* * *
My last two months in Oz were a flurry of squeezing in all the last-minute things I still wanted to get done, helping to corral my pining for Reese into something barely manageable. The Underwood’s, whom I had short contacts with every once in a while during the year, finally convinced my host parents that, despite being Westies, I would be safe with them going away on holiday. They took me to their exquisite beach house a few hours south of Sydney—exactly what a beach was supposed to be. Pristine sand, unbroken sun, tree-lined cliffside seclusion, peace interrupted only by the laugh of a kookaburra and the roll of the ocean waves, a ship in the far distance disappearing over the horizon. Paradise came to mind. Almost paradise.
The Underwood’s hospitality was the best.
“Can you believe we met nearly two years ago now, in New York?” Judy marveled. “Have a rest on the beach. Go on,” she said with an urgency in her voice that commanded I pamper myself, and a smile of delight on her face that she had a wonderfully unique place to share. The beach was mine.
* * *
A trip to Tasmania, jaunt to the opal mines in Coober Pedy, a climb up Ayers Rock, and my dream visit to the Great Barrier Reef never came to fruition. Rotary members, in their almighty wisdom, decided it was unsafe for me to make trips alone. No members had any plans of going to those places, so I was out of luck.
My luck had, though, been greater than those of some South African exchange students. Politically minded Aussie students who demonstratively took exception to the South African policy of apartheid had physically beaten up Debbie at her host school. Nina endured jeers and sneers at hers. Americans weren’t the only ones tightly boxed into an abhorrence. I felt sorry for them, singled out and abused for something they had nothing to do with nor supported.
But the end of our exchange year included a three-week motor-coach safari trip for all of the exchange students in our district. We were all safe in each other’s company—our own melting pot of a world. Students from Sweden, Norway, Finland, Japan, Indonesia, South Africa, America, Brazil, Germany, England, and Canada traversed southeast Australia, visiting places such as the towns of Dubbo, and Nyngan, Broken Hill, Wentworth, the Barossa Valley wine country, Adelaide, Melbourne, Jindabyne, Cooma. Along the way we slept in homes of other Rotary members, dormitories, and even, upon occasion, the bare cement floor of an exhibition hall, in a gymnasium or barn. A rolling sideshow, we ‘paid’ for our lodging by entertaining hosts along the way with skits, jokes, music, and dance. The range of entertainment spanned from lampoonery, which had our audience splitting their sides with laughter and wetting themselves, to the impassioned solemnity of Sumi’s piano rendition of “Ballade Pour Adeline” on the piano. The sound of a dropped pin would thunder after her performance every single time.
And in Rotary tradition, each evening, we were fined. Fined for our offenses—fined for drinking too much, fined for drinking too little, fined for using the wrong bathroom, fined for hiding Master W’s bull whip, fined for fingernails too long, even fined for not being fined.
“Emu at two o’clock.” Everyone shifted to the right side of the bus after our Coach Captain sounded the alert. They weren’t bus drivers; they were Coach Captains. There was a distinct difference. Bus drivers didn’t set up and break down breakfast, lunch, and dinner, nor distribute hugs and other affectionate gestures. Bus drivers just drove. Coach Captains rocked.
* * *
Amongst letters from my dad, mother, Jo, brother, sister, and a few friends, a Welcome to Harvard postcard waited on my bed when I arrived back at the Freeman’s after safari.
Dear Camryn,
The front of this card could have said, ‘Welcome to Hell.’ It would have meant the same thing. I have been so busy. Graduation went well. Wish you could have been there. Milk Day is this coming weekend. I wish you could be here for that too. Maybe next year we can go together. I’ll be going to North Carolina soon with my family, so I’m looking forward to that. I joined the Air Force. Sarah says ‘Hi.’ John asked her to marry him, but her father told them to wait another year. That’s about it.
I love you, Reese
* * *
The final two weeks consisted of going away party after going away party, impetuous souvenir shopping, and a final time at the beach. Megan and I made a deliberate excursion to Bondi Beach where topless sunbathing was the norm and gave it a whirl.
