by Iris Kincaid
“Erin Sweeney, this is that old buddy I told you about, Leo Price. Leo, this is the woman you have been getting an earful of, Erin Sweeney.”
Leo was also in his late thirties and looked every inch the successful physician. He gestured apologetically at his sticky fingers—not an opportune time to shake hands.
“Yeah, Orlando and I go way back. We did some crazy residency years together. You know our group is having its reunion right now as well? But your group is so much more fun than ours. Except for that whole murder thing. But, I dunno. They look like they’re having a blast. Some wounds have a remarkable recovery.”
“I’m afraid not too many people would refer to the loss of Regina Gorman as a wound. So, I don’t think we can take a lot of credit for recovering from it. Julius Caesar was not more unpopular than our history instructor. And I should know—that was one of her favorite lessons to teach.” Erin sat down to join them.
“So . . . friends for fifteen years. You’re in a very unique position, Leo. Tell me something about Orlando that I don’t know.”
The two men grinned at one another, and Orlando shook a warning finger at his friend.
“Okay, well, he is a brilliant doctor.”
“I knew that.”
“He’s too hard on himself.”
“I knew that too.”
“He thinks that you’re pretty cute.”
“No kidding. Is that your idea of breaking news? I’m still waiting. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Geez. So, I guess this means it’s too late for me to play hard to get,” Orlando said.
“I got it. Orlando never holds a grudge. That’s a very rare thing.”
“All right. That’s a good one. Hey, I see someone over there that I have to talk to. You fellas have a good time. I’ll see you later.”
“Or sooner,” Orlando responded.
This was so much more fun than the agonizing crushes of high school. Right this moment, Erin had a more serious matter to attend to. She had seen Jasmine Plummer getting a bit fidgety in the midst of the drinking games. And the bowling party should not be the undoing of four years of sobriety.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Yeah, I guess I’m a little edgy,” Jasmine admitted. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I see what drinking has done to my life. My family’s life. Believe me—that’s a good deterrent. My father was an alcoholic way before I was. Then he did AA, the whole twelve-step thing, with truthfulness and apologies. He came to me to apologize for cheating on my mother when I was in high school.
“I didn’t know about it or what was going on. He didn’t tell me about it until afterward, after I had dropped out of school. He kind of felt responsible for that. He was feeling guilty.”
“Why?” Erin asked.
Erin really wanted to know, and she wanted to cut through the loud cacophony of thoughts floating past her, so she patted Jasmine comfortingly on the shoulder to get closer to her thoughts.
“Because his affair was with Regina Gorman. Because he dumped her because of the guilt of sleeping with his daughter’s teacher. And she was so angry that she retaliated by crapping all over my grades. So—no scholarship for me. I had to work my way through college, with a thirty-hour-a-week job on top of all the classes. And it crushed me. And I had to drop out.
“And now I’m paying back college loans with a high school level salary. Yeah, he felt guilty for all of that. At least I got an apology from him. But Regina Gorman never apologized. She stole my scholarship and never lost a night of sleep over it. Well, she has all the time in the world to sleep now.”
Even patting someone on the shoulder can become a little bit freakishly weird if it’s never-ending. Reluctantly, Erin pulled away and was once again surrounded by a jumble of over a hundred separate entities jabbering away in their own heads. And in hers. It was indeed, as Delphine had said, like walking into a noisy café. You can’t make out a whole lot of the particulars. But all the same, it’s pretty noisy.
Still, as Erin walked around the room, she could see actions, reactions, gestures, and facial features that were such a close match to some of the thoughts that she was hearing that she was convinced that she had made a good match between thought and owner.
Kira Davenport’s husband was tired of his wife’s suspicions and being accused of affairs. He’d never been unfaithful—except for a few Internet flirtations. Those were okay, weren’t they? Why had he gotten married so young? Now he felt trapped in a job that he hated because he needed to take care of his family. And he couldn’t engage in any risky career switching at this point. Why was it that the only thing that he and Kira talked about were kids and bills?
Shy girl Carly Grimes was silently enduring a barrage of insults from her husband on her bowling technique.
“Who cares about stupid bowling? Even you don’t care about stupid bowling. You’ve just got to find anything to criticize me about. But that wasn’t our deal. You’re making me look like a fool in front of these people. You said that you could pretend to be the happy husband for my reunion if I would show up and be the happy wife for yours. And you can’t even keep up your end of the bargain. But if I were to do the same, you’d make me pay for it for the next twenty years. Twenty years! How can I even think about a future with him?”
A few lanes away, Carly’s shy admirer, Mark Mahoney, was barely responding to his patient companion and was transfixed at the sight of Carly. Even though he couldn’t hear what her husband was saying, it was setting him on edge.
“He doesn’t look as if he’s making her happy. I don’t even know what I want. Do I want to be happy? If I were a good guy, I’d want her to be happy. But if she’s unhappy—boy, I’d love to make her feel better.”
And then the person Erin really wanted to check in on—Jenna from the tea party. Did the suicidal thoughts belong to her? Probably, but Erin really needed to confirm that.
“Jenna, how’s it going?”
“The same. Fine.”
“Are you in therapy?”
