The Wildman (7 page)

Do I really need this?
J
eff wondered, but—somehow—in the end, he wasn’t really sure why—he made the decision to go.

Jeff offered to meet Tyler at the Portland Jetport when his flight from LA arrived. It might be a good idea not to face this entirely on his own. Besides, it would be nice to drive out to camp with one of his friends and catch up, one on one.

Tyler nixed all that, telling Jeff he planned to come to Maine a few days earlier and spend some time driving around coastal Maine before heading over to the camp. Jeff couldn’t afford to take any extra time off work—not if he wanted any vacation time when Matt was home from college on Christmas break—so that Thursday night he got packed. He made sure he took Matt’s down-filled sleeping bag along with plenty of warm clothing.

As it was, on the Friday of the reunion, Jeff had to go into the office in the morning to take care of some last-minute paperwork, so he was late getting started. The drive out of Portland was pleasant enough, even though the foliage was a few weeks past peak and the “blue-crested leaf peepers” had gone back south to their retirement homes in Florida. When he got to Gorham, he stopped at the loca
l
Shop ‘n Save
where he picked up his share of the groceries for the weekend. They had all agreed who would bring what, but as he wandered up and down the aisles, Jeff kept picking up impulse items it wasn’t his responsibility to bring.

Just in case,
he kept telling himself.

He also bought a few more bottles of rum at the agency liquor store next door to the supermarket. He had already packed three bottles of Myers, but he wanted to have a few more just in case the other guys wanted to partake. He was looking forward to this weekend with a curious mixture of anticipation and dread, and he definitely didn’t want to run out alcohol.

From Gorham, he drove west on Route 25 to Limington and then headed north along winding back roads toward Alden and Lake Onwego. The posted speed limit was never above 35 MPH, but there were long stretches of open road where he nudged it up closer to sixty. Late in the day, he finally reached the turn for Shore Road, which led down to the boat landing where—just like when he was a kid—he would meet the boat that would take him over to Camp Tapiola.

This far away from civilization, Arden being the nearest town, cell phone service was spotty at best, but earlier in the week, Jeff had arranged for Evan to meet him at the landing at four o’clock. Surprisingly, even though he’d gotten such a late start, he was only fifteen minutes late.

As his car bumped and rattled along the rutted dirt road leading down to the lake, a cold rush of tension started building up inside him. He was concerned that he might not recognize Evan or anyone else after all these years. They had talked about swapping photos on-line, but Evan had argued that it would be a lot more fun and surprising if they waited to see how everyone looked when they all met in person.

Besides, who else would be out here in the willy-whacks this late in the year?

Jeff was self-conscious about his receding hairline and the extra girth he carried around his middle, but he told himself not to worry. Chances were, Evan and the rest of the guys had all gained more weight and lost more hair than he had. All things considered, Jeff thought he’d held up fairly well over the years.

Lost in thought as he was, he missed the turn to the landing and drove past it when it came up faster than he had been expecting. The road that had seemed so long when he was a kid now struck him as short and actually rather pathetic.

Embarrassed by his mistake, even though there was no one there to see it, he drove a short way down the road, turned around quickly, and drove back to the turnoff. It was another half-mile or so to the landing.

When he pulled into the parking area, there were already four cars parked there—a green Volvo, a black Prius, a rusted Chevy pickup truck, and a small blue Toyota, which was obviously a rental. As he pulled to a stop beside the Volvo, Jeff tried to guess whose was whose. The only one he was sure of was the rental, which had to be Tyler’s.

Down by the lake, a person was standing on the dock next to the boat launch where a small motorboat was tied up. The sun reflected off the water behind him, so it was hard for Jeff to see the person’s face.

That’s
got
to be Evan,
Jeff thought.

The person silhouetted against the lake looked up and raised one hand. He waved it wildly as he started walking up the slope to where Jeff had parked.

“
Christ on a cross,” Evan called out, his voice light and tinged with merriment as Jeff killed the engine and got out of his car. He was parked on the crest where the steep road led down to the water.

“
I swear to Christ … Who’d a thunk it?”

“
Evan?” Jeff said tentatively as he pocketed his car keys and walked down the hill to meet his friend. They shook hands vigorously and then just stood there for a long moment, staring at each other. Neither one of them seemed to know what to say or do next until Evan slapped Jeff on the shoulder and asked, “So how was the drive out? You find the place all right?”

“
Oh, yeah. Only a couple of wrong turns,” Jeff said. He smiled as he stroked his chin and took a deep breath while looking out over the lake. The powerful scent of pine resin—just like he remembered when he was a kid—filled him with a powerful surge of nostalgia. A stiff breeze was blowing in off the lake, churning the blue-gray water and making the waves sparkle like diamonds in the slanting sunlight. The chill in the air made Jeff shiver, and he hugged himself. Off in the distance, already darkened by shadows because of the mountains to the west, he could discern the outlines of Sheep’s Head Island and the camp, about a mile out on the water.

But as nice as this initial impression was, once again—as he had so many times right up until this moment—Jeff wondered why he had agreed to come out here. The prospect of being essentially stranded on an island for the whole weekend with people he hardly knew and hadn’t seen in so long they might just as well be strangers didn’t seem all that appealing.

“
So … everyone else seems to have made it already.” Jeff nodded at the line of parked cars.

“
We’re getting settled in just fine,” Evan said with a wide smile. He chuckled and shook his head as though privately amused at something. The slanting sunlight illuminated his face, deepening the thin, dark wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. “I’ve been out here for a couple of days, getting things set up for you, but I gotta tell you, man, the place has really gone to shit.”

“
After thirty-five years, what d’you expect?”

“
Yeah, but … still, just wait ‘till you see it. It’s so freakin’ weird to be back here.”

