The Other Way Around (24 page)

“What are the Smurts?” Emily asks.

Tim looks down at his chest. “Not the Smurts, the Smurfs. You know, the little blue guys—Happy Smurf and Handy Smurf, Grumpy Smurf and Smurfette. There's a whole bag of these shirts in there.”

“No,” G says, “it definitely says Smurts.”

“That's must be why they're in the dumpster,” Jesse says. “It's probably a misprint.”

“I'm keeping these,” Tim says happily. “They'll probably be collector's items one day. Of course, you all can have one.” He pulls a T-shirt out of the bag for each of us and throws it at us. They're all children's size large, which explains why they look so tiny on Tim. “You'll thank me one day,” he says assuredly.

The turnoff for the Dusty Bottoms Family Campground is the only thing around for a mile in each direction, with the exception of a small, seemingly misplaced coffee shop just opposite the end of the dirt road that leads to the campground. The coffee shop appears to have been dropped there by aliens. On its roof is a full-sized plastic black-and-white-patterned cow with the name of the shop spray-painted on its side: Steamers. Outside the coffee shop is a bench where two white guys wearing snuggy caps and skinny jeans are drinking out of reusable steel mugs. On the other side of the door is a bike rack where a dozen bikes are squished together like junkyard art.

We turn down the road for the campground, and Steamers passes from view. “It's the off-season,” Jesse explains from the front seat. “So we basically have the place to ourselves. During the summer they do a pretty good business with people coming to see Roswell and the national parks and stuff.” As we bump down the dusty dirt road, we pass all different kinds of camp setups on either side of the van. There are a few traditional tents and a couple camper vans like Shirley, but most of the sites feature a homemade version of shelter: a few tarps and
tentpoles assembled to keep the sun and the rain at bay, some picnic tables, and a lot of trash bags and duct tape.

“Not everyone here is straight edge,” Jesse says. “But there's a chem-free section where we can camp. It definitely tends to be a little quieter over there at night.” I look over at Emily, who's staring out the window blankly.

Jesse pulls Shirley into a small cul-de-sac where a few cars are parked and a number of picnic tables have been pushed together. A large white tent has been erected over the picnic tables, which are set up like a kitchen. When I get out of the van I can see that some people are working on food preparation and off to one side there's some kind of meeting going on. “Have you been here before?” I ask Tim as we're walking over to the tent.

“Nah, not here,” he says. “They used to have it in Vermont. That's how Jesse got involved. But then a few years ago Rippy, the guy who organizes it, and his partner Danielle moved out west, and so the whole thing just kind of moved with them. That's Danielle,” Tim says, pointing out a woman in front of us with a brightly flowered shirt. As we get closer I realize that the bright flowers are actually painted directly on her skin; each breast has an enormous orange sunflower centered on the nipple. She's bending over a giant bowl of pasta salad, mixing it with her bare arms. Each time she bends over, her flowered breasts undulate in the direction of the pasta salad. When she sees us coming, she looks up and smiles.

“Jesse!” she exclaims. “You made it!” Her smile lights up her whole face. Jesse introduces us around, and she gives us all the full attention of her bright eyes and that same warm smile. I try not to stare at her flowered nipples. “Rippy's in the middle
of a thing,” she says, gesturing over to the meeting and the tall skinny guy wearing a jester's hat who appears to be facilitating. “But you guys can sign up for meal prep and cleanup and then set up your spot. I'm sure he'll be done by then. He'll be really excited to see you guys. Wow, all the way from where?”

“New York,” Jesse says. “What's going on over there?”

“Honey,” Danielle says. “Some people think we shouldn't have it here.”

Jesse nods like he understands. But I must look confused, because Danielle looks right at me and says, “Some people think it exploits the labor of the bees.”

“I'm sure Rippy will sort it all out,” Jesse says.

“Yeah,” Danielle says and smiles knowingly. “I'm sure he will.”

I'm not so sure though. I can't hear what she's saying, but a short girl with frizzy red hair is pumping one fist in the air while holding a plastic bear full of honey in the other. She looks pretty serious.

