by Han Nolan
Then the MIL shakes her head and says, "I don't know what it is about dancers at this camp, but they're always getting sick or injured, or they're just plain nuts. Honestly, this is the last year we offer dance."
"So, it's okay that I'm teaching, uh, interpretive dance instead of ballet?" I ask. I had looked through some dance books at the library, and "interpretive dance" is the closest kind of dance that I could compare my class to, so that's what I've decided to call it. I don't know what I wanted the MIL to say. Maybe, "Oh, yes, it's so much better than ballet. You're the greatest teacher we've ever had." She's come to my class a couple of times now, and both times my mind has just gone numb while she was watching me, but still, I want to hear something positive from her.
"What choice do we have, really?" she says. "At least it's active, and the girls seem happy enough."
Coming from the MIL, that's high praise.
Anyway, I'm so pleased that they asked me to take over for Haley that I lie and tell them my doctor says I'm fine for any kind of activity. I feel fine—clumsy and ugly, but fine—so I figure it's safe until I don't feel fine.
So we set it all up, and now I'll be living in the cabin with the girls and I'll be a full-time counselor and dance instructor—hah! What a laugh. I got cabin seven, the eleven- and twelve-year-olds' cabin, which means it's Banner's cabin, which also means it's Ashley Wilson's cabin. As if I don't get enough of the two of them already. I think I hate Ashley Wilson, and I wonder what I'll do if my kid turns out to be just like her. Can you hate your own kid? If Sarah and Robby raise it, will it turn out to be all stiff and uppity and judgmental like they are?
Ashley Wilson's really good at turning all the other cabinmates into mini she-devils. They treat me the same way I used to treat substitute teachers in school, meaning they completely ignore me.
"All right, everybody, fifteen minutes till lights out. You should all be in your pajamas," I say on my first night as a full counselor. I have my new list of "Cabin Counselor Rules" the ILs gave me, and rule number 7,845 is that all campers should be in pajamas and on their beds by nine thirty and lights out by nine forty-five. Well, only a few of my campers are in pajamas, and they all ignore my lights-out warning.
"Don't worry about me; I sleep in the nude," Ashley Wilson says to me in this aren't-I-clever voice when I yell once more for them to put on their pajamas. Then she runs up to Banner, who's heading for her bunk, and yanks down her pajama bottoms so her butt's showing. "Banny-fanny!" Ashley Wilson sings.
All the girls in the cabin laugh, except Banner, of course, who's pulling up her pants and looking at me with this helpless expression, waiting for me to fix what just happened.
"That's not funny! How would you like it if I did that to you?" I say, marching over and getting in Ashley Wilson's face. Her friends, who had been gathered around her, back away.
"Okay by me," Ashley Wilson says. "Anyway, Banny-fanny hasn't lost any weight. She's gained weight, and our whole cabin has to pay for it, so it serves her right," she yells in my face. Then she turns around, bends over, and moons me.
Some kids laugh at this, and some kids yell, "Woo-hoo!"
"Well, now, that's butt-ugly," I say, and the whole cabin laughs at that, and the war is on!
I can see Ashley Wilson is seething and probably plotting something evil in her pointed little head as she pulls up her pants and trots off to join her buddies in the back of the cabin, but I can't worry about that now, I've got to get some discipline around here.
I clap my hands to get everybody's attention. The girls ignore me. I shout, "In bed now, or you'll all miss breakfast in the morning."
That gets about half the campers into bed—the ones who actually heard me—but Ashley Wilson has flitted over to where the sinks are, and she and her evil cronies have started a wet-towel fight. I turn off all the lights, yanking on the strings hanging from the ceiling as I march to the back of the cabin. It's dark by the time I get back there. I grab the towel out of Ashley Wilson's chubby little hands and yell, "Get in the bed! Now!"
The girls giggle and scurry off to their bunks—everyone but Ashley Wilson. "I don't have to listen to you," she says. "You're not a real counselor. You're just a counselor-in-training—so I don't have to listen. You're just a pregnant-nobody loser."
