didn’t like how this conversation was so one-sided. Tyler might just as well have been talking to himself, dredging up reminiscences about the good ole’ days at Camp Tapiola.
“I checked you out on the Internet, so I know you’re still living in Maine. You’re still in Westbrook?”
“Uh … Yeah. Westbrook. I’m a real estate agent at a firm in Portland.”
“You married? … Got kids?”
That question, so innocent, gave Jeff pause because the last thing he wanted now was to get into all of that, especially with someone who was all but a perfect stranger. He still had more than enough emotional baggage to deal with, and this was not the time to get into it with Tyler or anyone.
“I got—uh, divorced a while ago. ‘Bout a year. Got one kid in college. At Ithaca.”
“That’s in upstate New York, right?”
“Yeah. Just south of Syracuse.”
“Got yah. But you’re doing all right, aren’t you?” The genuine note of concern in Tyler’s voice touched Jeff. Once again, he pictured him the way Tyler had looked when they were kids. That was the only memory he had of him with his long, dark hair framing a round face that remained pale no matter how much time they spent in the sun, and his blue eyes that always glistened like wet marbles. It struck Jeff as strange how, all of a sudden, he experienced a wave of nostalgia for his childhood. He must miss those days with his best buddies in some way.
BFF, indeed.
“I’m doing all right, I guess,” Jeff replied. “You know, the usual complaints at our age—gaining weight … losing hair.”
“Tell me about it,” Tyler chuckled softly. “I mean—it’s weird how I don’t feel like I’ve changed all that much, but a couple of years ago, I went to my high school reunion in Danvers, and a lot of people didn’t even recognize me. It’s weird, you know?”
“For sure,” Jeff said, but as he said it, he stifled a yawn behind his hand. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was 12:04.
Damn!
He had to get up in six hours.
“Look,” Tyler said. “I got your phone number and can call you tomorrow.”
“How’d you find me, anyway?”
“Google. It’s amazing what you can do on the Internet these days.”
“It sure as hell is.”
“So I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” Tyler said, “after you’ve checked your e-mail. But let’s make sure we stay in touch, okay?”
“Uhh—yeah … yeah. Sure. It’d be cool to reconnect after all these years.”
“It’s been way too long,” Tyler said.
A million years, Jeff wanted to say but didn’t.
“we’ll talk tomorrow.”
Jeff said “Good bye,” but he wasn’t sure if Tyler heard him or had already hung up. When the dial tone started buzzing in his ear, he replaced the phone. For A long time, he sat there on the edge of his bed, staring off into space, his mind filled with memories and images from long ago.
It wasn’t long before the phone call took on a cast of unreality. Jeff checked the caller I.D. just to make sure he’d really gotten a call from California and not imagined it.
Sure enough, there was Tyler’s name and phone number.
Jeff thought to jot it down before he forgot about it, but he was too exhausted and a little dizzy from the rum, so he turned off the light instead and flopped back onto the bed.
It took a while, but he finally drifted off to sleep.
A few hours later, he awoke again with a start. This time it was because of a dream he had about Camp Tapiola, but upon waking, he couldn’t remember any of the details. All he knew was, the dream left him with a cold hollow feeling deep in his stomach in spite of the humid night air.
The only thought circling around in his mind as he tried to drift off to sleep again was that maybe having a camp reunion at Camp Tapiola wasn’t such a good idea. As nice as his memories of it were, there were also things he’d just as soon not think about ever again. And now Tyler’s late night phone call had dredged them up all of.
* * *
Over the next few weeks, Jeff received a slew of e-mails, not only from Evan Pike and Tyler Crosby, but also from Mike Logan and Fred Bowen. It was beginning to turn into “Old Home Week” … or “Old Summer Camp Week.”
It wasn’t all fun, though. Jeff learned that two of the people he thought might be included—Ralph Curran and