her off today, thanks.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Do you think Zach’ll mind driving us around town a little? I want to get some of the buildings.”
“Did you not notice the size of this place when you came in? We park on the far side of the square and walk two minutes to John Henry’s and that’s all the town there is.”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “I suppose it’s just as well. Suits the idea, anyway.”
On the way to the Main House he told me about it. Wildlife inhabiting human habitations—he was snapping all the animal life he could find in a place, then the structures of the area, and digitally processing buildings with deer and raccoons and whatnot. He bragged on his manipulation skills, on all he did to convey meaningful, elevated messages.
In between ordering me around the kitchen, he waxed what he must have considered lyrical about the destruction of natural habitats, the lack of concern in most municipalities for the ecosystems that had been the basis for their town’s founding in the first place, the ways various animals had adapted to civilization. I told him Frank and Bernadette would have been riveted, which made him laugh. Apparently back at Berkeley, he and Zach had bonded over being misfits in their families. His Silicon Valley folks thought he was still studying computer engineering, and mine thought Zach was still the star of the ecology program. “Though I must say I’m glad we weren’t switched at birth,” Caleb added with what might have been a leer if I’d taken the time to decipher it properly, instead of determinedly ignoring it.
Our first breakfast was a success. Rafael even came in at the end, acrylic-smeared and blurry-eyed, and smiled at the pecan roll we had left out. He didn’t say anything, but we were all too startled by the sight of him to try and open a conversation, so perhaps it was more of a matter of him feeling frozen out. Then he yawned, drank some cranberry juice, and left.
“At least he’s learned to stack away his dishes,” Wren said. “If I accomplish nothing else here, I can go home with that.”
“Do yous all think he’s just nocturnal?” asked Lizzy, when she turned back from watching him walk down the path to WestWind, which suitably enough was the most remote of the cabins, the only one on the far side of the lake.
“If so, I’m in trouble again when it comes to making lunch next week,” Wren moped.
“We’ll have him well sorted by then,” Caleb assured her. “Margie’s strict conscious won’t allow her to let one of the artists bear an unjust burden due to the non-cooperation of another.”
Wren cheered, but I was thinking Caleb’s frequent Margie imitations were revealing a secret dictatorial side of him. The bossiness in the kitchen didn’t help. It was the same at lunchtime, even though all we made was egg and tempeh salad sandwiches with German fries on the side. When I told Liz and Wren about it later on, as we were waiting for Zach to pull up, Wren just thought it was wonderful to have such a helpful food partner, and Lizzy told me any successful meal had to have someone in charge with as many attentive assistants as the kitchen space allowed.
“As Brandon is about to find out, I can be very attentive. ‘Tis a shame you’ll miss the first group meal I’ll ever prepare by standing back. I did make sure there’s nothing poisonous on the menu.”
“Can you just make a couple of people nauseous? If I have to watch Theo and Angelica sneak past my cabin to each other any more I’ll be sick myself,” Wren said.
“You think you’ve got it bad,” I said, “try living next door to him. If he’s working it’s all mega-industrial music out of there, and if she’s there I hear even more than I’d like to. If I’m outside it’s actually decipherable—‘Theo, my God, my deity, my Zeus and Jove!’ Don’t laugh—I’m not making it up. I swear to Theo, I’m not!”
We’d managed to stop making fun of the other retreaters by
“Ha, ha.”
“Do you think Zach’ll mind driving us around town a little? I want to get some of the buildings.”
“Did you not notice the size of this place when you came in? We park on the far side of the square and walk two minutes to John Henry’s and that’s all the town there is.”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “I suppose it’s just as well. Suits the idea, anyway.”
On the way to the Main House he told me about it. Wildlife inhabiting human habitations—he was snapping all the animal life he could find in a place, then the structures of the area, and digitally processing buildings with deer and raccoons and whatnot. He bragged on his manipulation skills, on all he did to convey meaningful, elevated messages.
In between ordering me around the kitchen, he waxed what he must have considered lyrical about the destruction of natural habitats, the lack of concern in most municipalities for the ecosystems that had been the basis for their town’s founding in the first place, the ways various animals had adapted to civilization. I told him Frank and Bernadette would have been riveted, which made him laugh. Apparently back at Berkeley, he and Zach had bonded over being misfits in their families. His Silicon Valley folks thought he was still studying computer engineering, and mine thought Zach was still the star of the ecology program. “Though I must say I’m glad we weren’t switched at birth,” Caleb added with what might have been a leer if I’d taken the time to decipher it properly, instead of determinedly ignoring it.
Our first breakfast was a success. Rafael even came in at the end, acrylic-smeared and blurry-eyed, and smiled at the pecan roll we had left out. He didn’t say anything, but we were all too startled by the sight of him to try and open a conversation, so perhaps it was more of a matter of him feeling frozen out. Then he yawned, drank some cranberry juice, and left.
“At least he’s learned to stack away his dishes,” Wren said. “If I accomplish nothing else here, I can go home with that.”
“Do yous all think he’s just nocturnal?” asked Lizzy, when she turned back from watching him walk down the path to WestWind, which suitably enough was the most remote of the cabins, the only one on the far side of the lake.
“If so, I’m in trouble again when it comes to making lunch next week,” Wren moped.
“We’ll have him well sorted by then,” Caleb assured her. “Margie’s strict conscious won’t allow her to let one of the artists bear an unjust burden due to the non-cooperation of another.”
Wren cheered, but I was thinking Caleb’s frequent Margie imitations were revealing a secret dictatorial side of him. The bossiness in the kitchen didn’t help. It was the same at lunchtime, even though all we made was egg and tempeh salad sandwiches with German fries on the side. When I told Liz and Wren about it later on, as we were waiting for Zach to pull up, Wren just thought it was wonderful to have such a helpful food partner, and Lizzy told me any successful meal had to have someone in charge with as many attentive assistants as the kitchen space allowed.
“As Brandon is about to find out, I can be very attentive. ‘Tis a shame you’ll miss the first group meal I’ll ever prepare by standing back. I did make sure there’s nothing poisonous on the menu.”
“Can you just make a couple of people nauseous? If I have to watch Theo and Angelica sneak past my cabin to each other any more I’ll be sick myself,” Wren said.
“You think you’ve got it bad,” I said, “try living next door to him. If he’s working it’s all mega-industrial music out of there, and if she’s there I hear even more than I’d like to. If I’m outside it’s actually decipherable—‘Theo, my God, my deity, my Zeus and Jove!’ Don’t laugh—I’m not making it up. I swear to Theo, I’m not!”
We’d managed to stop making fun of the other retreaters by
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