Camping

It would be so easy for them to blend in, an all-American family, the way her own parents had never been.

 
Jharna was excited to go camping with her daughter’s kindergarten class. She had bought a tent and air mattress, a thick comforter, flannel throws to put on and sit around the fire, little metal plates, and camping utensils, packing the new items along with three plastic folding chairs and an electric griddle, everything jammed into her blue station wagon. By the time her husband Rob returned home from the University of Houston, where he taught as an art professor, she was ready to go.

They had never camped before. Jharna had heard from the other moms that R– Elementary was a big camping school. They were camping at Stephen F. Austin Park near Katy, an hour away from the city. She had picked Lilli up early from school. The other parents had talked about starting out early, so that they could arrive at the campsite before dark.  

“Pitching a tent in the dark is the devil’s work!” Meredith, another mom with whom Jharna was getting friendly, had said when she picked up Lilli. They were standing outside the orange brick school building, their kids blinking in the bright sun. “It’s a gorgeous day for camping. See you there, Jer!”

“See you, Mer!” Jharna had called back, full of excitement.

Jharna had shortened her name and dropped the h sound from it a long time ago. She’d been altering her name for years, since she had been in middle school, till she liked it. She’d altered her clothes, her hair, everything about herself that she’d inherited from her immigrant Bengali parents while growing up in Boston. Now her hair was reddish brown, cut short around the nape of her neck, her thick, bushy eyebrows plucked to a thin line. Her clothes were boyish–tops and shorts, rompers, backless, strapless, sleeveless outfits that would have given her parents a heart attack. Jharna still grimaced when she remembered her embarrassing childhood, when she had been different, thanks to her parents–the cringe henna she had to wear on her palms to school, bright orange and garish and the lunch her mom used to pack, leftovers of bright yellow khichuri and smelly fish.

They arrived at the park while there was still daylight. Jharna was excited to put up the tent in proper light. She wanted to enjoy the experience. Lilli had fallen asleep on the ride, exhausted from school, her mouth open. Her curls, inherited from Jharna, were flung around her shoulders over the car seat. Lilli’s classmates were walking in groups on the park road, carrying flashlights. Eyeing them, Jharna felt envious that Lilli couldn’t join them. She left the door open so Lilli could get some air and hauled the long tent bag from the back seat. The site had a screened shelter with a lock. The flat, grassy clearing was large enough to set up two tents. Beyond the cleared area, the grass grew taller, disappearing into a forest of oak trees. In the distance, winking between trees, she could see other campsites. All the sites around them had been booked by R– Elementary families.

Rob was leaning against a tree.

“Hey!” Jharna called. “Some help?”

Rob raised his head slowly and looked at her with a bored expression. “It’s a tent in a bag. How hard can it be?”

“What, are you telling me you aren’t excited about putting up a tent like every American boy? Have you never gone camping in your life?” Jharna asked in surprise. “Not even when you were a boy?”

“You could say I’ve camped too much. I was in boy Scouts.”

“Here. Let me get you a chair.” Jharna pulled down one of the new electric blue chairs she had bought at REI, unraveling it triumphantly from its plastic tube. “There. Have a seat, Sir.” She extended her arm, pointing with a flourish, after she had set it on its legs.

She considered asking Rob to light a fire, then reconsidered. Mer’s family would arrive soon, and they could all build a fire together then. Instead, she walked off to the flat area with the bag, trying to decide which was the best spot. With a heavy feeling, she started to assemble the tent, making big sounds and a big show of it. It wasn’t that she needed Rob’s help. She just wanted him to show a little more enthusiasm.  

“Sorry,” he said, sighing guiltily, as if sensing her displeasure. “I had a long day at work.” He sat down on the chair she had set up, planting his legs apart. He was still wearing dress pants and a pale blue shirt from work. His pale-yellow hair fell over his blue eyes.

“It’s fine,” Jharna grunted. She even gave a little laugh to let him know, no hard feelings. She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t make more of an effort. These were their daughter’s schoolmates’ families. They needed to build a community.

The tent was surprisingly easy and fun to set up. Jharna walked around in boots and jeans and a checked shirt, her hair in a ponytail, hammering stakes into the ground, straightening hinges, pulling the canvas tight. As she worked, whistling, she noticed SUVs pulling up and families spilling out. Scraps of conversation floated in the air. She longed to join the others, talking easily, laughing together. The trees sparkled, bright green in the afternoon sun. A light breeze lifted her hair. At the campsite next to them, someone strummed a guitar, singing softly.