On one table underneath the tent is a series of clipboards where we all sign up for cooking and cleaning shifts. Next to that table are two poster-sized pads of paper set up on easels. One says
Today
and the other says
Tomorrow
. Perfect for me. Someone named Rosie led a cactus identification hike this afternoon, and someone else called Tanner led a workshop on making your own medicine from common household items. Dinner is scheduled for 6:30, and afterwards there's going to be bonfire at the big fire circle, wherever that is.

Tomorrow morning only has one thing scheduled, an edible plant walk with Adrian, but Jesse says it will probably fill up as more people arrive tonight. “A lot of stuff just happens
last-minute,” he says. There are several workshops set up for the afternoon, including one called “Passive Resistance to Police Brutality” that sounds interesting.

“What's the Bike Derby?” I ask.

“Sweet,” Jesse says. “When's that?”

“Tomorrow night. What is it?”

“It's kind of wild. I don't know if I should tell you or just let you wait and find out for yourself.” I shrug, trying to pretend like I don't care, but I must look annoyed because Jesse laughs and claps me on the back. “It's kind of like gladiators on bikes. Everyone gets these junky bikes and rides them around in circles, trying to bash other people's bikes. The last one riding wins.”

“Are you guys going to perform this year?” Danielle is standing behind me and Jesse, one hand on his shoulder and the other, gripping a wooden spoon, on mine. “Christmas Eve Carnival on Sunday night.”

“Jesus Christ! Christmas Eve is Sunday night?” I blurt out.

Danielle smiles sweetly. “It's weird to be away from family, huh? I remember my first holiday away. Even though I always fought with my parents about gift-giving and the capitalist consumer-driven nature of the whole thing, when it came down to it, I really missed them. Now I barely notice. It's so warm here anyway, it hardly feels like Christmas.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I guess I lost track of time.”

Danielle smiles sympathetically. “I know how that is. Hey, listen, you guys. Dinner's not for a little while. Why don't you go get set up? We'll ring the gong when it's time for grub.” She gestures at a tin plate hanging from one of the metal tent poles overhead.

I don't feel like getting back in the van, so G, Emily, and I walk behind as Jesse pilots Shirley down the sandy, rutted road. We pass two guys and a girl in anarchist attire similar to Lyle's, and I'm reminded by their smell that everyone here is definitely not chem-free. They give us a friendly wave and a squinty-eyed smile. I smile back, but Emily tightens her grip on my arm.

We pass another campsite where a girl is beating on a ceramic drum while a guy tries to coax a brownish paste into a toddler's mouth. “Reminds me of home,” Emily says in a way that's only partly nostalgic. “Bird and Darryl used to make their own baby food for the twins. The stuff was pretty gross though.”

We find a campsite that's not too far from a water spigot with a few stunted oak trees for shade. I have a feeling we'll be grateful for these when the sun is overhead around noon. Emily doesn't even bother putting her stuff in G's tent. This time she just tosses her bag in with mine without any other comment. I try to avoid looking at Tim when she does it, but he doesn't say anything this time.

We've got a little time to kill before dinner, so I open up the divorce diary to the last list I made. Figures, it was a Christmas list. Two columns again: things I wanted and things I got. Nothing on the two lists matches. Even though I don't really remember writing the list, I remember being annoyed at Mom and Dad for getting me a bike instead of the Xbox I really wanted.

This Christmas I wanted some friends, and I can honestly say I have some. They're not really what I had in mind back at St. Mary's, but that doesn't matter. I wanted a girl to pay attention to me, and I wanted a hand job from someone other than
myself. Well, I kind of have that. She did say that she loved me, or she thought she loved me. Emily is sitting on the other side of the campground, clacking away on her knitting needles. I try and catch her eye but she doesn't see me. I feel a wave of annoyance at the variability of her attention.

The gong sounds for dinner, and we grab our plates and forks and head back to the center of the campground. Back at the kitchen tent a buffet station has been laid out and piled high with food. There's the pasta salad that Danielle was working on earlier and some unidentified patties that G informs me are something called “nature-burger.”

“It's not bad if you cover it with ketchup and mustard,” she says. I just take one of everything. I'm hungry and the food is hot, which is pretty much a winning combination.

