Page 144 of Camp Bliss
Three women occupy the furniture in the lodge. They have a tendency to all talk at once. They always have. I know because I used to see them every day. Courtney Poché, Virginia Beckers, and Deandra Flugence were my work squad. The other science teachers at Broussard Middle School.
And I feel more than a twinge of guilt for not inviting them here sooner. We used to do Wine Down Wednesdays every week. I’m kind of surprised that after I basically disappeared after the school year ended they were willing to share their Wednesday evening with me here at Camp Bliss.
I don’t have any cabin guests tonight, but I can pull off a Happy Hour in my sleep these days.
It might have been Trina’s idea when she heard I was flying solo for a week.
And, yeah, I was nervous to text the girls, but I’m glad I did.
“Thank you,” I say to Courtney as I set down my mini-charcuterie board on the coffee table. She’s sitting in the new swivel chair, and Vee and Deandra are sharing the matching couch. I sit cross legged on the floor in front of the coffee table. “Yes, there is life after teaching. It’s a good life, but it’s harder to tell if I’m doing it right,” I confess, making eye contact with Vee when I do.
Then I pick up the cocktail glass sporting a slice of gala apple and a cinnamon stick and toast it at Deandra. “Pinterest.”
I take a sip and immediately decide this is what I’ll be serving to guests through the holiday season. The tequila, triple sec, and spiced apple cider go surprisingly well together, but it’s the sugar-salt-cinnamon rim that really gives it a festive fall feel.
Mmmm.
Vee lifts a hand, palm up, and gestures toward the windows that show the last of a blazing sunset. “How can you not tell you’re doing it right? The tour you took us on was to die for. Those cabins! The lake! The challenge course, ohmygod!”
Courtney brings her glass to her lips. “You guys are going to be turning kids away next summer.”
“I sure hope so.”
I hate to admit it, but with Zach gone the last few days, I’ve started to get more anxious about all of it. And even though I said I could handle the day-to-day stuff on my own, it’s kicking my butt.
But I’m grateful I’m so busy. Because I really freaking miss him.
He’s texted me every day—usually a handful of times. And we try to talk on the phone every night, but sometimes I’ll miss his call and others he’ll miss mine.
He’s going bananas at his parents’ house. I don’t think either one of them is a very good patient. But his story about the two of them trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches when he went to the store had me tearing up, I laughed so hard. In the middle of trying to flip the sandwiches with their non-dominant hands, one of the sandwiches landed on the floor, and the three family dogs, Duke, Honey, and Butters fought over the spoils, leaving Butters with a bite wound on his ear and Duke with a case of diarrhea.
And Zach had to deal with all of it.
He’ll be back Saturday, and I don’t know which one of us will be happier.
“So…” Deandra swipes a finger through the cinnamon rim before popping it into her mouth and giving me a searching look. “Where’s Josh?”
I tense even though I knew this was coming.
Trina and I talked about this part at length. One of the consequences of letting your relationships with friends languish while you are going through a hard time is that eventually—if the friendship survives—you’re going to have to share your shit.
And this is what I’ve been dreading.
“About that,” I say before drawing in a breath and marshaling my courage. “I have some things to share, and they’re not easy.”
All three of my teacher friends go still. Their eyes are on me. And the moment before I spill, I see the concern. I see the compassion. The love.
And I have to acknowledge that I’m the one who let go of these women. Trina helped me realize why. It might not have been conscious, but it was pre-emptive.
Because I expected that once we no longer worked together, they’d let go of me.
But they haven’t. Outside of replying to a few texts and commenting on their social media posts about their vacations, their classroom decorations at the start of school, and the occasional times they’ve tagged me in their Wine Down Wednesday posts, saying they missed me, I’m the one who pulled away.
And all it took was one text message on my end, and here they are.
So here goes.
“Josh left. In July.”