Mer arrived near dark in a black SUV, at about the same time Lilli finally stirred, hot and bothered, crying.

Jharna embraced Lilli to her chest as she pulled her down from the station wagon. ““Hush. You’re a big girl now. All your friends are here.” She brushed Lilli’s hair away from her forehead and studied the pale skin, thin lips, and hooked nose Lilli had inherited from her father. “Drink some water, and then run play with your friends. Look, Johnny is here!”

Lilli skipped down from the station wagon, spotted another friend, and ran off, followed by Johnny. Jharna sighed with relief. The fun part was beginning.

“Hello, hello!” Mer greeted Jharna.

“I thought you said campers should always arrive before dark,” Jharna teased her friend.

“Traffic was awful,” Mer complained.

Mer and her husband Bobby were tall and broad shouldered, with short-cropped brown hair. Working together, they lifted down crates, shopping bags, and boxes, filling the shelter with a household’s worth of supplies. As they worked, they chatted lightly and laughed together.

“We have to get a fire going,” Jharna said when the two emerged from the shelter.

“Yup,” Bobby said, hauling a pile of logs to the pit. “You need to build a pyramid first. You know that?”
“No,” Jharna said, interested, sitting down on her haunches on the grass to watch.

“Now remind me, Jer, did you use to go camping when you were a kid?” Mer asked.

“Never,” Jharna said, chipper. “That’s where my parents drew the line. They were too chicken to attempt to brave nature.”

All through the activity of lighting the fire, Rob sat on his chair, scrolling through emails on his cellphone. When Jharna raised her eyebrows at him, he stared back at her, saying, “What? My students turned in their projects.”

Bobby held out a purple stove lighter, eyeing his handiwork with pride, and lit the fire. A flame leapt up momentarily, but as they watched, it came down again.

“The wood may be wet, have to dry it out,” Bobby explained to Jharna. “So, what do you do, Rob?”

Rob looked up slowly from his phone. “I make art and I teach art.”

“Oh, really? Cool. What kind of art?”

Rob looked like he was suffering. His eyelids were hooded, and his jaw was set in a tight line.  “Concrete,” he answered curtly, going back to his cell phone.

“God, talking to him is like pulling teeth sometimes,” Jharna said. “What do you do?” she asked Bobby, turning to him chirpily.

“Here, throw some sticks in there,” Bobby said, touching the back of Jharna’s arm and handing her a fistful of kindling.

Jharna flung them. The sticks scattered and fell outside the pit. Still, some caught on fire and the flames licked the wood.

“There, see?” Bobby said, nudging her elbow. “It’s catching slowly. I work in defense contracting. All the fighter planes, weapons, everything, we supply them.”

Jharna nodded. Rob looked up from his phone and stared rudely at Bobby.

“It’s beautiful,” Jharna said, admiring the fire, to make up for Rob’s rudeness.

Rob frowned and stared harder at his phone.

“So, we’re going to sit around the fire and talk all night, right?” Jharna said, turning to the others.

Mer laughed. “Right. I’m already tired.” She turned to her husband. “We still have to put up our tent, Bobby.”

Mer and Bobby walked off hand in hand. Bobby dumped several bags on the ground.

“Is it okay if we put up our tent here?” Mer called.

“Yeah! Of course!” Jharna said.

Rob yawned.

“Rob, you have to cook the hot dogs,” Jharna reminded him.

“Did you bring any?”

“Sure. I bought hot dogs and buns and skewers.”

“Okay, I’ll do that then.”

Jharna watched the couples walking together around the loop, going to other people’s fires and saying hi. A man and a woman wearing matching white T-shirts and carrying matching coffee cups sauntered to their campsite.

“He-llo!”

“Hi!” Jharna sprang from her camp chair, smiling, showing teeth.

“We’re Leila’s parents,” the woman said. “I’m Ginny and this is my husband Tom. I think our girls…”

“Our girls are mixed up a lot because of their names,” Jharna finished.

“Yes!” Ginny laughed. She had straight brown hair hanging off her shoulders, the kind of hair Jharna had always wanted. “What’s your name?” Ginny extended her hand.

