Page 3 of Camping with the Boss

“No thanks.”

She gives me her patented I’m-tired-of-your-shit look. As a school resource officer, she’s got it down to a science.

And really, I can’t blame her. I’m tired of my shit too.

“You need to get out of this house, Can.”

“I go places.”

“Picking up an order from Gerbes every Friday afternoon doesn’t count.”

“I go to the library on Wednesdays.”

She sighs and places her cup on the table. As if she’s preparing for battle. “You need to start living.”

“Now you sound like River. I’m living.”

“You’re existing.” Her eyes go soft, and I don’t like it.

“Stop. Don’t even say it.”

She studies me with that shrewd look she gets when she’s interrogating a youth over a missing iPhone. I brace myself. “You see your doc regularly, right? Does he tell you to limit your activity?”

“There are some things I can’t do.” I shrug, wishing there was a way out of this conversation.

“But they fixed your heart. Your surgery?—”

“More than one.” My voice is tighter than I want. But she makes it sound like a walk in the park instead of many years of surgery. And pain. And therapy of every kind.

She puts her hand over mine and squeezes. “My point is, you’re good now, right?” I just nod because good is a relative term. But she’s trying to help, and I appreciate the effort. “Come with me. We don’t even have to buy anything. Just look around. Afterward, we can have lunch at that Greek place you like. My treat.”

I’m already shaking my head. “I can’t. River has that work retreat.” I hold out my hand to stop her words. “You know how he is. If I’m not here…” My voice trails off.

“He’s not a kid anymore.”

“You don’t understand.” My throat is tight as I hold in the rest of my words.

“I do, Can. After your mom and dad died—” She swallows, and that soft look is back.

I blink back the sudden pressure behind my eyes. “He needs me.”

“It’s been ten years, babe. He’s not a scared fifteen-year-old.” She squeezes my hand again and sits back, grabbing her coffee.

“He was never a scared fifteen-year-old.” I joke, and she gives me a sympathetic smile for my effort.

“All I’m saying is you need to let him grow up. He needs that.”

But then what? This is who I am. What I do. I shut my eyes at my pathetic thoughts. Am I the one holding River back? Pressing my fist against my chest, I smile at my best friend, hoping to erase the worry lines on her forehead. “You’re right. I need to let him make mistakes. Just not this one. He earns twice as much money as I do.”

I parent River because I love him and it’s my job to take care of him. I also do it because I’m dependent on him and the money he brings in. Which is so much worse.

“Stop it right the fuck now.”

I let out a mock gasp. “It must be serious if you’re resorting to strong language.”

Alex snorts. “Fuck off.”

The tension breaks and we both laugh. Taffy looks at us as if we’re complete idiots. She’s not entirely wrong.

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