Lighting the Flames (3 page)

The night
he
’
d
left, he
’
d found her in the art shack, where she worked and pretty
much lived between June and August. She
’
d been sitting on a
table, untangling a knotted lanyard that a first-year camper had
made and woven incorrectly. She could fix it and show him the right
way, but undoing what he
’
d done in frustration
was taking forever.

She
’
d looked up when
Jeremy entered, the screen door swinging behind him. He caught the
door before it slammed shut, a sound he knew she hated.
She
’
d turned her attention back to her hands and
hadn
’
t noticed anything different until he stood in front of
her, so close that his clothing brushed her skin. She could feel
his tension and his unhappiness hitting her like waves knocking
against the sides of a canoe.

“
I
’
m going home,
”
he
’
d said, his voice
quiet and level and sad.

Gen had sat up,
staring at him in shock.
“
What? Did you get
fired? Did they find out about the golf cart? That it was us? Oh,
no, no. I
’
m going to talk to Scott.
”

She
’
d dropped the lanyard
on the table and reached out to push him back so she could jump off
the table to the ground. Jeremy had grabbed her hand, and
she
’
d stopped moving.

“
I
’
m not fired. I got into this program. I was going to start
in January, but
…”
He stopped, then started again.
“
Someone quit and a
spot opened up.
”

She remembered
confusion and sadness and hurt, so much hurt, because nothing he
said made sense. He hadn
’
t told her anything
about a program, about school, about any of it.

“
Where are you going?
”

“
New
York.
”
He
’
d been so vague, so unwilling to share anything, that the
hurt had smothered every other feeling until all she could do was
stare at him as he held her hand and watched her
face.

“
I
leave for Iceland in August. Will you
—”

“
I
won
’
t be back by then. I don
’
t come home until
December.
”

“
Can
I come see you before I go?
”

He
’
d stilled, his eyes
unfocused for a moment. Then he
’
d shaken his head
slowly.
“
No. But I
’
ll see you when you get back.
”

“
Jeremy. I
’
ll be gone for a year. I won
’
t be back until next
summer.
”

“
Then I
’
ll see you
…
then.
”
He
’
d tried to smile, but gave up. The grin that usually
encompassed his face faded before it reached his
eyes.

“
I
don
’
t get it. Why didn
’
t you tell me? What
school are you going to?
”

He
’
d stepped closer and
dropped her hand, then ran his fingers down the side of her face,
over her cheek, then down her neck. She
’
d been so surprised
she hadn
’
t moved, the hurt dulled by the shock of feeling Jeremy
touch her like that.

“
I
will tell you everything, all about it, once I get there. I
didn
’
t plan this
—
it was a last-minute thing.
”

She
hadn
’
t been able to think of a word to say.
She
’
d just stared at him. His hand had come to rest on her
shoulder, and his thumb was tracing the edge of her neck where her
pulse was beating in triple time.

“
I
promise I
’
ll explain it, but I
—
I
’
m
sorry.
”

He had leaned in,
probably to kiss her cheek, but she
’
d turned her head and
kissed him on the mouth. She was still unsure if it had been panic,
or fear that she
’
d never get the chance, or if the changing feelings
she
’
d been trying to figure out had rushed to the surface to
direct her actions, but she had kissed him with no hesitation.
She
’
d kissed him like she meant it, and he
’
d turned toward her
and responded like he
’
d meant it, too.

Within the space of a few seconds, the air around
them changed. The summer had already been too hot, but between
them, it was scorching. His hand had ended up behind her neck,
bringing her closer to him, and her hands had fisted in his shirt,
holding on like the room had shifted underneath her. It kind of
had.

Then
he
’
d
moved away slowly.

“
I
have to go. I
’
m so sorry, Genevieve.
”

She found out all the
details after he
’
d gone from one of his brother
’
s friends.
He
’
d
gotten into mortuary school. Jeremy
’
s dad, and his
grandfather, and his great-grandfather, and probably more
great-great-greats going back ten or more generations, they were
all funeral directors in one of the two Jewish funeral homes in
their area. Jeremy didn
’
t like to talk about
his family
’
s business, especially after her parents
’
accident, but it
hurt that he
’
d kept it secret, that he
’
d shut her out of his
life outside of camp. She
’
d finished the summer
without him, then gone to Iceland to finish her
dad
’
s sociology research and begin her own postgraduate
work.