Jharna took Ginny’s slender, cool hands in hers. “I’m Jer. And this is my husband, Rob.” Jharna gestured toward Rob, who had pulled up his chair near the fire.

He looked up coldly.

“Ooh. It’s getting chilly, isn’t it?” Tom said. He was dressed in only a light T-shirt and shorts and seemed fine in the cold.

“Isn’t it strange how the weather changes so abruptly in Houston? Always takes me by surprise!” Jharna made her eyes big, making conversation.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Rob asked Ginny’s husband Tom.

Jharna frowned at her husband’s rudeness. She turned away from him to smile at Tom and Ginny.

“I’m a lawyer,” Tom said. “I work in litigation. I represent corporations when their employees file suit against them.” 

Rob nodded, stood up, stretched, and walked away abruptly. Tom stared after Rob curiously. His eyes widened in surprise at Rob’s rudeness. He brushed back his thick hair with both hands. “Ginny, I really need to go to the bathroom.”

“Me too,” Ginny said.

Since their relocation to Houston, Jharna had only moved in Rob’s circle, socializing with other professors in his department, Rob’s MFA students, and local artists. Among these friends, she had seen him smiling, laughing. Jharna couldn’t understand why Rob wouldn’t stand beside her and make an effort to be a family together so that they could make friends with the other families at Lilli’s school. It would be so easy for them to blend in, an all-American family, the way her own parents had never been.

Jharna thought Mer was the nicest person she could imagine, always smiling, always making sure to say hi.

Rob only returned when Ginny and Tom had left. Lilli and Johnny came to say hello in the dark.

“Aren’t you going to eat first?” Jharna wailed. “Rob, didn’t I ask you to make the hot dogs?”

Lilli said she had already eaten at someone else’s campsite. Lilli and Johnny reported that there was a small park with a playground off the loop, with swings, where all the kids were hanging out. The playground area was pitch dark, away from the campfires and cabin shelter lights. According to Lilli and Johnny, ghosts had been sighted near the swings.

“Are you going to eat?” Rob asked Jharna when Lilli had run off again. He was sitting on the blue camp chair again. “I can make the hot dogs for you.”

“Well, hot dogs aren’t my favorite food. I brought them specifically for you and Lilli. I thought they were fun camping food.”

“I’m sure she’ll eat them tomorrow,” Rob said.

“You can eat with us,” Mer said. Mer and Bobby had thrown a grill on top of the fire and stacked coals on top. “We’re making burgers, and we have salad.”

“Sure!”

Bobby and Mer moved around busily, with paper plates and pots and pans, talking to each other, laughing softly.   

“The fire’s so beautiful,” Jharna said to her new friends.

Sparks flew off the logs. The fire roared, red and orange at the bottom, exploding white sparks at the top. The flames jumped from log to log. Jharna gathered some kindling and threw it into the logs, stuffing them under the grate. Smoke hit her eyes, making tears come out. The night was calm and kind, clear of clouds. Jharna thought Mer was the nicest person she could imagine, always smiling, always making sure to say hi. She ate with Mer and Bobby, chatting with them. Rob said he had a headache. The skin on his face looked dull and pale in the light from the flames. His mouth was downturned, and his eyes drooped. Jharna suggested that he lie down.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” she said to the others when Rob had gone inside the tent.

“Camping’s not for everyone,” Bobby mumbled good naturedly.

They sat on camp chairs, legs crossed, paper plates on their laps, biting into the grilled burger buns and forking watercress with chickpeas and red onions into their mouths.

“Mmm. So good, Mer. The cheese is so soft, melting.” Jharna said, crunching on the spicy onions. From a young age, she’d been used to eating at friend’s homes, appreciating what their moms cooked, like a greedy outsider trying to get inside. “So, do you guys camp a lot?”

Bobby nodded. “Yeah, when I was a boy, I used to go fishing and hunting with my dad.”

“So Jer, where did you grow up?” Mer asked.

“In Boston,” Jharna said, “In Sommerville. I know every coffee shop there. I used to go into those on cold days and beg my mom for a piece of cake. In Boston, it’s cold and rainy even in May, so I had cake the year around.” She laughed loudly.

“I had no idea you grew up in America! Your parents live here?”