“Why . . . why would you ask that?”
“Because you’re depressed. Which is very common and very normal. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it okay because you deserve to have peace and happiness, and first, you’re going to have to do something about the depression.”
“I . . . it’s funny that you should ask. I just called my GP back home and asked her to make an appointment with a therapist for me as soon as I get back. I think you helped to inspire me, actually. It’s never too late to fix things, is it? To try and get it right?”
“Absolutely. So, after the reunion . . .?”
“I’m going to get over myself and stop being so ashamed. It’s depression. It’s fixable.”
“Just like kidneys,” Erin concurred.
Jenna didn’t sound like someone who was waiting for the final day of the reunion to kill herself. She sounded hopeful. The suicidal thoughts had been clear and decisive. Uh, oh. They almost certainly must come from future bag lady, Megan. That made sense. She was going to be on the camping trip—like Erin, Isabel had put her on a reunion “scholarship.” That would be a good opportunity to try and talk some sense into her.
Speaking of Isabel, Erin was pretty sure that Isabel’s unguarded slumped-over shoulders and worried look were accompanied by this gruesome thought.
“What if the police find out that I came back at two AM and saw Mrs. Gorman’s body floating in the water? And I didn’t call anyone. Didn’t tell anyone. Everyone’s going to think that it’s my fault for not staying and giving her a safe ride home. Oh, here comes Principal Chaplin. Ooh, it’s time to announce the camping trip.”
Talk about the human brain being a small bucket. All thoughts of Regina Gorman flew out of Isabel’s mind and she became an excited event organizer once again.
“Listen up, everybody. In two days, we’re going to have our big three-day, two-night camping trip out in the West Woods. This is going to be the perfect opportunity to meet e
veryone’s children and families. And it’s going to be so much fun. I know that a lot of you have never even been out to those woods. There were so many silly superstitions about them when we were growing up. Evil, cursed woods. Yeah, we all read one too many fairytales. Well, now’s as good a time as any to put those to rest.
“Not everyone here has signed up and I am going to blockade the exit until you do. Just think. It may be another ten or twenty years before you see these people around you again. Or maybe you’ll stay in touch. And this camping trip will help to cement your connection.”
Next to her, Mr. Chaplin chimed in. “I really encourage everyone to go. Only my bad back and medical requirement for a soft bed are keeping me out of this event. And you all are too young to make that excuse. Hansen Sporting Goods Store has been terrific. You ‘ll be able to rent everything you need, like for a family of four, for fifty dollars for the whole trip. We’re really grateful to them. They’ve got all the gear that you’ll need. And a lot of you haven’t really seen each other’s kids yet. And this is a fantastic opportunity for that. So, don’t let it slip away.”
When Erin had first heard about the camping trip, she had every intention of letting it slip away. She was especially hopeful that she could weasel her way out of it because she had no children. No such luck. Like the rest of her reunion expenses, it was prepaid. And she was warming up to the idea after finding out that Orlando was going. She must really like him if he could make three grubby days in the woods seem appealing.
At least Isabel could count the bowling party a success. Very few people wanted to leave it early, and the company actually had to kick their group out at one AM. They all spilled out to the parking lot together, some tipsy, most not. Isabel was running around, frantically making sure that everyone had a designated driver.
One loud drunken alum held up a colorful piece of paper as everyone was heading to their cars. “Hey, the management gave us this coupon for fifty dollars of free bowling. Why don’t we make it a prize to whoever was the last person to see Regina Gorman alive? Who can claim that distinction?”
Oh, the indignity to Regina’s memory. Erin listened to the responses to this proposition.
“Tacky, but funny.”
“That guy is so drunk. Glad he’s got a designated driver.”
“That would be me. I was also the last one to touch her. Shove her, actually. Right into the pool. But I don’t think it would be wise to claim that coupon.”
What? What! Or more importantly—who? Erin watched in dismay as everyone climbed into their cars and scattered in all directions.
*****
The next morning, Erin tried to maintain her professional focus during a four-hour shift at the dentist office. There were only three patients scheduled plus a two-hour walk-in period. Erin heard the bell ring to indicate that someone was in the waiting room. Right that moment, the only other two people in the office were her sixty-five-year-old dentist employer and a twelve-year-old whose teeth she was currently cleaning. Therefore, by process of elimination, she could attribute all remaining incoming thoughts to the walk-in, who just so happened to be Orlando.
“I wonder if she’ll notice that I’ve already had my teeth cleaned recently? I’m sure that she’ll appreciate a man who likes to have his teeth cleaned every month. Or maybe she’ll think that I’m just a freak.”
Erin had a big smirk on her face when she greeted him at the reception window.
“Hey, Erin, I thought you’d be the perfect person to ask about a teeth cleaning. Can you squeeze me in?”
“I think that your teeth are so sparkling clean, we need to get them dirty first before we can justify another cleaning. Coffee stains? Cherry cobbler stains?”
Orlando liked the way she was thinking. Her boss told her to go and have a good time, and so they headed over to the cozy Café Au Lait, one of Orlando’s favorite places to revitalize after a hard day in the clinic. It was also a rare opportunity, welcomed by both, to get to know each other away from the reunion crowd.
