This has to end. I have to put this out of my mind. Let me break it down, make sense of it. What is it that I think I heard and saw?
I’m reading back the conversation I wrote down from the other day:
Wendel Rolf: After Berlin, I never heard from you again. I thought the Russians killed you.
And then:
WR: Who was it you were following? Von Hessen? (Or whatever the name was.)
Mr. Horne: Yes.
WR: I don’t think they ever found him, did they?
Mr. Horne: I thought they found his body eventually.
WR: No. They never found him.
Mr. Horne: You keep up with this.
WR: Yes.
What does that add up to?
I can only think of one thing.
A man came to Mr. Horne’s house. They seemed to know each other from the war. There was tension between them. Something was wrong. Then the next day, the furniture was moved around. There was change in the pool. Mr. Horne acted strange. And the man never went back to his motel.
You read all kinds of stories about Nazis who escaped. People go looking for them. They take on new identities in different countries.
What the hell is going on?
JUNE 14, 1978
I went to the library today to do the reading circle for the kids. When I was done, I went through the entire history section looking for books about Nazis and the fall of Berlin. We didn’t have anything too detailed. I found the names of some books that might have more information. I put in interlibrary loan requests for them. It will take a little while for them to get here.
When I got home, I called directory assistance and got Wendel Rolf’s number. I called it. I called it four times, actually. No one answered.
My essay about what I did on my summer vacation is going to be weird.
JUNE 15, 1978
Called the number again this morning. No answer.
What am I doing? What am I doing?
UPDATE: 11 P.M.
There is an obvious answer to all of this: the man is on vacation. He’s not at home.
I need to get a grip. I go to camp tomorrow for orientation.
JUNE 16, 1978
I cannot believe this. Shawn got a job here at the camp.
JUNE 18, 1978
Well, it’s been a shitty two days, but things are starting to improve. Shawn actually keeps his distance, so things aren’t too bad.
Also, I love the kids. They are adorable. But they go through my stuff. I’ve had to start hiding this diary in the camp library, because pretty much no one goes there but me. Just lonely old nerdy me. Still, need a better place.
JUNE 27, 1978
Been too busy to write much, and the kids are always in my face. I made something in the arts tent to hold this diary, so at least that’s taken care of.
Had a dream last night about the man at the Hornes’ house, Wendel Rolf, and I kept thinking about it all day. It got in my head and wouldn’t get out. I need to let that go. Maybe I can get therapy in New York. They have that there.
I guess while I’m here I can talk to Eric about it? We kind of hang out all the time. We haven’t kissed yet, but that is coming soon. I can feel it.
JUNE 28, 1978
I told Eric everything.
He was saying that I put a lot of pressure on myself. I feel bad about Greg and Patty, and it’s stressing me out that Shawn is here at camp. I’m starting Columbia in the fall, so I’m moving to New York City soon. All of this is—a lot. So maybe I’ve put this thing together in my head because I’m overwhelmed.
Oh, and the kissing thing? Yep.
JULY 1, 1978
Something about me: I can always find something to worry about. The newest one? The thing with Greg. I feel like if I’m not honest about it, the guilt will keep grinding away at me. At the same time, I don’t want to hurt Patty. But she should know, right? I’d want to know.
JULY 2, 1978
It’s midnight. I just got back into the bunk and into bed. I’m covered in mosquito bites.
After campfire and once the kids were all in bed, I went over to Patty’s bunk and knocked on the wall and asked her to come out. I told her that Greg said it was okay to use the pool at her house, and that while we were there, her dad came back for lunch with a friend of his. I didn’t tell her about the weird conversation. That didn’t matter. I told her we made out. I said he told me they were okay with seeing other people.
She didn’t seem mad at me, but she was really upset. Really upset. So upset that she threw up from crying. Jesus.
Anyway. That was terrible.
JULY 3, 1978
Patty was so upset she went home for the day, back to town. I feel like shit, but at least I told the truth.
JULY 4, 1978
Happy Independence Day?
Patty Horne was back today, and she and Greg were sitting together at the big campfire, and I turned when we were watching the fireworks and they were making out. So I guess she’s forgiven him?
Eric said, “Don’t worry about it. Her dad probably bought her another horse or something to cheer her up.”
Honestly, it was so weird. She was so upset that she had to leave? And now things are fine?
I was sitting with Eric, and he had his arm around me. Shawn was staring at us.
I need to get out of Barlow Corners. This place is too small.
JULY 5, 1978
My library books came in today. Mrs. Wilde called over to the camp to let me know. I feel embarrassed now that I had books about Nazis sent to our library, but since I ordered them, I rode my bike over to town while the kids were in group free time and Katie was watching them. I was on my way out holding them and I ran into Mr. Horne. He was on his way into the library. I didn’t have them in a bag—I was going to put them in my bike basket. He could see the titles.
He said, “That’s some serious summer reading.”
I said, “It’s for Columbia. They make us do some reading over the summer before we come. Some literature, some history.”
He said wow or something like that, and he was being really normal, but my heart was going fast. And there was . . . I don’t know? Something in his expression?
I don’t know why I did this. I said, “Did you have to do that for Harvard too?”
He said he couldn’t remember. Maybe. It was too long ago.
Then he said, “How did you know I went to Harvard?”
I said, “Patty told me.”
The trouble was, I hesitated because it took me a second to think of it, because my brain froze. He looked at me for a long second and smiled. Then he said goodbye and good to see you, have fun at camp, and went on doing what he was doing.
This whole thing is making me so paranoid, and the books weren’t going to help with that. So I went back to the library and told Mrs. Wilde that they weren’t what I needed after all and returned them. I rode back to camp really fast.
Mr. Horne is not a Nazi.
I should try to relax a bit, take a week or so and try to really enjoy myself. Really enjoy myself. I’ve done all this hard work. Why can’t I have fun like everyone else?
I’m going out to the woods with them tomorrow to hang out. I know what that means. He picks up the grass out there. But they also have fun.
I’m doing it. I need to break some rules for once, or I feel like I’m going to pop. This is my summer to live.