Page 3 of A Little Campfire Blues
What then?
Chapter Two
Roman
Why was I, a man who’d dropped from helicopters into choppy seas, as nervous as a seven-year-old on the way to sleepover camp for the first time? The answer was easy and not one I needed long to think about.
Axis and Ezzy.
In what might prove to be the single biggest fuck-up of my life, I’d convinced them both to join me in Redmond for pride camp after eight years of being apart. In any other case it would have been a reunion to look forward to and even be excited about. Hell, another time, another place, another me, and I’d have run the risk of a speeding ticket tearing down the highway in my Challenger, eager to lay eyes on them both and squish them into the kind of tight hug that used to leave them gasping and complaining they couldn’t breathe.
Now I was just hoping this would go well and that neither would wind up hating me before our two weeks in the woods were over.
Shit.
Fuck.
What if they got there before I did?
What if they ran into each other while I was still cruising along at five under the speed limit, like a little old man checking out the fall foliage?
I pressed the pedal down and brought the needle up to sixty-five, set the cruise control, and told the smart speaker on my phone to pull up driving playlist number three, filled with old-school metal and classic rock.
Having Motorhead pour through the smart speakers, especially Love Me Like a Reptile, helped ease the tension in my shoulders a little, but I still gripped the wheel with both hands, peering with single-minded focus on the highway in front of me.
At least the drive would be a short one.
Hadn’t done myself any favors getting on the road later than I’d planned, though.
Two years out of the military, forced to retire after injuries during an offshore rescue, I’d fallen into some sloppy habits, especially once summer rolled around. As the high school swim coach of the team I was once the star of, as well as the director of the town's aquatics center, it was rare that I rose before seven these days. Daybreak swimming at the aquatics center was overseen by two senior lifeguards, while my office hours didn’t start until nine. Since I lived less than two blocks from the facility, I’d gotten into the habit of rolling out of bed, having coffee, then heading down to get a mile swim in before showering in the locker room, and plopping myself behind my desk, where a mini fridge stocked with fruit, yogurt, and whatever takeout was left over from the day before awaited me. Along with more coffee courtesy of the Keurig I’d installed the day I’d taken over the position.
After years of training, constantly being on the ready for that call to come in that lives were in danger, dealing with pissed-off mamas upset because they weren’t allowed to book the entire pool area for little Billy’s birthday party wasn’t the way I’d envisioned my future.
But it was my job.
The rules said they could rent the outdoor splash pad for no more than three hours. It included four picnic tables beneath a wooden overhanging. Bookings were taken on a first-come, first-served basis, so no, I could not ask someone else to please move their event so they could hold it during the time they’d planned. Maybe not sending out invitations until you have everything locked in wasn’t something they liked to hear either, but there was no wiggle room or exceptions. Not that I’d have been tempted to give any with the entitled attitudes and condescending tones they used when they spoke to me.
The phrase “Yeah, well, I don’t work for you,” had been my response more than once, often followed by them ending the call with a huff and a few choice profanities. Oh well. Not my problem and not my boss's either. She’d fielded more than one irate phone call only to shut them down with the cold, clipped tone she reserved for when people pissed her off.
Personally, I never wanted to be on the other side of it. I’d been grateful the first time it happened, when she’d poked her head into my office to tell me to keep on running things the way I was, and to send any complaints to her.
Turned out, she’d had problems with the previous director trying to double-book, or flat-out rescheduling events when someone slipped him a little extra to make a booking turn out in their favor.
That shit would never fly with me, and I’d told her that, earning a smile before she’d headed back upstairs to deal with the reports she provided city counsil each year. I was just glad I didn’t have to worry about that shit on top of everything else.
Our indoor play area, designed for the littlest visitors to the aquatics center, had been in desperate need of upgrading when I’d taken over. Most of the first year was spent researching fixtures and arranging to have them installed.
This year, my biggest task was organizing a swim team for the center, something it had when I was growing up. Over the years, a lack of funding, lack of coaches, and lack of overall organization to arrange consistent practices and meets had led to the team disbanding, which had also led, at least in my opinion, to the competitiveness at the high school level falling off.
Those students who excelled tended to be from families with properties that bordered the lake or those who were fortunate enough to have homes with backyard pools or friends with them. Growing up, I’d had neither. Just the town pool,which back then, had been outside and only usable in warm months. I’d been stationed at Coast Guard Station Chatham in Massachusetts when they’d built the center and hadn’t seen it until I’d toured the facility during my orientation, after I’d already taken the job.
Spacious and heated in winter months, with tall windows that let sunlight stream through, it was a beautiful facility, but the membership costs were a deterrent for some families, and rightly so. Back when I was a kid, we paid a buck to use the outdoor pool and signed in so we could come in and out all day without having to pay another dollar. Can’t tell you how many lunches I’d have missed out on in the final weeks of school each year if Axis and Ezzy hadn’t shared their lunches with me.
Ezzy always brought food from home, and not just leftovers. Their mom was always experimenting in the kitchen, making naan bread and then covering it with diced pieces of steak, cheese, mushrooms, vegetables, and any other toppings that came to mind. She’d make homemade pita bread and stuff then with cucumbers, tomatoes, and chicken, all coated in a delicious sauce. She always putting a few extras in that she knew Ezzy would never be able to finish.
Sometimes Axis would try them too, though most days, he had a bag of whatever his mom had brought home from her job the night before. Fried chicken, deviled eggs, potato salad, there was always a feast in those Styrofoam containers. They were the ones who made it so I could practice in the pool whenever possible, not that my folks didn’t do all they could, but with six of us, there hadn’t always been a dollar for lunchandfor swimming. Still, they never missed a meet, nor did Axis and Ezzy.
Hell, Axis used to bring his acoustic guitar to the pool and sit well away from the water to reherse during my practices. Could have used an indoor pool back then, since I always felt like mytimes fell off after the season was over. Something I could never work at fixing until we reached high school.
