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    Mac Rountree
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Jimbo - 3. Crossed Communication

Mail was handed out each day at the end of lunch. The Camp Director enjoyed being postmaster. He would call each troop leader forward to pick up the group mail and then he would call each staff member who had a letter or package. It was all a little too silly but he had a great time.

It was Wednesday and I had been given some special assignments to help prepare for the Parent’s Night at camp. My rear end could hardly sit still on the bench because I wanted to finish my tasks and take a nap. I simply wanted lunch time to end. After handing out all of the mail, the Camp Director then said there was a special letter. He held it out. He sniffed it as if searching for the fragrance of perfume. He then let out a big ahhhhhhh and smiled to the entire group of boys in the dining hall. He should have been a stage actor. He then turned to me and said it seemed that I had a special letter. The boys yelled and wolf whistled. I wanted to slide off the bench and hide under the table.

I walked over to pick up the letter and he said he needed to sniff it one more time. He let out another big ahhhhhh and the boys went wild as they raced from the dining hall. They were energized from the theatricals. They were probably imagining a girl had written me and that she would show up that night. They were projecting what each of them wanted in their own individuals lives. What boy doesn’t want a beautiful girl that he can parade in front of other boys to show them he has the right stuff.

Actually, not me. After last week I knew I could not live that lie anyone.

I slid the letter into my pocket after looking at the address. It was addressed: Jimbo Ward, Staff Counselor, Camp Falls, Old Mill Road, Gaston, VA. On a diagonal across the envelope was written the word “PERSONAL.” There was no return address. There didn’t need to be.

I couldn’t decide what was going to happen first. Did I do the required chores? Did I read the letter? Did I burst with both joy and apprehension? The world around me took on a hazy glow. The Camp Director walked up behind me and put his arm across my shoulder.

“Jimbo, Freddy has gotten sick and you will have to pick up his duties for the afternoon. Plus, I need for you to introduce the inductees into the Order at the campfire tonight. You should be in your ceremonials like you wear on Friday nights. Afterwards, I need for you to lead the crew to secure the fire and make sure camp is safe before you turn in. You have a busy afternoon and evening. You need to get started right now if you are going to get everything done today. Oh, by the way, I have to go to the Council Office after the campfire tonight so I need for you to take over leadership in case of an emergency, be in the dining hall tomorrow morning to oversee breakfast and if I don’t get back by noon go ahead and do lunch also.”

He stared directly into my eyes. “You can thank me later for this.”

I was torn. I knew that if he was really looking at me, he would have seen a body ripped in two parts and each part would be lying on the ground covered in blood. One half would be me in love and wanting desperately to be reading and reacting to the letter from Mason. The other half would be the good Scout, the good leader, the one who could step in and do whatever needed to be done. How could I do both when I had a letter in my pocket waiting to be read and yet my boss was standing in front of me? He knew I had the letter. He knew who it was from. He knew I was conflicted and he had just taken away the choice from me about what to do.

I stood tall and straight, tucked in my central core, squared my shoulders and told him that I would make it all happen and he had nothing to worry about. My heart was practically beating out of my chest from a longing and aching but was also proud that my leadership skills and achievements were being rewarded.

Damn, I hated being treated like an adult at that moment. I just wanted to be a teenager in love. It was late that night before I read the letter in my tent. My flashlight was propped so I could easily read.

Monday, July 14

Jimbo,

It feels strange for me to use your familiar name instead of your formal name. Mason insists that I use Jimbo instead of James. So be it.

Mason has displayed certitude and a directive nature since he returned from camp. There is self-assurance that we have never seen before. We think you had a lot to do with that. He says being inducted into the Order of the Arrow has been the most important thing that has ever happened in his life and it is all due to you.

This note is from Herbert and myself to thank you for helping our son last week. All he has done is talk about you since his return. I believe it is hero worship and it is rightly bestowed.

Our best,

Mrs. H.R. (Judy) Jenner

 

There was another letter in the same envelope.

Monday

Jimbo,

I asked my mom for some stationary and she asked who I was writing. After telling her, she told me that she would pen a note at the end of my letter. I told her to write her own note and I would put it in the envelope. She wanted to see what I was writing you. I told her it was secret Order stuff that she was not allowed to see since she was not a member. I don’t know if she believed me or not.

Did it happen?

