I fell asleep thinking about lemons.
I stayed asleep until I awoke to another round of knocking on my door. Three sets of knocks over the past two weeks. It sounded like a fairy tale—weren’t things always happening in threes in those stories? The first time Gretchen had knocked, I’d rudely turned her away. The second, I’d slept with her. What would the third knock be met with? A proposal of marriage?
“I came early because I thought you might not be ready,” she said, and God bless her, she was holding two coffees. “I saw that your light never went on last night, and I wondered if youfell asleep at some point while it was still light and then slept through.” She paused. “I am aware this makes me sound like a creepy stalker, but, happily, due to the whole context thing, I don’t have to care.”
“Well, you got it exactly right, and I probably wouldn’t have woken up, so thanks.” Sleeping for unreasonably long stretches of time—that was another thing that happened in fairy tales. I nodded at a cardboard box she was carrying. “What’s that?”
“I noticed you missed dinner last night—look at me, still a creepy stalker; still don’t care—so I got you some food.”
My stomach rose up and began singing the “Hallelujah” chorus. All I’d eaten since that McDonald’s drive-through a lifetime ago was a few almonds. “You are an angel.” I nodded at the glider on my porch. “Give me two minutes to tame my hair, and I’ll meet you out here.”
“Sorry no sushi or Caesar salad,” she said, passing me a takeout box as I sat beside her. She had brought me eggs and pancakes from the dining hall, and never had cafeteria food smelled so good.
I started shoveling it in. I didn’t care that I probably looked like a Neanderthal. When I felt like I was maybe not going to die of starvation after all, I slowed down and eyed her. “How’re you doing there, Miller?”
She flashed me a somewhat sheepish smirk. “I’m great. I slept really well last night. Did you?”
“Sure did.”
“Oh, you’ve got your off-brand Crocs on,” she said, looking down at my sandal-clad feet. “Do you like them?”
They were ugly, but comfortable. “Sure do.”
“Well, aren’t you agreeable this morning?”
I didn’t like the idea of being thought of as agreeable. Yeah, I’d survived a brush with death and had some mind-blowing sex, but I was still me. I grunted and shoveled in the last bite of pancakes.
When we got to sunrise circle, things felt… different. Marion gave me a wave, and Caleb asked how I was doing after the drama of getting lost. There were some whispers among some of the kids, but I guessed that was to be expected.
As the proceedings got underway, the artists sat back and observed as the kids and counselors did their things, which mostly amounted to a lot of peppy chanting and clapping. Not my scene, but I could, objectively, appreciate that it was probably fun if you were a kid. A normal kid.
And it was nice to be up in the cool morning air. It was nice to feel like I was part of something, as lame as that sounded. I wasn’t sure if it was all the cheering and shit, or if it was the presence of a lot of artistically minded people, but there was a kind of charge to the air, a creative energy permeating the scene.
I used to feel that way in the studio when we were recording. I hadn’t felt that on the last album. For the first time, I allowed myself what felt like a not unreasonable hope that I would feel it again someday.
Afterward, I found the music counselors. They were college kids. One played a ton of instruments, and the other was an opera singer in training. Because I had apparently taken leave of my senses, I said, “Hey, do we maybe want to get everyone to play something together for the final performance? Or is that too much like a high school band?”
“Something fun,” the band guy said.
“Definitely something fun, light,” the opera girl said. “Itcould be the finale, after their individual pieces. They’re all—mostly—working so hard on those.”
I wondered if that “mostly” was about Tristan. “‘Bohemian Rhapsody’?” I suggested. “It’s long, so we can rotate instrumental kids through solos. We can build to a sing-along with the audience—everyone loves that song.” I turned to the opera girl. “Maybe you can take the falsetto bit and really do it up.”
They were into it, and we made plans to start rehearsing. Later, though—I needed to take a step back before I stumbled my way into a participation trophy. I was still me, after all.
10
THE LEMON TREE
Gretchen
Teddy showed up at swimming on Monday afternoon. I would have said I was surprised, but somehow, the unexpected from him was starting to feel… expected.
I was holding on to the edge of a floating dock and chatting with Maiv, who had a kickboard, when I heard him talking to Caleb and Danny on the beach. As with the campfire the other day—which felt like a lifetime ago, maybe because it had happened before we got lost in the woods—he just appeared, as if it were normal for him to be here, inserting himself into the scene all low-key-like. I didn’t say anything, merely noted his presence—and hoped I was doing so without blushing.
Maiv noticed him, too. “Looks like your boyfriend is here.”
“What?” I sputtered. “He’s not my boyfriend!”
