“I have to say good-bye to a few people.”
First we stopped by friends’ houses, then Mother’s place for a quick visit.
“Nice to see you again, Reese,” Mother said.
“Hi,” he said, shy, and politely fidgeting.
“I had to bring him along since I can’t bring him with me Down Under.” We smiled at each other then continued a general conversation about nothing before we left.
“Bye Mother. See you next year.” I gave her a quick hug.
“Bye,” she said back. And we were out the door.
* * *
The drive home led us to Sarah’s house. When I pulled into the driveway, “Cherish” by Kool & The Gang cast a somber mood through the radio. I leaned my head on Reese’s shoulder as we sat paralyzed, listening, as if the lyrics were a special message meant just for us. We got out of the car like we were getting out of bed on a Monday morning. Reese met me around on the driver’s side before I got too far and literally swept me off my feet, letting me down gently on Sarah’s front porch.
“Stay,” he whispered. I leaned back against his chest and looked up at him.
“I wish I could.” I rang the doorbell.
“Looky who’s here! It’s Camry and her playmate,” Sarah announced as she opened the door. “Come on in. You two look so cute. Let me take your picture.” Sarah grabbed her camera and took a shot. I handed her my camera, which had been hanging around my wrist for last-minute photos with friends. Reese stood behind me, his head towering over mine. He wrapped his arms around my middle; my arms wrapped over his. His touch sent a tingling current through me. It was our first real display of public affection, at least in front of our friends, which did not go unnoticed—especially by me. We faced the camera.
“Say cheese.” Sarah prepped us. Click. “You two sure have been spending a lot of time together.” Reese gave me a gentle squeeze. We let the comment pass in a silent uproar. The time was passing by.
“We came over to see if you wanted to go to the movies.” I changed the subject.
“Do I want to go to the movies?” Sarah questioned herself, her loud voice scaring the cat. “Boy, do I want to go to the movies. But I can’t,” she ended hurriedly. Kurt interrupted.
“She can’t because she’s grounded for sneaking out of the house past curfew for a rendezvous with John.” Kurt carried John’s name as if it had three syllables. “I can go,” he said.
“I’ll call you later,” I said to Sarah with an undercurrent of understanding that we’d have ‘girl talk.’ The three of us left her imprisoned.
Outings with just me and the guys were commonplace. I was one of them even though I wasn’t. “Kurt, you gonna write to me while I’m gone?”
“Oh yeah.”
“You’ll have a lot of letters,” Reese chimed in, “and I’ll send you your yearbook when it comes.”
“Cool. I want lots of letters.”
Reese and I sat close to each other in the theater. Kurt didn’t feel like three was a crowd because Reese and I had evolved into so much of a unit that it was us and our friend. Two.
“Open your mouth.” Reese threw a piece of popcorn for me to catch. It bounced off my face. “Camree,” Reese said with humorous frustration. “Try again.” That time I caught it. Reese launched one Kurt’s way. Perfect shot. I threw one for Reese. Caught. Soon a popcorn firestorm broke out, then the lights dimmed.
Reese whispered, “You want some popcorn?” He held up a few buttery pieces and fed me. His gentle thoughtfulness touched me to the core. I picked some up and fed him back, my finger tracing down his lower lip. I could not tell you what the movie was about, our whole summer together played in my mind throughout the feature. It was our own Summer of ’69, sixteen years later. Reese leaned over and whispered, directing my attention to the couple making out two rows down. His shoulder touched mine and he stayed that way even after delivering the message. I reached across him for a drink of his soda; our arms entangled on the return trip. Reese stretched out his leg, touching my foot with his, then our legs settled into a snuggle. We were inseparable. With house lights, we roused, having sunk lower into our theater seats than when we started.
“It sure was hot in there, wasn’t it?” Kurt asked, walking out to the parking lot.
“Cozy and warm,” I said. Reese stayed close by my side.
* * *
“Is Reese here yet?” Jo asked my father a half hour before driving to the airport—Departure Day from my life in Harvard. “I thought it would be cute to get pictures of Reese and Camryn outside before we left.” A metallic rapping came from the front screen door.
