What Was Left At Camp

Chapter 5. Camp and a birthday

Today is my 14th Birthday and my parents are coming to visit. They had reserved a small room in one of the camp's rec centers to 'celebrate'. Due to waiver liabilities, we couldn't hold a normal party and invite my friends from home or extended family but my parents insisted we celebrate somehow. I could have taken the day away from camp but I wanted to be with Billy and because he was a fellow camper, he was able to attend my little celebration. We were also able to invite his Uncle seeing as he was one of his emergency contacts and helped enrol Billy in the camp. Therefore, they did not consider his Uncle extended family to Billy. Immediate family was welcome to visit anytime.

Even better, I was going to meet Billy Mom today! According to Billy, she has been doing better and was cleared by her doctors for a short visit. It also didn't hurt that my Father was a well known surgeon in New York so having a Doctor on site with the camp's medical staff put any concerns of her visit to rest. To say I was nervous was an understatement.

It had been two weeks since Billy had told me about his Fathers death and his Mothers medical problems. After we left the 'lake' that night, we walked back to our cabin hand in hand. Yup! You heard that right... We held hands! The weeks following we had become joined at the hip. Not wanting to draw too much attention, we kept our hand holding and cheek hissing to our late night walks. Always to our bench near the 'lake', under the Willow tree.

Conversing with Billy came so naturally. Once I got over all the "how do I act around someone I like..." thing, it felt as though we had known each other our entire lives. No topic was off limits to us. We took our time getting to know every aspect of each other. Form simple things like our favorite color (his being blue and mine being green. I know, I never really thought of a favorite color but after looking into Billy's eyes... there was no denying I was obsessed with Green) to serious topics like our fears and less serious but important things like our wants and dreams.

We spoke some more about family. I told Billy how my parents had met at my fathers physical therapy sessions. It was difficult to talk about it at first, having to mention he too was in a car accident but survived. Billy didn't seem to mind. He didn't hold a grudge that my Father lived through his accident while he lost his. Rather, he seemed eager to learn as much about me as he could. I told him about my sister. He admitted he wished he had a sibling but quickly spoke about the large family he would have one day. He wanted a big family. Four kids to be exact. It was cute watching his face light up and the sparkle in his eyes as he drempt about what could be.

When we breached the subject of our grandparents, we both shared in the loss of ours. Both my parents' parents had passed throughout the years but I was lucky enough to get to know each and every one of them. Billy was close with his Fathers parents before they passed but mentioned his disappointment not to have gotten to know his Mothers Mom well before she passed. He had only met her a handful of times. Out of everything we spoke of, Billy was an open book until I asked about his Moms Father. A look mixed with sadness and anger crossed his face and abruptly he said "he's alive but I would rather not speak of him" and with that, we never spoke of 'him' again.

I'm not sure how long I've been awake now laying in my bottom bunk daydreaming about the amazing two weeks I've had with Billy and what joy the weeks to come might bring. Before Billy tucks himself in each night, the last thing he does is take off the necklace that holds his Fathers ring. He always loops it around the post of the top bunk closets to the wall and near his head. I know this because it dangles just low enough for me to see the ring hanging in the corner right above me. That's how I always knew if Billy was still in bed. I was a heavy sleeper and could sleep through almost anything. And so I continued to lay in bed, eyes on the ring that hung motionless, waiting for any signs of movement.