The chapel’s stained glass windows were illuminated perfectly by the goldenlights. The breath left our bodies when we saw them put the whiskey up to their tongues and taste it. In a strange excitement, we watched and hoped someone would come to watch us drink with a counselor. It was amazing to watch the counselors and their hilarious head-shaking every time they laughed. We had never done anything so dangerous.
Taylor and I have been besties since we were born, thanks to our mothers’ longtime friendship. This was far more exciting than stealing strawberry milk cartons and books from the book fair. We were doing everything we could to find out about the most popular camp counselor. We would do anything to prove that we were more familiar with them than other kids. We didn’tknow their favoritecolor or food, but did know how many drinks they needed to drink to get them to line dance with their shirtoff. We knew what bars they preferred and how often they had slept. We knew all their questions regarding God and whether or not He existed. We knew where they liked to hide under the oak tree and that they loved to sneak whiskey and taste it in the darkness. The counselor said in the most gentle voice, “It helps you see things differently.” Taylor asked why he would need to do this. The counselor replied by saying that the world will be a lot better with more open-minded individuals who don’t place such strict restrictions on life basedon age and gender. As we made our way back to the bunk, this was all that we could think about.
I asked the counselor why he would want to see God’s perfect Earthin a new light. It might make our relationship more acceptable. Taylor and I did not know. We spent hours discussing who our counselor would choose and if or not the relationship would be accepted by our mothers. Taylor whispered to me, “I often hear about love being love. But it’s not true, no one feels that way.” This really hit home with me. I allowed the words to sink into my mind. My love for the counselor was genuine and sincere. Why then was it wrong to show it? Why couldn’t they kiss me? Why couldn’t I hugged them? My love was greater and more true than Taylor’s. Taylor was teased about how the counselor preferred me because he would offer the whiskey to me before he would tip the bottle at Taylor.
Taylor was aware that I did this to make our work with the counselormore acceptable. However, she would still get offended whenever I made such a comment. The dream soon turned into a reality. Now I was running my fingers along their fiery hair, pressing their lips against their whiskey-flavored ones, and rubbing their skin. The feeling was surreal. It felt like I walked on clouds. After dinner every night around 9P.M.I would go to bed and wait until Taylor was back from her showers. My counselor’s cabin, which was lit by candles and smelled of warm tobacco, saved me from the darkness. I would sit there for as long a I could. Sometimes, I stayed until the bird woke other campers. Other times, I waited until the stream of light lit up the campground. I would have breakfast with Taylor, and we’d talk about fabricated dreams. I pretended that I hadn’t slept at all the night before. In the afternoons, I’d usually be tired and nap for several hours in my bunk to re-energize myself for the evening. Taylor’s disappearance would wake me up every morning. I didn’t give it much thought at the moment, just thought it odd. I thought Taylor would go read or play with other kids in the cabin but never asked. Since I was having so much fun, I didn’t care where Taylor went. The time passed quickly, and it didn’t feel like years. I was content. I was infatuated. I told Taylor I was spending time alone with the counselor, and that we felt real love, not just infatuation. Taylor was shocked when I told her, “Me and my counselor are in Love,” during breakfast the next morning. Taylor smiled at me. “Really?” Taylor asked. I smiled and nodded as I waited for Taylor’s smile to fade. Yes, it did.
Taylor’s smile quickly changed to a grin. Taylor asked “How?” I began to recount to Taylor the many nights my counselor and I had spent together and the many mornings we shared. Taylor’s smile soon vanished, and it was replaced with a frown. Taylor shared all about their afternoons together. He told me all about it, while I slept, unaware of the betrayal. I was perplexed. How could he be so patient with me knowing that it doesn’t mean anything? How could I be treated this way? My best friend. It was embarrassing, I knew I’d been used, but refused to accept that. It was only then that I realized, “love IS love. He just might love 2 people at the exact same time.” He loved me. I knew he did. He said he loved before and after the whiskey. He warned Meall against pursuing me in any way. Why would someone risk their job for me if they didn’t care about me? He must have loved me. That’s why we slept together so many times and woke up so early. I tried to confront him but found myself speaking to a person i didn’t know. He pretended that I did not have sense or was disturbed. “Taylor has to have said something,” I thought. She wanted to have him for herself. Taylor was so ugly to me because she had ruined my chance with the love of mylife and she had betrayed my wishes and gone against what I wanted. I miss his whiskey flavored lip and freckled skin. I knew taylor was the same as me, and that we had both loved the same qualities. Therefore, I knew I would hate those same things. I felt ashamed. I was in a relationship.