Could Be Worse

When I saw Dave again, he was apologetic. “He told me to ask you, I thought he was kidding. I wouldn't ask you to get into trouble for me.”

This made me smile. Tim's simple-minded grumpiness was still under my skin. Dave's response reminded me, finally, why I had agreed to do this: I like Dave. He's a nice guy and a good worker. When he asked me to help him, putting the responsibility of making this happen on me, I wanted to help him out because he's nice. “Dave, its okay. I've had friends like him before. And worse for that matter.” I considered this for a moment. “Has he ever tarred and feathered your car?”

Dave laughed, probably instinctively.”No.” I tapped myself on the chest. “No, really.” I nodded. “By your friend? That's a pretty wild prank.”

“I thought so too. It was a pain to clean off.”

Tina was poured over a chair near the kitchen table. “That actually sounds like a pretty [unpleasant] thing to do. He thought that was funny?”

“He didn't think I would find it funny,” I tried to explain. “He thought other people would find it funny.”

“How?” she paused. “How would that be funny?”

I tried to explain.

Making Friends

“So where's the booze, man?”

My response to this long haired young man was quizzical and he was intelligent enough to recognize this meant confusion on my part. He repeated his question but it did not improve my comprehension. This time around, Dave heard him ask and he coughed quietly. “I, uh, didn't ask him, Tim.”

This news was not enough to stir Tim from sprawling over a chair near the kitchen table. “Dude, weak. I thought you said he was cool man.”

“He is cool,” Dave insisted. “He's not that cool.” He took a moment to look at me.”Sorry.” Returning to Tim, he noted “If he was that kind of cool, my Dad would never have agreed to give him the keys.”

“He can't pretend?” Tim questioned.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe I didn't want to pretend.”

“Dude, whatever.” Tim dismissed my input. “Not talking to you, Mr. Disappointment.” He nodded his head towards Dave. “I'm talking to this disappointment here.”

I was quickly confused. “But you're talking about me.” Tim dismissed me with a wave. For a moment, the anger took me but I released it as I exhaled. “Whatever.” There was no point in arguing with him. I had nothing to gain and everything to lose. “Whatever.” Having declared that, I went outside.

It was warm outside. Okay, warm was a poor choice of words. It was muggy and hot, politely uncomfortable even this close to the lake. I didn't like thinking of this as hot because it could, and would, get hotter this summer. It was only in the eighties. If I thought of this as unbearable, how uncomfortable would I be when it reached the nineties?

Why did I agree to this again? To sleeping on a couch, to being grouched at by teenagers, to driving to the middle of nowhere? In this place I can barely get a signal on my mobcomm. The television reception can't be very good. They must have a satellite to get anything. I was stuck babysitting a bunch of ungrateful teenagers. What a way to spend a weekend. Am I ever a chump.

“Hi.”

As distracted as I was by my thoughts, the sudden voice caught me off guard and I jumped, no doubt looking like an idiot. It was one of the young ladies from the group, standing in the doorway, looking especially bashful now that she's surprised me. She quickly apologized for that and identified herself as Janet, Tim's girlfriend. “He didn't really mean anything by what he said to you; it's just his way. He can come across a little difficult to people who don't know him,” she explained.

“Difficult is one way to describe him,” I grumbled.

“He's really not a bad guy,” she insisted. “Once you get used to him, he's very nice.”

“You know him better than me,” I reasoned. “I'm not particularly offended or anything if that's what you're looking for.”

She smiled in a way that read 'sorta' to me but the effect was ruined by Tim's appearance. As he walked through, he grabbed her by the hand, dragging her with him. “C'mon. I need some fresh air now that I've been disappointed.” He timed it so that he was looking in my face when he said 'disappointed'. How subtle. And I'd just been thinking how clever he'd been in sending out his sweet, innocent looking girlfriend to talk nice to me about him.

I'm starting to think it wasn't his idea for her to talk to me. She must love him. Or she's stuck with him for some reason.

Arrived

“Where have you been?”

It had been a long drive and I wasn't in the mood for bitchiness, even from someone I just met and was trying to stay nice to until I knew if she was always like this or not. “I wasn't that far behind.” Not being familiar with the driveway, I'd slowed down during the curves. This brief delay was too much for her to bear. “Well hurry up!” she demanded. Rather than argue with her by pointing out that she was impeding my path and how the door might already be open if she had just let me be, I remained quiet. She continued to gripe about how slow I was and how old I was and how I shouldn't be along and assorted other things as I walked to the door. She did all this from a pace behind me. This was a wonderful experience. When I'd finally unlocked the door, I held it open for her. She gave me a Look and dashed inside, her arms folded in defiance as she stomped away.

Dave's buddy Chris, her boyfriend, approached as I fought to not return her Look with a Look. “She, ah, had to go to the bathroom. She's not always like that.”

My face softened. This was understandable. “For your sake, I hope not.” I gave him a grin and we set about getting ourselves and out stuff inside.

The word 'cabin' seems to mean different things to different people. I hear 'cabin' and I think 'log cabin' I guess. I picture something the pioneers might have lived in on the frontier: something small but functional, nothing particularly fancy or stylish. Other people evidently use the word 'cabin' to differentiate between the house they live in on a day-to-day basis and the house they have up north. It was no mansion but it was no shack either. When I'd seen the size of the group when we met up, I was concerned that there wouldn't be room for all of us. Seeing the building removed those concerns.

That said, I had no expectations that there would be a bed for me. I hoped for a couch that wasn't too battered and broken. Having collected my bag, I went inside and found Dave leaning over an aisle in the kitchen, laughing. I waited until the humorous wave faded and I had his attention. Gesturing to my bag, I asked “Where can I stow this?”

“Well, ah, we have room but we don't have rooms,” he stated apologetically.

I cut him off with a wave before he could get too deep into this. “That I understand. No worries. Do I have a spot that's going to be mine or are we just crashing where we fall?”

“I was, uh, thinking this might be okay.” Dave directed me into the next room, a den of sorts with a couple of chairs, a few books and things on shelves, a television, and a couch. It was a room that didn't look like it had been used much and the items in it looked rather new. “I wanted to have you in a room cause that just seemed right but it was just easier to split us up this way.”

I sat on the couch. It was sturdy and firm. “This'll be fine Dave. I've slept on plenty worse than this. Am I in here by myself or is someone grabbing a chair or...?”

“Should be by yourself,” was his response.

I grinned. “Just wanted to know what to expect. Cool. This should be fine Dave.”

He relaxed a bit. “Okay, cool. I was just worried, cause, well, I didn't want you to feel like I was disrespecting you or anything.”

“I'm still your boss but I'm not your boss at the moment.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Yeah. I'll try to mostly stay out of way this weekend,” I reassured. “Not that I'm not fun but I'm sure you don't want me around constantly.”

He laughed nervously. “You know you're welcome to be around us. My dad wants you to be around us some but, uh, yeah, that would be nice too.” Quickly he added “Not that you're not cool or anything like that.”

“Clearly,” I noted.