by Holly Bourne
“I went to Yosemite. With Kyle,” I yelled at her so loud, some children around us stopped pogoing. “Okay? It was my fault he wasn’t in his cabin last night. He met me, because I asked him to… Because I told him I was upset about something. So you can’t fire him. Promise me you won’t fire him! It’s all my fault. If you fire him, you have to fire me!”
Mum’s face jerked back.
“You went away with Kyle?”
I nodded, frantic. “Yes. Nothing happened. Just as friends.”
Though we weren’t just friends now. So much more than friends.
“And you expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t expect you to do anything. Other than NOT FIRE HIM, because last night was all my fault.”
I yelled the last bit so loud I could be heard over the music.
A massive bumchin came into my line of vision. Kevin was at our side.
“Amber? Russ? What’s going on?” His voice was still all breezy but I could hear the authority under it. We are not allowed to yell at camp. We are not allowed to express anything other than Mickey Mouse Club personalities in front of the children.
But Kevin could help me.
I grabbed him instead. “Kevin! Kevin? You can’t fire Kyle. You can’t. Last night, it was all my idea. It was all my fault.”
Kevin and Mum shared a look. One I didn’t like.
Kevin’s arm was around me – all faux sympathetic, because his grip on my shoulder was vicelike.
“Let’s talk about this outside.” He weaved me through the dancing and staring children. Russ followed. He was shaking.
I kept up a constant stream of gibberish. “I told him to leave the cabin. I needed his help… It’s all my fault… Honestly, Kevin, you can’t fire him. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. You have to fire me, not him.”
Mum stormed ahead. I could tell just from the back of her head that she was gunning for a fight.
I would fight…if I had to… I couldn’t let Kyle leave.
The air outside was still sticky from the day’s heat with absolutely no breeze.
“You can’t fire him, you can’t fire him.”
“Shh, Amber, that’s not your decision. And you have to keep it down! The children will get upset.”
“No, Kevin. You don’t understand. It’s my fault.”
“Amber. He left vulnerable children, alone, in a cabin. Anything could’ve happened. We have to let him go, we have no choice.”
Maybe that was reasonable. It didn’t sound reasonable to me.
“But it’s my fault. I asked him to come!”
“But you’re not responsible for sleeping in with the kids, Amber. Kyle is. He let us down in regard to that responsibility.”
Mum stepped between us.
“And she’s been seeing him! Tell Kevin, tell him that you went to bloody Yosemite with him.” She sounded so much more British when she was angry.
“That’s not against the rules,” I sobbed. Because I was sobbing now. In utter disbelief that things could unravel so quickly. “Please, Kevin, please. It won’t happen again.”
Russ stood at my side, his mouth wide open. I guess it was all news to him – Yosemite, Kyle sneaking out to meet me. Maybe he couldn’t believe someone like Kyle would bother with someone like me. I used to not believe it either. But I did now. And I had to fight for him. No, I had to be with him… He could be leaving any second.
“You can’t do this,” I yelled into Mum’s face.
I turned and I fled.
I was so used to the route in the pitch black, that my feet guided me along the forest path.
It took only seconds to lose their voices behind me.
I had to get to the cabin before he left. I had to. I had to.
What was I going to do when I got there? I didn’t know. All I knew was that he couldn’t leave. I wasn’t ready for this – whatever it was – to finish. So I ran and ran and ran.
I bumped into trees, rocketed off stray branches and turned my ankle in my stupid disco shoes. When I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand it came back dripping. Yet I hobbled on, coughing up all sorts of crap from my lungs. So confused. So angry. So annoyed. Why did we fall asleep? Why did we even leave the kids in the first place? My fault, all my fault. Everything is always my fault. I touch things and they crumple into shit, like the opposite of King Midas and his gold finger. If I was in a fairy tale, I would be called “PooFinger”, and everyone would shun me and make me go live in some naff shack under a bridge, telling scary stories to all the children in the kingdom about the wench who turns everything to shit, just by touching it.
