“Literally.” Because I knew, suddenly, in a way that went beyond language, that it wasn’t a hill my dancer-self protagonist was trying to dance up, it was a hole she was trying to dance out of.
And so I found myself, post–cold pack cheese food sandwiches, stealing a shovel from a shed where Lena kept her lawn mower and tools.
And we really were stealing it: Teddy was picking the lock.
“How’d you learn to pick locks?” I asked as the door clicked open.
“I can only do these crappy locks where the lock is inside the doorknob.” Yeah, there was no deadbolt or high security here. “I used to have these phases where I’d go to school before it wasopen. The front doors would be unlocked, I guess because the custodians would be there, but none of the classrooms were. I used to break into the band room. But just to sit there. Maybe noodle around a bit—they had an electric guitar and amp there with headphones so no one could hear me.”
“This is my first episode of breaking and entering,” I said as I let my eyes adjust to the shed’s dim interior.
Teddy grabbed a big shovel. “We’re not breaking and entering. We’re entering and borrowing. Come on, let’s go.”
I caught sight of a crate full of hand tools—spades and such—and grabbed a small hand shovel. When Teddy shot me a questioning look, I said, “Detail work.”
We both burst out laughing.
After we tiptoed out, he said, “Where is this hole going? May I suggest somewhere off the beaten path so a camper doesn’t fall in?”
“Yes. Also so no one sees me.”
We settled on a spot behind the off-the-map shower building, and Teddy got to work digging. I kept expecting him to ask me what the hell I needed a hole for, but he just dug with cheerful diligence, refusing my offers to take a shift.
“You want to come in and measure?” he asked, after having established that I was going for knee height. We switched places, him jumping out and me jumping in.
“This is good,” I said like I knew—like I had any idea what I was doing. “A good depth, but I think I need it to be a little wider.” I needed to be able to get momentum.
Teddy started widening the hole, and when he was done, I could no longer stand how noninqusitive he was being.
“Why are you being so cool about this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I said I wanted to dig a hole, and you were like, ‘OK, let’s dig a hole.’ Aren’t you curious? What if I need to hide a body? What if you’re an unwitting accessory to a crime? Don’t you think this is at least a little bit weird?”
He shrugged. “I guess art is weird sometimes.” He excavated a few more shovelfuls, paused, and shot me a wicked grin. “Anyway, I would help you hide a body any day, Miller.”
13
CAMP BOYFRIEND
Teddy
I spent a lot of the next week using my phone to do research—so much for my big speech on how phones should only be phones or books or maps.
I looked up all kinds of stuff related to phobias—agoraphobia, but I also learned about kenophobia, which was fear of open spaces. It wasn’t that I thought I could or should diagnose Auden, but I couldn’t do nothing. Regardless of what label would ultimately be applied, it seemed like a pretty severe case of anxiety must be at the root of what was going on.
I also looked up therapists—read reviews, cruised websites, combed the listings inPsychology Today. I stopped short of sending them to her, but I did book a plane ticket home for the break between camp sessions. I needed to see Auden. Lay eyes on her. Even if it wouldn’t solve anything.
I also needed to get my own house in order—literally. But also metaphorically. I needed to get my life ready for me to reinhabit it in the fall.
It wasn’t all kenophobia and plane tickets, though. I worked with the kids, individually and as a group. “BohemianRhapsody” was in good shape. It was a bit ragtag, but in some ways that was in the spirit of the song.
Anna continued to blossom. As much as I hated that word as a metaphor, it was apt. Every time I saw her, she had new stuff for me. It wasn’t all album material, but a few of her songs were fucking phenomenal, and now that I was officially cowriting, I could roll up my sleeves and get in there. We had a couple songs that I was prouder of than anything I’d done with Scott. They made my limbs buzz with an energy that I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. They made me want to get up and dance.
Dancing, of course, was not something I did. But one afternoon when I was getting the dancing feeling, I went over to the dance studio to spy on Gretchen’sLittle Womenrehearsal like I was James fucking Bond.
Until I, in a very non-Bondlike twist, got caught.
