Page 45 of The Reno
Camp chair
Camp table
Lantern
Fairy lights
Ididmove out of the house. Technically. The day after Liam’s visit, I walked to the little hardware store on the high street.The owner, Ravi, introduced himself. He was a sweet, shy man dressed in a leather apron with Heath Hardware embossed on the front. Ravi helped me pick out what I needed—a tent, a sleeping bag, a headlamp and a lantern. All things suggested when I’d googled “camping essentials”.
For once, I thanked my neurodivergence for allowing me to think outside the box. If anyone asked, I’d say this was genius. Not only had I resolved the issue, but I’d already planned where to pitch my tent so that Liam and the crew wouldn’t see my set-up from the house when they arrived tomorrow.
Ravi helped me with my haul to my Uber. I wasn’t risking walking down the high street and someone recognising me. I’d give it an hour before Liam or Lydia found out. Everyone knew everyone here.
“I hope that’s everything you need. If you think of anything else, just let us know. If there is anything we don’t stock, I can order it for you,” Ravi said warmly.
“Thank you so much, Ravi. I’m sure I’ll be back.”
Almost a week here, I was still shocked to find everyone so welcoming.
Did I love it or hate it?
As I assembled my tent half an hour later, guilt crept in about my “technical manoeuvring” around my agreement with Liam. I should have just asked Sandra and Brian. Deep down, I knew they would welcome me with open arms. But there was something… exposing about the idea of living with them. I didn’t want them to see how late I got up in the morning or how I looked when I doom-scrolled on Instagram when I was overstimulated.I hated the feeling of being watched or on display. It was better this way. I would be comfortable with my own company, even if that comfort were the cold, hard ground.
I rubbed my shoulders as the chilly evening set in. The novelty of the February sun was setting behind a thick blanket of dark grey clouds. On my hands and knees, I climbed into my tent and shuffled into the sleeping bag. I pulled my Kindle out of my bag and did a little wiggle of excitement. This was actually quite cosy. It was the perfect backdrop for the fantasy series with fairies that Willa had recommended. The characters had just begun camping across ancient woods, so I felt immersed in the story. I got to a spicy scene set in a tent, which was very… enlightening when the rain began.
It’s fine, I repeated to myself. I’d expected some rain at about seven p.m.
The pitter-patter of the rain was nice anyway—nature’s ASMR.
Twenty minutes in, the gentle pitter-patter morphed into an onslaught, and I couldn’t concentrate on the words on the screen. The rain pelted the tent, and the sound became deafening. I put my hands over my ears.
The wind picked up.
A gale whipped my tent from side to side.
“Fuck,” I shouted when the water began to seep into the tent, which I had to admit was on the cheaper side.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered as I tried to find where the water was coming in. I blocked it with some of the blankets and towels, which worked well.
I sighed and settled back into my sleeping bag. No excited wiggle this time. But it was fine. Everything had a thin layer of mist, but I wasn’t a quitter. No, I was quite determined to prove that my idea was genius, even if it was just to myself.
