Feels Like Summertime(54)

“Where is it?”

“About two miles from here. We walked in the dead of night to get there, because someone had told us a story around the campfire the night before, about a man who died there. Jumping off the bridge had become a stupid ‘rite of passage’ thing that kids around here did. Freddy was determined he wasn’t going to do it, but Jake just jumped right off. I remember standing there at the railing looking down, wondering if he was going to come up. Then his head popped up from the water and he started to laugh.”

“Jake was always fearless, then?” Laura shakes her head. “That’s one thing I won’t miss, wondering if he’s going to come home at the end of the day.”

“Is his job dangerous?”

“No more than any police officer. But his hobbies, they’re even worse. He jumps out of planes, he flies those big one-person kites…” Her voice trails off. “I can’t remember what they’re called. Anyway,” she says, “he’s always had a bit of a wild side. I never could keep up with him.” She stares at the placid lake waters. “Do you love him?” she asks quietly.

I nod my head. “I think so. I didn’t expect to, but I couldn’t help it.”

“Freddy told me your husband died. I’m so sorry.”

I suck in a breath. “Me too. I wasn’t really looking for love. But I’m glad it found me.”

Laura stares at me as we both sit and feed our children, and then we go to the grill area to see if the burgers are done yet. I’m getting hungry.

Freddy and Jake are standing over the grill, each with a beer in his hand and several empty bottles stacked up next to them. They’re chatting and talking, and I stop to watch them.

“They seem to have gotten over their issues,” Laura says.

“I doubt they’ve gotten over it. They’ve just decided to move past it.”

Mr. Jacobson barks at them both. “Get away from my grill,” he mumbles. “You’re making a mockery of my good reputation.”

“I don’t remember you having a good reputation, Mr. Jacobson,” Freddy blurts out.

Mr. Jacobson whacks the back of Freddy’s arm with a dirty, greasy spatula. “You had a bug on you,” he says. He gives the spatula to Freddy so he can rinse it off with the hose.

“Ow,” Freddy complains, rubbing the offended spot. “Come and kiss it for me, Jake,” he says. Then he turns the hose on Jake and sprays him.

Jake looks around and the only thing he can find to get back at Freddy with is the great big ketchup bottle. So he opens it up, turns it toward Freddy, and gives it a squeeze.

“Boys,” Mr. Jacobson starts to say.

But they’re both young enough and drunk enough that they don’t care. Freddy sprays Mr. Jacobson with the hose and Jake shoots him with the ketchup. Mr. Jacobson isn’t the type to take it sitting down, though, and pretty soon, it’s a food fight of epic proportions, and Mr. Jacobson is winning, hands down. The whole campground has stopped to watch. Freddy and Jake finally give up once Mr. Jacobson is sitting on them; he has taken away the hose and the ketchup, and he pelts them both with them.

“Enough!” Jake cries.

“Stop! I give up!” Freddy yells over his laughter.

“I’m too old for this,” Mr. Jacobson grunts as he rolls off Jake and lets Freddy’s leg go.

“You’re only as old as you feel, Pop,” Jake says with a chuckle.

“I have sperm in my nut sack older than you, boy. Not to mention the dirt between my toes.”

“Ew,” Laura says.

Mr. Jacobson turns his fake glare on Laura, but Laura doesn’t know him well enough to know it’s fake. “Girl, if you ever became intimately acquainted with my nut sack, you would not be saying ew.”

Laura swallows hard.

“C’mon, Pop, quit talking about your nut sack in front of the women.”

“Why are you four still here?” Mr. Jacobson asks. He glares at us all.

“We’re helping,” Jake says petulantly.

“Helping make my beer disappear,” Mr. Jacobson grumbles. Then he turns the hose toward them and puts his finger on the trigger. “You need some help getting cleaned up?”

“No!” Jake and Freddy yell in unison. They both back away, but Jake snags a six-pack of beer from the cooler, first.

“I’ll expect to see both of you tomorrow morning at seven at the bathhouse. Bring your toothbrushes.”

“Aw, man,” Freddy complains. He shoves Jake’s shoulder. “See what you did.”

“You f*cked my wife,” Jake mumbles at him.

“That’s your last shot with that particular comment,” Freddy warns.

Jake nods, sticks out his ketchup-covered hand and Freddy takes it.

“Do you think we can be friends again?” Freddy suddenly asks Jake as they pump hands.

“Good possibility,” Jake says.

“Good,” Freddy says quietly. “Because I really miss you.”

Jake grins. “Same here.”

“I’ll race you to the lake,” Freddy says.

Before Jake can even respond, Freddy takes off running for the dock. Jake is right behind him, and they both dive into the water at the same time, at the same angle, with the same amount of speed.