Page 24 of No Kisses for the Neighbor Next Door

To describe the drive to the Spring Fair with Cam as icy is an understatement. We hadn’t seen each other since my outburst on his driveway. Our only communication has been through curt texts and emails: brief and to the point. I’m in the passenger seat thinking, stoically, that we will just have to get through today, do what needs to be done, then that’s it. We can go our separate ways. I look down at my folder. Once we have ticked off everything from our list, I’ll try and enjoy my day away from that awful arrogant man. The Annual Spring Fair is the most fun day on the Oak River calendar, and I plan to have as much fun as possible. I look across at Cam who is staring stonily straight ahead, eyes fixed on the road. I have claimed the moral high ground and that is where I plan to be for the foreseeable future. I click into professional mode.

“We should go through the run sheet,” I say matter-of-factly as I lay the printout on top of the folder on my lap.

“Fine,” Cam says without changing his expression.

“So, we’ll park around the back in the designated organizers’ parking zone. I’ll direct you.”

“Fine.”

“First off, we’ll check the stage area and make sure the Exit signs are where they should be. Then we’ll put up all the signs for the entertainment zones.”

“Fine.”

We drive on in silence, then Cam turns on the radio which fills the void between us. The announcer’s saccharine tone grates as he delivers the weather update.

“It’s all blue skies and a sun-shiny day for this year’s Oak River Annual Spring Fair. Get along for truckloads of fun for the whole family. No need to pack a picnic, there are food stalls a-plenty for every taste and budget. And exciting activities to try. Ever wanted to try archery? Have a go today. Ever wanted to weave a basket? Make a clay pot? Learn how to brew beer? It’s all happening at the sports fields off Main Street. Follow the signs. There’s heaps of parking or jump on board the free shuttle leaving every hour from outside the town library. Phew-eee! What a great day to be in Oak River! We’ll be broadcasting live from the fair this afternoon, so don’t be shy, stop by and say hi. We’d love to see you there…”

Thankfully, Cam turns off the infuriating happy voice.

We arrive and Cam parks his Jeep. The backseats are folded back to maximize load space for signage, boards, arrows, and a toolbox of everything we need for sticking, stapling, and nailing. We don’t speak as we each load up and make our way into the event site which, although early, is abuzz with activity. Stallholders are setting up for food, beverages, and traditional handicrafts.

The central marquee, the venue for the Floral Display Awards; jams, jellies, and chutneys; and homemade wine, ale, and cider contests; as well as other awards, has its own timetable and run sheet that is prominently visible at all the access points.

Spotting Lydia on the far side, I wave hello, but her hands are full, and she looks as if she’s juggling several tasks at once. I mouth, “Coffee soon?” and she nods right back. Outside the marquee, I hold a To the main stage sign as Cam nails it into place. We don’t speak other than to agree on where to put the next one.

The main stage is a raised platform that is being set up by people wearing black who scurry around taping down cables and talking into handsets. They test the microphone, “One, two. One, two.” There’s a screech of feedback from the speaker stacks on either side, followed by a low insistent hum. More scurrying. More testing.

Cam and I nail and staple signs to a wooden signpost at the intersection of the main wide walkways: To the funfair.

I can see the cluster of fairground rides: a colorful big wheel; a vintage carousel with painted horses; a helter-skelter; some spinning teacups; and glossy bright rocket ships. Beside the funfair is one of the food-stall areas. Each area has a different name. This one’s called Hungry Tums Alley. I find the sign. Cam holds it while I nail it up.

We’re almost done, but still not talking. The last sign, Historic battle this way, points down a track to a pasture that has been roped off. A grassy bank forms a natural stadium where the crowd will get a good view of the day’s entertainment. A scaffolding tower, dressed as a castle, with turrets, parapets, and flagpole, stands ready to be the focus of a dramatic simulated rescue by the fire department, and later, to be stormed by soon-to-be-victorious eighteenth-century rebels.

Cam and I only have a few more signs to stick up, concluding our co-duties. My next task will be at the main stage for the doggy dress-up competition. But that is hours away and I’m glad to go off on my own and find Lydia to get a coffee and donut.

“Can I drag you away?” I ask my friend when I find her again at the central marquee.

“Please. I need coffee. Maybe a triple shot, and something sugar-laden and sticky.”

At one of the many coffee trucks, we place an order and then wait on one of the picnic benches close by.

“Okay. What happened?” Lydia says eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Molly! Look at your face. You’re miserable. And aren’t you supposed to be here with Cam?”

“Yes. But I wanted to hang out with my bestie,” I say overbrightly.

“Well. That’s lovely. And also, not entirely true, is it?”

I cross my arms and sulk like a teenager. The barista calls that our coffee and donut order is ready. Lydia goes over to bring it back to our table.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now tell me what’s up. You were getting on so well. Everyone in town is picking a date for the wedding in a sweepstake. I’ve got September tenth; in case you’re interested in making me a winner.”

“Ah no. That’s awful.” I hang my head. “I’m awful.” A pang of remorse hits me like my espresso shot, and I tell Lydia what I said to Cam; and how we’re not on speaking terms anymore; and how he’s going back to the city where he belongs; and how I’m going back to my life as it was before. Except that it will never be how it was before.

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