Running. More running. Why are forests so big?
Would I catch him? I couldn’t miss him.
And then I was in the clearing…and the cabin light was on. He was there!
But soon…soon he wouldn’t be.
“Kyle!”
I burst through the door, and there, there he was. He looked pale, even with his deep tan. He wasn’t wearing camp uniform – just a baby blue long-sleeved T-shirt tucked into some belted jeans. The formality of how he looked… no baseball cap, no rolled-up T-shirt sleeves and baggy shorts. It made it real. This awfulness was happening.
“Amber!” He dropped the T-shirt he was folding in shock.
I leaned over on myself, huge ragged breaths heaving out of me.
“Amber? Are you okay?”
I held my hand up as I hacked up another cough.
“Just. A. Second. Ran. Here. From. The. Rec. Hall.”
Three deep breaths and I was ready to look up. He was totally shell-shocked. My eyes went from him, beautiful gorgeous him, to the suitcase on his bed. It was packed so immaculately – everything folded neatly, all the corners of his clothes folded with sharp creases. It was so Kyle…so him…
I started crying and Kyle was right at my side.
“Hey, oh no, Amber, don’t cry. It’s going to be okay.”
“They fired you,” I wailed.
“They did. But it’ll be okay. Kevin said if I leave quietly, he won’t tell anyone. I’ll still get a reference.”
“They can’t fire you.”
He hugged me like I was a scared child. “Amber, they can. I left the children overnight. It was so stupid. And it’s so illegal. What if something had happened? Like, if someone had come in? Or if there’d been a fire? They so have to fire me!”
“It’s all my fault.” I heaved another sob.
He cupped my face in his hands, not minding that snot and tears were rolling down onto them.
“Look, neither of us were thinking straight. It was stupid. Last night was so so stupid.”
He regretted it. He wished it had never happened… My heart – already a ball of dust – re-exploded…
Kyle hadn’t finished talking.
“But I wouldn’t change last night for anything. Amber…Amber? I can’t believe I’m leaving you.” He looked like he was going to cry too. We just stared into each other’s eyes, each in utter disbelief about the horror of the situation.
“When do you have to leave?”
“Within an hour.”
He let go of my face and drop-kicked a T-shirt across the floor. “Within a fucking hour.”
That was nothing. An hour was nothing.
I knew, when it started, we had no time. But this was too much no time.
I couldn’t. No. Not just an hour.
He was back in my arms, hugging me, kissing the tears off my face. I didn’t know I could feel pain like this, over someone I hardly knew. But all of me ached, all of me was broken. I grabbed at him, kissing his lips. Not believing his lips wouldn’t be mine within an hour. That they’d be gone…for ever…unless…
“I could leave with you?”
The moment I said it, I knew that was what I had to do.
Kyle’s eyebrows drew up in shock. “What? Amber? You can’t leave with me.”
“I can. I’ve got money! They paid me for my camp hours before I
left the UK, just so America didn’t get all weird about me working here.”
“You can’t leave your mum.”
I nodded, realizing I could. I so could. There was the love in life you couldn’t choose. The love you just felt, that you couldn’t let go of, that tortured you and messed you up and made you sometimes too screwed up to let the other kind of love in. The other kind of love, was the love you did choose. The love you didn’t have to give, but you gave anyway. Since I’d met Evie and Lottie, I’d begun to learn I was capable of that love. That I had some left to give to them. And now, I realized, right in that moment, that I’d found a tiny bit left for Kyle too. I’d chosen to love him. And the great thing about the love you choose, is you don’t choose abusive alcoholic narcissists who leave you in fucking England, by yourself, without a fucking mother, without even an explanation or an apology.
