18. 14 Years Ago #3
"I can't leave them without saying goodbye," I replied. "It's supposed to feel like a family," I explained, quoting a favorite rule of Pat's. "My kids will be so upset." Panic rose in my throat, and I looked to Matt for back up.
"She's right," he agreed. "Her campers adore her. And it's not right for her to leave without saying goodbye."
As if on cue, Pat entered the office. "Ah," he said. His face crumpled for just a moment, but then he took a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. "Hey there, Taylor. Matt." Pat nodded at him.
"Pat," I began. My eyes welled up.
"Now, now," he said, when my words got stuck in my throat.
"She should say goodbye to the girls in her cabin, right?" Matt asked, desperate to regain even the smallest amount of control over the situation.
Pat's round cheeks turned red. "Oh, bud," he began, stuffing his hands deep in the pockets of his worn out jeans.
"I don't want them to see her like this.
It'll set off a chain reaction, and we'll end up with scores of hysterical little girls.
Sometimes, it's easier to just let someone go, and tell the kids they'll be back real soon. "
I nodded, my eyes lowering to the dusty office floor.
"I'm gonna miss you, kid," Pat said. "I know you've had a rough go."
"Thank you for the job," I replied. "I'm sorry if I let you down."
"Taylor," he whispered, shaking his head. "You come back next summer. There will always be a spot for you here." He laid his heavy hand on my shoulder. "You go on, now. Matthew, you help her get all set. I'll make sure you get to have lunch after."
"Okay," Matt agreed.
We left the office, trekked past the din of everyone eating in the Lodge and went to Cabin Three.
Quietly, we packed up my things. I grabbed my towels off the clothesline outside, took down the photographs of me and Matt and the one old one of my mom that I’d kept thumbtacked to the wall next to my bed.
Matt rolled up my little teal area rug and Aunt Lucy stripped my bed, folding the sheets, blanket, and sleeping bag.
I wrapped the beach glass jar with one of the towels from the clothesline and placed it in my footlocker between the neatly folded piles of shorts and T-shirts.
I looked around. It took 20 minutes to pack up an entire life from the six-by-eight space I called my own at camp.
Matt took Aunt Lucy’s car keys and ran up to the rec field to get her car, which we packed just as quickly. The kids in the Lodge were singing a chorus of “Do Your Ears Hang Low?” as Matt leaned in to give me a hug goodbye.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he said.
“Me either,” I replied.
“Listen.” He held me by the shoulders. “No matter what, if you need something, anything, you call me.” His voice was shaking. “You understand me?” He looked like he was going to cry but was trying to hold himself together for my sake.
Am I really leaving now? Do I need to sign out at the office?
“I feel like I’m sneaking away,” I said.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” Aunt Lucy said, heading out to the road to wait in the car. Matt nodded a thank you at her.
“My dad’s in jail,” I whispered.
“Oh, Roberts.” Matt wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. “It’s going to be okay.” He stroked my hair. “I promise. We’ll figure this out. They’ll get your dad treatment. And you and I have done long distance before. We’ll be okay.”
I couldn’t feel any of it, so I just nodded.
“I’ll call you. Every day. And I’ll come to Boston on my days off.
I’ll take the ferry to Connecticut and drive from there.
” His eyes were feral, a combination of sorrow and fear and love, so I didn’t even bother to mention that a sojourn like that would take no less than four hours each way.
And that was from camp. From home it would take even longer.
I took his hand and kissed it. “It’ll be okay,” I repeated robotically, before leaning into him. Matt kissed me, pressing his lips onto mine hard, as if he was trying to imprint himself on me.
As if I could ever forget him.
“I love you so much,” he said when he finally pulled away.
“I love you, too,” I replied. We stood there for a moment until finally I dropped his hand and said, “I better go.”
He nodded, trying to be strong.
I walked, one foot in front of the other with the precision of someone about to walk the plank, down the dirt path the 30 or so feet to the road. I climbed into the passenger side of my aunt’s car.
“Are you ready, honey?” Aunt Lucy asked.
I nodded silently, looking out the window at Matt, who was waving with one hand and wiping the tears off his cheeks with the other.
Aunt Lucy put the car in drive, and I lifted a hand to wave back at Matt until he was out of view.
We drove down the long, gravel road, passing the Lodge, the Camp Office, the Council Fire ring, the Home-Ec Center, the horse stables, the camp rocks and the rec field, the Gate House, and out onto the main road, through the same entrance Matt and I had just rushed through less than an hour before.
Just like that, everything I ever knew was gone.