“There he is now,” my dad said while slowly walking into the foyer. “Hello,” he greeted Reese jovially, “how do you do?”
“Just fine, sir.” Reese stood at the front door in a royal blue T-shirt and gray sweat shorts.
“There’s room in my suitcase for you,” I said. Reese’s expression told me he wished it were true. We walked outside for pictures under the sole maple tree in our yard. Reese leaned up against it. Snap. Perfection captured in my camera. At least I could take that with me. Jo took some pictures of me as if I was going off to my first day of school. It was the first day of my new life, launched on a 747.
We loaded my oversized suitcases into the trunk. Reese sat next to me in the backseat along with Jo. Brad drove, Father front passenger.
“We’ll call you, sweetie, after the surgery. Well, Jo will give you a call,” Father said, his heart surgery in two days.
“Thanks,” I said, concerned, but not showing it. Small talk took over the rest of the trip to O’Hare all the way up to the boarding gate. The boarding call for my flight resonated over the intercom. We all stood. I gathered up my things.
“Goodbye, honey. Have a great time,” Jo said as she hugged me, handing me a white envelope. I hugged Brad next.
“Bye,” I whispered, let Brad go, and turned to Father.
“Goodbye, honey.” Father’s withered arms gave me a weak embrace. My tears started to roll. I looked at him, unable to reply.
Reese stood off to the side, waiting. The best part of me was staying behind. My hesitation about displaying affection toward Reese in front of the parents vanished. Reese and I hugged, not for long, but long enough to matter.
“I’ll miss you,” I said.
“I miss you already.” Reese squeezed me harder, then let me go. My tears left a damp spot on his shirt. With that, I made my way to the ramp, waved one last goodbye, and boarded the plane.
CHAPTER 8
“Tough times make you stronger, but you wish you were dead.”
—T. I. Absworth
My tears started to dry as I settled into my seat, sandwiched between a jumbo woman on the right and an aromatic man on the left. Then I opened the envelope Jo had given me. A dozen or more messages from friends and family filled the card. I sure hope that Sob Sopper worked, Sarah wrote. Have a great year, wrote another. We’ll miss you, Jo scrawled all over the front inside cover. I smeared the new fountain of tears with my hand. The exchange-program organizers told us this was supposed to be the best year of my life. It got off to a desolate start. Reese’s message took up a large corner of the card. I read his last. Camryn, I know I just told you goodbye and I miss you terribly. A year is a long time, but I’ll be waiting for you when you return. This is something you have always wanted to do, so enjoy yourself and make the most of your year in OZ. Love, Reese. I held the card close and kissed his thoughtful and reassuring words. Under my breath I whispered, I love you so much, and closed my tear-filled eyes.
“Honey, you okay?” the fat woman asked, handing me a tissue.
“Yeah,” I said sobbing, “I just miss him. I mean I just miss home.”
“I know, Honey.” She paused. “It’ll be okay.”
* * *
Thirty hours and two plane changes later, we arrived in Sydney. The group of American students I was traveling with dispersed with their host familie
s to the suburbs. My family, the Freeman’s, seemed nice enough from what I gathered in letters they had sent ahead of time.
“How was your flight, love.” Mr. Freeman asked.
“Fine.” Why did he call me love?
“The girls stayed home to greet you when we arrive.”
“Oh, how far is the drive?”
“Not too bad, just to Lane Cove, on the North Shore. We’ll take the Harbour Bridge past the Opera House,” he said, eager to show off the city.
“Great.” I sat in the left front passenger’s seat of his black Porsche while he drove sitting on the right. I wondered what Reese was doing. It would be yesterday back home even though it was today in Sydney.
“It’s just spring here now. The weather is warming up.” The overcast air felt in the low fifties, no idea what that was in Celsius. I was cold, taking in the sights on the drive home.
“Here we are,” Mr. Freeman announced as he pulled into what looked like an English cottage. “Isn’t this a lovely garden? I bet you don’t have gardens like these in America.” I didn’t see any garden. Neatly trimmed landscaping surrounded the home, but I sure didn’t see a garden. What is he talking about? I didn’t ask. A stocky Bassett Hound bounded up to us, howling.