“I feel so . . . exposed,” Megan said.
“Me too.”
We put our tops back on.
Each family who had hosted me in any way invited me back for one last supper. I rode the bus, alone, to dinner with friends from school who bid me farewell. Megan’s Rotary club invited me to speak; she spoke at mine. The club members presented me with parting gifts of Australiana—picture books, opal earrings, a musical stuffed koala made with real kangaroo fur; “Waltzing Matilda” chimed from within. Tears streamed down my face as Mr. Tomlinson, the club president, gave his valediction. I had formed bonds. Bonds with new friends, bonds with the country, bonds within my own self. I was eager to return home, yet apprehensive of the unknown that lie ahead. I wept for leaving a year of wonder behind, for the relief of finally going home to Reese after enduring time and space apart, for seeing my weakened and forever-changed father again. Half of my tears were for Megan. I couldn’t quantify the significance of our friendship and certainly couldn’t utter it, yet in my heart, I knew it was a rare jewel. My eyes blurred as I stood next to Mr. Tomlinson at the head table rendering his final adieu—“Godspeed, Miss Camryn.” I looked Megan’s way. The floodgates opened. Mrs. Tomlinson handed me a tissue.
When I turned in that night, as had been my bedtime ritual all year, I wrote a letter. My last letter from Oz. I picked up a card adorned by a koala, a kangaroo, and an Australian flag with the lyrics to “Waltzing Matilda” printed inside, just for this missive.
Dear Megan,
It’s so hard to say goodbye. I’ve written my notes to everyone else, and now I write to you. I searched for a proper goodbye card, but couldn’t find the right words until I found this, your new theme song.
Megan, I really look up to you and what you’ve made of this year. You handle people so well. Even though you fret about what you are to say, you come through with flying colors. I admire you for your ability to be yourself. You’ve been the best friend. I’m glad I could tell you all the latest ‘dirt,’ gossip, sagas, and you’d listen and understand. I’ve had so many good times with you, and you definitely are a very big part of my year. Thanks for being you, my best buddy. I love you. I’ll miss you, my saving grace.
Love always,
Camryn
* * *
Departure Day take two. The European students’ flights were in the morning, Japanese’s midday and North Americans’ flights in the afternoon. Safari all over again, only this time everyone reunited to part ways. My Sob Sopper was sopped. Each departing flight took away a piece of the team. Each flight drained more tears from my eyes, which turned to unsightly puffs from overuse. This is the final boarding call for Flight 3560 sounded over the loudspeaker.
“That’s me,” Megan said quietly, sad exhaustion apparent in her swollen eyes. She had said her goodbyes, saving me for last.
“I’ll miss you,” I said, tears running down my face, nothing more to say out loud. The note I penned the night before said the rest. “Here.” Choked up and barely able to whisper, I handed her the card.
“I have one for you too.” Megan handed me an envelope with ‘Cammie’ written across the front. We hugged, stepped back, and wiped each other’s tears away with our thumbs, which just brought more. “Bye. Keep in touch.” Megan disappeared down the jetway. I waved goodbye. Megan’s host father gave me a comforting hug.
“You going to be okay?” he asked.
“I’ll have to be.”
Megan’s note read:
My darling Camry Baby,
So, gorgeous, where do I start? I could go on about how absolutely wo
nderful you are, how I love your nails, how I can just be myself around you, how I can be immature and you understand, how I can be mature and you understand, how I can just talk to you about anything, how we can just look at each other and laugh, and it’s not because we look stupid, but because we understand each other, how you are always there for me, supportive and caring, how dumb our sense of humour is, but we laugh together, how I love being impulsive with you (trying to stow away on a Russian ship), how different you are to me, but I love it because you bring out my good and bad sides, how if I’m upset, in a bad mood, or grumpy, you’ll stick out your tongue or tell me to smarten up, how you put me in a good mood, how we’ve never argued, how you’ve been patient with me while I’ve been difficult, how I can throw grapes at you and you don’t mind, how I can sing & skip & dance down the streets of Adelaide and instead of yelling at me, you join in, how you can tolerate my party animal moods, how you are honest with me and tell me the truth even if I want to refuse it, how I can be sarcastic and you just dish it all back and we laugh so hard our stomach muscles ache, and how absolutely fantastic, wonderful, and totally smashing it is to have a friend like you, but I won’t because I don’t want you to get a big head.
