31. Autumn
thirty-one
Autumn
I always said things have to get messy before they get better, but this was past messy. The craft shed looked like a bomb had gone off, and I stared at supplies with no clue how to start or why I was choosing to do this to myself now.
It may have been because I couldn’t even walk near his pod without tearing up.
Today, our cleaning staff jumped right into tearing down cabins just like they did every Thursday.
Only this time, they winterized everything.
There were no more sheets and pillows, no welcome baskets replaced for incoming campers.
Every step was taken to prevent varmints from taking residence and locking us out.
We almost gave a cabin to a nest of squirrels one year. True story.
Our day-to-day staff was cleaning individual buildings, pulling in supplies from activities, and making sure everything was locked up, not to mention packing individual belongings since most staff would be leaving tomorrow because the season was over.
Everything was over.
He’d been gone for two hours. And I was struggling.
I stared at the floor littered with macrame rope and pots, mugs for marbling, vases for painting. Pick one thing and start there. That was the best way to tackle any project.
I grabbed the leftover Mod Podge and started marrying jars together.
This was cathartic. Liquid poured into liquid until it transitioned into globs from the almost-dead containers. I leaned all of them against a shelf so they didn’t fall over and allowed the slow process to continue. Then I moved on to the yarn.
Most years, I found piles of it that needed separating and threw out the truly severe cases, but today, I started rolling them into balls, following colorful strand through colorful strand as if it were punishment.
We didn’t break up. We just went our separate ways.
I’d known this was going to happen, and I was still torn up.
So I separated yarn, even though I had months to do this.
I looked at my task and figured that was how long it would take to make a dent and chuckled to myself, dropping the rat’s nest into the basket.
“Hey, Autumn, I’ve got the paint supplies you—Oh.” Nat looked as though she’d driven up to a car crash and didn’t know whether to call 9-1-1 first or jump out and do some triage.
“I have this handled.” My voice cracked. “The wind did this.”
She rolled her lips in as if she didn’t believe me. With a sharp nod, Nat toed aside a box of wax for a make-your-own candle DIY that had been a hit this year, walking inside one more step. She picked up a pile of boards for our string art kit and put them into a box with even more boards.
I stared at the box, knowing she’d done it right, and even though she was doing a nice thing, it annoyed me. That was how I knew I was not doing okay.
“Thanks,” I muttered under my breath.
“I’m guessing you have a system for this…” She carefully swiped her hand through the air.
“Yeah.” I nodded, my voice softer. “I start with an explosion and then trap myself in my man-made cave for the winter.”
She chuckled. She found a few more wood boards on the other side of the room and put them in the same box, straightening them when there was no need.
It seemed like she was working up to asking me something, so I cut that off at the pass. “I never asked. What brought you to Starlight?”
She didn’t make eye contact, just ran her hands along the box. “Oh you know, running from a breakup… It’s a tale as old as time.” It wasn’t an anomaly. She wouldn’t be the first staffer to work here on the heels of a breakup.
“Was it because of the traveling?” Nat was a travel influencer.
The photos she posted were filled with interesting experiences, and her happy face was front and center in all of them.
Other than that, I didn’t know her much.
She and I just didn’t cross paths very often.
There were only six counselors, but that wasn’t our entire staff.
I was friends with everyone, and she and I were more like acquaintances. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“It’s okay, I’m not afraid to talk about my breakup. My ex and I had been at odds for a while. I loved what I was doing, and he didn’t love that I loved it,” she said, wistfully. “The trips led to fighting, and the distance thing… It’s hard.”
I nodded, twisting a piece of yarn around my pointer finger until it cut off circulation and the tip of my finger turned an angry shade of red. I quickly let go, and the throbbing sensation disappeared.
Nat dropped her eyes from my fidgeting and her tone took on a hard edge. “But then he forced me to choose between what I wanted and what he did.”
“Jamie would never make me choose,” I said without thinking, wishing I had a filter.
Nat didn’t take offense, opting for the tea instead. “So you two were a thing.”
I didn’t need a reminder of that, but it was the truth. “We were more than a thing. We have… History.”
“Ah.” She nodded in understanding.
