Page 103 of Lady and the Camp
“What? I’m serious.”
I took my hat off, shook it out, and put it back on. “I hate being a camp director.”
“You do? But you’re good.”
“I offered Maggie the Camp Junebug director job for the same reason. She’d be incredible. She turned me down.”
“Huh. Do you thinkshe’dwant to run both camps?”
Now we both laughed.
“I swear, I’m not trying to dump this on you,” Brycen said. “I thought maybe you were bitter about losing out on running both camps when we split.”
“I was bitter because this—” I pointed between us. “Broke. We used to be friends. Then we became enemies.”
Brycen looked at the sky. “Yeah. That’s on me and my big vision. It didn’t leave room for much else. Again, I’m sorry.”
I believed him. He’d been apologizing since the trespassing incident. Time to ditch this grudge. Forgive and move on. “Thanks. I’m sorry too, for taking your folks’ side without looking at the bigger picture. And for what it’s worth, you’re doing a good job as director. So what if you’ve had a few setbacks. Staff will always turn over. Campers will cancel. Stuff will break and need fixing. That’s expected. You’re running a good camp.”
We reached the summit of our small hill. Nowhere near a height like the Rocky Mountains, but a nice view overlooking trees, the park, and a glimpse of a nearby neighborhood.
“I’m planning to leave,” I told him. “That Colorado expedition company has an opening. I already had a video interview.”
Brycen grinned. “Wow, man. That’s great. That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it? You only agreed to work at our little camp to get where you wanted in the long run. I forgot about that.”
“I don’t have the job yet. If they’re serious about me, I fly out to Colorado for the next step.”
“If I can be of any help, a recommendation letter, anything, I will. I owe you that. And you deserve it.”
“Thanks, man.”
He stretched his arms wide, taking in the fresh air and view. “I have nothing but confidence in you.”
Good thing. Because as within reach as my dreams had become, my confidence felt as unsteady as ever.
I posted the camp director job. Regardless of whether I got the Colorado gig, someone else needed to run Camp Junebug. My first big decision since refusing to run after Hudson.
The usual comforting silence of my apartment rang loud and intrusive.
Something was missing.
Yeah, the wind in my hair, a fishing pole in my hand. Living off the land. If the new job fell into place, I’d get exactly what I wanted.
In the meantime, I felt restless. I picked up my phone and found myself going to YouTube, to the last video I’d viewed.
Hudson’s smile flashed at me. Her hair the old pink in this one. I watched her, mesmerized by her ease in front of the camera. If only she’d been around to give me some pointers for my interview.
If only she was here, in my arms, so I could hold her.
I watched seven full videos. I now knew about face contouring with different shades of makeup and skin care cycling. I had no idea what I’d do with that information, but I had it.
I didn’t have Hudson.
That night I couldn’t sleep. I tried imagining myself in the Rockies leading adults on challenging quests. Adults who didn’t request constant potty breaks. Only every time, my thoughts derailed to noisy little girls and a certain fashion-minded lady with lotions and spritzes to aid every type of ouchie.
Memories surfaced of diving into the lake after her. Of her soft skin pressed against mine. Of watching her sit in contemplative silence. She may not have been into the idea of survivalist trips but she loved nature in her own way.
It was useless. I’d never get over her.