Behind me I can hear some of the girls climbing back off their bunks. I'm furious. I know it's a war between me and Ashley Wilson, and I figure I had better win.
"Well, nobody has to listen to you, either," I say. "And nobody should, especially not the rest of this cabin. They're all smarter than you are, and prettier, and none of them have your beady little pig eyes. They're all nice girls, unlike you."
I hear the girls gasp, and I know I've gone too far—way too far. And even though I know it's a total act when Ashley Wilson bursts into tears, I know I shouldn't have said what I said. She just totally pissed me off.
"You pig whore. You aren't really twenty years old—you're just a teenager who got knocked up, so there! Everybody knows you're lying," Ashley shouts through her tears, which gets more gasps from the other girls. "I'm going to tell on you, and you're going to get into so much trouble. My dad will have you fired for what you said to me." Then, like the true drama queen that she is, she cries harder and rushes out of the cabin to go tell.
By now I can see pretty well in the dark, and I pad back to the front of the cabin to my little bed by the entrance door. The girls are all whispering, but I don't say anything. They could light the place on fire, and I wouldn't say anything. I know I'm a terrible counselor, and I'm going to make a terrible mother, and this is my final decision—I am giving my baby to my sister.
Twenty minutes later, Gren comes to get me. She tells me I'm wanted up at the Lothrops' cabin and that she'll watch my girls for me.
I head up to the ILs' cabin, and on my way I see Jen strutting herself toward my place, where Lam is supposedly fast asleep. I call out to her, "Hey, Jen, don't wake him up. Leave him alone, why don't you? He doesn't want to see you."
Jen stops walking and stands so still it's as if she figures if she stands completely frozen, I won't notice she's there.
"Uh, hello. I see you," I say.
Then Jen comes back to life. "Yeah, okay," she says. "I was just going to ask Lam if he could get down to the lake on time tomorrow morning, because we have a written test to give for the lifesaving kids."
"Uh-huh, sure," I say. "Like I really believe that one." I take a few more steps toward her, and Jen moves away from the cabin a little.
"You can believe what you want. What do I care? Anyway, maybe you ought to be asking Lam where he is every morning, because he's not at the lake, and we're all getting tired of covering for him." She says this and walks off, leaving me to stare after her wiggling little butt.
Oh, boy, the night has already been such a great success, I just can't wait to get up to the ILs' cabin to see what nice surprises they have in store for me.
***
I open the ILs' cabin door, and before I can take a step inside, they start in on me. They're both sitting in front of coffee mugs at the round oak table they've got in their kitchen/dining room/ living room. The camp cat, a tabby named Rufus, sits in the middle of the table like a centerpiece. The FIL looks upset but not furious. There's a softness that's always there in his eyes, and it's there tonight. The MIL is furious, as usual, and her eyes are pure steel.
"Did you call Ashley Wilson a fat ugly pig?" the MIL asks.
I step inside and pull the cabin door closed behind me. No need to let the whole camp hear this. "Well, not exactly, but that might be what Ashley Wilson heard," I say. Then I add, "Look, I know I went too far. But that girl's a little devil and she pushed the wrong buttons on me. I was just trying to get control of the cabin and she was calling another camper and me names, so I called her a few back." I try to remember if she called me a pig whore before or after I told her she was ugly and stupid. What does it matter? I know I'm in the shithouse either way.
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"You're expected to act like an adult, not sink to their level," the MIL says, spitting her words out every time she hits the letter t. "You're expect-spit-ed t-spit-o act-spit like an adult-spit."
Even Rufus looks mad, the way he's squinting and blinking at me while I'm getting yelled at.
"I was wrong. I know, I know. Come on, it's my first night, and they were ignoring me, and Ashley Wilson was the ringleader, and she just started acting out for some reason and—well, I have no excuse. I stink as a counselor. I know. You shouldn't have given me this job."
"And how do you think you'll be as a parent? How can you think you can parent a child when you can't even handle this?" the MIL says, and the FIL shushes her.
