* * *
A week later, I tugged some tan paper out from underneath Maxmillion lounging on my bed. A letter from Reese! My heart started to beat again. My fingers traced his name and return address. My sweetie.
Dear Camryn,
How are you? I hope fine. I’m not doing so well—because you are gone! I feel like my arm has been chopped off. I’ve been walking around in a daze. School starts next week. I don’t know how I’ll be able to concentrate. I’ll miss my Cammie walking up the street on her way to school—and exchanging bird calls. Hee hee.
I have not been to the beach since you left. Is it warm where you are? It’s cooling off here. On the good side, that means basketball season will be starting up soon—well, in a couple of months or so anyway. I’m really looking forward to my last high school basketball season, especially since b-ball camp this summer. I’ll try all the new MJ moves I learned. That is the only thing I’m looking forward to.
Kurt and I shot hoops yesterday. Sarah says hi and she’ll write soon. My mom says hi too. My dad didn’t say anything, but that’s normal.
Oh, I almost forgot, my mom overheard Mrs. Bancroft and John’s mother talking in the library about Kurt’s 4-H calf. Eric’s mom said, “My father would never support anything that wasn’t deserved. Serves Stone right for pulling out of the organization.” Then she said, “They took an oath. He’s lucky it was just one animal.” Then John’s mother said, “But it was Kurt’s calf; Kurt’s not involved.” According to mom, Mrs. Bancroft then said, “Once in the family, always in the family.” But John’s mother objected, saying, “It doesn’t have to be that way.” And Mrs. B. said, “You’re not going soft like the Stone’s are you?”
What the heck? My mom was so upset, she came home and threw up before telling me what she’d heard.
I’d better go before my hand falls off from writing too much. I can’t be without a hand and an arm. I’ll write again soon, I promise.
Love, Reese
P.S. Don’t forget to write back or I’ll give you a fish bite. Ha ha.
* * *
Sarah’s letter arrived the next day, another bombshell.
Dear Camryn,
You leave and everything goes to hell. Well, everything except me and John. He’s still wonderful—so much in there once you get to know him.
Reese is out-of-his-mind depressed, almost like something more than just you being gone is dragging him down. I don’t know, Kurt doesn’t know, no one knows anything except he’s not himself.
Anyway, Crud and Kate did a little too much celebrating after she finished summer school because, as I speak (write), she’s getting an abortion. I can hear you gasp now. Yeah, I know. Tell me about it.
I had to take her since Eric, the big jerk, wouldn’t. But he wouldn’t let her keep it either. She’s a mess. Not just that, but her parents are getting divorced and her dad skipped town, said he was too stressed. And, get this, he said something about John’s dad rotting in hell. He wasn’t making any sense. No one knows where he went.
Kate didn’t want to upset her mom anymore, so she didn’t tell her about the abortion. Don’t say anything to anyone, Kate wanted to keep it quiet. Gotta run, the nurse just said Kate’s ready.
Love, Sarah
I never mentioned any of this to Kate when I wrote, and she never brought it up. In fact, she rarely replied, which made me sad. The lost Moosketeer.
* * *
“Candy, you go get the drinks.” Lisa was in a rush the moment Mr. and Mrs. Freeman closed the door. Mr. Freeman had just made his round of goodbyes, nuzzling little goodbye kisses in our necks. I nearly puked when his gray beanie-adorned head and sniveling nose brushed my skin. The parental units were on their way to a spiritual retreat. Synagogue all weekend.
Lisa, Candy, and her boyfriend had been planning their black-tie affair for some time. Implementation began the instant Mr. Freeman’s Porsche was out of sight. Mixed drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and loud music were on tap for the evening.
“Camryn, Bren’s bringing someone over to keep you company,” Candy said. She dated Brendan Walker, who also happened to be the son of a Rotarian who happened to be hosting a Canadian exchange student. They arrived just after eight, as I was buttoning my white satin blouse.
“Hi, I’m Megan.”