“If you were an out-of-towner, I’d be pretty down in the mouth right now,” Orlando admitted. “But when this is over, you’ll still be here. We’ll both still be here. So, I actually can’t wait for this reunion to be over.”
Erin couldn’t miss the compliment. “Do you like Oyster Cove?”
“There are plenty of things that I do like, yeah. I like the sandcastle competition.”
“I love the sandcastles. I think I must go two or three times every year,” Erin said.
“I love the smell of the beach. The fish and chips shops. I love The Clam Shack. Have you been to that place? Good, huh? And Barcelona—that amazing tapas place. I love all the cool artists who live here. I like their dedication.”
Orlando shook his head. “All through school, I was dreaming of the big city—LA, New York, Chicago, Philly. I thought that big important work only happened in big important cities. Then . . . the whole malpractice suit and having all the big hospitals turn me down for consideration. Oyster Cove looked like a place to hide from my failures. A small place for a small life story.” But now Oyster Cove is the place where Erin Sweeney was waiting for me. It’s the best city in the world.
The dreaded twentieth high school reunion. Who knew it was going to lead here? They were interrupted by a barista who was delivering a message from the owner and two complementary servings of the daily pastry special.
The note read, “I can see that you’re another friend of Lilith Hazelwood’s, like myself. I hope we become better acquainted real soon. Gillian Swann. P.S. He looks yummy.”
*****
Who brings a cat on a camping trip? Nobody. It’s just a very weird thing to do. But owners would be forced to bring their cats along on camping trips if they had to listen to their incessant begging and whining to be taken along. Trees. Nature. Endless things to chase. It was like Disneyland for cats. Of course, Radio refused to be left behind.
“Okay. You are using the bathroom au natural. Don’t even think that I’m hauling that litter box with us.”
“Deal. But you’re bringing my bed, aren’t you?”
Of course, compared to the running, squealing, hyper-excited children of her reunion peers, Erin had to concede that she had gotten off easy. Radio was inarguably demanding, but relatively low-maintenance in the great scheme of things. Children—city children—not so much.
The sight of every unknown insect brought screams of terror. Even a few aggressive squirrels had a few toddlers running for safety. The notion to the older kids that they should pitch in and gather wood, help set up camp, help with the cooking and the cleanup, and horror of horrors, master the art of the latrine, had some of them threatening to call Child Protection Services.
It was pretty entertaining to watch, Erin had to admit. Parents who had thus far projected an aura of success, glamour, and sophistication lost their cool façade in the face of children suffering from Candy Crush withdrawal, and television withdrawal, who were genuinely terrified whenever they felt something crawling on them. It was a zoo. Whose idea was this? If pressed, most adults would have admitted that they would gladly have traded this event for Bowling Night, Part Deux.
Erin also decided to see that as a good opportunity to spend time around children—a real novelty for her. After all, she spent all of her adult life knowing that family and kids were not going to be part of her options. And now, who knows? It was time to envision the possibilities.
The kids quickly divided themselves into groups, somewhat loosely based on age, gender, and sibling relations. But there was one little girl, about eight years of age, who seemed to be completely on her own, and not necessarily by choice. The shy, lonely girl was a keen reminder to Erin of her own childhood. What she wouldn’t have done back in those days to have been included with all the lively gatherings around her.
Of course, peer companions would be best. But hopefully, the little girl, whose name was Miranda, would settle for a little feline friend.
>
“I want you to go over there and play with her. Make her feel special. Make her feel as if you enjoy spending time with her more than anyone else in the world. Show her some of the tricks we practiced. Let her give you a high-five.”
“Geez. I’m only doing this because . . . because . . .”
“Because why?”
“You’re the only person who can hear me. I guess I have to make myself useful so you don’t ever put me out.”
It was a very useful motivation but one that was immediately voided because Radio could read Erin’s thoughts. “So, you’d never throw me out. Sweet.”
“You get over there right this minute. I’ll be sure to tell her exactly how you like your tummy rubbed.”
Miranda was delighted. Cats are notoriously standoffish. And with hundreds and hundreds of surrounding acres for the cat to explore, she couldn’t help but be flattered that Radio was showing such a strong partiality for her company. It wasn’t long before the other kids took notice.
“He’s a really smart cat. How come he likes you so much?”
“He likes me because he’s a really smart cat,” Miranda said smugly.
Perhaps an adult couldn’t get away with that immodesty. But Miranda’s apparent talent as a cat whisperer, along with her newfound swagger, was just the ticket she needed for enthusiastic recognition from the cool kids.
Erin was also happy to give exhausted parents a break and go on little hiking expeditions into the woods. Her generosity must have been an inspiration to Orlando because he always volunteered to accompany her.
Even among adults, Erin knew that she was always able to discern which were Orlando’s thoughts. But when he was the only adult and the other four minds were all children, even with a jumble of thoughts coming in, it was pretty easy to identify which were his.
“I wonder if she has thought about having children? Of course, she has. Everyone has. Even I have. But, after that mistake . . . that man dying because of me . . . I just—gosh—I just don’t deserve to be a father.”