Authors: Elise Pehrson
The morning of the retreat, Michael woke up early, being unable to sleep the night before due to anticipation, like a child on Christmas Eve. He looked in the mirror and finally did something with his mangled mess of dark hair. He liked the stubble, so he didn’t shave, and he applied a good amount of cologne—not too much, not too little.
He scanned the pantry after getting ready and throwing together a few things in a duffel bag he found in one of the closets that decorated the house. He grabbed a couple granola bars and headed out the door. He shoved them in his mouth on the way over to the apartment complex he’d visited a few nights before.
He walked towards a rather large plaque that read “Wilting Leaf Apartment Complex” and headed up the steps to the second floor. After reaching the correct room number, he knocked eagerly and waited.
And knocked again.
And waited again.
And it wasn’t until the next-door neighbor came out that he didn’t stop knocking and waiting.
The man looked at Michael with a face that looked like he had just seen something amazing take place. “Why… are you here?” he asked Michael, who just furrowed his eyebrows in clear confusion.
“Um,” he tried to figure out how to answer such a question, “For… Millie?” He cocked his head like some sort of nervous twitch. The man now looked both amazed
and
confused, with a hint of raving shock.
“Haley’s blonde friend?
Real blonde
friend? Are you serious?” He piped in an uncomfortably high pitch. “But,” he cleared his voice, returning it to its natural timbre, “You’re… never mind.” He turned the key in his doorknob and jerked the door open. “Well,” he nodded, “See you around.” With that, he whizzed into his apartment before Michael could even open his mouth to respond.
That was strange, he thought to himself. He turned around timidly, staring at the door.
Apartment 258
written in gold glared blazingly into his eyes. He lifted his wrist and rapped at the door. There was a moment of unsettling quiet before Michael heard something—or someone—moving on the other side of the quaint wooden door. Some footsteps echoing louder through some infinite space behind Apartment 258, some clattering, a chair moving, and the turning of a doorknob.
“Michael!” came Millie ’s voice as she opened the door; a smile was stretched across her exhausted face. There were crescent-shaped shadows of purple turning to a black in some odd color spectrum beneath her slightly sunken-in eyes. Her usually long, wavy blonde strands were messily knotted in a couple of balls on the top of her head, and the buttons on her floral blouse were buttoned up through the wrong slots. Nevertheless, she still looked happy and positively radiant.
“Millie,” he cracked. Her smile didn’t waiver as she waited for him to clear his throat behind a red flush. “How… you loo—how are you?” He fidgeted with his shirt flaps and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“I’m great! Never better! You?” Her voice sounded anxious and shaky. Michael’s thoughts drifted back to the resident that lived next to Haley and his surprise at Michael’s presence.
“How was hanging out with Haley?” He continued despite the edginess coming from Millie ’s presence.
Her crystal eyes widened “Oh!” her voice sounded surprised; her face even more so. “I—It was great! Lots of fun! Heh,” she let out a few wispy chuckles that sounded nothing less than extremely false, but Michael wasn’t one to pry—at least not directly. Besides, something didn’t feel right about this whole situation. What was going on? Michael felt as though Millie ’s friend Haley didn’t even exist, but Millie was so perfect… she couldn’t possibly lie if her life depended on it, right?
“So… are you ready?” Michael asked hesitantly. Millie moved her neck strangely as her face crumpled in confusion. There was an empty space of lost words before Millie remembered why Michael had come in the first place.
“Oh! Right! The Youth Retreat!” She tapped her forehead and winked one deeply mauve eye. She smiled, “Do you have your camping stuff? I was up all night trying to get everything ready. Which is why—,” she stroked the air up and down, motioning towards her body, “—I look like this.” She laughed again, this time more steady. Michael’s nerves eased up a bit, but something still didn’t feel quite right.
“Yeah, I’ve got it all in the trunk of my car! Did y—Millie?” her eyes emptied of life as soon as his lips motioned the second half of his sentence. “Mill? What’s gong on?” He tried to be more compassionate, but she was in an odd sort of trance almost. He hovered his hand over her placid face. “What did I say?”
She blinked and shook her head as though to release a disgusting thought from her mind. “N-nothing, I’m sorry, I’m hearing things or something from the lack of sleep. Anyways, let’s get going, shall we?”
The car ride was thick with nervous air, and Michael wasn’t quite sure what to do. “What stations are good on the radio here?” he asked casually. She shrugged. He kissed his lips together and scrunched them to the side of his face. After a couple more minutes passed by, he asked another aimless question, “So what are we going to do on this trip?” This time he got a verbal response.
Her voice hinted a smile, “It’s always really fun. We usually start out by hiking around the campgrounds—you know, getting a feel for the place—and then we set up our tents and get comfortable. Then we usually all go over what we’ll be doing for the next few days—canoeing, scripture studying, things like that—and then we just make food and relax until the first event comes up.”
“What’s the first event for this evening when we get to the grounds?” Michael asked quickly, as though waiting would have permitted her from answering.
This time her face was more relaxed and her voice sounded much more animated, “We’re going to make crafts with the kids and tell stories.” Her smile widened and her eyes softened, “It’s not that big of an event for today, but that’s because our main event will be the hike since we won’t have much time once we get there.”
