“When I was a kid, I journaled a lot. I always had notebooks uponnotebooks filled with my days and emotions. I wrote down the shit I couldn’t say to my mom or anyone else. Doing that made it feel like I had someone to talk to when I usually wouldn’t be caught dead talking about any of it. This box”—he held it gingerly in his hands, cradling it as if it would break at the slightest gust of air—“I’ve kept it with me. It holds a million memories. Some are of my mom, or Willow, or stupid shit from childhood. I also hid three out of the dozens of notebooks I wrote as a kid in here. One for each summer at Tiger Claw Camp. I stopped journaling after the third and final summer.”
He lifted each journal out of the box, along with a single folded rectangle of paper. I switched from looking at his face to looking at the notebooks as he placed them in order. They were all different colors and all equally as beat up as the last.
An oppressive, dark pressure started in my chest. It crawled around, positioning itself on each of my vital organs. Something thick and heavy, matching the energy of the spiral notebooks that sat in front of me. Crew’s life and truth sat there, written on those pages.
“You want me to read them?” I asked, unsure if I was worth the honor of knowing.
Crew nodded anyway, seemingly sure of his decision. “I want to share the darkest parts of me with you, Price. Where all this is hard and painful, you’re gentle and peaceful. I know I can trust you. You’ve shown me time after time that you’re worth the risk, no matter how scared I am.”
Something had changed in Crew. That much, I knew. I had noticed it a while ago, a rejoicing knowledge that maybe,just maybe,I could make him happy, and we could have a chance.
I had no idea just how much he’d begun to trust me. How much he’d started to enjoy our time together—not just when we were skin to skin, but enough that he wanted more from me. Enough to share what formed the chains I saw in his eyes.
Taking the first notebook, I nodded toward him with determination. “You’re worth it, too, Pretty Boy. Before I read these, I just want you to know that no matter what, I have always liked you. You’re the most important person to me, and nothing will change that.”
“I hope you mean that.” Crew stood up slowly. “I’ve never wanted anyone so much that I was willing to imagine a future with them. Withyou, I think that might be possible, and every bit of it is coated with something so sweet, I’m not sure it even exists. I can’t see punishment with you, and that doesn’t scare me as much as it used to.”
The pressure slowly lifted from my chest just as the fire inside of me began to mellow. For the first time tonight, I wasn’t fighting to keep myself from scratching. For the second time, hope was spreading through my bones, a sickly sweet and warm feeling that made me think everything would be okay.
Please, God, let everything be okay.
I reached over the table to place a hand on top of his. “I have never meant anything more.”
With that, Crew left to take a shower. He said he didn’t want to be around while I read the notebooks, and he refused to let me treat his wounds. He was exhausted and claimed they weren’t as bad as they looked. The only reason I let him go was because of the look on his face, and the obvious way he was leaning to the side, close to falling asleep on his feet.
With the night’s events being so chaotic, he’d forgotten to bring Pilly the pillow. He’d frowned when he realized that, but quickly waved it off, claiming he’d figure it out.
Before diving into the notebooks, I texted Willow to let her know Crew was with me and that he was okay. I told her not to reach out to him for now because he was pretty exhausted, which wasn’t a lie. She agreed, too relieved that he was safe to argue.
When I had nothing else to do except read what was laid out in front of me, I took everything over to the couch. With nothing but a lamp lighting my way, I turned the page, quickly realizing I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
June 2014
Things are getting hard for Mama. I knew that, of course. Don’t think I ever thought too hard on it, though. Mama says since I’m a real teenager now, I should be old enough to go away for a while. I didn’t know what she meant at first. It kinda made me worry I did something I wasn’t supposed to. I found out she meant summer camp! I’d be going away all through summer break, and Mama says it’s gonna be real fun with lots of other kids my age and lots of swimming and sports.
I’ve heard of summercamp before. Other kids at school go, and they talk about how fun it is, so I’m mighty excited. I hope we play games there.
Mama surprised me today by taking me to get my hair did just like hers. We turned it bleached blond. We match now! Mama said I look real handsome like this and I think so too.
I go to camp tomorrow and there ain’t no TV or nothing, so I thought I’d start a whole new notebook so I can write when I’m bored. A whole notebook just for summer camp.
Here we go!
The beginning seemed innocuous enough. An excited kid, ready to go to summer camp for the first time. Crew’s handwriting was neat even then, which made me smile. At the bottom of the page, he’d drawn what looked to be a lake and some trees with grass all around it.
The date meant he was about thirteen when he wrote this, dating it back to a decade ago. Seeing how southern he used to be, even in his writing, was refreshing. I know he said he lost the accent as he got older and with more time in the city, but I would’ve loved to hear him back then. The blond hair reminded me of something he’d said a while back about “needing to look how he did back then,” which had me on edge. I was already on edge, but knowing it held significance and being curious about it were two different things.
The next few entries were much of the same. Teenage Crew was in awe of the camp, writing about the kids he met and the counselors there. He raved about the games of basketball or volleyball they’d play outside and the big lake they all swam in.
His childish innocence had me thinking back on my own. The days before Dad succumbed to his addiction and our family was still whole.
There was one counselor in particular that Crew seemed to like—Mr. Thompson, he called him. Mr. Thompson praised Crew for everything he did. They spent a lot of time together and Crew described him as a nice, funny guy.
I thought it was great he had someone by his side. Someone who seemed to care about him. Until one of the entries had those thoughts coming to a screeching halt.
June 2014
I cried a lot today. I missed Mama and my bed and all the daisies in our yard. I couldn’t help it. Because I was so sad, I didn’t do so good during basketball, and that made me sadder. And then mad.