“They both passed,” Jharna said, staring into the fire.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I hadn’t seen them for years by then. They left America when I was a teenager. My dad worked as a physics professor at a local college and my mom used to be a schoolteacher in Bangladesh, but here she was just a housewife. When I graduated from high school, suddenly one day they said that there was nothing for them here and they left. All their friends were moving on to big jobs and buying their second mansions by then, but they just left.” Her voice dropped at the end. She stared ahead blankly. She had felt abandoned. She couldn’t believe it then. They had just left her behind. Her father had refused to take a good job at an oil company, like a normal person, like all his friends, rather unscientifically saying things like we shouldn’t be drilling the oil, we should leave the oil in the ground, ridiculous opinions that had driven her mad as a young girl.

“My dad died when I was eleven,” Bobby said, “Just before he died, he and I went fishing. That’s the last thing I remember about him. I was ten. I fell in the water and my dad had to dive in and save me. I think he already knew then that he had leukemia, and he was going to die.”

“Oh, that’s so sad.” Jharna put a hand to her mouth.  

“As a matter of fact, we came right here, to the Brazos River,” Bobby said, his eyes alight with memories.  

“Bobby brought fishing gear. We were going to go fishing in the dark. D’you wanna come with us?” Mer asked.

“Uh, I’ve never fished…,” Jharna said.

Her father had loved to fish, but she hated it. Once, she had accompanied him to Castle Island when she had been about twelve or thirteen. Her father had been lightly dressed in just a windbreaker, intent on his line, his thin face relaxed and happy, his eyes expectant under the dusty glasses. She was so bored standing on the boardwalk for hours, the roar of the water in her ears, bundled up in the cold, that she’d cried and screamed to go home. That was the last time he had taken her fishing.

“Bobby can teach you. We have three poles,” Mer said.

“The children… Johnny and Lilli… won’t they look for us?”

“Oh, they’re with their friends. I’ll tell Julie to keep an eye on them. We can pass them at the park and tell them to go to Julie.”

“Yeah, she’ll be more reliable than Rob,” Jharna said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him today.”  

The three of them stood up and brushed their pants, stuffing plates into the large plastic trash bag they had hung up on a pole, beneath a lantern, working together conspiratorially. Their campsite was suffused with light from the lantern on the pole and a bulb inside the shelter, but once they stepped onto the tarmac road, they were surrounded by darkness.

“Look!” Mer cried to Bobby, nudging his elbow. They were walking hand in hand, bare arms touching below the rolled-up cotton sleeves of their shirts.

Jharna looked up at the clear night sky, lit up with stars, the constellations bright and sharp in the complete darkness, away from city lights. The three of them pointed out the constellations to one another, crying out the names. They hooked a left on the road, walking toward the dark playground area that they had heard so much about from the kids, who had described it as a place of “complete darkness, like, there is no light, no light at all.”

The park was at the edge of the road, where the road wound back to start another loop of sites for RV hookups. It was so dark that they couldn’t see anyone. Only the air moved. Formless voices shrieked at one another.

“Johnny!”

“Lilli!”

No one answered, but when they drew nearer, they found the children. Someone had given all the kindergarten students glow-in-the-dark bracelets. The light from the bracelets shone in Jharna’s eyes as she approached the swings.

“There you are, Lilli,” Jharna said, seeing Lilli on a swing. The child’s hair was plastered to her forehead, her face hot and sweaty. “Listen, I’m going to go with Johnny’s parents to the river. You stay here, okay? When you and Johnny are done playing, go to Julie’s campsite. Daddy’s probably sleeping. D’you know the way back?”

Lilli nodded uninterestedly.

Jharna walked with Bobby and Mer, leaving the park to enter the loop of RV sites. Mer whispered in Bobby’s ear and the two of them laughed. The fishing poles swung awkwardly from Bobby’s arms, banging against his legs. The families who had brought RVs or campers of various models were parked here at the RV sites. People sat on camp chairs or stood around their fires, cooking, drinking, and chatting.

Some people waved to Mer when they passed. “Where are you going?”  

“Goin’ fishin’,” Mer yelled back.

“Oh? We may join you soon!”