Seriously, no matter what I could ever say, the words could never mean as much as this: I love you. Camryn, you are my best friend. Thank you for your friendship—you have given me so much and made my life better because of who you are. I shall treasure our year together forever.
Megan XOXO
CHAPTER 9
“Nerds shall inherit the earth.”
—B.G. William
My welcome home committee consisted of Father, Jo, and my mother.
“Love your accent,” Jo said, noting my new Aussie-influenced speech. I, also, had noted the American accent, and for the first time heard it with foreign ears. Harsh until you get used to it. I hugged each of them, squirming quickly away from Mother when she said, “Bless you” like some sort of a priestess. Father was thin. We collected my suitcases. And a box. Father struggled with my bags despite his earnest effort, so I took over. If only Reese were here, he could take care of this. The thought passed quickly as I was juggling rapid-fire questions about my last few days in Oz and the flight home to O’Hare.
“What would you like to eat?” Jo asked.
“Pizza.” There was no doubt. Pizza hadn’t been pizza since I left, but instead, a crust lightly smeared with crushed tomatoes, sparse cheese, pineapple, kalamata olives, and ham.
“Reese couldn’t come?” I asked from the backseat of the new Honda as we passed under a travelers’ oasis on Interstate 90 heading back home. Normally we would have turned off onto Highway 20 had home been in Harvard, but Jo and Father moved while I was away. Father’s health precluded him leading a large congregation on his own anymore. Any congregation for that matter.
“Reese’s mother called two days ago,” Jo answered. My heart started to pound, sensing something amiss. “He stayed behind in North Carolina for the summer. Working in a scuba shop.”
What? I have to wait longer?
“Oh my gosh! When is he coming home?” I asked, frazzled, taken by nasty surprise.
“September. Then he’ll be home a short while before he goes into the Air Force.” Jo gave me the report as if I had known the plan.
“What?” I said in a louder voice, my agitation clear. I poked my head between the front seats making sure I didn’t misunderstand. Jo and Father gave each other the concerned I-thought-she-knew look. Mother sat quietly in the backseat. “Reese didn’t tell me. I mean he mentioned that he was thinking about joining the Air Force, but I didn’t know he made a decision.” I slouched back in my seat, shock taking hold.
Arrival at my new home temporarily lifted my spirits. Whiskers barked, threw herself at me, nearly knocking me over, and lavished me with doggie kisses—ones I appreciated. A bouquet of ‘We love you’ balloons waited for me on the kitchen table. Jo had arranged my bedroom as close to the way I had my old room as possible. I unpacked. Settled in. All the letters Reese had sent me took priority space in my top dresser drawer. I re-read the last post card Reese had sent. ‘I joined the Air Force.’ There it was, tucked in between his summer vacation plans and John’s proposal to Sarah. No details of why or when. His handwriting was minuscule in order to fit more on the card. I swore when I read it the first time that it said ‘might join the Air Force.’ I had been wrapped up in year-end events, glossed over that unbelievable minor detail.
“Do we have tickets to visit Brad in Virginia?” I asked, following up on plans to see Brad before finding a job and settling into community college. Father planned to come along. He needed a reprieve. Jo and he had hit a rough spot in their marriage, the details of which I was too young to understand. Jo stayed behind to sort out her head.
I wasn’t in high school anymore; I didn’t know where I was.
“We leave August 8th.” Finally, welcome news. I got out the atlas. Contingency plans in motion.
“Kill Devil Hills isn’t far from Brad. We could go down for a day to see Reese.” Father didn’t look thrilled with the idea, but did not object.
* * *
My stomach soared with a million butterflies. Brad, Father and I crossed into Dare County, North Carolina. I made arrangements with Reese over the phone to pick him up at the apartment he was sharing with acquaintances. We hadn’t discussed our communication gap. What mattered most was that we’d see each other soon. I knocked on the door of an unassuming cement-block apartment. A young surfer came to the door.
