“Going out to San Francisco,” he says. “Gonna work in a suitcase factory.”
Chilton’s intro…
We're out there in the woods, there's a summer camp and these are the days when nobody is there except the counselors that come in early and get the camp ready for the summer.
This is Chilton here, your reporter on what is going on in the backwoods. Me, I am more often found in a city on the East Coast - if I perceive correctly of me in a story that might not yet have a setting.
Not to worry. Let us discuss other matters, like the story at hand that talks about suitcase factories in San Francisco. If it ever gets to San Francisco or not, we don't have enough to go on. We will let that be.
Kyler would want me to tell you the story goes headlong into a state of angst. The stories of angst - fear - will overcome that fear or they will fall to it. Don't ask me to explain it. It is what it is. Kyler doesn't like it when I say that but there you have it.
Keep in mind that characters like me in nonexistent fictional text don't get paid all that much. It isn't for me to launch into some spiel on the fear of love. As we say in the military, that's above my pay grade. I'll see you back here for my OUTRO following the opening of Kyler's work-in-progress.
FAR-OFF SUITCASE FACTORY
The Fields
I had learned one thing early in the morning. Don't raise your hand when they ask who wants to mow the baseball fields.
I could see myself wheeling one of those riding mowers from left field to right, an icy root beer in my free hand. Suffice it to say you can't carry your root beer with you when you're cutting the outfield grass with a push mower.
Clement was the smart one, he never raised his hand. Normally he did when I did because I think he wanted to be with me. That makes it sound like it was all on him. You probably realize that I'm basically lying if I make it sound that way.
The Upstairs Window
For I don't know how many days in a row, I sat in that upstairs window of the main house waiting for him to cross the yard. He would wear a clean white shirt, and it only took me a couple of days to figure out that he was coming to see me. I waved at him and he waved back. He never even tried to hide the fact that he was smiling.
That is always around 6 o'clock, when the fields are mowed and some of the buildings have gotten a fresh coat of green paint. We always talk about going to the lake and jumping in but we end up heading for town and whatever is going on in there. Usually that means root beer or music, in some kind of random order.
"You didn't raise your hand this morning," I say.
"A year ago, I did."
I'm the one that's new around here.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He waves his hands. "You thought you were gonna get the riding mower, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah."
"Did you crosshatch them?"
"What do you think?"
A Candle
We sit on the blankets in my room. It looks like Clement is gonna fall asleep. He puts a folded blanket under his head.
I light a candle and think I should try and make conversation before he really does fall asleep.
"Do you have any idea what you wanna do at the end of summer?" I say.
"Yeah." He belongs to the gray blanket his head is riding.
"What?"
"Going out to San Francisco," he says. "Gonna work in a suitcase factory."
His eyes are closed, he is probably dreaming.
"They got suitcase factories out there?"
"Uh huh." He is asleep for sure, then he shifts in his sleep. "What are you gonna do?"
Save the World
My words are more on display than I think they are. But I will tell him because I pretty much know what I'm gonna do, that it will be my first quarter of college.
"Go to school," I say.
"Then what?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you wanna save the world?"
He is probably no longer in the land of dreams.
"No," I say.
I think he is mad because I won't save him. But he has to remember that at the same time I am destroying him I am also destroying myself.
He puts the back of his wrist across his forehead.
"I wasn't sure I would come back here this summer," he says.
"You did."
He rolls his head and looks at me across the floor. If he is planning a snide remark, his expression would have something else to it.
"I'm glad I did," he says.
"How come?"
"What do you think?"
I think he means me.
"You wanna go for a walk?" I say.
I am looking after the candle, if we are gonna leave.
He is sitting on the edge of my bed. I didn't even hear him get up.
"Where to?" he says.
"Anywhere."
I blow out the candle.
The Lake
Our walk takes us along the lake. Nobody says anything. I thought we might after our talk in the cabin. The evening air or something, the motion, has lifted us out of our half sleep. I thought I had been wide awake. Maybe not. I got scared of talking once we hit the path near the shore.
It is only a matter then of dropping Clement off at his place, another one of the cabins.
"See you in the morning," I say.
"Roll call, I guess."
"Yeah."
I feel like myself on the short journey back to where I stay. I didn't feel like myself with Clement. I was a version of myself that is constantly on guard. I can't say anything that would start him thinking I like him as much as I do. But he doesn't say anything either and I could be wrong about why he won't.
Morning
The morning meeting is always too early. Me and Clement were up way too late the night before.
I won't raise my hand to mow the fields. In fact, it will be a mistake to raise it for anything, so I'll take my chances.
When Clement raises his hand for painting, I raise mine. I think I would rather mow the fields but I would do almost anything to be with him.
I will tell that to him sooner or later, only it hasn't been one of the days so far. I don't know which one it will be. I suppose I am waiting for him to say it to me, in whatever words he wants to use.
I'm in love with him. In the way we are with each other, I can see how his fear is a copy of mine. That's how I know that he is also in love with me. I think I'm right about that, or I will be humiliated if I am wrong.
Neither one of us is about to say anything. Nor have we touched each other. We have been really careful not to do that. If we spend all of our time together, it doesn't have to mean anything when you are located in the woods and thrown together like this.
What This Guy Said
This guy said something to us early on. "How long have you guys been going out?"
I didn't know what to do or say. All I could do was freeze and look straight ahead. I could sense that Clement was doing the same thing.
The guy gave us a break and changed the subject. I think he knew. I'm sure we didn't hide our fear.
Until that guy said that, I don't think we had any idea we were dating. Later that night I thought we would talk about what he had said but we didn't. Our relationship is defined by what we don't say.
I'm afraid that anything real between us gets more impossible all the time. I believe I am losing hope.
We've been in camp for three weeks now, getting the place ready, a big summer camp with sports, music, arts and crafts, lots of things. The kids are scheduled to arrive in one week.
That is well past the halfway mark for me and Clement to be for real with one another. It is unlikely we will have the time later on when it will be too easy to just give up. Plus the camp has two sides to it, the junior and the senior. If we are split up before we know who we are, our chances get even worse.
Chilton’s outro…
So how do you figure it? Does the fear just get worse until the reality of their love gets snuffed out altogether?
I'm voting that's how it ends. I mean, they can't seem to get real, can they?
I don't think Kyler knows the direction of the story. It's up to the characters, after all, to make the story into whatever it will be. It's their life. They are the ones who have the most to lose.
Kyler could do some writing down of my story but he never seems to get around to it. I will give him the green light to go ahead and write the fantastic tale of the great success and triumph of Chilton! Yeah, us characters want to make it big. If it wasn't for everything and everybody that gets in the way, we would. And I'm here to tell you that sometimes writers get in your way.
I'm just saying. I'm not gonna say anything more.