Oliver drains the noodles and assembles the ingredients. “All right, hop down, grab us a couple bowls, and get ready for the best meal of your life.”
We take our cheesy snack and sit outside on the dining hall porch, staring out at the slumbering campgrounds waiting to come to life again the next morning. I bask in the cool evening breeze, finding peace in this moment, especially as I take a bite of the delicious meal.
“This is good,” I sign, nodding as I chew. Before I can say it out loud, Oliver jumps in.
“That means ‘good,’ right?” he says, smiling. “I knew it.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Natasha waves at me across the fire. It’s a very cold Tuesday night, but our staff cabin is still housing campers, so the options for gathering after hours are limited. From my bench on the opposite side, I watch her across the flames.
“Hey, I need to talk to you,” Natasha signs. I’m nervous since we’re not exactly on the best of terms right now. “I want to say sorry.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine.”
“No. About that night.” She looks away for a second before adding voice. It’s been exactly one week since Isaac left camp, and we’d been avoiding discussing the subject until now. “I was just scared. Isaac explained more about what happened, so I wanted to apologize.”
“It’s okay, really,” I assure her, fixating on the fact that she’s gotten messages from Isaac. But I’m relieved that, even if he doesn’t want to get back to me, at least he’s in touch with his friends. “I probably would’ve reacted the same way.”
“Yeah,” she says and signs. “I noticed you haven’t been signing as much lately.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess since I’m working with the blind campers mostly right now.” But as I talk to Natasha, my hands stay by my side, like they’re too heavy to lift. “Yeah . . . so you’ve heard from him? Is he doing okay? I sent him a message, well, a few messages.”
Natasha gives me a pitiful, knowing look. “I’m sure he’ll respond to you soon.”
Ethan walks up, with a very enthusiastic Mackenzie and Jaden by his side, and waves to get everyone’s attention.
“Do you have the staff here?” He looks around the firepit to confirm. “Let me text Simone and Bobby real quick.”
“What’s up?” I ask Ethan.
“Let’s wait for everyone to be here,” Ethan says and signs.
Mackenzie sets up her laptop on the picnic table. Gary pulls up on the golf cart as Simone and Bobby arrive. Everyone’s seated and waiting for Ethan’s announcement.
“Which do you want first, the good news, or the great news, or the best news?” he asks.
“All of them!” Bobby shouts.
“Okay, we’ll build,” Ethan says and signs. “To start, the initial donations received, thanks to all your families and friends, as well as Mackenzie’s boost to her followers”—Mackenzie nods, having been waiting expectantly for this shout-out—“have officially secured us enough funding to get started on repairs to the storm damage!”
“We can get our staff cabin back?” Simone asks. “No more hanging around in the cold?”
“It’ll take a while to mend the roof of both cabins, but they’ll be looking better than ever in no time!” Gary announces proudly.
“Now, the great news. I’d argue this is tied with best,” Ethan says and signs. “It’s not one hundred percent yet. But I’ve heard from Isaac, and he should be returning to camp soon!”
My heart races with excitement and despair. He’s returning to Gray Wolf? But he’s been in contact with seemingly everyone but me?
“And last, but certainly not least . . .” Ethan gestures for Jaden to take the next part, voicing his signing.
“So I shared the fundraiser, then my cousin shared it, then my cousin’s friend shared it, and last night —— made a huge donation!” He fingerspells too fast, and I'm so overwhelmed by the news that I don’t catch the name when Ethan interprets it.
Simone nods toward me. “She’s that famous Deaf actress, right?”
“Dang, the Deaf community is small,” Bobby says.
“And her sharing it also got us even more donations,” Ethan says. “And so much interest in the camp. Thankfully, Isaac had rebuilt our website with a contact box and sign-up form.”
“Yes, it’s a very good thing there will be more money,” Gary chimes in. “Because it looks like we’re going to need more cabins and staff for a ton of new campers.”
More staff? More campers? So that obviously means we’re back next year, right?
“By my calculations,” Gary says, with Ethan still interpreting, “we’re set for hopefully at least the next ten years.” He continues, sharing details of all the renovations he and Ethan have in mind for the campgrounds, such as clearing additional hiking trails and adding a basketball court or volleyball net.
“And we’re also definitely coming up with some sort of end-of-summer outing to celebrate,” Ethan adds. “We’ll do something even bigger and better than we’ve ever done before.”
* * *
I sit out today’s pool time, keeping an eye on the campers from the comfort of a deck chair, sneaking glances at my phone as often as I can manage. If you’d told me when I was a camper there would come a time that I’d voluntarily pass on swim time, I wouldn’t have believed it. But I’ve swum so much this summer that I can use a break.
I feel my backpack vibrate on my lap, so I pull my phone from the mesh side pocket. I squint to read the screen through the harsh sunlight, imagining I just got a text from Isaac. But it’s just an irrelevant notification. It’s been two weeks since he left, and I’m desperate to hear from him, but I’m starting to think I never will. My hopes have been dashed so many times that I almost don’t believe the message that pops up on my screen then.
Isaac: Hey
One word. That’s all I get. One single word—no exclamation mark or anything. What am I supposed to do with that? Is he upset, angry, tired, relieved, or what?
Lilah: How are you?
My heart flutters and my stomach twists into a nervous ball of anxiety while I wait.
Isaac: I’m okay. How are you?
Lilah: Okay
I’ll hit him back with a single-word text of my own. Except, he doesn’t respond. After a few minutes of waiting, I cave.
Lilah: I miss you
He types for a very long time. I’m clutching my phone, even though I should be more discreet, as texting during work hours is frowned upon. Each second I wait, I grow certain that he’s going to say he never wants to see me again. But then I receive a paragraph that I have to read three times to process.
Isaac: I’m sorry I hadn’t replied to your texts yet. It’s been . . . rough. I was mad at everything and everyone. It’s really frustrating when this shit happens, and no matter what I do, I feel like I react the entirely wrong way. Especially in miscommunications. I need space to calm down and think.
He needs space? He’s been gone for so many days already. I’m guessing that means he’s not coming back to camp after all, but does it mean he doesn’t want to talk to me, either? All I got from that answer is that he doesn’t miss me.