One Final Time

One Final Time

The outside scenery flooding by the bus seemed to pass quickly from the early city morning to the rural landscape making way towards the summer camp. Once arrived at the camp destination, the bus parked itself on a rural road, releasing the students and junior counselors to begin the long trek down the hill to the river, where canoes awaited to take them and their possessions the place that would be their home for a week, for a life-time.

Les, or Trip, swung his guitar over his shoulder as he grabbed the rest of his belongings from the belly of the bus. He turned to see Ruby, waiting behind him.

“Which one is yours?” he asked, hoping to once again find away to know her better. She pointed silently towards an orange sleeping bag with a pillow tied to it and a large green knapsack. As she did, he thought he saw some peculiar-looking vertical lines (or scars) running up her wrist. Noticing, she quickly pulled her arm back and pulled the flannel shirt, she was still wearing even though it had to be in the high nineties at the least, down over her hand. He said nothing as he bent over and grabbed the bags, setting his own down as he did so, and handed them over to her. She nodded at him and made her way towards the line of other campers and counselors streaming down the hill.

The river flowed gently as the young approached, setting their packs down momentarily in order to thus remove their shoes to cross. Bags placed in canoes and the younger campers too, the counselors worked together to pull them across to the shore, the entrance leading to the camp. The water was cold as it rose to just above their ankles, a healing energy unknown to Ruby as she made her way across, stepping gingerly even with the added weight of her canoe in order to not hit a stone or turtle, and felt the mud squish between her toes. For the first time in a very long time, she felt what it must be like to be truly alive...and the beginnings of foreign feeling of happiness began to spread throughout her body.

The sand and stones on the beach mixed with the mud on her feet as she stepped ashore and pulled the boat on land. She helped the campers (how cute they were) to gather their items, found her shoes and her own items, and followed the crowd to the entrance of camp, then to the tree-lined center of camp where everyone gathered to meet and greet and find out which cabins they were placed in.

The wind rustled softly through the arena as the head counselors loudly announced the list of campers' names and the children filed downwards to meet them, the junior counselors' joining in the throng. The other counselors and older junior counselors cheered loudly with each announcement. Once the cabin-mates had met and been announced, they made their way back to their place in the audience, which would be their place at all camp meetings, the head counselor on one side, the junior on the other.

As the remaining campers found their places, the rest of the camp, bags and sleeping bags in tow, made their way up the hill to their respective cabins, their homes for the week long adventure before them. What was to come lay before them unknown as they began to make themselves comfortable in their new surroundings. The counselor joking with her teenager counterpart, the campers shyly greeting one another and sharing stories.

In that first meeting time, sitting around each other in a circle, Ruby's head counselor, Breeze, gently laid down the cabin rules and the laws of camp. Ruby watched as Breeze joked and communicated easily with the children, feeling a pang on her wrists bringing out that familiar desire to cut. Once again she pulled down the grey flannel she was still wearing over her scars. Packed away in her suitcase, her mother had given her several coverings for the slice-scars, large bracelets, armbands for swimming or “strength-training”, anything for a good cover story, better to not show the truth of one's misery.

The days would pass peacefully for Ruby and the kids, filled with archery lessons, jewelry making activities, swimming, hiking, and the nightly shows of campfire. All the junior counselors had their daily meetings with their Junior Counselor Leader, Seuss, who allowed them space to be the kids they still were and taught them the life lessons needed for childcare. All the teenagers looked up to her and to the other senior counselors in their twenties, whose lives seemed full of sophistication and allure. They longed for the freedom these older friends had, not under the watchful eye and suspicious supervision of their parents' and guardians. Little did they know, these senior counselors whose lives they envied were in fact in some ways envying them their youth, longing themselves for the more carefree days of their teenage years.

Ruby found a close connection with the curly haired girl, Tera, and they grew to have a fast connection. It was to her that Ruby confided her growing affection for Les, who was now mostly known as Trip, around camp. Ruby and Tera had not yet found their “camp names”. For his part, Trip (Les) seemed to be an average teenage boy, an interest not just in one particular girl but in many in the quest to satisfy his desires. He did give Ruby some attention though, of which moments she lived for, repeating often in her mind and heart.

