Chapter 9

First Love

The Roseburg church and the Grants Pass churches went to the same camp Myrtlewood together. A guy named Don, from Grants Pass, loved to tease me. He’d talk about cougar guts. No way to impress a girl, especially me. The next summer I found out that I was “hot,” I had no clue what it meant.

The next summer Don wasn’t there but Barry was. At the campfire the first night I noticed a really cute guy with black hair and dark brown eyes, I couldn’t help but stare. The problem was he had chosen a blonde-haired girl to sit beside him. Later he told me he didn’t think this “hot” girl, me, would be his date. The next morning he dumped her in favor of me; it was awkward, she was really sweet and from Roseburg just like me.

I was in a cabin with three bunk beds and a single bed for our counselor. She was nice, not fussy about rules, she didn’t need to be because we weren’t any trouble. In the adjoining room, a doctor’s daughter had two suitcases full of tops, shorts, jackets and tennis shoes all in matching colors. I did a pretty good job dressing on a slim budget. I’d gone shopping with my Aunt in the Mercantile in Stayton. I bought two pairs of soft-colored orange cutoff jeans, the extra just in case. I’d cut my sweatshirt to three-quarter-length sleeves and dyed it a soft taupe color. My white tennis shoes went with everything.

Barry played his trumpet for the wakeup call every morning, a great way to start the day. I loved to watch him dive and swim, he was a natural. I just stood on the bank and watched wearing my bikini. He didn’t know I couldn’t swim and I never learned.

During our free time we had a choice of activities: swimming, ballgames or painting ceramics. He joined me painting ceramics so we could spend time together but I knew he’d rather be swimming. I picked out a rectangular tile embossed with God Bless This House. I painted the background cobalt blue, the flowers pink and the leaves green of course. Years later, as an adult and in a very stressful time in my life I drove to Eugene every other week to paint ceramics it was my favorite way to get out of town to relax and create.

Barry kissed me on the bridge over the river. He was fifteen, I was thirteen, it was the beginning of our romance. The camp had a tradition of going on a midnight hike, whoever planned that wasn’t thinking of teenage hormones. We climbed partly up a mountain carrying flashlights I wasn’t afraid with him beside me.

To surprise me, he once drove north to Stayton. But Mom was driving south. I saw his car on the opposite side of the freeway he had broken down. It was distinctive, he had someone paint on the driver's side of his car, a big pink cloud with my name on the cloud, reminding us about the kisses we shared. I felt helpless. I wanted to see him like crazy, but I knew Mom would say she wouldn’t stop.

Every time he was in Roseburg after church we would walk to a nearby drugstore to buy a piece of Almond Roca and a pack of cloves-flavored gum. We chewed the same flavor at summer camp and made paper chains with the paper wrapping. The gum was yummy and unusual. It became a ritual when we spent time together.

For Thanksgiving, he drove us to Sublimity, my Aunt’s house. After dinner Barry and I were sitting side by side at the dining room table goofing off. Neither of us was heavy but our combined weight broke the table in half, it pinched his hand and he suffered a nasty cut requiring stitches.

What I didn’t know at the time was there was an elephant in the room. At one point he told me he needed a cigarette to help him relax. That’s when I found out why he liked clove gum, it did a good job of covering up the taste of smoke. Hiding his smoking was unsettling, it reminded me of dad making some kind of an excuse to leave the dining room table and go outside to smoke even though my mom, sisters and me knew the real reason. Barry and I never talked about it again. In some ways, he was living a lie and for me it was too big to ignore.