Real life got in the
way of many camp friendships, when distance and other obstacles
created boundaries that only disappeared at camp. Deeper,
limited-time friendships were normal for kids who spent their
summers at Meira, or at any camp, really. There were so many
campers who were the best and truest of friends but who only saw
one another during the summer. She and Jeremy were like that. Since
their first week as campers, through years as
counselors-in-training, junior staff, and then senior staff,
they
’
d been best friends. They didn
’
t see each other at
all, hardly ever, in the real world. At camp, they were always
together.

Then
he
’
d
left with barely any warning. She
’
d finished the
summer, then flown away. The following summer, neither of them had
been at camp. Gen had still been in Iceland, experiencing the mania
that came with unstoppable daylight, and Jeremy
hadn
’
t signed on as staff.

They
hadn
’
t been together at all since then, for over a year, until
now.

At the bottom of her
duffel, Gen found the 2013 camp T-shirt and shorts
she
’
d packed. She could wear the T-shirt as a layer beneath six
others, but the shorts had no purpose. Still, it had seemed wrong
to go to camp without at least one set of Meira clothing, so
she
’
d tossed them in first, before anything else.

She found a place on
the shelf for the last of her things and was nearly finished
unpacking when Scott poked his head in.
“
You sure
you
’
re okay with staying in this room?
”

Gen looked at
him.
“
Yeah, why?
”

“
It
…
doesn
’
t have a bed?
”

This was true, but she
didn
’
t have a lot of options. The bedroom by the back door had
no heat and a cracked window besides, and there was no way
she
’
d sleep on the couch in the living room. It was close to
the fireplace, but it was also the scene of many staff hookups in
years past.

The bedroom
she
’
d chosen had windows that didn
’
t seep cold air, and
it had heat. It also had a connecting door to
Jeremy
’
s room, but the door could stay closed. All of her problems
were easily solved
—
including the lack of a bed.

“
It
’
s fine. I
’
ll go borrow a sleeping bag and air mattress from the
OA shack. No big deal.
”

“
I
don
’
t want you to be, uh, uncomfortable.
”
There was a wealth
of definitions within that one word, none of which Gen was willing
to sort through.

“
It
’
s fine.
”

Scott nodded and went back to his room.

When she returned from
the Outdoor Adventure shed a few minutes later, the light in
Jeremy
’
s room was on, and she peeked inside looking for him. There
were piles of clothes, muddy shoes, cross-country ski equipment,
and ropes spilling out of a backpack, but no Jeremy.
He
’
d
jumped onto the arriving bus to welcome families to Winter Camp,
and he must
’
ve stayed with them to help unload luggage.

She
couldn
’
t even see his bed under all his stuff.
He
’
d
arrived right before she had, too. How did he make so much of a
mess in so short a time?

Gen went back to her
room, tossed the air mattress she
’
d borrowed onto the
floor and unrolled the sleeping bag, causing a flirtatious hint of
pot smoke to fill the room.

“
Why
does it smell like marijuana?
”

Scott stood in the doorway, frowning at her.

“
Borrowed gear from the outdoor shack,
”
Gen said, looking up
at him.
“
Guess all the heat this fall baked in that fresh pot
smell.
”

“
Great.
”
Scott rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“
I
can wash it.
”
Gen shrugged one shoulder.
“
And if the smell
doesn
’
t come out, we
’
ll roll the sleeping
bags into big vinyl doobies and make brownies out of the
stuffing.
”

“
Light and airy brownies? Let
’
s do
it!
”
Jeremy
’
s voice carried in from the hall.

Gen laughed. Jeremy
stuck his head in the room over Scott
’
s shoulder.
“
I can has
brownies?
”

“
Nope, sorry.
”

“
Gen, you are cruel. Tempting people with mentions of fine
baked goods.
”
Scott backed out of the doorway and Jeremy ducked his
head to enter the room. She watched him from the corner of her eye,
and when he was within striking distance, Gen pulled a towel out of
her bag and snapped it expertly through the air toward
him.

“
Attacked!
”
Jeremy feinted to one side and grabbed the towel,
pulling it from her hands.
“
I will defend my
honor!
”

“
Truce!
”
Gen raised both hands as Jeremy spun the towel into a
cord. Instead of trying to snap her with it, he coiled it into a
figure eight with flared edges, like an oversized napkin sculpture
at a formal restaurant. Then he tossed the bundle back to
her.