Page 52

Stella, the art teacher

Throughout dinner, I can’t fight the giddiness that soon I can sneak off to see Travis. Now that it’s getting dark, now that the booze and edibles are being consumed in earnest, the families have all but forgotten me. I could probably head out now. I’ll wait until the kids are asleep, though, until there’s no chance anyone will ask me for a French braid or for help positioning their dream catchers to trap the demons that rise in the night.

All afternoon, my thoughts circled Travis, how he willingly withheld the fact that he was coming to the island. He must have known I would have told him not to come. Because him being here isn’t just bad for me. It’s bad for him too. While Mona never filed any formal restraining order against him, the message from her, and the school, was clear. It was unfair. It was unwarranted. But it was clear. Stay away. He came anyway.

It didn’t help that all afternoon, Cassie was loitering around camp. She wore hiking boots, had a CamelBak tossed over her shoulder, but she never left the grounds for a hike. It took me a while to realize she was keeping track of me. What’s worse, she didn’t turn away when I caught her staring. She wanted me to see her. Pretty quickly, this began to feel more intrusive than Travis’s misguided attempts at a big romantic gesture.

As the afternoon wore on, I saw Cassie for what she was. Possessive. I’ve often wondered why Travis never married. He’s thirty-seven. Although he’s told me about more girlfriends than I care to know about, none of them lasted into living together, let alone engagement. It’s never made sense. I know plenty of Peter Pans. They’re half the art world. I’ve dated more of them than Travis would care to know about, too, but that isn’t Travis. He prefers a movie on the couch to a bar. A home-cooked meal to the trendiest restaurant. I’m not sure if Travis even knows that it was Cassie who ruined his past relationships. I can see it in the way she watches me—she’s sabotaged his relationships before. She plans to do it again.

Now that I can see Cassie for who she is, Travis’s presence here rewrites itself. Sure, it was misguided. And it’s something we’ll have to talk about. But he made a reservation months ago, knowing we’d still be together. He’s in this for the long haul. So am I. And there’s nothing Cassie can do about it.

After dinner, soup with hand-pulled noodles that might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted, Yoo-Jin hands me a trash bag even though I’m not on cleanup duty tonight. I watch in disbelief as she grabs a bottle of white wine from one of the coolers and brings it over to a circle of PO moms who actually are signed up to collect trash. It churns resentful notions that I don’t usually have toward these parents, ones I can hear in Travis’s voice because he’s always seen these parents for what they are. All except his sister. I grab a plate and toss it into the trash bag. Their entitlement, it doesn’t matter. Just keep drinking that wine, ladies. Drink so much you don’t see me disappear.

In the soft, dim glow of dusk, the camp looks like a painting, one more serene than the distorted and heavily scored one I would render. Since I can’t yell at the mothers who should be cleaning up right now, since I can’t rage at Cassie, I take aim at their children instead. Sawyer and Lily sit cross-legged on one of the blankets laid out for the talent show, using their index fingers to measure each other’s foreheads. I will teach these children to be better than their parents are.

“Sawyer, Lily? You’re on cleanup.” Clearly, they can hear me call them. Undoubtedly they see the bag I’m fanning in their direction.

They make no gesture to stop their little game. Lily shouts, “Oh my god, you’re an eight.”

“No way, I’m a five. You double counted.”

“Sawyer? Lily?”

“Face it, Soy, you got a big ol’ forehead.”

I shoot them with my best teacher stink eye as they continue to ignore me. If it were my classroom, they would scurry over. Here, they are emboldened by their indifferent parents.

“Lil,” Cassie calls to her daughter, who turns petulantly. “You heard Ms. Stella. Go.”

“But I helped set up the talent show,” she whines.

“And now you’ll help clean up.”

Lily stomps dramatically over to me and grabs a bag.

“Get one for Sawyer too,” Cassie calls.

Lily and Sawyer make a big show of tossing plates into the bags, all the while glaring at me. Cassie smiles apologetically, and it’s all I can do not to toss the trash to the ground and pounce on her.

Cool it, Stella. It doesn’t matter. In a few hours, you’ll be with Travis.

We aren’t quite finished cleaning up when Dave starts strumming his guitar, wobbling a little as he paces the campground to announce the talent show will commence in fifteen minutes. Despite his clear inebriation, he picks at the guitar with nimble-fingered deftness. Although it’s not like drunkenness has ever stopped anyone from shredding on the guitar.

The sun has now disappeared fully behind the mountains, casting near darkness across the campsite even as the sky remains light. Lily and Sawyer toss their half-full trash bags on the ground and run over to the common area, bright with string lights. I’m tempted to call them back, but they should be allowed to enjoy the night’s big event. I keep collecting the trash, more wine bottles than I realized, already empty.

I feel a tap on the back and jump, thinking it’s Travis. When I spin around, it’s Charles, reaching out with one hand to take the bag. In his other palm is a handful of gummies.

“It’s indica, strong enough that it makes that sound good.” He angles his head to Sawyer and Lily, who are doing a coordinated dance as they sing Ariana Grande for a crowd of parents. “Almost strong enough anyway.”

I take two from his hand and slip them into my back pocket to eat later with Travis.

“Go have fun. Or whatever this is.” In Charles’s words, I hear permission to leave.

So I do. I don’t pretend that I’m going to the bathroom or am headed to the Visitor Center to make a call. I just walk down the path. I don’t look back. I don’t check to see if Cassie is watching me. Let her follow. Let her see that her brother is here, that he traveled an ocean to be with me.