You Look Different in Real Life

Leslie’s SUV is already parked there, along with another car I don’t recognize. We get out of the car and I pull my backpack from the trunk.
    “I’d like to walk you in,” he says. “Is that allowed?”
    “I’m allowing it,” I say, and smile at him to let him know the conversation we just had made a difference. We walk up the steps to the wraparound porch and a pair of oversize double doors. Ridiculously oversize, like giants live here.
    The door opens and a woman steps out onto the porch, her face eager, expectant. She’s willowy tall and wears a T-shirt with a long denim skirt. It’s been a while since I saw someone pull off a long denim skirt like that, and I have a feeling this person will be impressive.
    “Hello, there! You must be Justine! I’m Pam.” She doesn’t look like a Pam. “I’ll be leading the workshop.” We shake hands and hers is bony, ice cold. She does the same with my dad and then ushers us into the foyer of the house.
    The first thing I see, to the left off the foyer, is a huge room with an enormous stone fireplace, reaching to the top of a cathedral ceiling. Three low, almost shapeless couches form a semicircle across from the fireplace, and a large Oriental rug covers the floor in the space between.
    “Just put your bag down here,” says Pam, pointing to the base of a staircase. “I’ll show you to your room in a minute.”
    “Are we the first ones?” I ask.
    “Everyone else is in the kitchen.”
    And now I can hear the vump-vump-vump of something being chopped, and a clang of metal utensils. Pam brings us through the fireplace room and into the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen. It seems built for Paul Bunyan, if Paul Bunyan watched a lot of Food Network shows and really loved to cook.
    Nate and Keira stand at the massive kitchen island, cutting vegetables. Rory is stirring something at a six-burner stove. Lance floats nearby with the camera, and Kenny holds the boom mic in between two stained glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
    Leslie stands in the corner, biting her pinky nail.
    “And here’s Justine,” says Pam, introducing me onto this very strange stage.
    Leslie comes over and gives me a hug, touching her cheek to mine for a long second, not saying a word.
    “This is my favorite icebreaker,” says Pam. “Putting people to work in the kitchen together. Together, we’re making stew. Together, we will eat it.” I have a feeling she says this word, together , more than will be humanly tolerable.
    Nate and Keira look up briefly at me, then back down,and I see that the food-prep is a good way to avoid making eye contact. Rory glances up in my direction and actually meets my father’s eyes. He smiles at her and she smiles at him, ever so briefly, before turning back to the stove.
    I feel Dad’s hand on my shoulder. “Everything good here?” he asks softly.
    “You can go. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
    “I would say have fun, but I have a feeling that’s not quite appropriate.” He rumples my hair, probably wanting to kiss me on the cheek but also not wanting to embarrass me, and then he’s gone, back through the great room. I hear the front door open, then close.
    Turning back to Leslie, I ask, “Felix not here yet?”
    “Running late, apparently,” says Leslie. “Let’s get you settled in.”
    She takes my hand and leads me back toward the foyer, and I catch a glimpse of Pam giving Leslie a dirty look. I can already see the friction: two women, both with agendas to follow. This might end up being really fantastic.
    Upstairs, there’s just one long hallway with several doors. We turn into the second one, which is a smallish room with two sets of bunk beds and one tall faux-rustic wooden dresser with four drawers. “The girls are in here. You and Rory and Keira.”
    “We’re sharing?”
    “Part of the workshop.”
    This had totally not occurred to me, that I might besharing a room with two people who dislike me. Was that in the brochure? Could that have been on the packing list, under comfortable pants and slippers , a note along the lines of, Be prepared not to sleep because you’ll feel the hostility of your bunkmates thick in the air like humidity ? Also, maybe they could have added some practical tips like: Bring some Beano in case you have gas during the night and don’t want anyone to hear.
    There’s a large but sleek black leather bag on one of the lower beds. Surely Keira’s. On the other, a stuffed brown and white horse