I went to therapy too,” Baxter said, after we’d both finished our hot dogs in comfortable quiet. His words broke through the sounds of crickets and the distant laughter coming from the pool. “I was acting out a lot in elementary school. Knocking over chairs and yelling at other kids for no reason.”
I couldn’t picture perpetually-calm Bax yelling at anyone, let alone being violent. “Not you.”
“Oh, definitely me. It was hard to be a little boy without a dad. My mom tried her best, but she couldn’t be both parents at the same time, and I think I was still struggling with my dad’s leaving.”
“Well, it must have worked,” I said.
He laughed softly. “Hard work. I drew a lot of pictures of my family and role-played with a lot of stuffed animals. And I eventually learned how to control myself and my feelings. I think that’s partly why I do this job. You have to be in control of yourself to help others take on new challenges.”
I mulled over what he said. Was I in control of myself? “Are you trying to say I need to be in control of myself to talk to my parents?”
Bax gazed at me, the flames making shadows on his face, highlighting his strong jaw and turning his hair to gold. “I don’t know that I was talking about you specifically, but I think it could apply to your situation.”
I opened my mouth to talk, closed it, and opened it again. “I want to go home. I miss my own bed. I miss my best friend. I miss my old high school. I miss my life, as uncomfortable as it is. I feel like my whole life has been on pause for the last year and, just when I was about to press play again, I fast forwarded to some weird alternative universe I don’t recognize.”
“Tell me about home. The parts you miss.”
No one had ever asked me that before. Not Hannah. Not Uncle Ed or Aunt Greta. Not the girls at Blue Valley who looked at me curiously and wondered why I was suddenly at school with them. “My best friend Tatum and I like to have dance parties. We close my bedroom door and turn on terrible old disco music and sing into our hairbrushes like they’re microphones.”
“My mom does that in the kitchen, except she sings obnoxious country music into a wooden spoon,” Bax said with a grin.
“I like your mom.”
“I do too.”
“And I love trivia and collecting facts. I was on the Quiz Bowl team and did spelling bees and geography bees my whole life. The teachers and coaches were always kind and encouraging to me. I collect words too, but you already know that.” I held up the quote journal that had been resting in my lap. “I guess that makes me a bit of a nerd.”
“Hey, I’m a nerd too. Nothing wrong with that.”
“You graduated really early, right?”
“Yep. That came out of my therapy, I think. I got really involved in school, realized I was good at it, skipped a grade, and voila. Working full time has allowed me to save a lot of money. If I ever decide I want to go to college.”
I resisted raising my eyebrows. “That’s kind of a given for me.”
“Do you want to go?”
I’d never really thought about it, but it was something I’d always assumed I would do. At any rate, I definitely looked forward to being out on my own. This summer had proven to me I could survive, even if my dad wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, I think I do. I have no idea what I want to major in or do with my life, though.” I laughed. “Mr. Allen suggested I go into tourism.”
Baxter nodded. “The retreaters seem happy with your plans. Were you happy making them?”
“Yeah. I was.” I’d had a purpose, making those plans. There wasn’t anyone pressuring me to win an award or be the best. I’d done it solely to make someone else feel good. Which made me feel good.
He nodded again. “Do what makes you happy.”
I smiled. “My best friend says that a lot.”
“One hand in front of the other,” Baxter said. It was hard to believe the first time he’d said that to me, on the zipline when I was so awkward and embarrassed, was just a few weeks ago. We’d come a long way since then. I’d come a long way.
We were both quiet for a moment, lost in thought.
“What would you do if you had nothing else to do?” Baxter asked, breaking the silence. “Your perfect day?”
If someone had asked me before I got to Sweetwater, my answer would probably have involved something like going to a movie or maybe a trip to the salon for a fancy pedicure. Or, if money was no object, traveling—maybe to Paris to practice my French. But now? With the stars beginning to wink and a full moon rising overhead, I didn’t really want to be anywhere but right here.
“Actually, this is good.”
“Me too,” Bax agreed. “This is good.”
I was laying on my top bunk reading from the Bartlett’s when Hannah burst in, towel wrapped around her waist, still in her navy tank suit. A whistle dangled from her neck.
“Gosh, I missed that.” There was a smile in her voice.
I closed the book and sat up in bed. “Missed what?”
