Horse Camp (18 page)

I can't wait.

Two Months Later …

DEAR OKONKWO,

I AM ENCLOSING A FAMILY PHOTOGRAPH ALONG WITH MY USUAL $5 THIS TIME. THAT'S ME THERE IN THE LONG YELLOW DRESS NEXT TO THE BOY WITH THE BIG SMILE WHO HAS NO FRONT TOOTH. HE IS MY TWIN BROTHER, PERCY.

I HEARD THAT IN SOME AFRICAN COUNTRIES, PEOPLE USED TO ABANDON TWINS IN THE WILDERNESS BECAUSE PEOPLE THOUGHT MULTIPLE BIRTHS WERE ANIMAL-LIKE AND EVIL AND DIDN'T WANT THE TWINS BRINGING DOWN SOME BAD CHI ON THE TRIBE. I HATE TO BE THE ONE TO BREAK IT TO YOU, BUT TWINS ARE NOT EVIL AT ALL, SO I HOPE NO ONE DOES THAT IN YOUR COUNTRY ANYMORE.

TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH, MY TWIN AND I ARE SOME OF THE NICEST PEOPLE YOU COULD EVER HOPE TO KNOW. IN THE PICTURE, THE LITTLE TAN BOY IS MY BROTHER. HE IS ADOPTED, WHICH IS WHY WE DON'T LOOK LIKE THE SAME RACE. IN THIS COUNTRY, SIBLINGS ARE SOMETIMES DIFFERENT RACES BECAUSE ONE OF THEM MIGHT BE ADOPTED, BUT THEY COULD ALSO BE DIFFERENT RACES BECAUSE SOME MOMS HAVE KIDS FROM A COUPLE OF DIFFERENT MEN. THAT'S ONE OF THE GREAT THINGS ABOUT AMERICA. YOU CAN MAKE A FAMILY OUT OF ANY PEOPLE YOU WANT TO. SOME PEOPLE GET UPTIGHT ABOUT THE DISINTEGRATION OF THE NUCLEAR FAMILY, BUT I DON'T, AND YOU SHOULDN'T, EITHER.

WHEN YOU LOOK AT THE PHOTO OF MY FAMILY, BE SURE NOT TO CONFUSE ME WITH THE GIRL WITH THE FRENCH BRAID. THAT'S MY STEPCOUSIN, JUNE BUG, WHOM I DIDN'T LIKE AT FIRST BUT HAS BECOME PRETTY MUCH A SISTER TO ME. WE EVEN SHARE A ROOM. SHE'S STANDING NEXT TO HER MOM, SHERYL, WHO IS WEARING THE ROLLING STONES TANK TOP. SHE MARRIED MY UNCLE STRETCH, WHO'S IN THE MIDDLE AND IS HOLDING THE BABY, CRITTER, WHOM EVERYBODY LOVES A LOT, AND NEXT TO HIM IS MY MOM. SHE'S GOT THE NICE SMILE.

I HOPE YOU FIND A FAMILY THAT IS AS SUPPORTIVE OF YOU AS I FEEL THE FAMILY IN THE PHOTO IS SUPPORTIVE OF ME. IF YOU DON'T, I DON'T MIND IF YOU THINK OF ME AS NOT JUST YOUR PEN “PAL” BUT YOUR PEN “SISTER.”

YOUR CORRESPONDENCE MEANS A LOT TO ME, OKONKWO, AND I WISH YOU BLESSINGS UPON BLESSINGS.

YOUR PEN SISTER,

PENELOPE PRIBYL

Dear Diary,

This house is really small. There are only three rooms plus a bathroom on the first floor. There are two big bedrooms and two small bedrooms on the second floor. There is one bedroom in the attic and there's a rec-room-type thing in the basement if you can stand centipedes and spiders. Stretch and Sheryl get one room, Baby Jessalyn (whom everybody has started calling Critter) gets a room, Pauly gets a room, and June Bug and I share a room. Mom has the attic bedroom, which gets really hot, but she says she is used to heat and doesn't mind. And Percy, who's finally opened up to the idea of seeing the dentist about his tooth, still sleeps in the granary. We all share one TV, which still only gets ten channels and which Sheryl still hogs all day especially since now that she's just sitting around, constantly nursing the baby day and night. Critter eats a lot! She is already about five pounds overweight, in my opinion.

I've never minded being in overcrowded, small places. I actually kind of like them. You never get lonely. Yes, you have to give up some privacy, but if you're careful and don't dance around naked, it's no problem.

Having Mom around again has made me realize how much I missed her and how much my brothers needed her. Mom always has the right thing to say to people. I really want to be like that someday, too, but I think it's a talent and something you're born with, and I don't know if I have it or not. Stretch has really livened up with Mom around. They have all these old inside jokes and sayings, which I can't imagine Percy and I ever having together. Well, except for
Horse Camp
, I guess.

Since she won her appeal, Mom has taken up golf (?!), plays in a horseshoes league (?!) every Tuesday night in town, and is doing a lot of reading and is thinking of getting into politics, believe it or not. She says our government is only as good as the people who make it up, and to prove it, she's volunteering for our local representative, who used to be her teacher in high school. She's been telling me what bozos Minnesota has had for some of its leaders in the last decade or so, and I wouldn't doubt if she ends up running for an office herself someday. She's one of those people who could probably do about any job.