The three of them passed a bathroom building and finally reached the trailhead. The trail was dark, except for their flashlights. Their shoes made crunching noises as they stepped on the dirt. Pointing with the narrow beam of his flashlight, Bobby pointed out cottonwood, cedar elm, hickory, and green ash trees. Jharna’s nostrils filled with the acrid scent of the earth. They spotted earthworms on the mud path, greyish, splotched frogs that tried to hop away, and bird droppings. When they had taken a few more steps, it became apparent that the droppings belonged to a group of silent black vultures perched high on the branches of a tall cottonwood tree in their path. Mer clutched Bobby’s arm. Jharna picked up a stick.

Walking straight on the trail, they reached Brazos River. A mud bank dropped abruptly into the water. There was no proper pier. A sign, barely visible, proclaimed that it was a high erosion area. Bobby began to reel his pole, adjusting hook and line. Mer carefully lifted out bait from her bag. Jharna stood uselessly, watching the two of them. Near the water, the stars were bright and powerful, filling the sky like light bulbs.  

“O—kay,” Bobby said, handing Jharna a pole and line.

Jharna took it uncertainly, giggling a little.

“So, you just drop the line and reel it in. Yeah, like that. Just throw the line. Then. There. Slow. Slowly.”

Jharna did as told, but without strategy or prowess. The three of them sat side by side on the bank on their haunches so their bottoms wouldn’t touch the muddy ground.  

Voices sounded in the dark, followed by footsteps.

“Hey!” The tall couple Ginny and Tom appeared out of the darkness, holding lidded coffee mugs.

 “You came!” Mer cried with delight.

“Yeah. We brought more people. More people are coming.”

“It’s going to be a party!” Jharna shrieked. “Where’s Leila?”

“Oh, playing by the swing…”

“Like everyone else,” Jharna finished, laughing.

Soon, they were joined by more couples. A small, slender woman, her dark hair in a long braid, and her partner, a slender, white man with a thin, rectangular face and wireless glasses introduced themselves as Maria and Harrison. The organizer of the camping trip, a Hispanic woman with triplets in kindergarten, Amanda her name was, also joined, carrying alcohol in a paper cup. There was a jumble of faces, chattering, gurgling with laughter. Mer handed her fishing pole to a dad who professed to love to fish, and walked up to the trail, where she stood talking to Ginny, one hand on her cheek as she listened to the other woman.

“Yeah, yeah,” she was saying.

Jharna placed her pole on the ground and stood up, climbing up the slope till she reached the trail where the other moms were gathered.  

“Hey, Jer, I’ve been meaning to introduce you to Maria and Harrison,” Mer said, turning to Jharna. “Maria is Asian, like you.”

“Hi, I’m Korean American.”

“Hi!” Jharna grinned at the handsome couple, baring her teeth.

Maria was short, Jharna’s height, with the same black-hair-dyed red-brown and black eyes. People often mistook them for each other at the school. Shadows from the moonlight and the waving flashlights dappled everyone’s face in the dark.

According to Rob, it had been one of the biggest crimes in recent history. The company had gotten away with murder.

“Maria is an English teacher. Maria’s husband Harrison studied English literature in college, like you. He used to work at the Houston Chronicle. Jer here has a graduate degree in English literature. You two can talk poetry and stuff.” Mer laughed.

The handsome Harrison had a long, conical face with blue eyes like little stones and even, white teeth. He sported an elegant goatee, a thin trickle of mustache and a minimalist beard on his chin. He was dressed in a polo shirt with beige shorts, ankle-length socks, and white tennis shoes. A light blue sweater was wrapped around his shoulders, tied in a loose knot below his chin.

Harrison extended his hand toward Jharna. “Nice to meet you.” He stood over six feet tall, his wife Maria only coming up to his chest.

Jharna shook hands with the blue-eyed Harrison and his Asian wife Maria. “Wow! Houston Chronicle, that’s huge.” Jharna made her eyes big and gulped dramatically.

“Oh, I don’t work there anymore. I used to work there,” Harrison said politely, his voice smooth like cream. “Do you read it?”

“Yes, I love it, especially the editorials. It has a… a sort of small-town feel to it. To read about places and things happening right around you is really wonderful. It’s a great paper, actually.”

“Ah,” Harrison said happily.

“Do you read it?” Jharna asked him.

“Not as much as I read my Shakespeare,” Harrison said softly. They both chuckled, a shared joke between two literature majors. “No, I’m afraid I don’t get to, I’m so busy nowadays.”

