It was an ocean of green beyond Cameron’s bedroom windows—one of those views that you
find ensnared in the pages of a calendar, images that people wallpaper onto the desktop of their
computer at work, like they need to be reminded of something—perhaps a primeval memory.
My nose was nearly pressed against the patio doors that led to a small balcony outside Cameron’
s bedroom. I was two floors up from the ground, overlooking an egg-shaped, in-ground pool and a
yard of thick, golf-course-grade grass. At the end of the pool area, where the terracotta
interlock stones touched the lawn, there was a pink pool house with crimson flowers bunched
within the windowsills. Fifty feet from the house, the grass stopped and was overcome by an
infinite forest of evergreens and maples and jade hills in the horizon that divided the treetops
from the expanse of blue sky.
As far as I could tell, we were somewhere within a densely forested valley. The view from the
second floor was breathtakingly beautiful and terrifying all at once. I had no idea where I was,
and the fact that I couldn’t see any roads or signs of human life beyond the border of trees
hadn’t escaped me. The problem: this didn’t really scare me. There was a part of me—a big
part—that wanted to breathe it all in, take a mental picture, and frame it in my mind so that I
would never forget it; the other part was mutely terrorized by the first part.
I eventually peeled myself away from the glass and went through my Rubbermaid bins. Everything
was there—clothes, school books, bathroom necessities … down to the indigo ballerina lamp that
had been next to my bed and the ragged copy of Rumble Fish that I kept under my pillow. Opening
the rubber lids—one after another—was like Christmas morning; my worldly possessions made
exciting again in this surreal place. I tried to imagine my bedroom back in Callister, what it
would look like stripped to its bare bones, but thwarted the eerie feeling of knowing that
someone had had to meticulously go through my stuff to bring it to me.
I was incredibly grateful to have it all with me; this was what I focused on.
I found something quick to wear—after wearing my running clothes for however many days, even a
potato sack would have done the trick—and went to the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth.
Like the rest of the house, the bathroom was a showpiece that could have easily graced the cover
of one of those snooty home architectural magazines. It was cleaner than the main-floor
bathroom; in fact, it was pristine.
I emerged from Cameron’s bedroom looking, feeling and smelling like myself again. But when I
heard roaring laughter coming from the kitchen downstairs, I came to an abrupt halt at the top
of the stairs, my paranoid instincts flickering … only to be confirmed by Rocco’s excited
pitched voice that echoed through the house.
“It smelled like chow mein!” was what I heard him say. This was quickly followed by another
wave of laughter.
There was an audience.
I stood, deliberating whether to go back into the hidden comfort of Cameron’s bedroom or face
the music, now knowing that I would have to face it all eventually. My grumbling belly answered
my dilemma—food before pride.
I took a full-lunged breath before slowly walking through the archway into the common room. With
all the hefty men that sat, shoulder to tight shoulder, around it, the extra-large dining table
looked like a child’s craft table. Rocco was standing at the head, emceeing for the breakfast
crowd, while Carly and Spider had their heads bent together at the other end, entranced in a
whispered conversation and feigning interest in the papers that were stacked in front of them.
Cameron wasn’t there. I told myself that this was a good thing: at least I wouldn’t have to be
in the same room as him, trying to hide my neurotic stares, while his angry girlfriend sat a few
measly feet away from me, and with a tattooed man who glared at me like I was the fly that flew
under his flyswatter—it would only take one small motion of the hand to annihilate me.
“The girl thought that the boss had sent me to take care of her,” Rocco proudly recounted for
the crowd. Another roar ensued. Rocco looked fleetingly insulted this time.
Cameron was also missing his kid brother’s great tale—an added bonus, I thought.
Annoyed and horrifically embarrassed, I pursued with my brave face to the table. Rocco was the
first to see me and took it upon himself to announce my arrival.
“Hey puke-breath, your ears must have been burning.” All massive heads followed Rocco’s gaze.
Spider and Carly’s communal head shot up too: Carly grimaced when she saw me; Spider resigned
himself to his usual nasty glare. The whole room had gone tensely quiet.
My ears were burning, like I was wearing hot coals for earmuffs.
In an instant, Carly and Spider were out of their seats. With an added faint whistle and nod of
the head from Spider, all of the men rose with them, rushing to grab last morsels from their
breakfast plates.