“Reese, your girlfriend’s here.” The boy yelled with a tease in his voice. ‘Girlfriend’ in his mouth sounded so annoying. I fidgeted. Reese jumped up from the couch. His tall frame reminded me just how short I was in comparison. He wore bare feet, jogging shorts and a T-shirt. He seemed taller.
“Hey.” Reese had few words and a big smile. “Let me get some socks and shoes,” Reese said, holding the screen door. “Come in.” We felt shy and awkward at first, not the magical something I imagined normal people who professed undying love for each other over the last ten months would feel. I followed him through the kitchen and stopped. He disappeared into a bedroom. Clothes were strewn everywhere, dirty dishes piled up in the sink, trash on the floor.
“Nice place,” I said.
“Don’t go into the bathroom. There’s mold in there,” Reese said as he pulled on white athletic socks. A smidgeon of envy crept into my thoughts. Pigsty or not, he was living sans parents. I would have loved my own place. Our place. A fantasy of having a home with Reese flitted through.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be gone all summer?”
“I’m sorry. I meant to, but we came down here for vacation and I got this great job at the dive shop and . . . I’ve hardly had time to breathe.”
“What’s this about joining the Air Force?”
“I told you that.” Reese stopped the casual conversation to exchange pleasantries and shake hands with Brad and my father. He held the rear car door open, then got in behind me.
“I know you told me that—in microscopic handwriting amongst other unrelated details. It didn’t really sink in. What happened to studying Marine Biology?” I asked, looking down, nervous about sounding demanding, as if I had no right. “When do you go in?”
“November.” Reese only answered the second question.
“What will you be doing?”
“I signed up for pilot training.” Reese’s answer caught my dad’s attention.
“Really? Where?” I asked.
“Basic is at Lackland Air Force Base. After that, who knows?” Reese tapped Brad on the shoulder. “There’s a good spot on the beach up ahead on the left.” We pulled into a shopping complex adjacent to a beach access. Sea oats covering the dunes made it hard to see the Atlantic from the car.
“Meet us back here at noon, then we can all have lunch together,” Father said. I wished we could’ve had the whole day to ourselves, but given the circumstan
ces, I was grateful for a couple of hours. Reese took me in and out of kite shops, souvenir shops, the dive shop where he worked. He passed a dive shop employee.
“Hey.” Reese gave his standard greeting. The guy passed by, obviously wondering who I was. We finished looking at Ocean Pacific board shorts and headed off to the beach.
“How’s Ryan doing?” I asked.
“He was just here handling basketball camp again—off season for the pros. He didn’t quite seem like himself. I kicked his butt in b-ball.”
“Things any better with your dad?”
“No, he still hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” I said, trying to make things better, but not knowing if it was true.
“Oh, I’m not so sure. I’m going to the Air Force because of him. He didn’t want me pursuing Marine Biology; that’s what happened.”
“Why not?
“I don’t know. Because he thinks anything I want to do isn’t worth doing.”
I dropped it.
“How did you pass the physical with your weak ankle?”
“Air Force standards are more relaxed on things like that. It’s not like I’ll be jumping in and out of foxholes with the Marines.”
“I’m happy I’m home,” I said, glad to talk in person again.
“You better be, Goofy.” Reese’s term of endearment surfaced. “Can you still do this?” Reese let loose a high-pitched shrill. I laughed, then gave it my best effort, not to disappoint.
“Cammie’s back,” Reese announced happily, then ran to the water’s edge. We searched for shells, content to be together, not thinking about being apart yet again by afternoon. I scooped seawater in my hands, then surprised Reese, dribbling it down the back of his shirt. Reese retaliated by picking me up from behind and spinning me around in the sand. Shell hunting became a contact sport too. He gently set me down and the retaliatory spin turned into a hug. That moment, I was back on the shores of Lake Geneva, cradled in Reese’s arms. Our awkward shyness vanished into what endless love feels like for normal people.
Love, Carry My Bags Page 11