Thursday Evening: A Not-Unwelcome Dinner Guest

Howard and Paul finished later than they planned, but they did get all of the ice and charcoal stored, and the firewood distributed. They positioned their water containers, really just blue-colored plastic 6-gallon jerry cans that they could fill at a moment’s notice, near the Pump House, and load onto the back end of the golf cart.

Paul made sure to snag a bag of charcoal before Howard called it a day, and dropped him off at his tent. He dumped some charcoal into his grill, and pulled a small steak from his cooler. While he let the charcoal ash over, he prepared himself a small salad, and poured himself some cold water. He started finishing off a few more camp toilets, preparing them for use for the weekend. He hadn’t decided if he wanted to let Martha have a few to display up at the Admin Office, or just have them all here at his tent.

While he was waiting on the coals, and working on his camp toilets, he heard a rustling sound behind him. Turning, he saw that it was Deuce, working his way between the tents, and around the guy-ropes. Paul’s tent space had a large ‘back yard’, and it backed up against Deuce’s ‘back yard’.

“I couldn’t help but notice the rather inviting charcoal smell emanating from your grill,” Deuce said, working his way around the last tent peg. “You wouldn’t have anything extra, would you? My food, and my walking stick, was in the box that didn’t come today.” He tapped the ground with a tree branch he found on the ground behind his tent.

Paul smiled. “Oh, I think I can scare up another one, for a friend!”

Deuce stopped within arm’s length of Paul’s picnic table, stuck out his hand, and said “Hello, friend!”

Paul laughed, shook Deuce’s hand, and guided him to a seat at the table. Deuce had a small towel around his neck, and he dropped it on the bench.

Paul ducked back into his tent, slipped a steak onto another plate, and asked if Deuce wanted a salad.

“Salad? Salad is what food eats!” he said. “What else ya got?”

Paul wasn’t sure how to take that, but decided to be light-hearted.

“Are you begging to choose, or choosing to beg?” he asked, trying to keep it from sounding harsh.

Deuce’s posture went neutral. “Hmmm! When you put it that way…a salad sounds great.”

Paul laid the steaks on the grill, put the salad, a napkin, and some utensils in front of Deuce, and went back for a plastic cup.

“Water okay?” he continued.

Deuce repeated his line from before. “Sounds great!” He laughed out loud.

Paul sat back down across the table from Deuce, clearing his work away from their eating area.

“How long have you been working here?” Deuce continued.

Paul thought a moment about how to answer that. “Well, I’ve been here since Monday, but I officially began today at noon!”

Deuce tilted his head. “Wow! As long as that, huh?” He lifted and turned his head in one smooth move, sniffing at the air. “You might want to turn those steaks. Leave them on for another minute, minute and a half at most!”

Paul got up and turned the steaks. “Hey, your nose is pretty good.”

Deuce tilted his head up. “I don’t go in for all that stuff about losing one sense, the other senses get better to compensate. I never had the vision sense to begin with. Sometimes I think that vision is vastly over-rated, and actually blind people are more attuned to what’s really out there,” pointing his hands in two different directions. “Not being distracted by visual input, I can focus more on what my other senses are telling me.”

Paul nodded, realized that Deuce wouldn’t see that and said “I can see that!” They both laughed as the comment sunk in.

Paul brought the steaks over, and they talked about the things that young men in their 20’s would talk about over dinner: girls, the food, former girlfriends, the latest baseball standings, girls. They laughed, joked, said things that would be considered crude, rude, and socially unacceptable in more polite circles, and just enjoyed each other’s company.

When Deuce had finished, he wiped his mouth with his forearm, forgetting about the nicety of a napkin. As Paul cleared the table, Deuce sighed a few times, tilted his head this way and that a few times, and furrowed his forehead a few times. Paul took notice.

“Something wrong with the dinner, Mister Beggar-Chooser?” he asked, suddenly concerned about his cooking ability.

Deuce chuckled. “Oh, no. It was just perfect. I’ll return the favor when my food box comes in. Or when my Uncle John shows up. He always brings extra food. No! I just wanted to ask something of you…two things, really.”

“You mean besides the steak and the salad?”

Deuce chuckled again. He and Paul were going to get along just fine.

“Yeah! It’s not always easy asking this. Even less so when were all nude.” He took a few moments to work up the courage. He stretched out his hands, fingers splayed. “Would it be asking too much for me to ‘see’ you? I mean, really ‘see’ you. All over. I know it’s an intimate thing!”

Paul was a little unsure, looking around to see if anyone was around. “What do I need to do?”

“Just stand up, in standard anatomical position, and stay still,” said Deuce.

Paul wasn’t familiar with that phrase. “Standard anatomical position?”

“Yeah, just stand up straight, arms out just a bit, palms forward, feet no more than shoulder width apart.” He demonstrated it for Paul.

When Paul thought he emulated Deuce, he said he was ready. Deuce reached out, putting his hands on top of Paul’s head. He brought his hands down, feeling his ears, touching every ridge and dip, from the top down to the lobe. He brought his hands forward, going over every part of Paul’s face, then down his neck, and kept working his way down his shoulders, across and down his chest and abdomen. He stopped at the pubic hairline.

Sensing Paul’s apprehension, he said, “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in touching your gonads. I don’t need to ‘see’ that.” They both laughed, nervously.

Deuce continued down, touching Paul’s thighs, legs, and feet. He worked his way behind Paul, and continued his way up until he got back to Paul’s head.

Deuce stepped away, simply saying “Thank you! Most people find that extremely intimate, and intrusive. Only a few people, and all of them nudists, have let me ‘see’ them like that. How long have you been a nudist?”

Paul snorted. “Well, I’ve been here since Monday!” he repeated from before.