"All right, now. I think that's enough. We're getting off the track," he says.
"No, I don't think we are. You know she's not ready. She's too young. That baby is going to need a lot better care than she can give it." She turns her angry glare back on me. "You know you're not going to be able to keep that baby, and I'm—"
"Hey!" I shout out, interrupting her. Then I'm embarrassed, and I quiet down. "Whatever Lam and I decide to do with this baby," I say, "it won't be to give it to you. You've had it in for me the minute we met 'cause you hate that I'm stealing your precious one-and-only son away from you. You're not even willing to give me a chance. You charged me with breaking and entering last year, probably thinking that would get rid of me, but here I am. And I had to serve time in juvie for that, when you knew Lam had told me to come over. He'd just forgotten to leave the basement door open for me and he fell asleep"—more like passed out, but I don't say this—"and so I broke in."
"And you broke the law. When you break the law, you pay for it; it's that simple," she says.
"Okay, well, I paid for it already, but every time we meet, it seems like you're still making me pay for it."
"I've just been trying to make it really clear that you're not ready to parent a child, and the fact that every time we meet you've gotten yourself into a fresh heap of trouble proves my point."
"Maybe it does, but it doesn't make me want to give this baby away to you, that's for sure. Anyway, if you hate me so much, why do you even want this baby?"
The MIL looks as if I had just slapped her in the face. She goes really white, and I remember what Lam once told me about how much his parents had wanted to have another child, and how their first child, a girl, was born with some kind of brain damage and lived less than a year. "They've never gotten over her death. And they've always hovered over me like I'm the Hope Diamond," Lam had said. "Maybe if they had another kid, they'd cut me some slack."
I look at the MIL, and I can see the pain in her face. She shrinks before my eyes, this big country woman. Suddenly she's meek and small, and when she speaks, her voice is tiny and soft. She doesn't look at me but at the cat. "I want this child to have a chance. The first years of a child's life are so important. I know Lam isn't ready. He won't be there for you, Eleanor."
"Then why did you even want us to get married?"
She looks at me, and her eyes flash. "Because you insisted on keeping the baby, and your parents were leaving the country! I wanted you to marry so that I could keep an eye on things—make sure the baby gets a good start in life. At least I know with us, the baby'll have that good start."
"Yeah? Well, you can try being nicer to me. That might be a good start."
The MIL glares at me, and she's grown back to her full size. "It's not about being nice. This isn't a tea party we're holding here. We're trying to run a camp. It's about you following the rules and getting some discipline. How can you expect to discipline a child and gain their respect if you have none yourself?" She pounds the table with each word of the last sentence.
"Okay, okay, both of you." The FIL holds up his hands like he's surrendering. "You two could go at it all night, I'm sure, but we need to get our sleep, and I bet Eleanor does, too." He reaches over and pats the MIL's arm, and the woman slips her hands into her lap. The MIL keeps quiet, but she doesn't stop glaring at me. Neither does Rufus.
"Eleanor, it's not all your fault," the FIL says. "You're inexperienced as a counselor, that's all. We know that."
I didn't expect that. I want to run over and hug the dude, but I don't, of course.
"We pretty much threw you to the lions, but we were in a bind and we hoped you could handle it. I know a lot of the campers like you and even respect you. As I've said, we've had good reports from Leo, and even Ziggy and Gren, and some of the campers. You've been doing a good job on the whole."
I feel embarrassed by the unexpected compliment, and I lower my head and rub my belly for something to do.
"The problem is, we try very hard to help these children with their weight problems, and often the weight is just the tip of the iceberg. They have low self-esteem and problems at home and in school that they're trying to deal with, and they use food to cope. We can't call them names like pig or cow. We can't call them any names."
I look at the FIL. "Yeah, I know. It won't ever happen again."
"You'd better believe it," the MIL says, bugging her eyes out at me. "We expect you to apologize to Ashley Wilson in front of the rest of the girls. Maybe, just maybe, she won't go crying to her parents about this. But name-calling amounts to verbal abuse, and we can't have it—ever. Do you understand?"
