The Veil

2 ~ Let's Go Camping Part 2

“I don’t think this is how people normally camp,” Michaela muttered in a daze, staring at the ginormous, dark green camping tent constructed in the clearing before her.

She abruptly forgot she was supposed to be incapable of walking and slid down from her father’s back.

“I thought you said u only added a few necessities,” Sandra chided, observing her husband’s handiwork. The stretch of space directly before the tent was sheltered with a tarpaulin, under which laid a long, iron table.

There was a portable gas stove and more pots and pans than they’d probably ever need occupying one end of the table.

“Sweetheart, is that a generator?” Sandra asked, nodding to the small machine sitting to one end of the tent. Though she already knew it was indeed a generator, she still found it incredible that her husband had gone that far.

“We needed it for the fridge,” Devon smiled wryly at his wife.

“Fridge?”

“It’s a really small one.”

Sandra closed her eyes and started counting to ten.

Michaela giggled at the exchange. While she still hated the idea of camping … honestly, why on earth would anyone do this?... she could find it somewhat bearable with the conveniences her father had provided. She ought to have known better in any case. Her dad was an even bigger snob than she was. While her mother had grown up quite ordinarily, in a middle-class, blended family, her father wasn’t able to identify anyone on his family tree who hadn’t been grossly wealthy.

“I didn’t bring the portable shower,” Devon added as if the announcement would somehow redeem him in his wife’s eyes.

“You’re hopeless,” Sandra rolled her eyes and stalked past him to enter the tent.

Devon and his daughter grinned rascally at each other before following.

The scene that greeted Michaela’s entrance to the tent was something straight out of a magical fairytale. The tent which had already seemed huge from the outside had been transformed into something otherworldly on the inside.

Even her mother had stopped in her tracks just beyond the entrance to stare in awe.

“How did you do this?” Michaela asked, her voice suspiciously hoarse.

“I hardly did more than write a check. The real wizard behind this piece of art is none other than Kalen Gonzales.”

Both mother and daughter turned to look at Devon in shock.

“The Kalen Gonzales? You hired the top architect in the country to build you a camping tent?” Sandra exclaimed disbelievingly.

“No, no, no. It’s an Enchanted Tent. Get it right dear. So uncultured,” Devon teased. “besides, he didn’t build it for me. It’s a gift. From the most awesome father in the world to the most awesome daughter in the world. The stretch of land from the cleared pathway to this entire clearing and this magical structure now all belong to you,” Devon declared proudly before smiling warmly at his daughter, “Happy Birthday Sprite.”

Michaela felt a tightness in her throat which signaled impending tears. She didn’t mind crying, but she never understood the body’s need to respond identically to sorrow and happiness. Happy tears shouldn’t be a thing.

To ward them off for as long as she could, Michaela threw herself into her father's arms, which instinctively opened to embrace her.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“I'm pretty sure this qualifies as cheating,” Sandra announced suddenly, and both Devon and Michaela laughed.

“Are you mad he won?” Michaela asked.

Sandra looked affronted at the question, “how could he have won when I haven’t even shown you mine yet?”

For as long as she could remember, both her parents had competed against each other over who could give better birthday gifts. It was truly hilarious seeing them try to outdo each other. Last year had put her father in the lead by a point, and her mother had sworn that she would bring it to a tie this year.

“Sorry mom, I just don’t see how you could beat Harry Potter.”

The tent was truly a work of art, modeling the Enchanted Tent from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, it featured two stories of multiple rooms which could be seen from the central space. The interior design was perfectly, magically, haphazard, and Michaela thought that she just might have discovered her favorite place in the world. As far as she could tell, this put her father in the lead by at least another ten years, but she wouldn’t hurt her mom’s fighting spirit by telling her that.

“This isn't even his idea. He should definitely lose marks for originality,” Sandra insisted, “you can’t just take something from the pages of a book…”

“My favorite book,” Michaela injected.

“… and expect to be awarded full marks,” Sandra continued with a pointed stare at her daughter.

 Devon grinned unrepentantly, “there's no rule that says we can't use inspiration.”

“This isn’t inspiration sweetheart, you basically copied and pasted.”

“Are you gonna be a sore loser again this year too my love?” Devon teased.

 Michaela cleared her throat in an attempt to stop their little squabble. If she didn’t do it now, they could go on all night. Besides, she was the judge here.

“Alright, Sandra, let’s see what you have,” Michaela allowed.

The older woman scoffed, “as if I’m gonna do that while you’re still calling me Sandra,” she shrugged the pack she’d been carrying and began rifling through it until she pulled a clear Tupperware from it.

Michaela inhaled sharply, already recognizing its contents.

“Now you’re just playing dirty,” Devon muttered, also knowing what was in the container.

“Is that… is that what I think it is?” Michaela whispered reverently, taking a step closer to her mother.

“If you think it might be Aunt Sophie’s loaded brownies, then you might just be right.”

“Mom,” Michaela sniffled, “are they, for me?”

“And they’re still warm,” Sandra smiled smugly, stretching the container to her daughter, but pulling it back just before she able to grab it. “You can only have one now. The rest after dinner.”

“I’m eighteen now,” Michaela sputtered righteously, “how can still try to monitor my sugar intake?”

When her mother started putting the container back into the bag, Michaela lunged at her, catching her arm, “okay fine. Three?”

“One.”

“Four?”

Devon made a sound of disgust, pulled the container from his wife’s hand, and handed it to his daughter, though he held on to one end until she met his stare.

“Two now, and you can’t finish the entire thing in one day.”

Michaela bit back the urge to protest. Besides, if she left a quarter of one brownie in the container for tomorrow, it would still fulfill the requirement.

“Deal.”

She hugged the container to her chest and ran over to the mountain of cushions artistically arranged on the carpeted floor of the center room.

“There’s a waterfall just off your trail!” Devon called to her retreating back and received a mumbled response.

He chuckled in part amusement, part disbelief, “I just gave her a magical tent. How can she get so excited about brownies?” he questioned, still somewhat baffled, though not entirely surprised by their daughter’s reaction.

“You cheated,” his wife insisted, stalking away in annoyance.