Deuce just stood there, for the first time not quite knowing how to acknowledge that.

Curious as to what else Deuce wanted, Paul asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Deuce responded. “Would you mind leading me around? I remember this place from the perspective of a fourteen year old. Now that I’m twenty-nine, things seem a little closer and smaller than I remember.”

“Sure,” Paul answered, relieved for this simple task. “What do you need me to do?”

Deuce stood next to Paul, putting his right hand on Paul’s left shoulder. For the rest of the evening, they walked around the grounds, Deuce counting his steps from place to place, adding to or subtracting from wherever he started.

Every once in a while, Paul would see the woman he saw Tuesday morning, the runner who wore the sports bra, ear buds, and running shoes. She seemed to be running around the campsite on a pre-determined path. She would smile or wave every time she went by, but she never stopped to talk; she was too absorbed in her run.

As they were traversing Sun Path, Paul asked if Deuce had ever been down Lover’s Lane.

Deuce counted off three more steps, said no, and asked if they were close to the middle of the road.

Paul looked where Deuce was standing. “Yeah, almost. Just a little right of middle, I believe.”

“Great!! Lead away! But no funny business,” Deuce joked.

Paul laughed. “Sorry!! You’re not my type.”

After walking down the path a few minutes, Paul saw Doris working in one of her covered garden plots.

Paul stopped. “Oh, look. It’s Doris.” He said it as if Deuce should know her, but he hadn’t been here in 15 years.

“She doesn’t sound familiar to me. She must be new here.”

Paul looked at him funny. “I’m new here. She’s been here at least ten years, if I recall correctly.”

Deuce sighed. “Anyone inside of fifteen years is going to be new to me.”

Doris heard them talking, finished up what she was doing with her herb clippings, and walked over to meet Paul’s new friend.

“Hi, Doris,” Paul said. “This is Deuce. Deuce, meet Doris.”

Even before Deuce could hold out his hand, Doris leaned in, and gave Deuce one of her muddy ‘full body’ hugs. Still standing close, she took both of his hands, and put them up to her face.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Get the full view!” It almost sounded like a command.

As Deuce began to run his hands over her body, he chuckled. “Wow, two looky-touchy-feelies in as many hours. That’s a record.”

When Deuce got down to her feet, Doris turned around. Paul noticed that she stood there in what he did before: standard anatomical position.

“Does everyone know what standard anatomical position is?” he asked.

Doris shook her head. “Don’t feel bad about it, Paul. It’s a sad commentary on our medical profession, as well as our culture at large. Most people would blanch if they saw a poster of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man on a street corner. It’s a battle that we as naturists should always fight. Almost finished, dear?” She turned around to look at the two young men, putting her hands around their shoulders. “Promise me that you two boys will always take the opportunity to battle against that kind of ignorance.” She hugged both of them at the same time.

“Now, what are you two boys doing way down here on Lover’s Lane together, hmm?” she asked, with a conspiratorial tone in her voice.

Deuce took the moment to pursue the fun. “We were looking for a little warm-up before all the beautiful young ladies arrive this weekend.”

Sliding her arms around those of the two younger men, and beginning to walk back up Lover’s Lane into camp, she chuckled, and said “Well, right now the only thing you’ll find down here is some muddy herb gardens, and this old wreck of an equally muddy woman.”

Deuce was quick to deny that. “Didn’t feel like much of a wreck to me. In fact, well, let’s just say you look pretty good, and feel even prettier.”

As everyone got a good laugh from Deuce’s observation, Doris kept walking with them all the way up to the pool. After a quick shower to wash the mud off, she pushed the young men into the pool, and jumped in, too. Howard joined them, and they all enjoyed a nice swim in the gathering twilight.

Pastor Linda closed the notebook. She sat there for a while, listening to the various equipment and monitors beeping, or pumping, or whirring. She noticed that Mr. Jacobsen’s EEG machine indicated that he must be sleeping. She quietly got up, put the book back in the bag, and left the room.

As she drove home, she thought about what she had just read. It didn’t seem at all out of line, in any way. When she got to the parsonage, she called out to Pastor Ernie from their shared foyer.

She heard the sliding screen door open from Ernie’s back patio. Since it was a hot day, she knew Ernie liked to soak in the cool water of his Jacuzzi tub, and watch a baseball game. This was his time, and she rarely, if ever, bothered him. But today she needed some answers.

He walked into the living room where Linda sat on a small chair. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, just a towel wrapped around his waist. He entered, with a cup of ice water in his hand.

“Hey, Linda. Are you alright? Can I offer you some water?”

She shook her head no, and furrowed her brow. She clearly had something on her mind. Ernie leaned back against the arm of his sofa and waited.

“Ernie! I’ve been reading to this comatose patient at the hospital. He had a notebook in his personal effects. This one story I’m reading is about a young man who needed a summer job, and finds himself at…” she cleared her throat, “a nudist camp.” She watched Ernie. He showed no reaction.

“Anyway, the story flows from event to event; nothing big; nothing salacious; nothing that could be remotely considered sinful. I mean, it doesn’t seem any different from Summer Confirmation Camp, or summer camp, or any camp, except for the nudity, and conversations where nudity is an issue. It doesn’t seem like a very big deal. I mean, it reads like real life; everything is realistic, but also quite…ordinary. Too weird, right?”

“Don’t you think that maybe being quite…ordinary is the point?” he asked.

He left her to think about that as he walked back to his tub, removed his towel, the only thing he was wearing, and stepped down into the cool water, as players ran around the bases, and the announcer was yelling “Goodbye! Grand slam home run!”

* * *

End of TWR-Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday; or Too Weird, Right?

But the series will continue...

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