“Kyle, why would I stay with her? You’ve seen her. There’s no point. There was no point in me coming here this summer…” As I said it, I knew it was true. My already-catatonic heart caved in from the pain of it. “But the reason why I’m here this summer has changed.” Could I say it? I hardly knew him, would it hurt if I said it? Yes, probably. But the girls had said, hadn’t they? It’s worth hurting if you’ve living, if you’re doing the right thing. And telling people you love that you love them is always the right thing. “You’ve changed everything, Kyle. I think… I think… You can’t not take me with you…because if you did you’d be leaving someone who might love you behind… Please don’t be someone else who l love who leaves me behind.”
He was quiet, and I thought: This is it. He’s going to freak out. He’s going to put his arms up and say “Woah, slow down, psycho lady. I don’t love you. I just touched you up on the pier and find your politics make for good conversation.”
Then Kyle drew me towards him and kissed me so deeply that it was like the roof of the cabin had collapsed so I could see the stars.
“I’m not going to leave you behind,” he said. “Come with me, Amber.”
I laughed into his mouth, with the sheer delight of it all.
“Where are you even going?”
We were hugging now, squeezing each other so hard that my ribs hurt.
“Back to Brown. My parents will flip when they find out I’ve lost my job. If I don’t sleep much, I can drive there in three or four days. It’s quiet on campus in summer, I’ll get a job in a coffee shop or something. Then when camp ends and they’re back from Florida, I’ll tell them what happened. They’ll go less crazy if I can say I’ve already got another job.”
“So you’re driving across the whole of America?”
He let go so he could cradle my face in his hands again.
“We’re driving across the whole of America.”
“America isn’t, like, big, or anything, is it?”
He proper laughed, and I did too. Despite everything, all the mess, this felt right.
“I have to go pack…” I said.
“You need to be quick. I promised Kevin I’d be gone by the time the dance is over.”
“I need to tell my mum…”
“You do,” he said quietly.
“She’s found out about Yosemite.”
“How did she take it?”
“She’s furious.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Amber. Remember that. Now, when you go tell her, remember that. Nothing between you is your fault, don’t let her trick you into thinking otherwise.”
Just those words, his words, confirmed I was doing the right thing. I kissed him again.
“Come on,” he said, between kisses. “We don’t have time.”
“Is this crazy?” I asked him. “I hardly know you. I don’t even know where Brown is. Are we totally and completely bonkers?”
Kyle kissed me again. Each kiss was newer, more urgent.
“I have no idea what ‘bonkers’ means, but yes. It is bonkers. And that’s why I trust it.”
“Isn’t that a line from Titanic?” I asked, laughing. So scared, but laughing. “What is it with you and overly dramatic love stories with camp soundtracks?”
“Amber, we need to go now.”
“I’ll bring this up again in the car.”
“I’ll make you listen to the Titanic soundtrack in the car.”
“Is it too late to back out?”
“Yes. Now go pack! I’ll meet you by my jeep in half an hour… And, Amber,” he called, just as I was halfway out the door.
“Yes?”
“Remember what I said. Don’t let her make you think it’s your fault.”
SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:
Finally saying how you feel
+
After several years
+
A person who refuses to accept blame
+
It being really important to you
+
Because they’re your mother
Twenty-nine
I could hear the disco music as I fled back through the woods. It reached out into the quietness of the forest, seeping into the silence, tainting the surroundings, making it feel like this beautiful wood was suddenly Butlins or something.
My mind raced with all the thoughts I needed to have at the same time. What do I pack? Should I leave a note for my mum? Or should I track her down and tell her at the dance? Was this illegal? How could I say goodbye to Whinnie? Could I leave her a note somehow? And the children, especially Calvin? But my head was also dancing with happiness, with excitement, with total pure joy. I was running away, with a boy I thought maybe I loved. It was destined to fall completely apart – I was sure of it – and yet I couldn’t wait. I really couldn’t wait.
