Chapter Fifteen
Another day without seeing Benji has me almost crawling out of my skin.
I should have pulled up my Daddy pants and gone to talk to him last night, but I didn’t want to come off too strong or too clingy, especially because part of what I want to talk to him about is how he feels about keeping in touch, maybe occasionally meeting up for some Daddy/Boy play, depending on where he lives and how easy it is to organize.
I guess I didn’t want my actions to clash with the vibe of the question itself.
But now, as I scan the mess hall, I can’t see his pretty blond head anywhere in the sea of dining campers.
Everyone is talking, the sound echoing off the tin walls, and it’s like the entire camp has shown up at once, rather than staggering the meal break out like we seem to have done for the past few days. It’s loud, but happy.
Still, I can see how it would be overwhelming for people who are usually a bit more introverted.
People like Benji.
Because he is definitely more introverted, even if he is good at pretending to be comfortable in social situations. It might sound creepy, but I’ve been watching him. He always leaves large group settings looking drained.
It’s not difficult for me to load up two plates of food as I make my way down the buffet line. I choose bits of the dishes I’ve seen Benji favor over the past few nights, being sure to include a good balance of vegetables, too.
With plates laden high, I slip back out of the mess hall and follow the path back over to the cabins, smiling to myself. While it might have been an impulsive idea, I am excited to have a private dinner with Benji. I just hope he doesn’t think it’s too over the top.
I have to balance the two plates on one arm, putting my college-time waitering skills back to good use, to knock on Benji’s cabin door, and I wait a little impatiently for him to answer. I can’t hear him moving around inside, though, so I knock again.
There’s still nothing.
“Benji?” I call out.
Silence.
My impatience starts to morph into something else. A low-level niggle at the back of my brain that says something is wrong.
I knock again. Louder this time. More forceful. “Benji? It’s Kris.”
There’s still nothing.
The door to cabin nine opens and a red-headed Little I’ve seen around camp pops her head out. “Counselor Kris!” she greets cheerily, then frowns as she takes in my balanced dinner plates and hand raised to knock at Benji’s door again. “Um,” she bites her lip, “I don’t think he’s there.”
“Oh.” I feel a bit awkward now. Shifting my stance, I ask, “Do you know where he is? He wasn’t at dinner in the hall.”
“Um,” her teeth gnaw at her lip now, “he left. Earlier. Before dinner.” Glancing back over her shoulder she says, “Daddy? Did you see the boy from next door leave?”
Her Daddy steps in behind her, but I don’t really listen to what he says, if he says anything at all. My mind is reeling. “He left?” I repeat, as if that is going to help me make sense of this turn of events. “What do you mean?”
The Girl pouts. “He looked sad. He had his suitcase. We didn’t really make friends, but he said goodbye.”
I’m struggling to understand, and her regressed, disjointed explanation isn’t helping me. I turn my likely confused gaze on her Daddy. “Sorry, what?”
He sighs. “We were just getting back from the playground while all the afternoon activities were happening. Bella gets a bit overstimulated sometimes, so we took advantage of the playground being quieter, y’know?
Anyway, the kid next door,” he jerks his chin towards Benji’s door, where I’m still standing uselessly with two cooling plates of food, “looked to be heading out. Had all his stuff with him, told us to enjoy the rest of camp, then headed that way” —he points in the direction of the path that leads to the main building where reception and the little general store are— “and I think he was checking out.”
My stomach sinks, but I muster a grateful smile and raise the plates awkwardly. “That explains why I didn’t see him at dinner, then.” With a smothered sigh, I add, “Thanks. I guess I’ll work out what to do with this stuff. Have a good night.”
I watch them head back inside and, feeling deflated and melancholy in a way I can’t really explain, I make my way to my cabin only a few doors down.
I guess I won’t be seeing Benji again after all.