“Do you ever feel like you made the wrong choice?” I didn’t want to pry, but I had to know. Maybe she understood what I was feeling and could make it make sense.
“I know I made the right choice but it still hurts. I’d built something I was proud of and I just wasn’t ready to settle down. There’s still so much adventure out there.”
I tried to relate, but I’d had my adventures. I knew where I belonged, but with Jamie leaving, it felt like I was being split down the middle. Did that mean I’d always be alone? Was I choosing to be alone?
Nat clarified her previous statement. “Not that this is the same thing, I’m sure it isn’t, I just… I know this feeling, that’s all. That life won’t go on. But it will. Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.”
She didn’t act like my week with Jamie was too short, like I was being overly emotional.
She just gave me her experience and hoped it would help.
It made me want to hug her. But hugging would lead to crying, and crying would lead to me on the floor, unable to get back up again.
So I just went with the simplest way to show my gratitude.
“Thank you, Nat.”
Our situations weren’t the same, but there were parallels I couldn’t ignore. Either way, I wouldn’t find the answer at the back of this tragic craft shed, so I decided to leave it and go clean my pod.
Wiping away the sweat of a hard day’s work, I took a solidifying breath and stared out at my favorite lake.
The sun was starting to lower in the sky, but it still shone on dancing waves from the rushing wind that was cooling me and my damp face.
It was hot in those cabins, but it wasn’t nearly as bad out here.
“You look like you’ve never seen that lake before,” Leo said from behind me.
Jeez, was everyone looking for me today?
“Just marveling at the beauty of nature and shit.”
He sat beside me and smiled ruefully. Did he know exactly how I felt too? Had I been hiding it this poorly? “You know, I wouldn’t give up on your happy ending just yet. You could even say I’d bet on it.”
I shrugged, then I understood. “You bet on us?”
Leo looked proud of himself. “I started the side bet.”
So my coworkers knew. And they’d been rooting for us. They did it so quietly… I guessed I’d been too wrapped up in bliss to notice.
Now I had to deal with that aftermath.
“Unsanctioned betting is not allowed when it comes to shipping,” I deflected.
“I’m the boss. I can break protocol.” Leo’s crooked smile almost won me over.
“Y’all are unrealistic. How could you believe that would work out?”
He looked determined. “I’m great at being unrealistic. But you should check my track record. You’d be surprised at how often I’m right.”
My stomach clenched, as though it were empty and I was still about to lose my lunch.
Leo started doodling in the dirt with a stick. “You know, we could work with you, right?”
“What?”
“You don’t have to be here all year. We’d need you during the summer, sure, but the rest of the time, you could telecommute and travel like you frequently do already.” The doodle turned into a star and he smiled.
I loved Leo for his optimism. He wasn’t thinking about the fact that summer for us meant May to September, five long months of camp that I couldn’t exactly leave for more than a weeklong jaunt, max.
“Hazel and I can do the event stuff during the year, and we could give you something else, like… Budgets or…” He shivered.
We both knew we couldn’t steal budgeting from his counterpart.
She’d have a conniption. Not to mention, that was a minor thing, and for me to be a full-time staffer, I’d need to do work around this camp throughout the year to prepare and keep things running. It just wasn’t feasible.
“I love my job, Leo.” I had a new role and plenty of buy-in. I wanted to help this place thrive, and I wanted to witness the fruits of my labor. It just didn’t work.
His soft smile held love and satisfaction. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into a hug like he would a sister. This was so much more than a job. That was one of the things I loved about this place.
This was the right thing to do. Jamie already had a life. He could find someone who he didn’t have to give everything up for. I knew I’d have a hard time reconciling that, so I shoved it down deep.
“You can love other things too,” Leo said.
I sucked in a short breath, making it hard to swallow the lump in my throat.
I’d been so sure that turning Jamie away had been the right thing, but my heart was fighting my decision, and my friends weren’t making it any easier.
But that was the thing about life. Nothing was cut and dry and you had to deal with the consequences.
I imagined a different world, one where I made the other choice, and wondered if I’d still feel the same.
Because the lingering feeling that I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life was eating at me, and I wasn’t sure if it would ever go away.