The house was not alone on its hill, though. Clustered like dormers against the dewy, green slope were a score or so battered but loved tents, each on its own horizontal platform. These were the living quarters for more than 100 young girls, each wearing the required green shorts and white shirt. It was surely nearing their dinner time, as they swarmed into the back of the old white house. A barn or two projected from the hill, too, and perhaps 10 other cars rested by the twisting road. All this overlooked a long, dark lake which seemed to half fill this hollow in the low green mountains.
Looking up from the clock, he picked out the reason for his being here. She walked quickly, not quite hurrying, through the clusters of girls from the house. He waited still in the red velour seat, fearing to move. She would come, he thought, her head tipped to the right. Her hair would bounce happily over her shoulder. She would smile and lean in over the window sill for a kiss. High cheekbones, long face, with a flurry of soft, brown hair over the requisite white and green outfit moved down the hill. She was startlingly familiar, though they had been nearly two months away from each other. Her presence warmed him, made him feel a bit giddy. Maybe it was the road. He knew her, he could feel her presence, her every thought. They had seen each other many times in the last year, though not enough for it to feel like a year, he had even come here to see her twice the summer before. The hills surrounded him and made him feel a certain sense of cool, green belonging. Last year at this time had been a sort of maturing escape for him. It had been his first time away from parental custody, and his feelings of freedom had calmed him for weeks. And she was here. She spent her summers separated from her home as well as his, but for those few weekends they could truly be together. The car would move through four hours on Interstate 91 for this. Once again, the time was here.
She paused at the window and leaned a bit in. She had not floated gaily down the hill. She did not lean in for a kiss. She did not even smile.
He smiled questioningly. "Hello."
"Hello," she throated. She made a face, she smiled coolly.
"Something is the matter," he blurted. "What is it?"
"Nothing, really." She tilted her head, an act of reassurance. "I've been busy is all. I'm tired. Can I come in?"
He pulled up the lock and she moved around the back of the car, her left hand pausing on the trunk lid. Opening the door, she settled into the passenger seat.
Turning, she started, "I'm so happy you came. I've missed you."
"I realize that. You know I have, too. This place makes me feel so... And you..." His body still faced forward, a muscle bulged in his neck, holding his face to her at a sharp angle.
She turned and looked out the windshield. "I've really missed you here. I have so much to say."
A slight breeze lifted the branches of a sapling outside. One of the girls shouted. A bird spoke and none replied.
"What's wrong," he asked. His brows moved closer together; his eyes squinted a little, stretching his cheek muscles. "You don't seem yourself today. I've been looking forward to this weekend for a month, maybe for a year." He puffed out a slight, self-conscious laugh. "So what's up? What's going on this weekend?"
She seemed grateful for the diversion. "There's supposed to be a party or something tonight. Jen's parents went to Arizona and they live near here. Oh, but I don't know if you want to go."
"That'd be fine. I came to-"
"To see me, I know," she broke in with a start. She jostled her hair exasperatedly and turned back to him. "I have to go back up the hill soon. I have things to do tonight."
"I thought you would have gotten that all out of the way."
"I tried. There's just too much. Do you mind? I've just got some more to do. You can go get settled in at the campground. Get some dinner, maybe"
He tilted a worried head. "I thought we could go out to eat or something. It can't wait? I haven't seen you in..."
She paused for just a moment. "I already ate. I'm sorry, but I've really got to do this stuff."
"Well, when will I be able to be with you?"
"Oh, well, not too much tonight, I'm afraid. I've just got so much to do this year."
His eyes moved to her hand on the door handle. "And tomorrow?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, but I promised Jen that we could all go down to Dartmoth tomorrow. This weekend was supposed to be a time for her and me."
"But you invited me! You said this weekend was free!"
She pulled her arms in defensively. "Well, I said that you could come up whenever, and you picked this weekend. I already had it planned with Jen. But that's ok, you like her. Oh, I'm sorry."
"Great." He exhaled slowly, the road's press on his neck and shoulders came back. He switched his eyes to the clutch pedal. "Maybe I shouldn't have come this weekend..."
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean..." She reached for his shoulder.
His head spun to face her, half taking his body with it this time, and his voice raised. "Then what did you mean? What am I even doing here?"
"Oh, don't be mad!"
"Then what should I be? What do you expect me to say? I just drove all this way to see you. You could have told me to turn around when I called from that rest stop on the border. You could have let me know before I even left." He had lost his powerful pointedness. His voice dropped with the last sentence.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to be mad. You were so excited to see me. I didn't want to make you unhappy."
This last brought some of his energy back. "Unhappy? Don't I sound unhappy now? Didn't you think you would make me a little bit annoyed by having me drive all the way up here and not even seeing you?"
Now she was raising her voice. "That's not true! I just had this planned before. I still want you here," she added with a downward glance.
"Oh, don't lie to me. I know you better than that. I know you well enough to know that you really would rather that I left right now and left you to your plans. Really, I understand." He did not understand. He did not want to start trouble. He hoped that this would all blow over.
"I hope you do. I'm sorry, there's nothing I-"
"Now stop that," he chided. "Don't get yourself in any deeper." He was boiling inside, surely his cheeks must be tinged with red. But he lowered his eyes, tightened his grip where his hand had fallen on the handbrake lever.
She moved to leave.
"Wait," he pleaded. "I'll go home. I don't mind. I love you."
She half smiled. "You're so wonderful. I'm so sorry." Then she turned and got out. She closed the door and again moved around to the driver's side. She leaned in through the window and kissed him lightly. "I love you," she breathed. Then she turned and walked away.
"Bye." He turned, gripping the steering wheel, and stared ahead. He reached down with his right hand and moved the shifter to neutral. He started the engine, released the handbrake, and backed out into the road. Then he paused a moment. He glanced at the old house and the hillside, slowly scanned the view and turned his gaze toward the lake on his left. A sailboat moved across the surface.
He shifted to first and let the car move off, back toward his home. It would be dark soon, but he just wanted to be home. He wanted to be far from here. He wound his way through the golf course and back to the highway. Seventy miles per hour came soon and the car drifted down the dark causeway through the red-streaked sky. A deer stiffened by the side of the road as he passed; unheard crickets sang in the dusk.
Soon, the sky blackened and the stars came. The highway rose along the sides of mountains and burst over the top of crest after crest, lifted on embankments on the downward side. Where the road neared the bottom of a slope, a sinuous bridge caught the car and sent it hurling again upwards.
He shifted the wheel a bit to the right, then a bit to the left. Guardrails raced with him along the sides. He wondered what it would be like to just let the car move on its own off the concrete path he followed. At every bridge he imagined the horrible thrill of speeding off the side and letting the car drift through the air to meet the rocks below. The stunning pull of the roadbed and the wheels exhilarated him, the car hunkered around curve after curve, emerging once more on the top of a mountain. The clear, crisp night air whipped in through the open windows, sharpening his senses.
Then there was a knock, a sound from behind him. He turned and looked, but saw nothing. Surely something had come loose in the trunk, he thought. Looking around, he slowed the car to a dead stop in the center lane of the highway. He stepped out onto the road surface and turned his head slowly around. The sky surrounded him. He was in a flat field just beyond the crest of the mountain. There were no lights save for the sharp, white stars above and around. The car settled and rested next to him.
His heart beat stronger, his mind cleared. He was alone at the top of a mountain in the night.
-Stephen Foskett, '93