“Yes, life gets so busy.” Maria nodded, affirming her husband’s words. She had a soft, round face, a complexion like chocolate dropped in milk. Their daughter Gabriela was in the same section as Lilli. They had the same teacher.

“So where do you work now?” Jharna asked Harrison, with a friendly nod to Maria, her brain already churning. She and Rob needed to have them over, get to know them better.

“At—.” Harrison named an oil company.

“Is that so? My husband works at the company too!” the camping organizer Amanda squealed. “Were you working there when the oil spill happened?”

Now the tall Harrison was surrounded by a group of women, all asking him questions.

“As a matter of fact, I was not working at the oil company at the time of the oil spill…. I was working at the Chronicle then.”

“Harrison reported on the spill, as a matter of fact.” Maria spoke proudly about her husband. “He worked night and day, doing investigative reporting for eighty-six days straight. We’d just gotten married then. I was already pregnant with Gabriela. We were supposed to go away on our honeymoon…”

Jharna suddenly remembered the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, news that had faded from her memory. It had been called the largest oil spill in the history of marine drilling at the time. She had been pregnant too, with Lilli. She and Rob had just bought their house in Houston, a tiny cottage at the edge of the Heights. She remembered the images on the news of marine animals that had died from respiratory failure, dead fish, sea turtles mired in oil, carcasses of birds, pelicans with crude oil stuck to their feathers, and of oil washed up on beaches in Louisiana.

“Oh, no! What did you do?” Amanda asked in a concerned voice.

“We cancelled our honeymoon, naturally. I didn’t see much of Harrison for the next three months.”

“That’s so heroic of him!” Amanda said in a sweet, low voice. She was dressed in a pretty printed dress with a ruffled blouse, a cardigan on top, and black slippers. “My husband was gone a lot too at the time. He was working at the oil company, and he was busy trying to solve the problem. I didn’t see much of him for months. Like you, I was pregnant, with triplets! His team was trying to contain the oil spill. He didn’t sleep for nights. He got a room in a hotel next to his office and stayed there so he wouldn’t wake me up when he came home. Imagine what would have been my state if I had had the triplets then!”

“Heroes, heroes, I tell you,” Harrison spoke in a nasal tone. He had a strong, square jaw and perfect teeth. His mouth was open in a moon-shaped smile.

“Well, you were a hero, too, for sure, doing that fantastic reporting,” Amanda congratulated Harrison. “So, when did you join –?”

“It’s a long story. Ha, ha. When I was covering the story, I met a few good people at the company. They seemed to be trying to do the right thing. Their hearts seemed to be in the right place. So, uh, you know, they offered me a job. And… I took the offer.”

Jharna listened as they talked, her mouth slightly open, twirling a leaf between her fingers. She had a faint memory of Rob saying recently that the oil was still leaking into the ocean, still killing animals. According to Rob, it had been one of the biggest crimes in recent times. The company had gotten away with murder.

“What do you do for the company?” Jharna asked Harrison.

“I manage their PR with the government, write press releases, and talk to the media, when there’s an incident…”

“That’s so important,” Amanda said, nodding her head appreciatively.

Jharna took a step back so that she was looking at the little group she’d just been standing with. They looked like earnest, decent people, white teeth shining in the dark, people who were convinced of their own decency.  

“So basically, you do the opposite of what you did at the Chronicle?” Jharna said suddenly. “Instead of investigating the company that spilled the oil, you cover up for the company now?” Her lips wrinkled like Rob’s. Her voice came out sharper than she had intended, high and wavering.

Harrison stared at her briefly. Then he said cheerfully, “Yes! I do the job well because of my prior experience working as a journalist. I feel that being able to explain yourself is so important. The writing part. You appreciate that, of course, as an English major.”

“Thank God for us English majors, right?” Jharna laughed, trying to appear chipper and friendly again, but staring into Harrison’s smooth face, she heard her father’s voice, after all these years. Leave the oil in the ground. Her eyes burned and her head felt heavy. “It’s getting dark!” she said.

“Yes,” Mer agreed. “Bobby, are you done?”

Bobby had been sitting hunched, concentrating on his line. He had fixed the other two fishing poles on either side of him. He reminded Jharna of her father, sitting like that, looking out at the water. So still, he had blended with the dark water and sky, and become almost invisible to the naked eye. Now he stirred slowly. “Coming,” he said, abruptly pulling the line and reeling it in.