I have to believe it did. I awoke and you weren’t there. There was evidence. The sheets were a right royal mess. The musk stained the sheets and stank. My butt hurt but in a good way. And there was your sash. Does it make me horrible to say I wanted to steal it so I would have something of yours? When you came to the campsite to get it, I knew I couldn’t lie to you. I will never lie to you.

I am yours as long as you want me. You taught me so much during the week. How do you have patience with such a boy as me?

We had a special troop meeting last night at Mr. Higinbotham’s house, our troop leader, to give him the award for best troop. Of course, he had already heard and asked that Toby present it to him. He has always picked Toby for everything.

The boys in the troop were very funny. They would walk up to me, whisper your name in my ear and then make kissing sounds. Then everyone would start laughing. They never included me in the fun-making before. Now they do. They were not mean about it but in some ways it was like I was receiving their approval. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was one of the guys.

I know you are wondering why they selected me for the Order. I was wondering the same thing so I asked. They all looked at each other and finally Benjie spoke. He told me it was because I was the steady, behind the scenes person who made things happen. No matter what you gave us to do I was the one who made things happen. If I never whistle Bogey March again it will be okay with me. What you don’t know is that I had them get up in the middle of the night to practice. We all wanted to be the best for you. They also saw how hard I was working to not let down the troop. Especially when I worked really hard to pass my swimming. They told me they could see my effort and determination and that I was not a quitter. I guess I did that because I wanted to impress you. I expected them to choose Toby. As did he. He is nice to me but disappointed. I think next year he will be chosen. I hope so because deep down he is a good guy.

Did you enjoy your present? I worked hard to get the job done just right. I am smiling while I write that. My mother is angry because I lost dad’s swimsuit and the brand new jockstrap she had just bought me. I told her I lost it instead of telling her that someone took it or the real reason. That is between you and me.

Do you miss me yet? How is your arm? I hope it has healed.

I don’t know what else to write except I am reading to prepare for school this fall. Romeo and Juliet is on the list of plays we have to read. I found this passage and thought of us.

Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day.

It was the nightingale and not the lark that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear.

Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree.

Believe me love, it was the nightingale.

Oh God, I miss you and love you.

Mason

 

I had a hitch in my breath when I finished his letter. He was so upfront about his love for me. That was something I had been unable to say to anyone. Maybe I have never loved anyone before. I guess Mason was my first true love.

I read and reread the letter. I wanted to imprint the words on my heart. How do I respond? Was it within me to be as honest as he has been? Suppose someone read my letter – what would happen? God, so many what ifs. What if I don’t respond and lose the possible love of my life? Is that okay? I have to try.

 

Thursday

Mason,

It was the lark, the herald of the morn, no nightingale.

Look, love, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.

Night’s candles are burnt out,

and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty morning tops.

I must be gone and live or stay and die.

I bet you didn’t think I would know the response. Luckily, I had to read the play as part of AP English. Out here in the wilderness we don’t have any reference books so I may not be able to respond to your quotations. I just happened to know that one because we had to act it out in class. Guess which role I had? Nope, you’re probably wrong. I had Juliet. I bet you were thinking I was Romeo. They put a brown wig on me thinking that would help me with the role and that I would look Italian. It didn’t work on either account. I will never look a Mediterranean type; I have too much Norse blood in me. Also, I am a terrible actor. I think they called me “wooden”. All I have to do is think about you and now a different wood appears.

Do you know C.P. Cavafy? He is some Greek poet who lived in Egypt about 1900. You like Greek mythology (as well as Shakespeare) so have that bookstore guy get you a copy of his poems. There is one about Ithaka that I think you will really like. There are lots of poems about men who love men. Get the version translated by a person named Rae Dalven or something like that. Do you think Rae is a woman or a man? I don’t know and it doesn’t matter except that the translation is fucking brilliant. I bet it is a woman.

I enjoyed your present. Boy was I surprised. The feel of your spooge made me like a wild man. I felt your presence. I almost died when you kissed me and ran from the camp site. I didn’t know how I would survive the day.

Mr. Fish, the camp director, knew something happened and he has been very nice to me. I have told him nothing. Do you think your parents might let you come back the last week of camp? They have a put together a troop of boys who want to attend a second week or weren’t able to attend with their own troop earlier in the summer. It would be wonderful to see you that week. I mean it would be really, really wonderful to see you that week.

