Page 32 of A Little Campfire Blues

Chapter Thirteen

Axis

“You’re awfully quiet today; what’s up? Aren’t you having fun?” I asked Ezzy as we worked our way deeper into the maze.

Rather than wander as a group of four, we decided to make a game out of solving the puzzle that was the huge garden maze. It took up the whole field beside the campground activity center. Beautiful flowers were in bloom all around us, and we’d already come across two fountains and several birdhouses we hadn’t been able to resist taking selfies beside. It was a beautiful space, and one I intended to return to first thing tomorrow morning while Ezzy and Roman were still asleep. I hoped it was as inspiring as the lake, but even if it didn’t help me produce words, I was certain to find something to inspire a sketch or two. An image of gargoyles perched in delicate flowers flashed through my head, the juxtaposition between hard and soft one I was suddenly curious to play with.

“It’s amazing,” Ezzy replied. “Like visiting a botanical garden. I think I’ll bring my notebook up here the next time we have downtime and see if I can figure out what the hell is so wrong with my fuckin’ play that it keeps getting rejected. There were two more in my inbox this morning when I checked my emails, and both were short and sweet.Not what we’re looking for at this time. Doesn’t fit with the theatrical standards we’ve set for this playhouse.Okay, fine, though the first one was way easier to accept than the second. What does that even mean, that it didn’t meet with the theatrical standards? They didn’t even elaborate or explain what standards it didn’t meet. I’ve got other plays, if it was a matter of content, but how am I supposed to gauge anything from a response like that?”

They had a point; it was a vague brushoff, and I’d have been irritated too.

“Sounds to me like they aren’t a good fit for you regardless of what you send.”

They sighed heavily at that, so I slung my arm over their shoulder and tugged them close. “You’ll know the right fit when you find it. Those are the same kinds of rejections we used to receive when we sent in demos, until we found someone who saw the promise in our music and reached out with a detailed breakdown of what we needed to improve upon and expand on in order to get signed. I just wish we’d held it together for long enough to produce more than just the EPs we paid to have produced.”

“I’d love to hear them sometime.”

“That can be arranged.”

“I just don’t want to become the cliché. The theater director slipping one or two of their own plays into the schedule each year just so they can say their work has been performed.”

“Then don’t,” I said. “It’s that simple. Keep polishing them, keep sending them out, and keep working on the new ones you read to us. I love the one about the holiday sweets competition and the way the one group kept trying to sabotage their competition only to have it constantly backfire on them. Candy Canes and Karma is an awesome title too. If I saw it over a playhouse, I’d be curious to find out more.”

“You’re biased.”

“No. I’m interested; there’s a difference. I’d be curious whether you were the one who wrote it or not; the title is that catchy.”

“The title, or the fact that you’ve always loved everything to do with Christmas?”

“Meh, a little of both.”

“Left or right?” Ezzy asked.

“We took a left last time, right?”

“I think so. Maybe? Shit, I don’t remember.”

“Fuck, neither do I.”

“Isn’t there some trick to mazes, about staying along the same wall and following it no matter where it goes?” Ezzy asked.

“Maybe,” I hedged, remembering something like that in one of the books we’d read, though I couldn’t recall exactly what it had said.

“I’m game to try if you are.”

“Okay, might as well; I have no clue where we are at this point or how big this thing is.”

“So, blue flowers or pink ones, which side should we follow?” Ezzy asked.

“Let’s go pink to match your top,” I said, letting them guide us in that direction.

Pausing to study a tall stem with rows of pink flowers running up it, the image of a tiny gargoyle with its arms and legs wrapped around the stem popped into my head. I could picture it half hidden there, wings out, face pressed to one as it inhaled the scent. If I couldn’t find the spot again, I at least wanted to take a couple of pictures of them and the name of the flower so I’d know what the hell it was. Snapdragon, oh, that was perfect.

As I hurried to catch back up to them, I was once again treated to a glimpse of the fairy wings tattooed on Ezzy’s back. The upper set of wings spanned the width of their shoulders, while the lower set started at their hips and vanished beneath the waistband of their shorts. The pink and green made for a beautiful combination, but I was a little hesitant to comment on them, considering what I’d said to them so many years before.

I just hoped they hadn’t gotten them out of spite, or at the very least, if they had, that they truly loved them and didn’t regret the decision.

“I can feel you staring at my ass,” they said as I took my time catching up.

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