“Camryn.” I held my hand out, following traditional protocol. Megan hugged me. A few inches taller than me, she wore a multi-purpose white travel dress that could be dressed up or dressed down. Up for the imminent bash. Her brown hair was also up, up in a twist for the evening. The friendly smile in Megan’s brown eyes erased the introductory jitters. She was as glad to see me as I was to see her. Candy took Brendan by the hand after examining him with x-ray eyes, pausing dramatically at his lower midsection.
“The guests should arrive in a couple of hours,” Candy said as she led Brendan to her bedroom. “You two have fun.” Megan and I looked at each other, feeling hysterical laughter coming on. Candy shut her bedroom door.
* * *
“Megan, do you miss home?” I combed through my hair while staring at a picture of Reese propped up next to the dresser mirror.
“No, not really.” Megan answered from atop my bed, making herself at home with Maxmillion. “Do you?”
“Not home so much, but I miss my friend Reese. And my dog, she doesn’t drool . . . or stink.” I looked Max’s way, screwing up my nose.
“Who’s Reese? Your boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend? Well, we went to prom together and pretty much haven’t stopped seeing each other since, so I guess he’s my boyfriend,” I said, liking the term. “I just had a friend back home deliver homecoming carnations to him as a surprise. He’s got one year left of school. I told him I loved him on a note attached to the flowers.”
“Classic. Sounds serious,” Megan mused.
“Where are you from?” I asked, not necessarily meaning to change the subject.
“B.C.”
“B.C?” I had no clue.
“British Columbia. On the West coast of Canada. How ‘bout you?”
“Illinois. Harvard.” I could see the misconstruction with Harvard University coalescing in her mind. “It’s a little town in Northern Illinois—Milk Capital of the World.”
“I’m from Smithers,” she said, petting Max. “We log trees.”
“Is being an exchange student what you thought it would be?” I asked suddenly.
“No, it’s more than I thought it would be. My host family is so nice. And I have great friends at school,” she said, glowing.
“It’s really not what I expected. Back home the exchange students were fussed over and included in everything. Here no one really cares about the ‘loud-mouthed Americans.’ Why do they have to judge me based on what they think Americans are?”
“That’s not really fair is it? Just for being born south of the 49th parallel? You can be an honorary Canadian,” Megan said, looking around my room, taking in the stack of stationery I had neatly organized on my dresser, and my calendar with most of the week dates circled.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling happy she liked me well enough to call me one of her own. “My family won’t even take me to the Surf Lifesaving class I signed up for. They said it was too far away, but they take Lisa all the way across town for ballet lessons.” I combed my hair harder. “I thought the point was to be involved. There isn’t any bus from here to Collaroy Beach on a Sunday morning.”
“I don’t know. Maybe my family could give you a ride. Hey, can I ask you something?” Megan said. “Why are these dates circled on your calendar?”
“I’m keeping track of every day I get a letter from Reese.”
“He writes a lot.” Megan took a pensive look at the picture on my nightstand, the picture Sarah had taken of Reese with his arms around me.
“Yeah, I know.” I felt warm inside thinking about it, then instantly empty. But finding an ally and friend in Megan was the first stitch in my gaping emotional wound.
“Are you smart?” Megan asked. Her question caught me off guard and put me in a predicament: how to tell the truth without sounding my own horn. She read the unease on my face with precision.
“It’s okay, because I am.” I really liked this girl. She delivered the words with grace and not an ounce of conceit.
“Well, I graduated Salutatorian of my class,” I said.
“I have one more year to go before I graduate. This year doesn’t count because my school won’t accept foreign credits.” The doorbell interrupted our camaraderie. We heard gregarious partygoers infiltrate the hallway.
“We’ll talk more later. I’m glad I’m here.” Megan gave me a friendly hug, alleviating my inexperienced cocktail party nerves.
Young men in tuxedos milled amongst chooks in evening gowns. Australian slang had somewhat sunk in. Girls weren’t girls or gals or chicks, they were chooks. Lust was in the air. Inebriation on the horizon.
“So, how are you finding Australia?” Candy’s friend, Ian, asked. His thick accent cast a brief spell over me as he traced the design on my blouse with his finger from my shoulder, down the side of my chest, grazing the curve of my boob, down to my waist.