If I send you a “present” through the mail would your parents suspect something? I mean, I could jerk off in my underwear and send them to you. I could wrap them in the cling wrap stuff and put them in an envelope. It would be a bulky package. I know how much it meant when I found your jockstrap full of your stuff. I wanted to lick it all off but decided to smear it on my balls. I am sitting here with a hard on. I mean, it is ready to blow just like Old Faithful.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when its alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Mr. Fish has left me in charge of camp until he returns later today. I wanted to dash off a note to go into today’s mail. I will write more later. I promise.

Love,

Jimbo

 

It was the end of another week of campers. We only had three weeks left. The routine of camp was built into my muscle memory and I went through the motions in a trance like state. During a knot tying class during the week I lashed out at a boy who was having trouble with one of the knots. My immediate visceral reaction of anger/regret let me know that my life was out of control. My abject apologies were over the top and the kids looked at me like I was a crazed man. They were right. I would look at my right hand in wonder and think of it rubbing Mason’s flank. The hand would then automatically move to my cheek and rub it in affection as tears leaked from my eyes. If this is what love felt like I was so fucking glad that I had never experienced it before. I needed to get my head straight before another group of kids arrived.

 

Tuesday

Hey lover,

Can you f-ing believe it? I mean really, can you believe what is going to happen? I am dazed.

This letter is long and complicated. If it doesn’t make sense, I will explain it all to you later.

On Sunday afternoon the phone rang and my dad answered it. He came to my bedroom to find me on the bed with my butt up in the air and my head on the bedspead moaning and groaning. I suppose I looked like a whore in heat with my hips swaying. That is probably an apt description. Anyway, dad said that Mr. Fish was on the telephone for me. My dad just shook his head, then turned and walked out of my room and back down the stairs.

Mr. Fish offered me a job the last week of camp. I was ecstatic. I immediately told him yes. I was jumping up and down in the living room. My hands were over my head waving in the air. My dad walked in and gave me a strange look and asked what had turned me into such a happy person. I told him that I was to be on camp staff during the last week of the season. He asked me the dates at the same time mom walked in. She said that was one of the weeks we were scheduled to be in Paris. I looked her in the eyes and told her I was not going to Paris. She said the trip was paid for and I would be accompanying them to Europe.

Have you ever heard a shrieking harpy? Then you weren’t in our house that afternoon. I was screaming at my mother and she was screaming at me. I burst into tears and said that I would kill myself if I couldn’t be on staff at camp and someone could hold my funeral the week they were in Paris. I had decided your role was to throw yourself across my coffin before it was slowly lowered into the ground. Of course, you would be Juliet and have taken poison. Do you think I was over dramatic?

My dad finally intervened and told me to go to my room. I screamed at both of them as I walked upstairs and then slammed my bedroom door. Later there was a knock on my bedroom door and I screamed for them to fucking go away. Hmmm, I think I have some growing up to do. Later that night, Mother said I needed some help with my emotional intelligence. Do you know what the fuck that is? I am only sixteen and should be able to be emotional if needed. I stormed out of the dining room and slammed every door as I went to my bedroom.

My father made me come down to breakfast yesterday morning. I would not look at either of them. Finally, my dad gave a huge sigh and said he would make calls that day to find out if they could get a refund on my part of the trip. He said that if, and that was a major IF, they could get a refund then I could be on staff. I got up from the table, with tears in my eyes, and walked around the table and gave both dad and mom big hugs. I apologized for my behavior.

Man, I was on pins and needles all day. I wanted to call dad at his office but my mother told me that was pushing the issue and she advised that I sit with the unknown. She said something about that being part of my growth in emotional intelligence. I mean, really, what the fuck is that? Have you noticed that I swear a lot more since I met you? Of course, you wouldn’t know the meek, mild me before. My dad doesn’t like me screaming fuck around the house but I am growing into this rough tough cussing man. It is part of me learning how to be a grown up.

Dad came home from work and said we would have dinner and then talk. I was practically throwing up with every bite of food I put in my mouth. My parents kept looking at each other and mom would get tears in her eyes. We went into the den and dad told me to sit. I was convinced he had not been able to get the refund and that I would have to go to Paris with them. After a moment of silence, my dad said they would not buy me another jock strap or swimsuit for my week as a camp counselor. I sat there stunned and then jumped up and hugged both of them. After my moment of jocularity my dad asked that I sit again. He had a serious look on his face.

“How much does this have to do with you being infatuated with Jimbo?”

