We’re talking three women living in an RV—with one bathroom—and you’re okay with this?” My voice rises with every word across the phone wires of our three-way call.
“It’s only for a few weeks, DeDe. You can handle it. We have faith in you. Right, Lydia?” Millie says.
“Sure we do. Come on, Dee, you can do it!” Lydia agrees with all the eagerness of a junior-high cheerleader.
“Shall I mention that whole hookup process thing?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. This will be great. You and I can fly in to Maine and meet at Lydia’s house. We’ll load up the RV and set off to Colorado. How fun is that?”
“I have an opinion, but I’ll keep it to myself.” Kicking off my shoes, I stretch my legs and lift them onto the kitchen chair across from me. Tiny red spider veins are gathered at my ankles like a church family at a potluck. Ah, the joys of growing old. I remember when I had not a blemish on my skin. Then again, one day I’ll be lucky to remember anything, so I guess it all evens out.
“It’s better that way,” Millie says. “Besides, what’s a little discomfort when we’re trying to save Aspen Creek Bible Camp?”
“Can I answer that?”
“No,” Millie snaps.
She can be so rude.
A bleep sounds across my phone line, and the caller ID says Rob’s calling again. My heart pauses, the familiar ache for this traitor I thought I loved growing more intense. Why can’t he leave me alone?
“For Aspen Creek!” Lydia quotes the words like a sacred mantra, pulling me from the place where my heart keeps going but my mind tries so carefully to avoid.
“Okay, so I’m slime.” A speck of lint dots my black chino shorts. I flip it off.
“You’re not slime,” Lydia defends.
“Not slime, just opinionated,” Millie argues. “Come on, DeDe, regardless of our personal discomfort, who doesn’t want to save our teenage haven from being closed for all time?”
“Um, that would be me,” I say.
“Why don’t you tell us how you really feel?” Millie banters.
We all laugh.
“Besides, why wouldn’t you want to go? You had every guy in camp after you,” Millie says with a slightly bitter edge to her voice.
“Oh, I like the sound of that. Things were pretty good back in the day. Let’s see, there was David, George, Ralph, Tony—”
“Spare us the gory details,” Millie says, bitter tone still in place.
Lydia laughs. “Well, her popularity with the guys didn’t hurt us any, Mil. Remember Terry and Russ?”
“Oh yeah,” Millie says wistfully. I can almost see the stars in her eyes. She liked Russ a lot. “Wonder if he’ll be there?” She quickly adds, “Not that it matters. I’m not ready for another relationship. Still, it would be fun to see him.” Her voices escalates. “Truthfully, Dee, can’t you set aside your fancy hotel rooms to save the camp?”
“I don’t do RVs. Claustrophobia and all that. Wait.” My legs drop to the floor, and I sit up straight. “Did I just see my kitchen walls move toward me? I’m pretty sure I saw that.”
“You want to be with us, right?” Millie asks.
It takes me a moment before I’m convinced the walls didn’t move. “Not that much. You snore.” Legs back on the chair.
Lydia laughs.
Millie doesn’t. “Come on. This will be great, and you know it. A little R&R, work on the camp with old friends—”
“Old being the key word here.”
“David, Tony, George, Ralph—any or all of them could be there.” She hangs each name before me like a dangling carrot. “What do you think, Lydia?” Millie pushes.
“Well, it would be really fun to connect with our old friends, but I’m a little worried about driving Waldo.”
Waldo? She’s named her RV Waldo? Okay, this just scares me.
“Oh, it’s a piece of cake. Bruce and I rented one once,” Millie says, referring to her ex-husband.
“Well, I suppose if we all take turns,” Lydia says.
“All of us drive? Need I remind you that I can get lost in a parking garage?” They just don’t get it.
“We’ll have a map,” Lydia offers.
“I had a map for the parking garage.”
They are stunned to silence.
“I’m kidding.”
Lydia lets out an audible sigh. Millie snorts.
“We have to empty our Porta Potti somewhere, Millie. Does that mean anything to you?” I ask.
“It means we have to find a hole and get busy,” Millie quips.
“And you’re my friend, why?”
“Because I make you stretch, DeDe. I’m telling you, we can do this, girls. We must do this for Aspen Creek!” Millie says this as if she’s leading a demonstration in front of the White House.
“For Aspen Creek!” Lydia joins in.
“DeDe?” Millie just can’t leave me alone.
Thoughts of my caller ID come to mind. George, Tony, David, Ralph come to mind. Might not be a bad idea after all. Besides, I need a break. From work. From Rob. From everything. “All right, all right. For Aspen Creek.”
Millie and Lydia whoop and holler like a couple of seniors on graduation day.
“It’s all set then. Beverly Hamilton has heard from lots of the alumni already,” Millie says, referring to our longtime friend who took over the position of camp manager when her parents retired. “Most are sending money, but a few are coming to work. What fun to be part of a bigger cause.”
This should make me feel noble, but I’m not there yet. I’m still stuck on the Porta Potti thing. Well, not literally . . . at least, not yet.
“Look out, gang! The girls are back in town!” Lydia blurts out of nowhere, practically heaving between breaths. She sounds like a fifty-year-old at a Donny Osmond concert.
Okay, I’m growing used to the idea. Still, there’s something I just can’t get past.
You know how you feel when you think there’s a storm a-brewin’ somewhere?
Yeah, it’s kind of like that.