Willy (Wesley's dad) is Mom's new boyfriend, or actually,
old
boyfriend since it turns out they used to date way back in sixth grade, which Mom just told me the other day. (She tends to save really important pieces of information for too long in her mind, which makes it seem like the things she does are crazy until she lets you in on the important stuff. I wonder how many other things she hasn't told me.) Since I broke up with Wesley, I don't mind Mom dating Willy.

Wesley and I agreed that we were better suited to be friends, since he's planning on living on his farm for his whole life, and I have big plans about studying abroad and learning French. I can't do those things on a farm.

Dad has moved back to the area and has begun showing up randomly to pick us up for visits, but then he ends up hovering around here, which bothers Uncle Stretch and Willy. Legally, Dad has only custodial rights to see us every other weekend, but until everyone gets used to the new way of life around here, we're trying to be accepting of any efforts he makes.

He is our dad and I love him, of course, but mostly I feel sorry for him because now he's all alone. His new church on the Internet is growing very quickly, with lots of new parishioners joining all the time, and he loves recording his sermons and posting them on his Web site, rather than having to spend all that time in a church or traveling to random spots around the globe.

I've got to hand it to Dad. He knows how to draw a crowd and keep things moving, and I'm especially amazed at how savvy he is on a computer when so many other adults these days have just given up on technology and don't want to have anything to do with it. But something I'm
not
proud of him for is the way he seems to have trouble remembering that he's not married to Mom anymore and that she can date whomever she wants.

He keeps telling us things like fornication is a sin, and divorce is a sin, and that he built the new church on the Internet for Mom, who acts like she doesn't even appreciate it. I, for one, know that Mom
doesn't
appreciate it and has no intention of ever caring for his ministry again, but he just doesn't get it. I, for one, happen to remember that Dad initiated the divorce. I can see that he is now reshaping and misremembering events because he regrets the way things turned out. He doesn't realize that he'll feel better when he accepts the changes in his life and moves forward.

Now that I'm older, I can see that Dad's just really insecure, so I have been trying to think of ways to let him know that it's okay for him to just be himself when he's with me and that he doesn't have to impress me or anyone else by making big speeches in front of lots of people. I don't mind if he comes around, because if I were him, I'd want to be around all of us, too, but I'm not sure Willy feels quite so generous. So sometimes if I know Dad's coming, I'll act like I'm really exasperated with hanging out on the farm and ready to leave, and then he'll take me (and sometimes Percy and Pauly) out somewhere.

Last week, he showed great improvement by agreeing to just go running for a couple of miles with Percy and me. Running is a new hobby of mine, a great way to stay healthy and commune with the universe at the same time, and it's a good opportunity to spend time with Percy in a way that isn't annoying, except that I have to listen to him talk about training for the NFL all the while. The first mile, Dad was talking and talking and talking, but after we passed Rabbit River, he stopped blabbing because he was tired and ran out of breath, and that's when the best part of the run began to take place.

When his voice stopped, all of a sudden I could hear the sounds our shoes made when they hit the gravel, and the sounds we made when we inhaled and exhaled (especially Dad). I also heard the sounds of a far-off tractor in a field and the grass swaying in a ditch, and I noticed how bright and lush the green crops in the fields looked, and I felt myself sweating and busy and warm inside as my legs carried me along. We all turned around at the two-mile mark and started running back to the farm. Dad fell back, but he waved Percy and me on ahead of him. We kept up our pace, nice and easy at first. We jogged and pumped our arms in a common rhythm, and I thought about those months we spent together in Mom's womb and the months we survived together at Uncle Stretch's farm. I thought about how when Critter was born, Uncle Stretch took us all to the hospital to see her. I thought about the photo we took with me holding Critter, Uncle Stretch holding Pauly, and June Bug and Percy sitting on the bed with Sheryl. I thought about coming down the stairs one night and finding Uncle Stretch walking the floor with Critter on his shoulder, humming a little song to her that I remembered Mom singing to Pauly when he was little.

I thought about how sometimes Percy's going one way, and I'm going the other. I thought about how different we are and how similar. Then I pushed myself a little harder, ran a little faster. Then Percy strode a little higher and ran a little faster. The pebbles kicked up beneath our feet. We each panted for air. Percy got out ahead of me a couple of inches. I willed my legs to go faster. I could feel my chest getting tighter. Dad shouted, “Go, kids, go!” And we did. We ran. We competed. We raced toward the farm, pushing ourselves, pushing each other all the way home.

Acknowledgments

The authors wish to thank …

Isabella, Mitchell, and Phillip, for being who they are and doing what they do.

The influences of our fathers, mothers, sibs, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents.

The Wednesday Writers of Mankato.

Agent Faye Bender.

Ruth Katcher and Egmont USA.

Our junior high English teachers: Mr. Bob Rise and Mrs. Julie Neubauer.

Edgar Allan Poe and Victor Hugo.

The compassion of Elle MacPherson.

Ernest Hemingway and Scott Fitzgerald.

Damien Lods.

The many peoples and animals of the state of Minnesota.

The students and teachers and vibe of Mankato State University's MFA Program circa the early 2000s.

Ngugi wa Thiongo, Bapsi Sidwa, Mark Richard, Denis Johnson.

The Little Three: Violette, Archibald, and Gordon.

Camp Dells.

All our friends.

Each other.

Horses everywhere.