When the kids' cheeks started to glow, we headed back to the campsite, Amy in my arms because she ran out of gas and started crying even though she couldn't say why. Jerelyn walked with me, but Jamie left the company of women and cut a path up the hill through the long grass, wearing the half-inflated air mattress over his head like a huge sombrero.
"I hate this table,"
Jerelyn said while she waited for her hot dog.
"Look at this--yecchh!'' She pointed at a hole in the top where rotten wood had turned to mush the texture of wet sand.
"That guy next door doesn't even use his table," Jamie said. "Let's grab it. He’ll never know the difference."
He never even looked up at us, just stood there twirling his sister's supper on a long stick over the fire. It surprised me that he would say it that way--just go over and grab that table--so I stared at him, wore this disgusted-like look, but he didn't see me.
He kept staring into the fire, the muscles along his arms dancing and jumping when he twisted that stick. "What do people go camping for anyway," he said, his back to me, "if all they do is stay inside?"
"Don't talk so loud, honey," I told him, spreading the plastic over the yucky planks on our table.
Jerelyn read something about the campground programs, so I told the kids that we'd go that night--if all of them would visit the restrooms before we walked over. By 8:30 it's dusk in the Hills, and I knew that if they didn't attend to their business first, I'd have to sit through a half hour of it later in the dead of night.
Wouldn't you know it? The light was burned out in the women's side of the pits. When Amy and Jerelyn went, the screen door stood open, blocked by a rock. A divider surrounds the door frame, so no one can really see into the stall, except by lewd and lascivious effort.
Maybe I'm a prude, but I can't sit there with the door wide open, so I shut the door on myself and sat in the dark. Once I was finished, my hands felt for the paper dispenser and came up with nothing but cardboard. Of course, Amy hadn't breathed a word of warning. I searched around beside me for a blot of white in the darkness, then remembered the paper towels in my grocery basket.
"Jamie," I said, quite circumspectly. Then a little louder, "Jaaamieee!"
No one answered.
I heard a rustling across the pits, then silence. Through the wall, I heard a man, unmistakably, next door.
"Jaaaaamie," I said again.
Out of nowhere, my suite-mate says, "Look above the door, lady. Probably there's extras up there."
Arrogance, I thought, even though he was right.
I could have walked away immediately, but I sat there instead, waiting for him to leave because I wasn't about to step out and thank him for his thoughtfulness. That's when Jamie came tramping up.
"What do you want, Mom?" he says through the wall.
Lie, I thought, lie your frickin’ pants off. The guy's still finishing up next door. "Check to see if the gas is turned off on the stove," I told Jamie. "Do that for me, will you?"
"You already packed it away," he says.
"Go on and do it," I told him.
"How long you going to be in there?" he says. "There's a whole line of people out here."
Ain't we got fun.
"Look at this--yecchh!'' She pointed at a hole in the top where rotten wood had turned to mush the texture of wet sand.
"That guy next door doesn't even use his table," Jamie said. "Let's grab it. He’ll never know the difference."
He never even looked up at us, just stood there twirling his sister's supper on a long stick over the fire. It surprised me that he would say it that way--just go over and grab that table--so I stared at him, wore this disgusted-like look, but he didn't see me.
He kept staring into the fire, the muscles along his arms dancing and jumping when he twisted that stick. "What do people go camping for anyway," he said, his back to me, "if all they do is stay inside?"
"Don't talk so loud, honey," I told him, spreading the plastic over the yucky planks on our table.
Jerelyn read something about the campground programs, so I told the kids that we'd go that night--if all of them would visit the restrooms before we walked over. By 8:30 it's dusk in the Hills, and I knew that if they didn't attend to their business first, I'd have to sit through a half hour of it later in the dead of night.
Wouldn't you know it? The light was burned out in the women's side of the pits. When Amy and Jerelyn went, the screen door stood open, blocked by a rock. A divider surrounds the door frame, so no one can really see into the stall, except by lewd and lascivious effort.
Maybe I'm a prude, but I can't sit there with the door wide open, so I shut the door on myself and sat in the dark. Once I was finished, my hands felt for the paper dispenser and came up with nothing but cardboard. Of course, Amy hadn't breathed a word of warning. I searched around beside me for a blot of white in the darkness, then remembered the paper towels in my grocery basket.
"Jamie," I said, quite circumspectly. Then a little louder, "Jaaamieee!"
No one answered.
I heard a rustling across the pits, then silence. Through the wall, I heard a man, unmistakably, next door.
"Jaaaaamie," I said again.
Out of nowhere, my suite-mate says, "Look above the door, lady. Probably there's extras up there."
Arrogance, I thought, even though he was right.
I could have walked away immediately, but I sat there instead, waiting for him to leave because I wasn't about to step out and thank him for his thoughtfulness. That's when Jamie came tramping up.
"What do you want, Mom?" he says through the wall.
Lie, I thought, lie your frickin’ pants off. The guy's still finishing up next door. "Check to see if the gas is turned off on the stove," I told Jamie. "Do that for me, will you?"
"You already packed it away," he says.
"Go on and do it," I told him.
"How long you going to be in there?" he says. "There's a whole line of people out here."
Ain't we got fun.
*
A little later we're
off to the park's show. Every night there's a presentation in the amphitheater,
two straight lines of benches set in a stand of ponderosa pines. That night there
was a slide show about the park, scary close-ups of buffalo, long prairie vistas
dotted with antelope, and comical shots of those hungry burros along the highway,
the ones who snort caramel corn through your car windows. The kids are young
enough that it's all
they need for
entertainment, but halfway
through the pictures
I've got to
reassure the girls
that there are
no bears in
the Black Hills.That night we lay together and did their kiddie prayers in the tent, Amy and Jerelyn snuggled up next to me, Jamie over toward the other side. In the darkness, even in the quiet, you can hear the humming in their little minds.
"Can't you sleep, honey?" I said to Jerelyn, pulling her hair back from her forehead.
Her eyes looked up like shiny planets. "Jamie says sometimes buffalo come way up here," she said. "He said sometimes they come right into this campground."
I hear the wind, like a hoard of owls, moaning though the pines as if I've got my kids' ears. "Buffalo are miles and miles away," I told her. "Those nice rangers wouldn't let any buffalo-"
"They'd shoot 'em, wouldn't they?" Amy said. "They'd kill those buffalos if they'd come around here." In her mind, some buckskin Buffalo Bill was at that very moment taking aim on a huge bull.
"I think they'd capture them somehow," I told her. "Maybe they'd give them a helicopter ride, in a big sling or something."
"Wow," Amy said.
"They come up here, Mom," Jamie said. "I read it."
"Come on," I said. "What on earth would a buffalo want in a campground?"
"I read it somewhere," he said. "I did."
I let it sit while quiet conversations slipped through the silence outside the tent-other hushed campfire voices from down the road, muffles that were making me sleepy.
"There are no buffalos around here," I said again, yawning. "They're miles and miles away."
"They got giant heads," Amy said.
"Buffalos don't ever come here," Jerelyn announced.
"They sure do," Jamie said.
"What for-" I said, "pancake batter?"
"They get horny," Jamie said, just like that.
Down the road somewhere a fire popped as if someone had tossed in a strip of gunpowder caps. I guess I shouldn't have been so shocked.
"What's horny, Mom?" Jerelyn asked.
"Just go to sleep," I told her. "We'll talk about it later."
______________
Tomorrow: Bikers at Rushmore
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