Chapter 26 - The first night away
Camp Orion began in July.
Silas packed his own bag.
Not garbage bags.
One duffel.
Sleeping bag.
Flashlight.
Clothes.
Red? The old truck no longer important. He brought Astro.
I looked.
“Seriously?”
“He’s space.”
Fair.
Millicent did not pack.
Did not reorganize.
Did not call the camp.
Did not ask for access.
She gave Silas a postcard and said:
“If you want to write.”
He did not.
Children are ungrateful.
At drop-off, Silas hugged me longer than usual.
“Five days?”
“Five.”
“You’re coming Friday?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
Then:
“What if—”
“I know.”
He smiled.
“You’ll answer.”
“Yes.”
At 10:14 that night, camp called.
My heart stopped.
Counselor.
“Silas is okay. He asked if he could speak with you.”
I took the call.
“Dad.”
“Hey.”
“I want home.”
There it was.
The sentence that had triggered broken toys.
A secret residential plan.
Three years of therapy.
I sat on my bed.
“Tell me why.”
“I miss you.”
“Anything bad happen?”
“No.”
“Anyone hurt you?”
“No.”
“Are you scared?”
“A little.”
“Of what?”
“Sleeping here.”
I breathed.
“Do you want me to come now, or do you want to try one night and decide tomorrow?”
Long silence.
“Can I call in morning?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
He stayed.
The next morning he did not call.
At noon, the camp sent the permitted parent update:
Silas participated in telescope lab.
At 7 p.m.:
Rocket launch successful.
Friday, I arrived.
Silas ran toward me.
“DAD!”
I lifted him.
Nine now.
Heavy.
He laughed.
“I stayed.”
“I know.”
“I wanted home.”
“I know.”
“But nobody broke anything.”
My chest tightened.
“No.”
He pulled away.
“Can I come next year?”
May you like
“Yes.”
That was the ending beginning before the ending.