“Did you catch anything?” Harrison asked interestedly.

“Nah.” Bobby wobbled a little as he climbed up the slope, unsteady on his feet.

“I wonder what the children are up to,” Jharna said loudly. “I have to go. I should check on Lilli.” She backed away and turned around, starting on the trail.

“We’re coming, right behind you, Jer,” Mer called warmly behind her.

She started to walk faster to catch up with him when she caught a glimpse of one side of his face, his pulsing cheek and a hard, steely look in his eye.

Jharna walked with big steps, striding past the tall cottonwood trees, remembering that the dark path before her crawled with unknown creatures. She could hear the vultures overhead, a creaking sound, like a saw going back and forth, a couplet. A vulture flew high above, wings spread in the dark sky. She could hear the party behind her, talking, walking together, laughing.   

When they reached the large clearing at the trailhead, Jharna said she had to use the bathroom and trotted ahead. The others stopped to chat, standing in a circle, saying they would wait for her. Perhaps because it had been in use all day, the bathroom was very dirty. Muddy water pooled on the floor. The countertop was wet. Jharna threw cold water on her face and stared at her reflection in the dirty mirror. She had her father’s small, frightened eyes and her mother’s too-pleasing smile. Thankfully, no one had followed her into the bathroom. She used the toilet quickly and stumbled outside into the night again. The others were still standing huddled at the trailhead, with cups and bottles in hand.

“Hey, Jer! Wait up!” Mer called.

“I have a splitting headache!” Jharna cried. “I’m just going to go ahead and have a lie down.” She started stepping away, walking backwards.

Mer’s face fell. “Oh, you poor thing,” she said. “I hope you feel better soon, Jer.”

“Yeah!” Jharna cried.

Jharna walked past the RV trailers, hands in pant pockets, staring at the explosion of stars overhead, longing to hear the call of the vultures again. The way back to the camp seemed a lot longer in the dark, now that she was walking alone. Jharna wound her way through the playground, away from all the campfires and lights. The playground was empty now. Finally, she reached the loop where all their campsites were located. People sat on chairs by fires in the dark, chatting, making food, their cars parked out front. Someone had found two trees and strung up a hammock in front of their campsite. A child walked out of a screened shelter wearing a glow stick around her neck. A man with a thick, masculine voice was singing a country song somewhere. Jharna walked fast. She just wanted to get back to the campsite and find Rob.

Rob was awake now and sitting on one of the blue chairs she had bought. She had imagined them sitting side by side on these chairs, staring into the fire, talking. As she neared, she saw that Lilli and Johnny were with him. He had grilled hot dogs for them over the fire. He had piled on more logs and the fire was going strong, orange and red flames leaping high with big plopping sounds.

“Hi,” she said, coming upon him from behind.

“Hello.” Rob turned and smiled at her, his eyes crinkling.

“Do you feel better?” she asked.

He nodded.

Mer and Bobby appeared minutes later.

“Hello, hello. The return of the prodigal son!” Bobby called good naturedly to Rob. “How are you feeling, my man?”

“Fine, thanks,” Rob said quietly. “I just had a slight headache, that’s all.”

“I have a headache too now. Perhaps something to do with the air,” Jharna said.

“Well, you missed the fun. We had a big fishing party,” Bobby said, sitting down heavily.

More people arrived at their camp, to talk to Bobby and Mer. Mer and Bobby stood around the roaring campfire, chitchatting with their friends.

Rob excused himself, saying he had to go to the bathroom. “I’ll just brush my teeth and prepare for bed. Sorry, not feeling well.”

Jharna nodded uncertainly. She didn’t know if he really did have a headache, or if it was something else. She followed with Lilli, toothbrushes in hand, thinking she might as well turn in for the night.

Walking back from the bathroom, Jharna and Lilli spotted Rob a few feet ahead. Jharna started to walk faster to catch up with him when she caught a glimpse of one side of his face. His cheek was pulsing, and there was a hard, steely look in his eye. She drew back then, letting Rob walk ahead. He walked past their car and wandered down the road, melting into the darkness.

