“Nothing.” With the exception of Jeannie, my corporate soul mate, these are not my people.
They never were.
“Still waiting to hear your offer,” Matt says. “I said I’d rather not come off as a dick, but I’m willing to take my chances if it means I make partner.”
Instead of anger, I feel only pity for Matt. “I think I can help.” I draw a deep breath and make the most important pitch of Cricket’s life.
The final day of camp is always tinged with sadness, but today is next level. The gloomy stretch of gray across the sky only adds to the malaise. The one upside is that Patrick will be gone along with everybody else. I won’t be alone afterward though. The children arrive the day after tomorrow, and Adam will stay behind with Chewy to work as a camp counselor for the remaining weeks. He’s great with kids and they all love the dog.
I cancel the morning’s outside activities due to the light drizzle that started during my sunless yoga session at dawn. Esther manages to corral a group of us into the arts and crafts cabin for a final push to complete her Etsy order.
“Yours is bent,” Esther says. “You need to straighten it.”
Angela gives my crooked creation a casual glance. “Some women prefer them like that.”
I drop my penis plushie in despair. “I don’t have the spoons to start over.”
Gloria looks up from her mess of yarn. “Why do I think we’re talking about more than crocheted cocks?”
Tears prick my eyes. No, please. No crying in front of everyone.
Gloria reaches over and pats my hand. “The last day is always emotional.”
Sniffing, I nod. Wendy presses a tissue into my palm. “Do we have permission to dunk Patrick in the lake before we leave?”
“She isn’t crying about Patrick,” Laura says.
“I’m not crying at all.” I scrape back my chair. “I’m going to start prepping for the closing remarks.”
“Good timing,” Esther says, “because we’re officially done with Project Penis Plushie.” She angles her head toward Wendy. “That’ll be the last one.”
A collective cheer punctuates her statement.
Wendy pats her plushie. “Then I’ll make this one extra special. Maybe add a little pink bow.”
“Or googly eyes,” Angela suggests.
Gloria looks at me. “Want a hand with prep?”
“No, stay and enjoy. This is your last hurrah.” Soon Gloria will be back in the tractor beam of her mother’s orbit in Harrisburg. I don’t envy her.
I relocate the closing remarks indoors to the cafeteria. As I zip back and forth across the campsite, my gaze keeps flitting to the parking lot, half expecting a black douchemobile to screech to a stop. But there’s no luxury vehicle in sight, only a sea of moderately priced used cars and trucks.
A sigh punctures my lungs. I miss the douchemobile.
Even worse, I miss the douche who owns it.
Outside my office, fingers snap next to my ear. “Earth to Cricket.”
I blink away my visions of Charlie and try to focus. “Sorry, what?”
“I’m taking off,” Patrick says. “I wanted to say goodbye.”
I’d mostly managed to avoid him the past couple days aside from a few minor interactions. Despite his initial bravado when I told him about Charlie, he seemed to respect my wishes. Maybe therapy was working for him after all.
“Safe travels,” I tell him, because I have no idea what else to say to him at this point.
He makes no move to leave. “I know it’s entirely my fault, but I will always regret that I was too late.”