“How long will it take to get there?”
“About four hours, give or take.”
“Hm,” was all Michael could think to say this time. Nevertheless, he was quite thrilled with the accomplishment of getting her to speak so much and actually getting her to smile for the first time he’d seen that day. He loved her smile…
They finally arrived at the church, as other cars pulled in as well. There were about fifteen kids in the parking lot; they were ranging between twelve and eighteen years of age—most of them were boys it seemed.
“Sister Millie, Sister Millie!” two young girls bellowed out as Millie got out of the car. Both of them had two long braids stretched tightly around their heads like a swim cap with dreads; they looked pretty similar: both with auburn hair and almond-shaped hazel eyes. The only distinguishable difference between the two adolescent young women was that one of them had pouty lips and a hooked nose while the other had a tipped-up nose and thin lips.
“Tisa, Liz,” Millie smiled at the girls, “How are my favorite twins doing?” She put one arm around each girl. They looked about the same size as Millie. All three of them had the same physique of about five foot three inches and a flat, slender build. Actually, now that Michael thought about it, he hardly ever saw Millie eat anything, and when she
did
eat, it wasn't very much at all.
“Great!” The two girls said together just before giggling in unison. They all began talking at once, overlapping one another in conversation, yet, still comprehending what the others were saying. It was an amazing thing, Michael thought, women were so talented in talking.
“Well, when is this party going to get started?” Michael asked. His voice was fluctuating weirdly and by the look on everyone else’s faces he figured he was trying too hard. His mouth closed in embarrassment, and felt them nearly retract inside of his mouth to spare the discomfort.
Millie detected his uneasiness and tried to help him out by replying coolly, “As soon as Brother Raymond gets—ah, here he is! Speak of the—,” but she stopped herself just before saying “devil” as though it would place some sort of ancient evil curse upon Brother Raymond.
Michael turned to see Brother Raymond himself. He almost laughed at the gawkiness emanating from his olive-shaped eyes that were magnified behind his rectangular spectacles, but composed himself and tried to just examine his other features to distract himself from laughing.
Brother Raymond was a middle-aged man whose graying brown hair was slightly thicker on the sides and almost translucent on the top; his legs were knobby and thin, which looked even clumsier beneath his large round belly.
“Pleasure to meet y’all!” he piped in with the thickest Southern accent in the world while entering the circle of people. Michael had to close his eyes in order to compose himself.
Really
, he thought,
why must he have a Southern accent too?
“Now, I don’t believe we’ve met. The name’s Raymond Allen, but you can call me Brother Raymond. It’s a pleasure to meetcha! And what do you call yerself?” He was violently shaking Michael’s hand and nearly crushed it when he latched on.
“Michael,” he replied, “Michael Lansbury.”
“Ah, great!” Brother Raymond replied casually before jolting up as if a crocodile had just bit his rear end. “Wait!” he choked, “
The
Michael Lansbury? Writer of
A Thousand Roses
?” Michael heard those two phrases together much too often… but he knew he shouldn’t complain, so he smiled while wincing.
Millie made an impressed face and shot a wink Michael’s way, which somehow greatly increased his confidence.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied in high spirits. Brother Raymond looked like he’d just about wet himself.
“Oh goooooolllleeeee!” he shouted in overzealous elation. Michael’s thoughts about this man just drew more and more along the lines of:
Did this guy just run away from “Leave it to Beaver” or something?
Nevertheless, he took the compliment and nodded patiently as Brother Raymond expressed his passion for
A Thousand Roses
in animated hand and arm gestures as they all packed their way into the vehicle leaving for the deeper slice of the mountain.
The sun was blaring like a siren overhead, but it seemed nice against the blasting air conditioning he could feel booming from the van he was entering. Eventually Brother Raymond stopped talking and just enjoyed the car ride next to his new author buddy, and Michael had to try and enjoy being crammed between his number one fan and the smelly chunky kid that radiated nachos from his body odor.
The bumpy journey to the crater of mountainous campgrounds seemed longer and longer the more Michael stared longingly at Millie up front in the passenger seat, strands of her hair blowing lightly from the vent in front of her. He had to just breathe in and out a bunch of times to ensure his sanity was still in place; also, he didn’t want to overreact and upset Millie in any way.
After hours that seemed like excruciating days, they finally made it to the peaceful canopy of rocks that they had all been greatly anticipating. Everyone piled out of the car one by one in jubilation, but no one was happier than Michael, who was mainly just excited to get a breath of fresh air that didn’t smell like taco meat.
He took a step out of the van and was taken away with the campground’s beauty. The rigid rocks that trailed up the side sheets of the mountains above looked like a giant chocolate cake surrounding them on each side. Maybe more appropriately, it was as if they were in some sort of rocky cereal bowl—the brown and black swirled walls stretched to the clouds and kissed the sun on their way to the very top. And somehow there still managed to be grass sprouting beneath their feet, and just a few meters away streamed a crystal river with clear falling water that shone like sparkling grains of cane sugar.