Page 2 of Nerdplay
Gloria and I scrounge around the compact cafeteria kitchen and take our findings to a picnic table by the lake, where we catch up with our mouths full and marvel at our pristine surroundings. Lake Willa is the centerpiece of the property. Pops named it after his devoted wife, my sweet grandmother. Theirs was the kind of marriage that people don’t write stories about because there’s no conflict—loving, long, and lasting. The odds of getting as lucky as them... Well, if I had those kinds of odds, I’d drive straight to Atlantic City.
“How many campers this year?” Gloria asks.
“Similar to last year. Thirty.”
I glimpse my house through the trees. It’s log-cabin style, built by my grandparents during the first year of their marriage and where they lived until their respective deaths. Every moment of happiness I experienced in my childhood happened either in that house or right here at camp.
Gloria cuts through the calm with a question that causes nausea to ripple through me. “I hate to ask, but inquiring minds need to know. Is the Prick coming this year?”
There’s only one name we skirt in favor of pronouns or disparaging nicknames. “Oddly enough, he registered again, but I highly doubt we’ll see him.”
“Two years in a row. So strange. Why spend the money to register if you have no intention of showing up?”
“No clue.” I have zero interest in talking about him, not now and not ever. I want to enjoy camp like I used to before that lying, cowardly troglodyte tarnished my favorite place on Earth.
Gloria pokes around her salad bowl like she’s hunting and gathering the actual food. “Maybe his girlfriend kicked him to the curb.”
“Even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. Can we please change the subject?” I hope I don’t sound too snippy. Gloria was my rock during that awful experience; she doesn’t deserve to draw my ire. That honor belongs to one person only.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
I turn my face toward the sun and close my eyes. “It’ll be so great to see everyone again.”
“I know. This place feels more like home than my actual home.” There’s a brief pause and then, “How are finances?”
Once again, her question drags me back to reality, kicking and screaming. “The camp will survive the year.” Barely.
“Any ideas on how to turn that around?”
“Not yet. Word seems to have gotten out because I’ve been beating back a property developer with a stick. He’s like a shark that smells blood in the water.”
Camp Abernathy has been on this land since my grandfather first acquired it in 1967. The property then passed to my father, whose early demise meant it passed to me sooner than expected. I’ve been the sole owner and operator for the past five years, as well as the creator of Comic-Camp, the two-week adults-only camp that begins in T-minus two days. You’d think I’d be ready to welcome the campers, but I’m not that organized. Every year I’m reminded how much work is involved for very little financial reward. If only I could survive on good vibes, I’d be set for life.
Gloria reaches across the table to grip my arm. “You wouldn’t actually sell, would you?”
“You know me better than that.” I wrench myself free and polish off my last sandwich square, washing it down with a refillable bottle of water. “This camp is about building community, not my bank account.”
“And that’s why we love you, but you need to stay afloat. I’m sure you have bills to pay.”
She has no idea. Every year the bills get higher and my bank balance gets lower. Very soon my inheritance will be gone. I’ll cross the bridge over those troubled waters when I get to it.
Gloria rises to her feet. “I’ll get started on the cleaning now.”
“I can help you after I tidy up the paperwork.”
Gloria snorts. “In other words, I’m on my own.”
“If I could afford to hire someone, I would.”
“And if I could afford to pay you for my spot, I would. We both do what we can. I wish you’d ask some of the other regulars for help. They’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“Adam already works as a counselor for the kids’ camp. I can’t ask for more favors.”
“It isn’t a favor when he gets his registration covered in return. Besides, they love this place as much as you. We all do. If they thought for one second that the camp was in jeopardy, they’d volunteer as tributes.”
I squirm uncomfortably on the bench. “I can manage on my own.”
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” She pats my shoulder as she passes by. “I’ll handle the cleaning. You handle the rest, as usual, Boss Lady.”