One such moment stood out among the rest. It was late afternoon their first week at camp coming to an end, Ruby was sitting alone in the designated junior counselor private area, a solitary table amongst the leafy trees and shrubbery set apart from the rest of the camp. Before her was a notebook opened, she listened to the delightful sound of the children playing in the water as it lapped against the shore. Peace filled her heart, a feeling so familiar to her in this place and yet unknown in her life back home. Every moment or so, she'd pick up her pen and write a few thoughts before then staring back into space, a contented smile on her face.

Quietly behind her, Trip entered, carrying his guitar cradled in his arms, the strap around his neck. She turned and looked at him, seeking to hide her blush letting her hair fall in front of her face.

“Mind if I join you?” he stammered out. She nodded and turned to her journal, trying to avert her gaze from him and trying desperately to think of something to say to him that would be cool and flirtatious, as she had seen the other girls' do so effortlessly. He sat on the opposite side of the table from her and faced the river. Quietly, he began strumming the guitar. “I'm sorry, do you mind?”

She shook her head and managed, “How long have you played?”

“Not long,” he began. “Basically this summer. I had a girl-friend back home for awhile that played, when she broke up with me, I just kind of kept up at it, don't know why, really, just something to pass the time.”

She nodded and looked back down at her journal, not knowing what to write, but waiting for him to say more.

“What's in the notebook?” he asked, turning slightly to her and letting his hands fall away from the strings.

“Oh, just..it's nothing, just my thoughts,” she said, ashamed and looking away.

“I'm very interested in that,” he said and she turned to see him smiling at her. “Can I see?”

She hesitated and said, “I don't know.”

“Its okay,” he said. “Its none of my business.”

He began playing again and she watched him, shyly, out of the corner of her eye. Noticing, he turned back to her.

“Ever played?” He asked. She shook her head.

“Never even held one,” She explained. “Played piano when I was a kid.”

“I can teach you, if you'd like,” he offered and Ruby's heart soared to heights it never thought possible. She nodded and he motioned for her to join him on his side of the table. She came around, leaving her notebook open and sat beside him with a gasp. He removed the guitar strap from his neck and placed the guitar in her arms. Then, he placed her hands in the appropriate places on the instrument. “It may hurt your finger tips the first couple times, until you build up the callouses.”

She looked at him and he laughed. She smiled back.

“This is c,” he said, placing her fingers on her left hand on the appropriate strings. “Then you strum with your right.”

Doing so, she awkwardly heard the music flowing outward. He showed her the other notes, g, f, a, b, and she played each, reveling in the time spent together. A harsh breeze suddenly kicked up, shattering the moment because the pages of her notebook ruffled in the wind. She turned and watched as a loose slip of paper blew out and fluttered by their faces to quick to grab. Momentarily it fell on the ground and Toast reached down quickly snatching it up before it would travel farther on.

For a moment, he caught sight of the words scribbled on the page, full of pain and loneliness and he suddenly suspected why she always wore the armbands. She got up to retrieve the paper from him, still holding the guitar, which was the only thing between them as they faced each other. His eyes searching hers, as if to ask why. Then, he handed her the slip of paper and she, too, saw what she had written.

“I cannot stand my life anymore,” they began. “I do not want to live. I will end this.”

She averted her eyes, folding the paper, and sticking it deep within her pocket to hide the evidence. She began to remove the guitar strap from her neck to give him back his instrument but he grabbed her right hand and pulled it towards him. Slowly, wordlessly, he let his finger run up towards her armband. She shivered with his touch, not just with pleasure but from the shame. He pulled down the band and saw, the sewn up scars of the slices. He looked up and their eyes met, hers filling with shameful tears and his with pained wonder. She pulled her arm away quickly, handed him the guitar, and pulled her armband back in place.

“Don't tell,” she said in a pained whisper. “Don't tell...anyone.”

He took the guitar and looked her over.

“It's okay, they won't care,” he said, trying to reassure.

“Exactly,” was all she could say and moved to collect her journal, starting to leave.

“I won't,” he said, his words stopping her. “I won't tell.”

She turned and looked at him, before ascending towards the main camp.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he said, breathing out. “Always.”

Everybody Hurts