“And also with you,” they respond.
I hop down from the bench and bite into the chocolatey goodness. Bernie doesn’t disappoint. If I had the money to give her a raise, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
I hug each camper goodbye, except those who like fist bumps. There’s a certain comfort in knowing their preferences. I expect Olivia to be too cool for a hug, but she surprises me with a tight embrace. “Thank you.” Her voice is muffled against my sleeve.
“You’re very welcome.”
Ben extracts her from my arms. “Try to offer Charlie a little grace,” he says. “Remember, our flaws are what make us human.”
“That’s why our robot overlords will have the advantage,” Hunter adds.
“But if humans program the robots, then the robots won’t be perfect either,” Bradley counters.
Laura releases an existential sigh. “Not this argument again. Save it for the group chat, guys. Ben is trying to dispense wisdom.”
The wise old man gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “We’re all just trying to make it home in the least painful way possible.”
“Home?” Hunter nods in the direction of my house. “She is home.”
Bradley elbows him. “He means death, genius.”
I fold into Ben’s arms. “See you next year?” I can’t bring myself to mention that next year might not happen.
Ben gives my back a gentle pat. “Wild penile purple ponies wouldn’t keep me away.”
Chapter Twenty
It doesn’t take long for the misery to seep in. None of the usual distractions seem to work. The life I’d built B.C., Before Cricket, now feels hollow and pointless. And it has nothing to do with Matt becoming partner. He’s the right choice, if only because he’s willing to cross lines I wouldn’t. If that’s the kind of person the firm wants—the kind of example they want to set for the associates and staff—then I don’t belong in that seat.
I don’t belong at that firm.
Which is why I tender my resignation.
I’m an idiot for taking so long to figure it out. Cricket got there ahead of me. It should come as no surprise since she was ahead of me from the start.
I gird my loins and avoid all thoughts of Cricket. It isn’t easy. The simplest things remind me of her—the ribbons of gold at sunset. The chirping of birds during a hike in Wissahickon Park.
I haven’t told my parents because I know how they’ll respond, and I’m not interested in their unsolicited opinions. My brother and sister have been too busy with their own lives to check in with me, despite my efforts to reach out. It takes a bit of soul-searching, but I realize that’s how it’s always been. Their pursuits of excellence leave room for little else. It’s surprising to me that they’ve managed to sustain relationships. I wonder if their respective partners will become resentful of the time devoted to external validation, assuming they haven’t already.
My parents host their fortieth anniversary party in the backyard of my childhood home. It’s a massive property with all the trappings of a privileged life. One sweeping glance at the glittering guests surrounding the waterfall pool and I long to be somewhere else. A place I feel lighter and more like myself. I know such a place exists because I spent two weeks there and wish like hell I could go back.
I miss camp, and I miss the woman who owns it even more.
“Charlie, I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Hi, Mom. Wouldn’t miss it.” I give her a kiss on the cheek and am engulfed in the scent of Libre.
“Have you seen your father?”
“Not yet.”
“The caterer says there’s a potential storm coming later, so we may have to relocate inside in a couple hours.”
I glance up at the clear blue sky. “I bet we make it through dinner without a problem.”
Her eyebrows pinch together as she looks me up and down. “You’re not wearing a suit.”
“No, I’m not,” is all I say. I don’t owe her an explanation. I’m a grown man and I’ll wear what feels comfortable.
