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it.
All those sirens—there could be a manhunt going on, after all—that’s what I told myself.
Then I closed the curtains and checked them – I closed the ones that were open and locked the closed windows on the first floor.
I sipped my drink on the couch—the bubbles tingled against my lips and the carbonation sounded urgent against the roof of my mouth. Then I sat the bottle on a magazine on the coffee table.
I’ve thought about that Dr. Pepper a lot since then.
I lay down on the couch and watched heavy beads of moisture gather and run on the sweating plastic.
I dream of that.
1:00
I woke up to the sound of the toaster announcing the end of its cycle. I heard my friends talking—minus Dee, who I’d shortly find out was still sleeping. Big surprise. Dee’s definitely a 12 hour sleeper. I am more of a 5.
I smelled coffee brewing. It was just starting to fart—that’s what Marie called it.
Man in the Bathroom.
Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle—fart, fart, silence.
It’s our last full day—let’s hit the lake.
I’m not a fan of deep water, but a five year reunion is no place to say, “I don’t want to do that with you.”
We took our coffee cups to the rowboat and took turns with the oars. The lake had a thin mist on it that matched the steam coming off our drinks.
Our talk that morning was the kind I yearn for—talk that matters. This was when we revealed our current real problems, fears, what was hurting us. Everything serious had been really nonchalant so far—all the rest had been fueled by our excitement of being back together.
When we talk like we talked that morning—inevitably, we’re all crying—then one of us, usually Carrie, just laughs for “no reason” and then we all laugh or someone says something stupid and it’s done.
In my memory it felt like something we had to do, because we knew we wouldn’t get another chance.
We didn’t bring up how quiet it was on the lake. No boats. No distant yelling. No screams. But there were regular helicopters passing over.
There were more sirens.
And something just didn’t feel right.
If you can imagine sitting on a lake and having a premonition there was going to be a nuclear strike, that’s what we were feeling.
Something climbed aboard that boat and the horrible thing embraced us. It loomed over us, even as we planned a crazy last night with forced enthusiasm.
Conversation felt forced. I forced myself to be the way I felt I should be.
But the two of my friends who were moms—their eyes were devouring invisible miles—looking for their kids.
Dee just looked troubled—there was flatness in her eyes because everything inside her perfectly cautious mind was preoccupied.
Something was gnawing at my insides.
It was about 9pm when we—first Lindsay, asked what the point would be of one more night since we were all going to have to get up so early. That we might as well get a head start and see the next morning through our own home’s windows. We all had a supporting reason to end our reunion early. I said there were a lot of things I’d put off at the house and since this was the last of my vacation time it’d be nice to have a day to catch up.
No one was disappointed that the others were agreeing to cut it short. We didn’t even care about paying for a day we wouldn’t be there. I was never in a habit of throwing away money. I loathed to rent or go to movies because you walk away with nothing but an experience. I always waited to buy and own that experience—cheap.
So not using that time should have really bothered me, but it didn’t. I didn’t give one shit about it or leaving all our groceries behind. I hardly even gave it a thought.
Carrie lived closest, about an hour away.
I had a 12 ½ hour drive ahead…
The resort office was open—the lights were on, anyway.
Marie went in and told them we were leaving. When she came out she casually told us the lady that ran the place with her husband, was sure we were
All those sirens—there could be a manhunt going on, after all—that’s what I told myself.
Then I closed the curtains and checked them – I closed the ones that were open and locked the closed windows on the first floor.
I sipped my drink on the couch—the bubbles tingled against my lips and the carbonation sounded urgent against the roof of my mouth. Then I sat the bottle on a magazine on the coffee table.
I’ve thought about that Dr. Pepper a lot since then.
I lay down on the couch and watched heavy beads of moisture gather and run on the sweating plastic.
I dream of that.
1:00
I woke up to the sound of the toaster announcing the end of its cycle. I heard my friends talking—minus Dee, who I’d shortly find out was still sleeping. Big surprise. Dee’s definitely a 12 hour sleeper. I am more of a 5.
I smelled coffee brewing. It was just starting to fart—that’s what Marie called it.
Man in the Bathroom.
Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle—fart, fart, silence.
It’s our last full day—let’s hit the lake.
I’m not a fan of deep water, but a five year reunion is no place to say, “I don’t want to do that with you.”
We took our coffee cups to the rowboat and took turns with the oars. The lake had a thin mist on it that matched the steam coming off our drinks.
Our talk that morning was the kind I yearn for—talk that matters. This was when we revealed our current real problems, fears, what was hurting us. Everything serious had been really nonchalant so far—all the rest had been fueled by our excitement of being back together.
When we talk like we talked that morning—inevitably, we’re all crying—then one of us, usually Carrie, just laughs for “no reason” and then we all laugh or someone says something stupid and it’s done.
In my memory it felt like something we had to do, because we knew we wouldn’t get another chance.
We didn’t bring up how quiet it was on the lake. No boats. No distant yelling. No screams. But there were regular helicopters passing over.
There were more sirens.
And something just didn’t feel right.
If you can imagine sitting on a lake and having a premonition there was going to be a nuclear strike, that’s what we were feeling.
Something climbed aboard that boat and the horrible thing embraced us. It loomed over us, even as we planned a crazy last night with forced enthusiasm.
Conversation felt forced. I forced myself to be the way I felt I should be.
But the two of my friends who were moms—their eyes were devouring invisible miles—looking for their kids.
Dee just looked troubled—there was flatness in her eyes because everything inside her perfectly cautious mind was preoccupied.
Something was gnawing at my insides.
It was about 9pm when we—first Lindsay, asked what the point would be of one more night since we were all going to have to get up so early. That we might as well get a head start and see the next morning through our own home’s windows. We all had a supporting reason to end our reunion early. I said there were a lot of things I’d put off at the house and since this was the last of my vacation time it’d be nice to have a day to catch up.
No one was disappointed that the others were agreeing to cut it short. We didn’t even care about paying for a day we wouldn’t be there. I was never in a habit of throwing away money. I loathed to rent or go to movies because you walk away with nothing but an experience. I always waited to buy and own that experience—cheap.
So not using that time should have really bothered me, but it didn’t. I didn’t give one shit about it or leaving all our groceries behind. I hardly even gave it a thought.
Carrie lived closest, about an hour away.
I had a 12 ½ hour drive ahead…
The resort office was open—the lights were on, anyway.
Marie went in and told them we were leaving. When she came out she casually told us the lady that ran the place with her husband, was sure we were
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