“Just fine,” I answered, searching the room for Megan.
“Have you experienced, really experienced, some Aussie blokes?” Ian persisted with the hand, now at my gluteal cheek. He smelled foul with alcohol, which explained why I’d seen him taking a piss off the back patio into the rose bushes earlier.
“Excuse me.” I left him empty-handed. INXS blared over the stereo as I pushed through the bobbing, screaming, laughing masses. People danced inside, outside, and between the sheets. Lisa and her friends set up a martini glass pyramid at the bar, quite pleased with themselves over their semi-successful effort to fill all the glasses waterfall style from the top vessel. I nearly slipped in spilled beer on my way through the living room.
“Ian was hitting on me,” I told Megan in disgust. She sat barefoot in the hallway, somewhat disheveled. “I don’t even know him and he wanted to take me to bed.”
“They don’t waste much time here,” she said. I sat down beside her looking for reprieve from the insane commotion. She continued, “Clive started to make out with me until he spewed all over my shoes in the back garden.”
“Gross.” This was too much. Megan caught me by surprise that she had made out with anybody.
“I walked through Stanley and Lizel’s room to use their bathroom, washing up, and two people were grinding away in their bed! I don’t think they noticed me, but I rushed right through. I was so embarrassed. Can you believe it? Using the parents’ bed? Puking on my shoes?” Megan tucked her hair behind her ears and tried to compose herself with a relieved sigh.
“Everyone kept asking me if I wanted a drink. They gave me so much crap when I said I didn’t want any that I finally filled a glass with orange juice and sipped it all night.” Megan nodded in empathy, finished off her glass of wine, and looked up at the chandelier. She wasn’t drunk.
“Did you see those guys whiz off the back porch?” Megan asked.
“Yes, wasn’t that sick?” We both looked at each other and busted up laughing.
“It’s like they didn’t even give a rip. And there’s barf all over the grass. Clive wasn’t the only one,” she said.
“Gross.” It was all I could say. We leaned our heads together, stunned, and cracked up again.
“Let’s go to bed.” Megan got up, then pulled me to my feet. Raucous music persisted though my closed bedroom door. I turned out my bedside lamp.
“So tell me about Reese.”
“Well . . . he’s funny, handsome, and kind. He’s my best friend and I miss him so much I can’t stand it. He misses me too. He’s sent me a letter for every day I’ve been gone so far.”
“Wow, that’s pretty impressive for a guy. I’ve heard that long distance relationships don’t last.”
“The letters keep me going,” I said. “He’s so sweet and I write to him all the time too. Stanley can’t stand me sitting in my room writing letters home. He thinks all the correspondence is unhealthy, but I need to write.”
I thought for a moment about what kept others going, the students who had unlimited reserves, open checkbooks to do with as they wished. My Rotary club gave me a small monthly allowance for spending money, my main income. It didn’t stretch much beyond snacks, movies, and postage, but when I looked at the stack of letters from home, I felt like the richest girl in the world. They were pure gold.
“We should go into Sydney and explore tomorrow,” Megan said, sensing my exchange student purgatory, nudging me into my new temporary life. “We’ll take the train, walk across the Harbour Bridge, check out the Opera House and have a picnic in Hyde Park. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds great. Beats helping Lisa and Candy clean up this place,” I said, thinking of the piss, beer, and barf.
“Goodnight.” Megan yawned.
Good for me, bad for her, Maxmillion had moved in on Megan’s trundle bed. “Don’t let the bed dogs bite. Move over doggie,” she said, giving Max a shove.
“Let’s go to the beach too,” I said. “Goodnight.” Lying stomach side down on my bed, I whispered goodnight to Reese’s picture and dozed off, happy that two friends were close by.
* * *
Dear Reese,
I met a really terrific friend over the weekend. Her name is Megan and is from B.C. Canada. (That is British Columbia, the province on the west coast in case you didn’t know.) We went into Sydney today and had a total blast. Instead of just riding the North Shore Line, we rode out to the forbidden ‘Western Suburbs’ just for kicks. We ended up downtown, picnicking in Hyde Park and wading in a fountain (I have pictures). We even went to the beach, laid around, and talked some more.