“This is Maxmillion, my only son.” Mr. Freeman laughed and gave Maxmillion a hearty pat. Maxmillion sniffed me, left drool all over my shoe, then howled again. “He likes you.”
Mr. Freeman redirected his attention to the front door where he carried one suitcase in. His wife and teenage daughters greeted us. “This is my lovely wife, Lizel, and beautiful girls, Candy and Lisa.”
Lizel was a prim and proper lady with a fancy hairdo and sculptured fingernails. The girls reminded me of Cinderella’s stepsisters.
“Let me show you to your room,” Candy offered. “Did you have a good flight?”
“Yes, it was good,” I answered.
“It was good, thanks.” Lizel corrected, following behind. Etiquette improvement began the first hour of my arrival. “Here is a desk you can use. You can unpack your things into the closet. And there is the bed you will be sleeping in.” Lizel sounded like a drill sergeant barking instructions. Just then, Maxmillion hopped onto the guest bed, rolled over on his back, and splayed the doggie family jewels for all to see.
“Oh, Maxy,” Lisa cooed at him. “Isn’t he so cute?” She walked over to the dog and rubbed noses with him while he licked her chin. Candy turned to me.
“Sometimes Max likes to sleep on this bed. He thinks it’s his.” Max left a dog drool wet spot on the pillow. Lovely.
“It’s kind of cold in here,” I said, trying to ignore the dog problem. By then, Mr. Freeman walked in with my second suitcase.
“Cold! You shouldn’t be cold. Doesn’t it snow up there in America?” Mr. Freeman enunciated each syllable in America slowly and deliberately.
“Yes, we get snow, but it’s warm in the house.”
“Well, summer is just around the corner. You’ll just have to get used to it until then. I can’t believe a girl from America is cold!” Lizel said, flabbergasted. “We’ll let you get settled, then come out for tea.” Tea? I never drank tea.
The Freeman’s exited my room, closing the door behind. Maxmillion stayed. I plopped down onto the bed next to him. My butt sank to the foundation. The bed had a meager four-inch foam pad as an excuse for a mattress. Is this what all Australians sleep on?
Two envelopes on the nightstand caught my attention. One was from Father and Jo, the other from Reese. They had sent them before I left so mail would be waiting when I arrived. Maxmillion wouldn’t budge when I tried to pull the pillow from under his head. The dead weight wouldn’t move aside, wouldn’t make room for me to sit propped up on the bed to read. Jo’s letter was a collection of well-wishes and questions about my journey so far. Reese’s letter made me third-guess my choice to travel halfway around the world for a year to live in a cold house with unfamiliar people and a malodorous lump of a canine. He wrote:
My Dear Camryn,
I hope you are having fun. More fun than I am anyway. I’m writing this on the night we went to the beach alone together and I can’t imagine going back without you. I had the time of my life this summer with you and I’ll never forget it. You became my life and I can’t wait for you to come home so I can breathe again.
Have fun in all you do and write back SOON!
Love, Reese
My heartstrings ached. The life was sucked out of me the moment I stepped foot on the airplane. I too, was short of breath. I felt like part of me had been taken away, not something adjunct like a torn fingernail, but a significant part, which impaired function without it.
Twelve agonizing months lie ahead.
* * *
“Oh, yes, here she is now,” Lizel said into the telephone, then turned to me as I entered the kitchen. “Your mum rang.” Lizel handed me the telephone. Jo was on the line. Why did she say it was my mother?
“Hi sweetie. How are you?”
“Fine.”
“Your pop made it through the surgery okay. He’s tired, but he’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry.”
“That’s good. Tell him I said ‘hi.’ ” His was one heart I didn’t need to worry about anymore. It was on the mend. My own heartsickness, incubating. “How was the ride home from the airport after I left?” I asked, fishing for information about Reese, but too afraid to ask directly.
“Quiet. It was a lot quieter than the ride up. Reese hardly said anything on the way home, but thanked us for letting him come along when we dropped him off.”