The lecture sounded so much better coming from the FIL. I nod my head and say nothing. I figure saying nothing is best when I'm dealing with the MIL. I need to just let all her hot wind blow right over me.
Chapter Twelve
THE ILs finally dismiss me and tell me to go back to the cabin. When I get there, Ashley Wilson is waiting for me on my bed.
"Where's Gren?" I ask. "Is she in the back?"
"Gone," Ashley Wilson says, not looking up at me. "I was supposed to wait here for you."
"Yeah, well, I'm sorry about what I said tonight. I didn't mean it." I raise my voice. "You girls all hear that? I didn't mean what I said to Ashley Wilson. I just lost my temper. It was all my fault, and I'm sorry, and Ashley Wilson is a smart and pretty girl."
"You left out nice," someone calls back, and some of the others giggle.
"She's strong willed," I say. "And that's a good thing. A strong will can get you far in life, as long as you make good de cisions, too." I add this because I'm thinking of myself. My dad says I'm strong willed but I'm always making the wrong decisions about stuff, so it cancels out any good. My strong will makes me hold on to all the wrong things. I think of Lam, and the baby, and I wonder if they're just two more things I'm holding on to merely because I'm too stubborn and strong willed to let go.
"We should all have strong wills like Ashley Wilson and not be such followers. Be your own person; that's what I say."
I look at Ashley and feel my baby kick. It knows I'm afraid to say what I'm about to say because I'm afraid Ashley won't do it, but I take a deep breath and say it, anyway. "Now, would you please apologize to Banner."
Ashley Wilson stares blankly at me a few seconds, and I feel this rush of adrenaline as I try to think what to do next, but then she calls out, "Yeah. Sorry, Banny," and I just leave it. I figure it's the best I'll get out of her tonight.
"Will you read us a story?" a girl, maybe Banner, asks out of the blue.
"What? You're all supposed to be asleep." I walk into the main part of the cabin with Ashley. "It's late. Maybe tomorrow night."
"Please," Ashley Wilson says, and she looks at me with this sweet expression that I'm not sure I trust.
"Well—okay," I say. "But maybe I'll just tell you a story so I don't have to turn on a light." I'm hoping if I please Ashley Wilson a little, she won't go crying to her parents about what happened. I'm also hoping that this isn't the start of some camp-long emotional blackmail scheme on her part.
I tell Ashley to get into her bed, and she actually does it. Then I drag a chair into the center of the cabin and tell the story of how Lam and I met.
"Any of
you ever heard of base jumping?" I begin. Nobody has. "Well, base jumping is when you jump off of a super-high building, or a cliff, or a really high bridge or something, with kind of like a parachute on. It's really, really dangerous, so don't any of you ever try it."
"Did you try it?" one of the girls asks, and I think it's the other Ashley in the cabin.
"Yeah, but only because I was too stupid to know how dangerous it was, and because I've always gotta try something at least once."
"How many times did you try base jumping?" someone asks.
"Oh, I don't know, a few, I guess, but I stopped the night I saw a jumper break his back. What a bloody mess he was. Now he's crippled for life. So don't any of you try it, unless you've got a death wish.
"So okay, there's this big kind of festival in West Virginia, where once a year you can legally jump off this huge bridge, and I decided I just had to go there and give it a try. Only I didn't have a driver's license because I was only fourteen, and I knew my parents wouldn't let me just take off for West Virginia to go base jumping, so I advertised on Craigslist for a ride. And just so you know, if your parents won't let you do something, they're right; you shouldn't do it. I learned that the hard way."
Actually, I'm still trying to learn that one, because I hate that my parents are always right about everything and that I'm always making the wrong choices, but I don't tell them this.
"If you've got to sneak around, then you know it's wrong, and wrong is wrong is wrong, and it will only hurt you and everyone around you," I add, because I know the ILs would like that I said this, and also because it's what my parents are always telling me.
"Yes, Mother," Ashley Wilson whines, and the other girls laugh.