I’m
suspicious he knows stuff . I feel anticipation titillated by
fear, a flavor new to me, but rather yummy…..
…
Temperatures hovering in the eighties call for one
thing, a clandestine moonlight swim. The night is cast in
the light of a full moon, the lake bathed in the soft sepia
shadows of black and white. With the Erharts off for the
night and the campers snug in their bunks, it’s time for
operation S.W.I.M. (Swim Without Informing Morris)
Eight pairs of shorts and T-shirts litter the bushes lining
the shore as we shuck down to bathing suits and dive into
the inky black depths of the lake, surfacing amid
suppressed squeals of laughter, giggling, and splashing.
The water feels exhilarating against our hot skin. Only
Mac eases into the lake carefully, holding a small baggy
over his head; swimming a slow one handed crawl out to
the raft. Kat climbs up the ladder jeering at him to “hurry
up, slow poke”.
To avoid detection we swam out from the west end
of camp, making the distance to the raft a longer swim
than if we had left directly from the beach. Emi Jo almost
didn’t make it; but Vic swam along beside her and
brought a life jacket along in case anyone needed help.
The barrels under the raft make gurgling sounds as
we take turns diving off, slicing though the midnight
black water causing the raft to lift and fall in our wake. At
last exhausted, we collapse onto the swaying raft forming
a circle of heaving chests and spent muscles. We’re
momentarily struck silent by the beauty and solitude of
the lake on this sultry evening. An island afloat, cast in
the light of the moon. We’re moon bathing, in beams of
moonlight that throw cooling rays onto the rough tarmac
of the raft.
With
my head cradled on Vic’s shoulder, my chest
heaves with the exertion from the swim. I fume looking
over at him…. he’s hardly breathing……..all that swim
practice, he’s in such good shape…maybe I should have
eaten fewer Twinkies over the winter…….. taken track
practice more seriously…….learned tennis………well,
let’s not get crazy here.
On sudden impulse, I lean over and plant a quick kiss
on his wet lips. “There we’re even, debt paid.” He smiles,
shaking his head. “Later, caro. ” My lips carry the faint
taste of a recent cigarette. He brought two packs stashed
in his duffle bag to last through the summer, only one a
day……he can be very disciplined…. sometimes.
At last cool, replete from the rigors of swimming and
diving; everyone stretches out, watching the stars create a
luminous moment in the sky overhead.
“
Come on, Mac, what are you waiting for?” asks
Patti, one of the resident counselors and Mac’s newest
conquest. A voluptuous dark haired beauty, although
older, she appears quite taken with him. There is no
accounting for taste.
“Let’s get
lit,” she urges him.
I exchange a look of trepidation with Vic, light up
what, remembering the baggy held aloft as Mac swam out
to the raft.
“Yeah, sure, okay, who hasn’t had a joint before?”
Mac asks looking around. No one wants to admit to
being marijuana virgin. Everyone just shrugs their
shoulders like “no big deal.” Personally I’m freaking out.
Oh, boy…….what am I going to do? I’ve never smoked
before, let alone pot !
“I have three joints. That should be enough for
everybody to get a little buzz going.” He holds the baggy
over his head, shaking it as a long lost treasure reclaimed.
Reaching in the bag he takes out matches, carefully laying
the joints side by side on the top of the plastic bag.
Suddenly all conversation on the raft stills, every eye
focused on the dim outline of the joints.
“Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath.…. Dorothy,
we’re not in Kansas anymore.
“I have some vodka.” Kat rolls over, revealing a silver
flask tucked into the back of her bathing suit. What is
she? A Girl Scout of calamity and disaster? Her motto, be
prepared to get her friends
suspicious he knows stuff . I feel anticipation titillated by
fear, a flavor new to me, but rather yummy…..
…
Temperatures hovering in the eighties call for one
thing, a clandestine moonlight swim. The night is cast in
the light of a full moon, the lake bathed in the soft sepia
shadows of black and white. With the Erharts off for the
night and the campers snug in their bunks, it’s time for
operation S.W.I.M. (Swim Without Informing Morris)
Eight pairs of shorts and T-shirts litter the bushes lining
the shore as we shuck down to bathing suits and dive into
the inky black depths of the lake, surfacing amid
suppressed squeals of laughter, giggling, and splashing.
The water feels exhilarating against our hot skin. Only
Mac eases into the lake carefully, holding a small baggy
over his head; swimming a slow one handed crawl out to
the raft. Kat climbs up the ladder jeering at him to “hurry
up, slow poke”.
To avoid detection we swam out from the west end
of camp, making the distance to the raft a longer swim
than if we had left directly from the beach. Emi Jo almost
didn’t make it; but Vic swam along beside her and
brought a life jacket along in case anyone needed help.
The barrels under the raft make gurgling sounds as
we take turns diving off, slicing though the midnight
black water causing the raft to lift and fall in our wake. At
last exhausted, we collapse onto the swaying raft forming
a circle of heaving chests and spent muscles. We’re
momentarily struck silent by the beauty and solitude of
the lake on this sultry evening. An island afloat, cast in
the light of the moon. We’re moon bathing, in beams of
moonlight that throw cooling rays onto the rough tarmac
of the raft.
With
my head cradled on Vic’s shoulder, my chest
heaves with the exertion from the swim. I fume looking
over at him…. he’s hardly breathing……..all that swim
practice, he’s in such good shape…maybe I should have
eaten fewer Twinkies over the winter…….. taken track
practice more seriously…….learned tennis………well,
let’s not get crazy here.
On sudden impulse, I lean over and plant a quick kiss
on his wet lips. “There we’re even, debt paid.” He smiles,
shaking his head. “Later, caro. ” My lips carry the faint
taste of a recent cigarette. He brought two packs stashed
in his duffle bag to last through the summer, only one a
day……he can be very disciplined…. sometimes.
At last cool, replete from the rigors of swimming and
diving; everyone stretches out, watching the stars create a
luminous moment in the sky overhead.
“
Come on, Mac, what are you waiting for?” asks
Patti, one of the resident counselors and Mac’s newest
conquest. A voluptuous dark haired beauty, although
older, she appears quite taken with him. There is no
accounting for taste.
“Let’s get
lit,” she urges him.
I exchange a look of trepidation with Vic, light up
what, remembering the baggy held aloft as Mac swam out
to the raft.
“Yeah, sure, okay, who hasn’t had a joint before?”
Mac asks looking around. No one wants to admit to
being marijuana virgin. Everyone just shrugs their
shoulders like “no big deal.” Personally I’m freaking out.
Oh, boy…….what am I going to do? I’ve never smoked
before, let alone pot !
“I have three joints. That should be enough for
everybody to get a little buzz going.” He holds the baggy
over his head, shaking it as a long lost treasure reclaimed.
Reaching in the bag he takes out matches, carefully laying
the joints side by side on the top of the plastic bag.
Suddenly all conversation on the raft stills, every eye
focused on the dim outline of the joints.
“Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath.…. Dorothy,
we’re not in Kansas anymore.
“I have some vodka.” Kat rolls over, revealing a silver
flask tucked into the back of her bathing suit. What is
she? A Girl Scout of calamity and disaster? Her motto, be
prepared to get her friends
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