“Um hmm,” I said, lost. “I slept most of the flight. Look, I’ll write you all about it. Father wouldn’t like us running up the phone bill.”
“Okay sweetie. Love you.”
“Love you too.” It felt odd to say, but an appropriate response. Actually verbalizing ‘I love you’ was a rare thing in the Johnson family. Our love for each other was innately understood. No need for unease by voicing our feelings. Hanging up left me bereft and lonely despite an eager new family crowded around.
“Everything all right, love?” asked Mr. Freeman.
“Yes.” He’s calling me love again.
“Yes, sir,” he corrected.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Freeman.”
“Call me Stanley.”
“Your father’s surgery went well then.” Lizel made a weak statement that was almost a question, then interrupted with a yell to the next room, “Candy, set the table!”
“Yes. It went well,” I said.
“So, what do you eat for tea?” Lisa asked me in earnest while stirring spaghetti noodles on the stove. Eat for tea?
“Oh, I don’t know, normal stuff.”
“Well, we’re having spaghetti bolognaise tonight.” Spaghetti bolognaise?
“We eat spaghetti,” I said, grasping at something familiar.
“Come to the table,” Stanley said, summoning the family. “Camryn, you come sit by me.” Stanley patted the chair next to him. “I’m the lucky one. Tonight I get to eat with not three, but four beautiful women.” Silence. Stanley went on, “Let us pray.” The Freeman’s joined hands; reluctantly, I joined in too. They began to chant an unfamiliar prayer, then Lizel served spaghetti dinner, no tea in sight.
“What do you eat for breakfast?” Candy asked.
“Toast, cereal, bacon and eggs, juice sometimes.” I tucked my right leg under me on my chair, still trying to get warm.
“We don’t eat bacon,” said Lisa.
“Camryn, feet on the floor at the table,” Lizel commanded. I put my foot back on the floor.
“I was just trying to get warm.”
“You can sit over there after tea.” Lizel pointed into the living room toward a space heater.
“Is that how you heat your house?”
“Yes. How do you heat your house?” Lizel asked back.
“We have a furnace for the whole house. Central heat.”
“Well, it doesn’t snow
here, so we don’t need it.” Don’t need it my ass. It’s freezing in here.
“Oh,” I said, icicles forming on my nose.
* * *
Dear Reese,
Thank you for the letter you sent. It was waiting for me when I arrived. The flight was really long. Mr. Freeman (he wants me to call him Stanley) picked me up from the airport then took me back to a cottage-type home. His wife and girls were waiting for us there. So far, this hasn’t been anything like I expected. Mrs. Freeman orders her kids around all the time. One time she asked Candy (the older daughter) to get off the phone and then just yanked it out of her hand and hung it up before she could even say goodbye. She even yelled at me for having my leg crossed under me at the table. Then after dinner (they call it ‘tea’) they made me dry the dishes. I don’t mind pitching in with the housework, but my first day before I’m even settled in?
Speaking of settled in, or not, my bed is a thin foam pad on a wooden frame. I’m sitting on it while I’m writing this. It isn’t very comfy and I can feel the wood under my butt. Not only that, but their Bassett Hound, Maxmillion, thinks my bed is his. I tried to kick him out of the room, but he just sat outside the door and yowled a hound howl, so I had to let him back in so he’d shut up. Now he is slobbering on my pillow. Everyone else treats him like he’s the cutest thing ever. He stinks too.
I’m freezing cold. Because it doesn’t snow here, they think one space heater for the whole house is sufficient. My room doesn’t have any heat.
Stanley keeps calling me ‘love.’ He’s creepy. He’s always kissing on Lisa (younger sister) and Candy. They seem to be used to it, but it’s kind of creeping me out. Oh, he also walked in on me when I was taking a bath. You’d think a grown man would know to knock first. I thought the door was locked. Oh, crap. Mrs. Freeman just knocked on my door and told me to turn my light off. It’s about 10:30 p.m.
What have you been doing? I miss you so much. I had a great summer with you too. Only eleven months, twenty-eight days to go.
Love, Camryn
Love, Carry My Bags Page 8