Emily snuggles next to me on one side of a picnic bench. Danielle, who's now wearing a shirt but definitely no bra, sits down next to me on the other side. Jesse, Tim, and G sit across from us. I catch sight of Lyle finding a spot with some of the other anarchist outfits, and the other benches around us fill up with unfamiliar faces. Normally I'm pretty psyched whenever Emily pays attention to me, but I'm trying to eat, and something about the way she's stroking my arm and nuzzling my shoulder is kind of claustrophobic. The conversation goes on around us, but clearly the PDA seems a little out of place to everyone else as well.

Everyone dives into their food while Rippy stands up and makes a speech welcoming us all to Burdock. As he's wrapping up the logistical information about cooking and cleaning crews, Emily leans over and whispers in my ear, “Tonight's the night.”

Before I can ask her what she means, Jesse proposes that
we all go for a soak in the hot springs after dinner. “It's pretty amazing under the stars,” he adds. “You guys all in?”

Emily is looking right at me. It feels like everyone is looking right at me. “Uh, yeah,” I say. “Definitely.” I don't think anyone else notices, but Emily slides slightly away from me on the bench and eats her dinner quietly. I'm pleased with my response; glad that I'm doing things instead of just watching them happen and annoyed that Emily doesn't seem to approve.

After dinner we head back to the campsite to grab towels and swimsuits for anyone who wants or has one. When we go to leave for the hot springs Emily has disappeared. “Maybe she went ahead?” Jesse suggests. He's wearing a flashlight headlamp style, which gives him the appearance of a hippie miner.

“She'll catch up if she wants to,” says G.

“Let's go,” I say. And I can tell that my agreement is the deciding factor. It's a small choice, but it's the first one I've made in a while—especially where the Freegans are involved. I want to go to the hot springs. I want to be here, exactly where I am. The hair on my arms stands up, and the air I'm sucking in tastes fresh. The trail to the hot springs is in back of the kitchen tent and winds its way through a narrow gully surrounded by six-foot sandstone walls on either side. I guess it would be a little creepy if you don't like tunnels or elevators, but it makes the trail easy to follow. I fall in with Tim, who's lagging a little behind the rest of the group. “Getting tired?” I ask.

“Yeah, you know how it is. This time of day is pretty rough after my meds wear off.”

“I've never heard of anybody having no adrenaline.”

“It's actually called Addison's disease,” Tim says. “It was weird. Before they diagnosed it my parents thought I was just
the laziest kid on Earth. When they found out I actually had a disease, they didn't even believe it for a while. The doctor finally convinced them, and explained it to them, and I think they felt really guilty. My parents are like really traditional Chinese when it comes to my older brother and sister. I mean, really uptight about going to the right college, doing Chinese language school, and getting good grades and all that. But ever since they found out about the Addison's, it's like I can do whatever I want. They're the ones who bought me the video camera and paid for this expensive arts camp when I was in high school. I know they knew about me partying and stuff, but they never said anything. It's cool, I guess, but it made things kind of strange between my brother and sister and me.”

“Do you think they resent you for it?”

“I don't know if they resent me exactly. But it's like I have a totally different set of parents than they do. I mean, I get away with stuff they would never even think of trying. I mean, they're Quang and Jin right? Good Chinese names. We all had American names too, but I was the only one who ever told them to call me by mine. I mean, at school is one thing. But I made my parents call me Tim at home too.”

“What's your Chinese name?”

“Chan Wu.”

“Does anyone call you that?”

“Just my grandparents. Everywhere else I'm Tim.”

“You seem like a Tim to me. Not that it matters what I think.”

“Yeah, I feel like a Tim. I just wonder if I'll regret it someday.”

“You could always go back to Chan Wu,” I suggest.

“I don't think so,” Tim says pensively. “I don't think you always can go back.”

The path in front of us opens up to clearing where there are two natural stone pits, each about ten feet across. Steam is rising off them, giving the night a mystical quality. There are a few wooden benches on one side scattered with clothes and towels. A few heads are all that's visible of the other hot spring's soakers, and it's too dark to tell if Emily is among them. The desert air has dropped down to a cool fifty or sixty degrees, and as I strip down to my boxers I shudder a bit to keep warm. The water is warm, hot even, hotter than the pools in Arkansas, and as I ease my way in I feel my skin relax and every muscle in my body soften. The water has a sharp but not totally unpleasant smell to it.