My mouth dropped open. I could not speak.

“Take your time, son. We are not dumb. You changed so much during camp; most of it was for the good. We think that Jimbo had a lot to do with that.”

There was silence.

“Are you in love with him?”

I could only nod my head while tears streaked down my cheeks.

He then asked if you were in love with me. Again, I nodded my head.

We then did a group hug. I think we were all crying. They told me they loved me.

My parents know. I suppose that I am yours forever now. You are all I have. Should I bring rings?

Your beloved,

Mason

 

On Sunday night, Mr. Fish had asked that I meet him in his office. Staff were only called to his office if they did something wrong. Way wrong. This was a safe place for him to tear you a new rear end. My cocky, assured attitude went away immediately. I was actually very nervous trying to think about what I had done which would have required a visit to the Camp Director’s office.

Mr. Fish and I walked in and I immediately sat down. He told me this would only take a minute and there was no need for me to sit. I stood and he looked into my eyes. It was like he was trying to read my mind by staring at me. That made me even more uncomfortable.

“I called Mason Jenner this afternoon and asked him to be on camp staff for the last week of camp. He will bunk in your tent.”

I found myself shaking. My eyes were wide and my mouth was hanging open. I couldn’t stop shaking. Mr. Fish stood there looking at me. I could hardly contain myself. I didn’t realize I was faint until I felt Mr. Fish grab me. The smelling salts brought me back around.

“Well, that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. Are you okay?”

I nodded my head in affirmation.

“We will work out the details between now and then. I am thinking of bringing him on staff for next summer and having him here for a week will give us an indication if he is counselor material.” He smiled. “Besides, if he comes back next summer maybe my best counselor will decide that he can stand another year at camp……as Assistant Camp Director. By the way, that job change is effective immediately.”

Mr. Fish then told me to stay as long as needed to collect myself. He had called a special staff meeting that night where he announced my promotion and that he had finalized a roster of scouts to bring on board for the final week to review their potential as staff for next summer. The list had been approved by the Council Director on Thursday. There were always staff leaving each year so out of the six scouts asked to be here that final week probably three or four would actually get jobs. Since we were an older staff who would be moving on, it was possible that all six would be chosen.

 

Late Sunday Night

Mou Eros,

My love. I know the news. Mr. Fish told me tonight that he called you today. Did he tell you that you would be staying in my tent? I also got a promotion to Assistant Camp Director. Can life get any better?

Mason, you are the light in my life.

I am supervising the six new staff so you work for me, buddy. Ha! Whatever I say, goes during the day. I want us to take each other to new heights of ecstasy at night.

Bring your loin cloth and OA regalia. I want you to help me on Wednesday and Friday nights.

This is wonderful that things are working out so great. I love you and can’t wait to hold you in my arms again.

Yours,

Jimbo

 

The letters crossed in the mail. Little did I know of the turmoil in the Jenner household. When I received Mason’s letter I almost seized up from both the angst that Mason had gone through but also that Mason’s parents knew of our assignation. How would I be able to look them in the eyes? How would that impact our week together? The next day I received a note.

 

Tuesday

Jimbo,

I am sure you have heard from Mason about him being on camp staff while Herbert and I are in Paris. I have a special favor to ask. We leave on Wednesday before camp starts on Sunday. Do you think it possible for Mason to join the staff early? I think you hold more sway with Mr. Fish than we do, and I would so appreciate your asking his permission. We could bring Mason that Wednesday afternoon and would stay for the evening program. We will be gone three weeks. I am still trying to find housing for him for the final part of our trip. Do you have any ideas?

Herbert and I look forward to seeing you again.

Fondly,

Judy Jenner

 

A wide smile spread across my face as I read the letter. I called my mother and asked if I could bring a camp orphan home for a couple of weeks at the end of the season. I explained the situation and mother immediately agreed. She reminded me they were approaching harvest time and I was expected to help on the farm until I left for college. Of course, Mr. Fish was in agreement with the early arrival of the new staff member.

There were many notes and letters between Mason and me over the next few days. Mrs. Jenner was also a faithful correspondent in keeping me up to date with the latest information.

It was Tuesday night and I could barely sleep. Mason would arrive tomorrow. So would Mr. and Mrs. Jenner. What would that be like? I had a special surprise for Mason and knew that he would love it.

 

 

Copyright © 2019 Mac Rountree; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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