Till Summer Do Us Part(55)

There are a few other couples who I haven’t met yet, but maybe in time, we will.

Sanders offers me a nod. He lifts a megaphone to his mouth and says, “Are we ready to test your agility? Your comfort level with each other? Your athletic prowess?”

The Chads and Brads all lift their fists in the air while Wilder leans in and whispers, “Douche canoes.”

I chuckle but then remind myself that we’re still supposed to be angry with each other.

Over dinner last night, we laid out a game plan. Wilder took the lead and wrote in his journal how we’re going to become the best couple to have ever walked the grounds of this camp. His evil cackle had me laughing, and he had me smiling while he pointed out ways for us to start slowly, showing Sanders how his tactics are working. And when he made a game day plan with X’s and O’s like Sanders did, showing our way to the end zone of best couple of the year, he had me doubled over in a fit of giggles.

And when I went to sleep last night, feeling lighter, like a weight had been lifted, I realized that this was exactly what I needed. Maybe Wilder was right; in order to break away from the dark cloud hanging over my head, I needed to break the routine.

Funny thing is, I didn’t know that dark cloud was there until yesterday. It appeared out of nowhere, shocking me to my very core. I went into yesterday’s session with the idea that we’d simply battle it out and then leave, but bringing up past grievances I had with my husband shook me.

I had no idea I would be airing out my frustrations, the hurt I felt from his indifference. From his lack of love. And after realizing that, crying through the grief, mourning those thoughts and feelings, it was cathartic to release the pain.

More than I expected.

I’ve been sitting on those feelings, repressing them out of fear of having to relive it all, and sure, in the moment, it didn’t feel great, but God, today, I feel lighter. I feel better. I feel like a new me is starting to blossom, and I’m ready to have fun.

I’m ready to experience life, as Wilder says. And if I’m honest, I can attribute a lot of that transformation to Wilder. He’s pushed me—even if unintentionally—and I’m a stronger person for it.

“As you can see, we have wet suits lined up along the shore,” Sanders says into the megaphone. “It is up to you whether you want to put them on or not. Wearing your bathing suit is just fine, but the lake is cold in the morning. So you make the choice. Once everyone’s ready, we’ll line up. First couple to complete the obstacle course wins. Time will be added to your overall score if you fall into the water, so try to avoid that as much as possible. There are questions at every station. Those questions will be answered carefully with a staff member, and you will only be allowed to proceed if you answer correctly. Time is of the essence, so be truthful with each other.”

I’m unsure what these questions might entail, but by the looks of the way the other couples are huddled up, I can only imagine what the prize is going to be. This is going to be a bloodbath.

Wilder turns to me, places his hands on my shoulders, and says, “We need to win this.”

“I’m sensing that.”

“Do you see everyone around us? They have their game faces on.”

“They do.”

“We need to have our game faces on.”

“I don’t know what a game face is. Tell me how to morph myself, and I will.”

He holds back a smile and says, “Are you finally ready to enjoy some improv with me?”

God, he must have been waiting for this moment. It’s all he’s been wanting to do, engage in his silly improv and loop me into it. Well, after the convo last night and my newfound goal of trying to let go, the time has come.

I wet my lips and nod. “I think I am.”

The smile he was holding back turns into a full-fledged smirk. He tugs on his lip ring and moves even closer, our foreheads nearly touching. “Good. Let me set the scene.” He nods behind him. “See those fucks over there?”

I glance over his shoulder at my coworkers and their significant others and then back at him. “I see them.”

“They’re enemy number two.”

“Who is enemy number one?” I ask.

“Us,” he says. “I am enemy number one, and to me, you are enemy number one.”

“Right, because we’re mad at each other.”

“Precisely. We need to seem chaotic but still work well together. We need to surprise everyone. They need to think we’re without a doubt going to lose, only to pull out the win and take home the condom basket.”

“Do you think it’s going to be another condom basket?”

“No idea,” he says. “But whatever it is, we need it. We can’t let these douche canoes have access to lube and cock rings or, better yet, Nerds Clusters.”

I gasp and clutch his shirt. “Do you think they’d do that?”

In a low, menacing tone, he says, “I have no fucking idea, but I’ll be damned if they gain access to them. So are you ready to annihilate?”

“Ready,” I say, grateful that I have Wilder at my side for this.

“Then let’s get suited up.”

Once we’re given our wet suits, we kick off our sandals. I’m wearing a one-piece bathing suit because I had no intention of wearing a two-piece in front of my coworkers. Wilder’s dressed in a pair of black swim trunks—not surprised by the color choice—and a black T-shirt.