“What kind of confession?” I try to keep my voice light.
Griffin shrugs. “Who knows. I’m sure there’s plenty of shit my dad could cop to, but never will.”
“Like what?”
He waves his hand like he’s shooing a fly away and looks out at the water. “I’m sure my dad’s pissed off plenty of people in his lifetime. Just like I’m sure my dad’s been pissed off at many people—myself included. He can be kind of ruthless when it comes to that sort of stuff. One track mind, if you know what I mean.”
I try to sound nonchalant. “I don’t.”
“It’s all about the money. You know, the whole money equals power equals you must have a giant dick equals you are therefore superior to everyone else and can go around doing whatever the f**k you want.”
“But . . . isn’t that what you do?”
“It was. Like I told you though, sweetheart, this whole experience has kind of given me a second chance at things. Listen, I’m going to tell you something and I don’t want you to laugh at me.”
I look out at the horizon. There is a tiny slice of sun left.
“What would ever give you the idea I’d do something like that.”
“I just . . . I kind of came to this realization the other night. I’m glad the whole kidnapping thing happened.”
“Alleged.”
He nudges me with his elbow. “Alleged, yeah, yeah. Okay. If this alleged kidnapping didn’t happen, I’d still be in Thailand—or no, I probably would’ve gone back to Europe and been over in Ibiza or some shit—still partying my ass off, getting laid, that sort of thing. Staying up all night and being strung out the next day. Getting to see the sunrise only because I hadn’t gone to sleep the night before. But instead, I get to be here. Where I’m actually doing something. These kids? They’re pretty cool. They’re fun, they’re into this shit. You know, and it’s cool to be outside, to just kind of be in nature, and not be on anything and thinking that the trees are having a conversation with you.”
The last sliver of sun disappears. “You talk to trees?”
“I might’ve mixed some K with some molly and some really dank bud and thought I was conversing with a tree before, yes.”
I shake my head. “I can’t even imagine the life you live.”
“But that’s the thing—I don’t want to live like that. I mean, I’m not saying I want to go live the life of a monk or something, but I really like being here. I like what I’m doing here.”
“You want my job next summer? There will be a position available.”
“Where are you gonna be?”
I hug my legs and let my chin rest on my knees. “I don’t know. Somewhere else. I’m going to graduate next year.”
“That’s cool. What are you studying?”
“Sociology.”
“You like it?”
“Yes. But at the same time, I’ll be glad to graduate and move on. I’m ready for that.”
“I enrolled in a few semesters of college. I was in the middle of pledging the fraternity but then I dropped out and actually went to Greece instead, which, honestly, was way better.”
“Want to know something? I’ve never even been out of California.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Well, California is a big state . . .”
“It’s okay. It’s pathetic. So it’s hard for me to imagine what it’s like to be so well-traveled. Never mind Greece or Thailand, I’d just love to visit the other side of this country.”
“The East Coast?” He shrugs. “You’re not missing much. But I’ll probably be heading back there at some point, to see my mom. She gets a little frantic if I don’t come spend a weekend with her at the house in the Hamptons every August. Maybe you should come with.”
“Well, I don’t know about that . . .” I say. “Maybe.” I wonder that if I went back to New York with him, if there’d be the chance to find something out. Something that might make a difference. What are the chances? “Maybe a little trip wouldn’t be so bad.”
“I’m really not a bad guy, you know.”
I think of Sean, the feel of his crushing weight, his certainty that he’s always right, no matter what. “I know,” I tell Griffin.
I let him walk me back to my cabin, long after the sun has set. He doesn’t try to kiss me, but instead gives me a hug and whispers, “Happy birthday.” He smiles and touches his index finger to the tip of my nose, then heads toward his own cabin.
Only after he’s disappeared from view do I realize that I really wouldn’t have minded if he had tried to kiss me.
Chapter 19: Griffin
It’s true; I almost kissed Jill on her birthday. But I didn’t, for some reason, which is strange, because it means I was exercising restraint, which is not generally a quality I would associate with myself. Some of the campers and I are helping Bill hack up one of the live oak trees that isn’t so alive anymore, and I try to pinpoint exactly why I didn’t kiss her. I certainly wanted to. And I don’t think it’d be overreaching on my part to say that she probably would’ve been open to it, since she’s had that change of heart.
But then she started asking about my dad, which for me is about the biggest boner killer in existence. And I’d been feeling pretty good about having this second chance at my life, at maybe doing something right, but when the topic of dear old Dad came up, it got me wondering whether or not this “new life” I was going to try to forge for myself was actual just a pathetic delusion of grandeur. A favorite phrase of Dad’s, actually. I mean, maybe I was no different than he was. Hadn’t I spent the last seven or eight years traveling around, basically doing whatever the f**k I wanted? I don’t care about money as much as Dad, but maybe that’s just because it’s always been there. It’s never been something I’ve had to be concerned about or worry about where it was going to come from.
I turn the saw off and walk over to Bill, who’s showing some of the campers how to properly buck a log. It’s so easy to see he’s completely in his element; in fact, Bill is one of those guys who seems like he’s always in his element, regardless of where he is. Unlike, say, my dad, who can only feel that way if he’s surrounded by all the luxury he’s become accustomed to, and about half a dozen ass-kissers, to assure him he really is top dog.