Page 6 of Lost Little Boy
I stood and grabbed my finished bottle of soda, the empty chip bag, and my backpack, stopping at the trash can to make a deposit, and then out front to go home. Thankfully, there was a bus that picked up at the hospital and dropped off just up the street from my apartment complex, so I walked to the bus stop to wait.
I hoped Mr. Grassley was okay. What happened to him shouldn’t have happened to anyone. At least he got medical help pretty quickly, thanks to Mr. Burger.
Saturday morning, I woke up early and went for a run on the trail behind our building. I needed to do laundry, get some groceries, and go to the community college in Alexandria for a career-building seminar and to pick up a course book for summer classes. Being a janitor wasn’t my lifelong ambition, but I didn’t know what else might be,so going to a career seminar at the community college seemed like a good place to start.
I took the bus over to the campus and found the administration building. The registrar’s office was open, so I went inside to grab a course catalog for the summer semester. Aside from accredited courses, the community college offered classes like yoga, pottery, cooking, driving, and motorcycle riding.
I’d noticed a handful of people in the north parking lot, which was blocked with cones and where motorcycles were parked, so I supposed that was where the class met. I’d never thought about where one could learn to ride a motorcycle if one lived in an urban area. My brothers and I just went out to the field and learned to ride the minibike my mom’s cousin gave us.
I had thirty minutes before the seminar began, so I wandered down the hall to look at the massive bulletin board where student organizations and community events were posted. The spring semester ended in the middle of May, so there were lots of ads for things people were selling or offering services like lawncare or babysitting, which I guessed was done by the students. There were student painters and car detailing ads, and they were all veryeye-catching.
A poster with a rainbow across the top caught my eye, so I walked over to look at it.
I quickly jotted down the web address for the camp, thinking it sounded like fun. I had a week of vacation from the previous year that I had to use, so why not go camping? I’d never been to any kind of camp when I was growing up, so maybe this was my opportunity to figure out what I’d missed all these years.
I could search for someone to go with me, and maybe it would be the beginning of me building more confidence in myself. It couldn’t hurt to try.
A few hours later, I returned home to discover nobody was there. I remembered both of my roommates were gone for the weekend. Nora had gone to Philadelphia for her parents’ anniversary, and Shane to Richmond for his sister’s wedding. I was alone and had no idea whatto do.
After a shower, I sat down in the living room and did something I rarely did—I turned on the television. I didn’t get paid until next weekend, and I’d spent my food budget at the grocery store earlier that afternoon, so I wasn’t getting carryout. I would ignore my growling stomach by watching something I’d never seen before.
I cooked for myself, having been responsible for feeding my brothers and sisters when I was growing up, so I wouldn’t starve. I didn’t find anything on two streaming services, so I found a music channel and went to the kitchen to do a quick broccoli stir-fry. I wasn’t a vegetarian, but with my salary limits, I was more comfortable eating a modest diet. Besides, being healthy never hurt anyone.
When I was growing up in Tennessee, we had a large garden and some chickens. They did double duty—eggs and meat. It was sad when we killed a chicken for dinner but that was why we had them. I wouldn’t let the other kids name them because they cried when I butchered one for a meal.
I really missed the kids and wished I could have been told where they ended up. I wanted to know that they were okay and had gone to good homes.
One of the first things I’d done when I moved to South Arlington was to get a library card. I loved to go to thebranch near my apartment on a Saturday to check out sci-fi books. I wasted whole days there.
Unfortunately, I’d had too much to do earlier so I hadn’t gone to return my books. I’d have to go in the morning to return them, so they weren’t late.
It crossed my mind to call the hospital and ask about Mr. Grassley the third, but they wouldn’t tell me anything about him when I was there. I doubted a phone call would get better results.
My mind wandered back to the flyer I’d seen at the community college earlier in the afternoon. Pride Camp 2025. The idea of hanging out with other gay people sounded fun. I wasn’t out—though, I wasn’tin. I didn’t have anyone in my life who gave a damn about my sexuality, so it didn’t matter.
I picked up the tablet that controlled the streaming services we shared from the coffee table, and I searched for the camp website address. When it came up, I couldn’t hold the smile.
The pictures from Pride Camp 2024 popped up, and as I scrolled through them, I was struck by how colorful everything appeared. For the next three hours, I clicked all the links and read about the camp and all of the activities it offered.
The camp’s rule that any single campers were required to bring a chaperone made more sense as I did my research. There were a lot of games and activities that required teams, and if the numbers were uneven, someone could be left out—or so I suspected as I looked at the pictures of the Sunday night dance party. Everyone had a partner, and they all seemed to be having a good time.
I finally went to the pricing section, saving it for last in case it broke my heart by being too expensive for my meager income. Surprisingly, the four-day, three-night camp was only three hundred and fifty dollars per person to stay in a tent, which covered everything, including the nightly cocktail parties.
The other issue I’d need to address was how I’d get to the camp in rural Virginia. As I continued clicking links, I found, in the fine print, there was a bus that left from the Springfield Metro Station and took campers to the campground in Luray. The Springfield Metro Station wasn’t far from where I lived. Now, all I had to do was find a chaperone.
How the hell was I goingto do that?
The start date for the camp was a month away, and I hadn’t found anyone to go with me. I talked to Mr. Burger the week before, after he came on duty one evening. He smiled and patted my arm.
“Sorry, Perry, but I don’t think the missus would be too happy if I left her alone with three little kids under six for a weekend so I could go to Pride Camp with my cute friend.”
He laughed, which made me laugh, too. I held nothing against him for his honesty, and I wasn’t really asking him to go with me. I just wanted to know ifhehad any friends who might want to go. Turned out, I was his only gay friend that he knew of, but he didn’t give me the impression he was homophobic.
I was surprised he thought I was asking him, and after he gave me a hug and went to work, I stood there for five minutes, a sputtering, embarrassing mess. Mr. Burger, though, had alleviated any worries I had that he might not like me because I was gay. It was a great relief.
I was eating lunch in the supply closet when there was a knock on the door. I quickly chewed and swallowed, wiping my mouth before I opened the door.
There stood the beautiful Mr. Grassley the third. He had a nervous smile, which immediately had my cheeks flushing.
