“I’m not going on the cruise, am I? You meant you are,” I stated quietly.
“Well . . .” She patted her bag inside the trunk and shut it. “Not exactly, honey.”
The driver got out of the car and leaned against one of the doors and said, “I’m not your mom’s go-to driver, Emma.”
He scooped up Mom’s hand, and the light reflected off their rings perfectly. It was fortunate that I could blame my misty eyes on the glare of the silver. Before I could pull it back, my voice made a strangled, hurumpfff-like sound. The driver’s offended expression didn’t make me feel guilty in the least. He was a complete and utter stranger. It was uncomfortable that a person so important in my mom’s life knew about me, but I didn’t know about him. They were married. They’d had a wedding. I’d never gotten an invite. No matter how much it hurt that she didn’t think to invite me, let alone tell me about one of the most important days of her life, it pained me more that it didn’t come as a shock. The blow of my parents’ divorce hadn’t come from her either; it had come solely from Dad. Most news did.
This wasn’t only a cruise. It was a honeymoon. Another kick, another stomp, and the final light went out. The twists kept piling on, and with them, my chest heaved in an effort to breathe. My new stepfather’s face, the rings, the suffocating, towering trees—everything burned into my brain until all I saw was red.
“Let me get this straight,” I said, teeth gritted. “You’re going on a cruise with your driver. Your husband. You’re abandoning me here? At Camp Mapplewood? When you only get me from July to August.”
“Honey . . .”
“Stop ignoring me—the point. You’re leaving me at camp. Which is the place responsible for my PTSD?”
Beyond the sign was an entirely different planet. Everything about it terrified me, from the whistle of the wind under the moonlight to the raindrops that pelted against leaves or the top of the fabric of a tent. Even the roofs of the cabins beneath the stars gave me hives. The list continued as an endless line of things that contributed to this dark feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it was the constant tension in my neck as I prepared for attack. Perhaps it was the creepy crawlies scurrying in the dark.
“I thought you would’ve grown out of this difficult phase by now,” my mother said. This statement caused a sharp pang in the middle of my chest. Another shot fired. She tossed her husband, whose name I still did not know, a look, like the stranger knew me at all. “Your father has always wrapped you up too tightly. He took you out of school. He took you away from York. He never encouraged you to broaden your horizons, Emma.”
“He concentrated on more important stuff like me getting help and showing concern for my mental health?”
“This is an opportunity for you to finally make some friends, to see Jessie again. Since her, you haven’t made an effort to engage with people. I want that for you, without your dad interfering and coddling you.”
“It was needed, Mom. I was a zombie when I lived here.”
“You seem fine to me.”
“Yes, now, after Dad got me help.” Silence. Speaking of help, where were my anti-anxiety meds? I rummaged through my bag and found the bottle. Good. Even if I planned on continuing to use
the techniques my therapist gave me, it was nice to know they were there for short-term relief if I needed it. I admitted, “We’re pen pals, me and Jessie.”
“That’s good that you kept in contact, but face-to-face interaction is so much better. Trust me. This will be good for you,” Mom promised. “Ethan, help Emma carry the bags.”
“Sure,” Ethan said.
My teeth ground together and I trembled as we ventured into the grounds of the camp and stood in line for the sign-up table outside of the main building not too far away from the cars. Lots of kids were being dropped off by their parents, mine were no exception; from the outside it looked so normal, but it was anything but.
I knew I had to call my dad and grabbed my phone out of my pocket. He planned to stay with his brother up in the country to work with him. The phone reception up there was terrible, so I had to call now, before he reached my uncle’s house in the next few hours. I was about to dial when Mom snatched my phone out of my hands.
“Hey,” I protested.
“You’ll end up thanking me for this,” Mom promised. “Someday, you will.”
“You can’t force Dad to give you access to me for the summer, not utilize that visitation, and then restrict my communication with him.”
“I haven’t the slightest notion where your dramatic nature came from, Emma,” Mom said, powering off the phone. She kept it clasped in her hand as we moved up the line. “I’ve taken the phone from you because camping regulations dictate there are to be no cell phones on the premises.”
“Dramatic? Mom, I’m not the one who got married on a whim to Ethan here and didn’t tell her daughter. That was you. I want to speak to Dad. He’ll listen to me.”
“We didn’t want it to be a big deal, Emma. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would want to hear that sort of news.”
“You found a guy who makes you happy, I am happy for you. But don’t you see why I’m mad? It’s one thing to not let me tag along on the cruise, which I wouldn’t have been hurt by if you’d let me stay with Dad, but I’m at Camp freaking Mapplewood.”
“I am paying a huge sum of money for you to be here, Emma. It’s an opportunity.”
“I never asked you to,” I exclaimed.
“And who knows? Maybe you’ll find yourself a boyfriend.”
“A what? The fifteen-minute car drive didn’t suddenly make me straight, Mom.”
She made a face and hushed me as we stepped to the top of the line. My mother handed my phone over to the camp’s director, Mr. Black, who had been in charge of the place the last time I’d been here. Mr. Black placed the phone in a tray full of the other campers’ various technologies. In return I was given a registration document and that day’s schedule. After I successfully signed in, I dropped my luggage with everyone else’s inside the hallway of the main building. I watched as my only way to freedom was carried away and out of sight—the only way to get out of this mess left with Mr. Black.
Mom brought me in for a hug and the warmth and care that lingered from Dad that morning vanished into thin air. No trace of my father’s reassurance stayed behind to keep me company.
“This will be good for you,” Mom said. “I swear it.”
“There’s no changing your mind, is there?”
“I’m afraid not. You be good, okay? Smile, honey, it’s the start of an adventure!” Those were her final words before she slid back into the car and took off with Ethan—the guy who wasn’t only the getaway driver.