There are people here on street corners who play music, leaving their instrument cases open for people to throw money in. They are called buskers. After walking around and shopping, even going to the top of Centrepoint Tower, (no, I didn’t misspell it) we watched ships sail by on the Harbour. That’s how they spell it here, with an ‘ou’ instead of just an ‘o’. It was so much fun, about the most fun since I’ve been here. I still miss you. A LOT. But, making friends with Megan has made me happier. Wish you could be here too.
Now I have to tell you what happened over the weekend. You won’t believe it . . . .
I finished the letter with the sordid tales of the party, then enclosed a little surprise.
* * *
Dear Camryn,
I have good news and very bad news. The good news is that I finally found out what your little partner in crime was up to when the homecoming flowers came in. I was so surprised in homeroom when I got two carnations and they were from you! You absolutely made my day. Thank you. The only thing that could have made my day better would have been having you here to thank in person.
Now for the bad news. My ankle has been giving me problems in b-ball practice. I went to the Dr. and he said I’d need corrective surgery to fix it. When I told Coach, he said he wanted no part of it and wouldn’t let me on the team. Camryn, I’m so devastated. He wouldn’t even work with me on this, and he let me go. I can’t believe it! I was leading scorer before I got injured last season. I just wanted a chance. And to think this is my senior year! This is it. My dad won’t even talk to me. Not that he ever did. I never asked to get hurt and I certainly didn’t ask for this dream to be taken away from me. To make matters worse, since I won’t be playing in the games anymore, I have to play in the pep band and watch. How much worse can it get? I wish you were here to help me through this. You always knew just the right thing to say and put a smile on my face. I’m looking at your picture right now, but it is hard to smile at the moment.
I hope you are well. Come home soon! I love and miss you.
Love, Really Depressed Reese
P.S. The confetti you enclosed in your last letter exploded all over the kitchen.
I slumped over on m
y bed, pained for Reese yet overwhelmed with elation. He loves me. Oh my god! Poor, poor Reese. I imagined the angst he must have been going through, and I felt bad that I wasn’t there for him to lean on.
Dear Reese,
I feel your pain. I know how much playing ball meant to you and I too was looking forward to hearing all about it, wishing I was there to watch. I know you’ll come through this even though I know it won’t be easy. Hey, after your surgery and you are all better, maybe you can focus on track. You were so good at that too. Sometimes when one thing doesn’t work out, another thing does. In any case, I love you no matter what. Hang in there.
You are not going to believe this. Megan and I went on an adventure in Sydney Harbour. There was a Russian cruise ship docked at Circular Quay (pronounced key, I know, weird, huh?) and we intended to be stowaways. Well, not really, but we did pretend like we knew what we were doing and helped ourselves on board to look around for a bit. It was nice. I’d love to go on a cruise ship someday. We had a lot of fun just hanging out together and checking out the city. Wish you could have been there.
Oh, my host mother freaked out on me when I was leaving the house wearing shorts. She insisted that shorts were not fit attire for wearing into the city, so I put a skirt on over them and changed on the train. Ugh! Max the dog is driving me crazy too, but at least I’m getting used to a drool-soaked pillow. It’s kind of comfy. Just kidding. Made you smile there for a second didn’t I?
Take care and love you,
Camryn
* * *
Dear Camryn,
I wish you were here. I miss you so much. I had hoped that basketball would get my mind off of missing you, but now that is not possible. School sucks. It sucks worse without you here to share it with. Ha ha.
My dad keeps pressuring me about what I’m going to do with my life. He thinks I won’t amount to anything now that I can’t play hoops. I’ve been thinking about going into Marine Biology. More on that later.
On a happier note, I’d like to sing a song for you. I think you will like it and I think you will know what it is just as soon as I start. You’re the . . .
The hair on my arms stood on end in ecstatic joy and I nearly cried happy tears as I began to read my serenade. Reese continued to write every lyric of Chicago’s “You’re the Inspiration.” I could hear him sing it within my head, which sent me into an intoxicating teenage euphoria of feeling completely loved. His letter went on . . .
Love, Carry My Bags Page 9