“
It looks a lot smaller than I remember,” Jeff said simply.

“
Of course it does. Everything was bigger then because we were kids. I swear to God, there are times when I’m out there, I half-expect Bloomberg to come running down to tell me to get my butt back to the tent.” Evan’s eyes took on a distant glaze as he looked out across the water and sighed. “Remember Mark Bloomberg?”

“
Who could forget him?”

Jeff gave him a twisted smile. The only image that sprang to mind was the look of worry and near panic he had seen on his counselor’s face the afternoon he told his campers Jimmy Foster was missing. Even then, Mark must have known—as Jeff had known—that something terrible had happened.

“
I wish he was still alive so he could have come, too,” Jeff said. “Would’ve been nice to see him.” He shivered and knew it wasn’t just from the chilly breeze. “I can’t believe he’s dead. It seems so … I dunno … surreal.”

“
I know,” Evan said as a dark frown flashed across his face. “I Googled him and found his obituary.”

A strange tightness constricted Evan’s voice and grabbed Jeff’s attention. He assumed it was because Evan was as upset as he was about the death of someone who had meant a lot to all of them back when they were so young and impressionable.

“
He never got married and was living in Lowell, teaching phys ed. at the high school. His obit said he was really active in Boy Scouts, too.”

“
Makes sense,” Jeff said with a shrug. “He was a great counselor. I’m not at all surprised he ended up working with kids. How’d he die?”

“
I’m not really sure,” Evan said. “The obituary said he “died unexpectedly,” which I’ve always assume means either suicide or overdose or something. You know, it’s either that or ‘died after a courageous struggle with cancer’ or whatever.”

“
Shit,” Jeff said, lowering his gaze and shaking his head.

For some reason, the thought that Mark Bloomberg was dead was really getting to him. Granted, Jeff had only been twelve years old the last time he had seen Mark. He figured his counselor must have been—what, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old that summer? But Jeff and the other guys in the tent had idolized Mark, and the idea that even someone like Mark Bloomberg was mortal sent a shiver of frisson through him … especially, God forbid, if he had killed himself or overdosed. It just goes to show how you never really know.

“
Count no man happy until he is dead,” Jeff said.

“
What’s that?”

“
Something from
Oedipus Rex.
”

“
Yeah … Well. Whatever,” Evan said, rubbing his hands together against the chill as an excited glow lit up his eyes. “You have a ton of stuff to carry?”

“
A fair amount.”

“
Then let’s get going.”

“
Did you check the weekend weather forecast?” Jeff asked as they walked back to his car. He popped the trunk open and started to grab stuff.

“
Haven’t had a chance for the last few days,” Evan said. “Why?”

Jeff shrugged. “They’re saying we might have a storm coming through later in the weekend, Saturday night. That’s what they were predicting for the Portland area, anyway. They said there’s a chance of showers that might be heavy on into Sunday. You know what that means.”

“
What?”

“
We might get snow this far north.”

“
In October?” Evan scowled and waved his hand dismissively. “I doubt it. And anyways, we’ll be fine … as long as you brought snowshoes.”

When Jeff drew back and gave him a funny look, Evan swatted him on the arm.

“
I’m just fuckin’ with you,” he said, but Jeff couldn’t help but think how strange this whole encounter was. He couldn’t deny the odd dissonance he felt, trying to relate to Evan as an adult while all he could do was try to see the twelve-year-old boy he had once been. The bottom line was, when they were kids, even though he and Evan had shared a deep and, at least they said so at the time, lasting friendship—

BFF.

—
it had been so long ago it felt like it had happened to someone else.

He had no idea who this person was. Looking at him carefully now, Jeff thought Evan could be just about anybody. It took a real stretch of imagination to see the person Evan had once been. Jeff wondered if he had changed as much in Evan’s eyes. He didn’t feel much different, but you never knew …

“
Well … one thing’s still the same,” Jeff said.

Evan shot him a quizzical look as he leaned into the trunk and grabbed some bags of groceries.

What’s that?”

“
None of the other guys bothered to show up to help. Are they still the same old lazy crew?”

Evan indicated the boat tied up to the dock.

“
Boat’s too small for all of us at once, anyway, not with all your stuff. When we leave on Sunday, we’ll have to ferry people and luggage back and forth.”

“
Just like the old days,” Jeff said with a grin.

“
Yeah … Just like the old days.”

It took them a couple of trips from the car to the dock to get all of Jeff’s supplies and luggage loaded into the boat. As the sun started to set, the wind picked up, carrying with it a biting chill. Jeff was glad he had packed some winter clothes. All he could think about was how he was probably going to freeze his sorry ass off, trying to sleep tonight.

Just like the old days, indeed …

Finally, once the boat was loaded, Evan fired up the engine, and Jeff cast off. He was glad he sat back down right away because Evan gunned the engine and cut a couple of sharp curves that would have thrown him overboard if he hadn’t been sitting.

It wasn’t long before the pounding of the boat on the water got to Jeff. He definitely didn’t have his sea legs back—if he’d ever had them. Gripping the gunwales, he narrowed his eyes against the wind as Evan opened up the engine, pushing it as hard as he could.

Jeff didn’t see any point in trying to carry on a conversation with the boat’s engine whining so loudly and the cold wind whistling like a banshee in his ears. He felt self-conscious, knowing Evan, who was at the back of the boat, couldn’t help but look at his back.

Maybe he was studying Jeff the way Jeff had looked at him, trying to see his childhood friend in this man he didn’t really know.

Maybe he was trying to dig past all the years and see the little boy Jeff had been back then.

Or maybe he was studying him the way he was today, trying to figure out what kind of person he was.