Page 80 of While You're There
Fielding stood under the covered pavilion and looked around the outdoor common area. “This place is pretty cool. I can’t believe it’s so close to home and I never knew about it.”
Tori walked over to the picnic table where Fielding was leaning and hoisted herself onto the tabletop. She let out an involuntary yawn. It was only mid-afternoon, but she was on day three of no caffeine because of her egg retrieval. In retrospect, she should have tried to cut back on the caffeine over the last few weeks instead of going cold turkey on Monday, but it was too late for ideas like that now.
“I know. It’s even cooler when you’re a kid. It’s like its own little secret world, a true sanctuary. I used to pretend this place was halfway around the world instead of just twenty minutes down the road.”
“How many years did you come here as a kid?” Fielding asked as he sat down and straddled the bench seat of the picnic table, peering up at her with his Caribbean blue eyes. She would have accused him of wearing colored contacts if Dempsey’s weren’t the exact same shade of lapis blue.
“I came for a week the first summer after my mom died. I came for the full two weeks the next year, then they let me come back four more years as a camper after that. I got to be a junior counselor for a few years before I aged out of the program. This summer will be my sixth year volunteering as a counselor.”
Fielding stayed quiet for a moment, staring at her with an intense, serious gaze. He assessed her for another few seconds before offering a small smile.
“Ya know, Victoria Thompson, sometimes I think I want to be you when I grow up. It’s awesome that you still want to try to help kids who are dealing with what you had to go through after all these years. They’re really lucky to have you.”
Tori shied at his praise, but she knew his comment was genuine. For as often as he teased her, Fielding could be surprisingly sincere when he wanted to be. He never held back from sharing what was on his mind.
“I’m really lucky they kept letting me come back year after year. I have our volunteer coordinator Maggie thank for that, really. Most kids just come for a year or two. But since I’m local, they made exceptions for me, and Maggie always reached out to let me know when it was time to register in case my dad missed the sign-ups.”
“So it wasn’t like sleepaway camp where you see the same kids each summer?” he asked, propping his head on his hand as he continued to gaze up at her.
“No, not at all. It’s uncommon for anyone to come back more than a few summers in a row.”
“That’s kind of sad, isn’t it? It’s not like you’d just get over losing a parent after one week of tie-dying and a few rounds of Capture the Flag.”
Tori reached out to swat at him for the crass joke. She knew he wasn’t serious with his shallow assessment of what Camp New Hope was all about, but she wasn’t going to let that slide.
“Don’t even think about it!” he exclaimed as he trapped her hand against his chest. She was fast, but his reflexes were faster, so she’d didn’t get to shove him in the shoulder as intended. He gripped her hand against his chest and gave her a pointed look, his eyes threatening to retaliate and turn the tables on her.
“Okay, okay, truce!” she promised as she pulled out of his grasp.
“I have a theory about why most kids don’t come back to Camp New Home, actually.” He nodded once to indicate he was listening. “I think grief is especially hard for preteens because they’re still trying to figure out who they are. It’s not that kids get over their grief after coming here for one or two years. It’s that they don’t prioritize their own mental health once they become teenagers. They’re too concerned with hanging out with their friends or maintaining their social media to go off the grid and come to a place like this. Nowadays, we almost never see new campers over the age of twelve, even though the program is open to anyone ages eight to eighteen. I have this dream. Well, I guess it’s not really a dream, because I don’t know how the hell I’d ever make it happen, but I wish there was a way to make this camp more accessible and more attractive to older teens. Like, maybe separate out the age groups more, or offer different programming for the older campers.”
“So you want to be the founder of Camp Old Hope?”
She groaned at his lame joke. “You’re such an ass.”
“You know I’m just teasing you. But now I’ve gotta double down on my earlier statement. You’re amazing, and I want to be you when I grow up.”
She smiled at his compliment but let the conversation fizzle. She really was tired, and they still had to get everything locked up in the supply shed before they could go home.
“Okay, let’s get this wrapped up before it rains,” she declared as she hopped off the table and peered at the darkening sky. She reached for a stack of ten or so canvases and lifted them with ease. It wasn’t until she tried to hold them against her abdomen that she winced and set them back down.
“Hey, do you mind carrying all these for me?” she asked sheepishly as Fielding walked over and picked up a stack twice the size of the pile she had just set down.
“Oh, I see how it is. You just brought me along to be the muscle.”
“Ha-ha,” she mocked. “You know I never ask for help. But I started giving myself injections a few days ago because I’m freezing my eggs next week, and my whole stomach is already bloated and tender.”
Fielding’s expression shifted from playful to horrified in under than a second. “Shit. I totally forgot about that. Yeah, of course. You should have reminded me earlier…”
“Chill,” she said, cutting him off before he could continue his pity party. “It’s not that big of a deal, but I’ve never done anything like this before, and I had to stab myself four times the first night before I figured out what I was doing.”
“Tori…” The sympathy in his voice was warning enough for her not to look into his eyes. She started walking over to the storage shed, knowing he would follow.
“Please don’t,” she requested over her shoulder once she had a bit of distance from him, not wanting his compassion to trigger her own self-pity. The fertility preservation process was foreign and confusing and stressful; it already had her on edge. To have to do it alone made everything feel ten times harder. She couldn’t let herself dwell on the fact that Rhett hadn’t been home to go to the initial appointment with her or to help her with the first injections. She would start to spiral if she let herself feel sorry for her own circumstances.
But Fielding wouldn’t leave it alone. “I know you have Jake… and your dad and Lia… but if you need anything, I want to be there for you. Seriously, Tori. If you need someone to take you to an appointment or to help with the injections, you have to promise to call me.”
“You’d actually come over and stab me in the stomach?” she challenged as she unlocked the padlock on the shed.
