Irritation gripped me. "You were testing me?" I snapped.
Penn gently pulled me back into my seat. "Not a test. Alice just demands a high level of honesty."
The irritation turned to fear, so I was relieved when the camper on my other side spoke up. "Sometimes the clothes you wear are lies. They can cover up who you really are."
Another man across the fire agreed. "Clothes are status symbols and because of that, people often choose ones in order to project an image that is not really theirs."
"Like me?" Xavier asked. He gave me a sympathetic wink.
Alice laughed. "Oh, no. You don't get off that easy. Your clothes have always been one of the most revealing things about you."
"Good. I was beginning to think my tailor was slipping," Xavier said.
The campers laughed, and I hoped the conversation was over. Then, Alice glanced at me again. "Sometimes clothes and images are like armor. They keep us safe from letting people see too much."
"And here I thought you were making fun of me for wearing a little sundress in the woods," I snapped.
Alice appreciated my retort and picked up a light quilt. The campers passed it around the circle until Penn helped settle it around my shoulders. I was angry and defensive, but had to admit the quilt was as comforting as a hug. I wrapped it around me and kept my eyes on the ground.
It was impossible not to hear the truth in Alice Brightwater's words, even though it hurt. I did choose my clothes specifically to project an image of affluence and privilege. Most people in college had not thought twice about whether or not I belonged there. My style had gotten me jobs and promotions, things that my past might have jeopardized. I had very good reasons for the image I projected, and, Alice was right, it was like armor. Even if they weren’t designer labeled.
"There, now she looks just like every other one of you dirty hippies," Xavier said.
Again the campers chuckled at his light tone, but Alice shook her head. "How can you not want to see more, know more about her?"
"Some people like their privacy, Alice. You forget that she's a guest, not one of your disciples."
Penn slipped an arm around my waist. "It's all okay. They don't mean any harm."
I looked up at him and blinked hard. "I don't want you to think I'm a liar."
He leaned close so no one else can hear. "You're not a liar. We just don't know each other that well. Yet."
"Shh," I whispered. "Isn't the whole point to pretend like we do?"
"Exactly, and thank you for doing that." He kissed the top of my head and then cleared his throat. "Isn't it about time you start lecturing me on my tattoos, Mother?"
Alice rolled her eyes. "Yes, please, why don't you tell the circle how well your tattoos have changed who you are?"
Penn chuckled. "They changed how people looked at me, and that was what I wanted. Like you said, some people's images are like armor. Well, these tattoos are my shield."
"You can't hide who you really are," his mother said.
I ran a hand over the intricate tattoos on his arm. "I don't think they're a shield. They are such a part of you that sometimes I hardly even see them."
That confession startled Penn almost as much as me. "I thought you didn't like them."
"I hardly even see them anymore." I was amazed, but it was true.
Alice smiled at us then cleared her throat. "So, Corsica, you are starting to see Penn for who he really is underneath his image. When are you going to offer him the same? Why do you hide behind your dresses? Why do you style your hair after the movie stars and models? Why do you insist on wearing clothes like that when you'd really be more comfortable in something else?"
"Are you really comfortable in the suits you wear?" I asked Xavier in a plea for help.
This time he nodded his head. "I am comfortable in my suits. I know it seems strange, but this is how I feel most like myself."
I was jealous. Even sitting on the packed dirt at the edge of a campfire, Xavier Templeton looked impeccable in his gray, tailored suit. It didn't stop him from lounging against Alice's knee, and, he was right, he looked perfectly comfortable. My sundress pinched at the fitted waist and I felt like I couldn't take a deep breath.
Still, I had to defend myself and my choices. I needed to keep my armor in place. I stood up and shed the heavenly quilt. "I've earned these dresses, and I'm proud of them. I came from nothing; I never had anything, not even a proper name. So, I think it's perfectly normal for me to want everything."
"Your name?" Penn asked.
"Corsica," I snapped. "It's not a name, it's just a place. Corsica, South Dakota. Just a nothing place where I had nothing."
Alice was beside me, her thin hands pulling me into a fierce embrace. "But you kept your name. That means there is something there."
I tried to pull away from her, the hot tears embarrassing me.
Penn stood up. "Mother, I think that's enough."
"What emptiness are you trying to fill?" Alice asked, ignoring his interruption. "You've been trying and trying, but nothing's working. You must be exhausted."
It was all there, spilling over in my uncontrollable tears. My mother's illness, my father's drinking. The lonely, little, two-bedroom house on the edge of town. The broken shutters, the overgrown yard littered with rusted car parts. My mother's sweet singing as she hung up the laundry. Those long summer days way back when I believed that nothing would ever mar the beautiful blue sky or the happiness I felt.
I pushed it all back and blinked hard. Alice Brightwater was nothing but a wisp in my arms. I could feel how cancer was eating away at her strength. I knew how it could chip away at a person until they were nothing but a husk, then nothing but a memory.
I took her shoulders and pushed her back. "Stop using me as a shield," I snapped. The tears stopped and I felt a swell of frightened anger. "We're here to talk about you, about how to help you get well. You need to be considering other treatment options. You have to fight this, and to do that, you have to use every weapon modern medicine has for you."
Alice's brown eyes held mine in a long stare, but I did not look away. Then, I saw the same golden flecks glow to life that Penn had in his eyes. "Maybe it was a good thing that Penn brought you along. Good for him, but hard for you?"
I shied away from the question I knew she was asking. "I know the treatments often seem worse than the cancer, but you need to try. Your son is here to ask you to try. That's what this conversation should be about."
"My son should know better," Alice said.
The campers were drifting away to light smaller fires near their tents. A small team cleared the dishes and headed to the creek, while a smaller circle formed under an oak tree to sing songs. It was a peaceful and dreamy backdrop for a hard conversation.
I tried to step back so Penn and Xavier could take over, but Penn's arm was locked around my waist again.
Alice looked at them and sighed. "How about we take this conversation inside my home? I think I might need some herbal tea."
"I'm sorry," I whispered to Penn as we walked behind Alice and Xavier. "I didn't mean to explode like that."