Mer, Bobby, and their friends were still standing around the fire, hands outstretched over crackling logs and the spitting, hissing flames that Rob had tended while they had been away. Amanda was there, and Ginny, and a few other people Jharna didn’t know. A few hours ago, Jharna had longed for just such an ending to the night, standing up and laughing with other people, other families at the R– Elementary school just like hers. She had imagined taking a nice, hot shower, changing into clean clothes, and then, finally, having abundant time to spend with people who were there to do just that. The children had gone to bed, and now the adults were relaxing, spending grown up time together.

“Hey, we’re going to go to bed. So tired,” Jharna said, yawning.

“Okay,” Mer said. “I hope your headache gets better.”

Luckily, Lilli was exhausted from playing in the park and didn’t make a fuss about turning in. Jharna pressed her body to Lilli’s back, holding her close. Neither of them changed out of their clothes. Lying inside the tent, Jharna could hear scraps of conversation, the strum of a guitar, a few aberrant children still awake, screaming. She didn’t know when Rob entered the tent or fell asleep, but at some point in the night she sensed him lying on the mattress, at the far end, pressed against the tent without a blanket, shivering in the cold.

Later, she awoke, needing to go to the bathroom. For some minutes, she lay in the relative warmth of the mattress, covered by a comforter and Lilli’s body, trying to muster the courage to rise in the cold and walk on the dark, lonely path to the bathroom. There were no more sounds of chatter. Everyone had gone to sleep. Then she realized what had woken her. She lay still listening to a series of strange calls and responses, not like the hissing and sawing, hacking sounds of the vultures, but full throated. She lay there, drifting between sleep and waking, listening to the unearthly conversation. She had seen the signs about the barred owls at the park. Bobby had mentioned them. They sounded ominous, loud and human, like several people having a loud conversation. People were coughing in their tents. A child cried. Above them, dwarfing them, stunning them, engulfing them all, the owls chattered among themselves. Jharna sensed her parents, close by, hovering outside the tent, saying good-bye to her. She lay still, to keep them close a little longer.

With a giant effort, Jharna shrugged free of the comforter and spread it on top of Rob and Lilli, tucking in the ends. Working laboriously, she unzipped the canvas and stepped outside the tent, pushing her feet into sandals. Even with a jacket on, it was cold. She walked uncertainly through the tall grass in the dark until she found the road (the weak beam of the flashlight didn’t reach far). Once she was on the road, there was sufficient light from the stars and campsite lanterns to keep moving. When she passed under the oak trees, a shimmering mist like rain fell from the branches and soaked her. What was it? Could dew be so thick? In a daze, Jharna walked the long way to the bathroom and used the toilet, the bright lights glaring inside the building. On the way back, she felt more comfortable walking under the eerie cover of the stars, the hooting owls on trees, and the mist shower falling from the trees. Their campsite lay quiet and peaceful in the dark. Everything had been put away neatly. The fire had been out, the logs soaked through. Bobby and Mer must have poured water on them. Instead of turning in, Jharna walked past the campsite and kept walking.

During the day, there had been cars coming and going on the road, people driving up to their campsites or driving to the nearby town Sealy to buy forgotten supplies and pizza for dinner. But now the road was dark and empty. She walked by herself, like Rob had done, understanding now his urge to be alone and, also, the look on his face when she had seen him disappearing into the night. Her parents had left America abruptly, leaving all their friends with bright mansions, new cars, and brand-name jobs at big corporations. Her parents wanted no part of any of this. They had dared to be loners and go their own way.  

Turning at the bend, Jharna reached the ghost playground, distinguishable only as a pitch-black shroud. Feeling her way in the dark, she tried to find the swings. The wet grass clawed at her sandals. She held out her hands till she found the metal chains. Pulling the plastic, bendy seat toward her, she hauled her body on top of it. Then she sat on the swing in the dark, alone.

Gemini Wahhaj is the author of the novel The Children of This Madness (7.13 Books, 2023) and the short story collection Katy Family (Jackleg Press, Spring 2025). Her fiction appears in Granta, Third Coast, River Styx, Chicago Quarterly Review, and numerous other magazines. She has a Ph.D. in Creative Writing from the University of Houston, where she received the James A. Michener Award for Fiction (judged by Claudia Rankine) and the Cambor/Inprint Fellowship. Formerly, she was a staff writer for the Daily Star newspaper and senior editor of Feminist Economics. In Bangladesh, she worked at CARE and UNDP. She is associate professor of English at Lone Star College in Houston.

Header photo by Eric, courtesy Pixabay.