Till Summer Do Us Part(21)

Whereas Wilder, he seems to have his rose-colored glasses on at all times.

Scottie: I do, and please don’t make this a thing between us. The only reason I said something is because I can search those out like a hound dog, and I’d rather not have one of my cabinmates see me hunched over on my bed, shoving cluster after cluster into my mouth.

Wilder: Cabinmates? Pips, you have one cabinmate, and it’s me.

I pause, reading his text. Uh, is he sure about that?

Scottie: What do you mean it’s you? I’m not sharing a cabin with the other wives? You know, like in a real summer camp?

Wilder: No. Didn’t you look at the brochure?

Scottie: Uh no, I just snatched one, hoping you wouldn’t grow attached to the idea of going. Boy, was I wrong.

Wilder: You should have looked at it. Of course it has the adult summer camp vibes, but each couple gets their own cabin… We’re going to have to share a bed.

I stare at the words, over and over again.

Share a bed.

With a stranger?

With a man I know nothing about?

I mean, what if…what if he snores? What if he, oh God, what if he’s one of those guys that gets wet dreams all the time?

Gasp, what if he sleeps naked?

Scottie: PAJAMAS! Get yourself pajamas! I refuse to sleep with a naked man. Actually, while you’re at Target, get an air mattress and extra blankets, because one of us is sleeping on it.

Wilder: You nervous to sleep with me?

Scottie: Uh, yeah!

Wilder: Why?

Why?

Seriously, has this man ever been in the likeness of society? He seems so oblivious to the most obvious things.

Scottie: Uh hello, I don’t know you. I don’t know if you’re going to roll over at one point and breathe your hot breath on me.

Wilder: Who’s to say I have hot breath?

Scottie: Everyone has hot breath in the morning. Also…are you a wet dream guy?

Wilder: I mean, I was when I was younger, can’t help that shit, but not anymore.

Scottie: Thank God for small miracles.

Wilder: It’ll be fine. I promise. I don’t snore. I keep to my side. Not to mention I brush my teeth, floss, and use mouthwash twice a day. Good dental hygiene over here.

Scottie: How do you know you don’t snore?

Wilder: The clinic down the street from me was doing sleep studies and needed some bodies to fill in; it was just one of those experiences I took advantage of. They told me I was an excellent sleeper, very unlike some of the people they study. Felt bad because I was boring to watch.

Scottie: Are you always doing random things? Is this a money thing?

Wilder: I don’t need the money. Seriously though, no need to worry on the sleeping thing, and I’ll be sure to give you plenty of privacy whenever you need it. The camp backs up to a forest, so I plan on going on a lot of walks. I have a bird book I’m going to bring with me so I can do some bird-watching in our off hours. I’m also excited to bust out my binoculars. It’s one of the very few things that I’ve spent good money on.

Curious, I type back a question, because why is he making it seem like money is not a thing to him?

Scottie: What other things did you spend money on?

Wilder: My house—a brownstone in Brooklyn. My binoculars. My computer—because that’s a necessity. A charcoal set for drawing. And a first-edition signed copy of Misery by Stephen King.

A brownstone? Did I read that right? Uhhh, have I completely misread this man? Not that money matters to me, but my brain starts to connect the dots. Is he…is he wealthy? Is that why he has all this time on his hands? I have questions for Mika.

Scottie: That’s all really random stuff.

Wilder: They’re all things that matter the most to me.

Scottie: Interesting. I feel like you can learn a lot about a person with such eclectic taste.

Wilder: And what did you learn?

Scottie: That if we met at a bar, we probably never would have hooked up.

Wilder: Ouch. LOL. But good to know. Well, I’m off. If you need anything, just let me know.

I don’t bother writing back; instead, I set my phone down and stare out at the pit in front of me.

Misery… Should I be worried?





“Is your brother a psychopath?” I ask as I take a seat at the bar.

Mika smirks and sets a napkin down. “He is not.”

“Then why are you smiling?” I point at his curved lips.

“Because I find it funny that you asked the moment you saw me. Knowing Wilder, you probably had quite the experience today.”

“Uh yeah, you could say that.” I reach over the bar and snag a bowl of pretzels before he can offer them to me. “You owe me a drink. Your best margarita.”

Mika pulls out a tumbler and starts pouring liquid in it as he asks, “What happened?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You just set me up with someone who didn’t read the instructions.”

Mika winces. “Did he go off script?”

“That’s one way to put it.” I pop a pretzel in my mouth and lay it out for him. “It was simple. Pretend to be my husband, fight with me, show that we’re not compatible, leave. But noooooo, that was too easy. Wilder needed to complicate things. He went in there, speaking praises of me, which of course had me needing to do the same so I didn’t come off as the ornery wench.”