved his head. He didn’t want them to think he was a “hooligan.” I didn’t care what they thought. He kept squeezing my hand and giving me a look until I said, not politely, “Mark shaved his head because some guy at camp has cancer.”

Relieved at the explanation, Mark eagerly pulled out his phone and began to show my parents PICTURES what he “really” looked like.

At eight pm I declared that I was exhausted. Both my parents and Mark looked surprised. Mark tried to convince me that I wasn’t tired.

“No, actually, I am.” I said.

“At least walk me down to the pool house.”

My parents had said Mark could sleep in the main house, but I insisted he sleep out there. That way I could lock the house behind me.

I grudgingly took him down the cement walk to the small, white building. Looking at the pool brought back all the memories from that afternoon and I wanted to throw up.

Once we got to the door, he pulled me inside. “Help me make my bed,” he begged, in what I’m sure he thought was a seducing voice.

I shook off his arm. I was having a hard time completely shutting him down now that I realized I would have to drive with in the car for two hours in the morning. I had decided at dinner that I would try to be polite until we got back to camp, then he would be shut down.

I grabbed the sheets off the counter and quickly helped him pull them over the futon. The faster I helped the faster I could escape.

“You don’t look very tired.”

“Well, I am.”

“Keep me company while I watch a movie.”

“I’m really tired.”

“At least start one with me.”

“I really don’t-”

“Well then-”

Before I could stop him he trying to kiss me. I know it was a kiss because I felt this wet pressure on my face around the vicinity of my mouth. He had missed. I wondered if it counted as a kiss if I didn’t participate. I shoved him with my hands but he clung to my shoulders.

Oh now he was strong.

I stood there until he figured out I wasn’t moving.

He pulled back. I waited for him to ask me why I wasn’t kissing him back. As I studied his face, I realized he hadn’t noticed.

He leaned coyly against the counter with a smug look on his stupid face.

“Goodnight Miss. Logan.”