The cabin was empty and I ran straight to my room, chucking all the contents of it into my suitcase. There was no time to fold anything. No time to think really. Just chuck chuck chuck. I sprinted to the bathroom and emptied my toiletries into a bag, and hunted about in the chest of drawers for my passport. I didn’t even know how I was going to get back to England. My return flight was from San Francisco. I knew I wouldn’t be taking it. Finally, carefully, I put my sketchpad and art supplies on top of all my stuff and zipped it up.
Mum was at the door.
“Amber?”
She stood in the threshold – her arms crossed tightly. The sheer anger in her voice unleashed something inside me, something that I’d been repressing for so long. It was my own rage, my own fermenting rage. And it was ready to have its say.
“Amber, what the hell are you doing?”
I picked up my bag.
“Leaving.”
“Don’t be ludicrous.”
“I’m not. I’m leaving with Kyle. Tonight. Now, in fact.”
“Stop being silly.”
“I’M NOT BEING SILLY. I’m leaving! Now.”
Mum’s eyes darted from my face to the bag and back to my face again. Her own face drew in on itself when she realized I wasn’t kidding.
“Amber, you can’t leave,” she said quietly but firmly. “You’re working here this summer. You’ve made an obligation.”
“And you’ve taught me that obligations mean shit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know precisely what it means.”
“You can’t leave with Kyle. I don’t trust that boy. I never have. He’s a bad influence.”
“ARGH!” I chucked my bag on the floor just to let some of my anger out. “He’s not,” I yelled. “He’s good. In fact he’s probably one of the best things that’s happened to me. Ever since you LEFT ME, Mum. Yes, you LEFT ME. All alone. Without my mother. My mother! It’s not like you DIED, but you may as well have. I never hear from you. I travel all the way out here to spend summer with you and you can’t even cancel a fucking shift at the centre. What about your obligation, Mum? To be my mother? Kyle doesn’t have to care for me, but he does. And I’d rather choose someone right now who chooses to care, than stay here with someone who
obviously doesn’t.”
Mum’s face was frozen.
“Amber, you can’t talk to me like that.”
“Why not?” I screamed. “Because you’re an addict? Because you’re a useless alcoholic? Kyle told me why you hate him, he told me what he saw. And what? It’s not his fault that he saw that. But you don’t blame yourself, do you? You blame everyone else. Everyone else has the problem. The world is against you. You poor, vulnerable addict you. How dare I be hurt by you abandoning me? HOW DARE I even try to talk to you about it, in case it makes YOU feel bad? Well what about me, Mum? What about how I feel? Have you EVER even considered it?”
Mum stepped forward. She wasn’t crying, but she looked like she might. “Of course I’ve considered it…”
“But you left me anyway. But you didn’t spend time with me this summer anyway. Because you’re the most important one.”
“Amber…I have a disease…”
The tears came with those words, but they were too late. And they weren’t for me anyway, they were for her. Her tears were always for her.
“So fucking what.” I shrugged, I actually shrugged. Because I was done with feeling sorry for her, I was done with making her excuses. “You can’t just go to AA and have Kevin tell you you have a disease and that makes what you’ve done okay.”
“Amber, come on. You can’t leave!”
“Don’t pretend you’ll even miss me. I’m leaving in a few weeks anyway. You probably weren’t planning to spend any time with me – I don’t fit into your perfect life over here. Your perfect life without your daughter. That is not someone who’s going to miss me. My own mum…” My tears came now, hot and angry. “…never even misses me. You swap me in for some patronizing git with a bum instead of a chin and dump me with Penny and Craig when you know what they’re like and you don’t even care, God forbid, because that might make you feel bad.”
Sobbing now. We were both sobbing. Me sobbing about her. Her sobbing for her. No one sobbing for me. All the things I’d never said, lying on the floor between us, bleeding out into the carpet.
I picked my bag off the floor, and pushed past her to the front door.
“AMBER?”
I turned round one last time. She’d sunk to the floor, her knees up to her chest, her hands over her ears, rocking back and forth.