“Lifeguarding. It’s so fun. I love sitting in that chair and watching everyone splashing and doing handstands and playing Marco Polo.”
I snickered. “You like being in charge and having power.”
She shrugged her Hannah-shrug. “Maybe. I also like knowing that if something goes wrong, I can fix it. Unlike some people we used to know. What have you been up to? Shut up in here?”
I hesitated. “I had hot dogs with Baxter at the firepit.”
“Just the two of you?” She didn’t really sound surprised. Had she known he was going to ask me?
“Yes.” My face warmed, as if I was still sitting by the fire.
“Did you have fun?”
Fun wasn’t exactly the right word, but I’d definitely enjoyed myself. There was something about Baxter that calmed me. And made me talk. I liked how he never pushed and didn’t offer too much advice or force his opinions on me. “We talked about my parents. And home.”
“Did he convince you to talk to your dad yet?” Hannah’s voice took on a defensive edge.
Was she mad at me now? “I’m still thinking about it.” The idea of having a choice had been hovering over me since I left Baxter by the fire and returned to the cabin. Realistically, there was no reason not to shake things up, but in my heart? I wasn’t sure. The idea of letting the words I’d said in my head over and over actually come out and be heard by the person with all the power was scary. I was still sitting on the fence, looking over. Or the wall, I guessed.
“Do you think you’ll have a decision soon? I mean, you’re kind of stuck with me now and I would like to have my cousin around for holidays and stuff. I feel like your dad robbed me, you know?”
I smiled at her unexpectedly kind words. “I’d like that too, Hannah. That really means a lot.”
“I think my dad would probably like having his brother back too. I know he misses that relationship.”
I had no idea how my dad would feel about patching things up with Uncle Ed. I didn’t even know why they stopped talking. But I wanted to believe my dad missed his brother, even if he was too proud to say so. “I’ll add it to the list of things to bring up.” If I ever brought them up. I knew my mom would be coming home soon. The clock was ticking. My time was limited. And I knew it was my decision to say something or not.
“Here’s the part I don’t get,” Hannah said abruptly. “Why aren’t you angry? Your dad has totally laid out your life for you, stomped on your preferences and choices, and trained you to think he’s right.” The look on Hannah’s face said she was willing to be angry for the both of us if I wasn’t.
“Who said I’m not angry?”
“Well, you never say so. You never look like you’re angry. I see you look sad and disappointed, and sometimes wistful or even scared, but never angry.”
Years of cultivated suppression, I could’ve answered. Some by my father’s reaction to things I would do—towering over me after I brought home a B on a test, telling me to change my outfit, commenting on my choice of friends, boyfriends, school activities, etc. Some by me. My choice. Self-preservation.
Hannah charged ahead. “If it were me, I would be smashing things. I would be sending angry letters to my dad, telling him I refuse to be treated this way.”
“You have to feel brave to do stuff like that, like your effort would matter,” I said. “Other than talking to Mr. Allen this week, I’ve never felt brave.” Despite what Baxter said, I couldn’t believe it about myself. Not yet.
“That’s crap. You are brave. You took charge of the off-campus tours here. That was brave. You collected evidence on Deb and presented it to Mr. Allen. That was brave. You told Marcus to take a hike. That was brave. Don’t tell me you’re not brave.”
“It’s a lot harder to stand up to the person who taught you to keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told. Not everything is black and white. Most things are more complicated and gray. At least for me.” I tried to think of an example that would make sense to my emboldened cousin. “Do you know the term learned helplessness?” She shook her head. “We talked about it in psychology class last year. It’s the idea that when you are constantly shut down and told, or shown, that you can’t or shouldn’t do something, you learn and begin to believe that you can’t do it. When in fact, you can. There was a famous experiment that used dogs and electric shocks. The dogs became conditioned to think they couldn’t get away from the shocks. So they just laid down and accepted them. Even though they were in pain.”
Anger clouded Hannah’s face. “That’s horrible. Inhumane.”
I nodded. “A lot of older experiments would never be performed today. But the point is, we adapt to our environment, and if part of your environment is teaching you to lay down and take it, many times you do. Why do you think victims of abuse frequently don’t leave? It’s hard to believe in yourself when someone is constantly telling you that you’re nothing.”
Hannah got quiet before speaking again. “Would you call what your dad does abuse?”
“I don’t know. Emotional abuse maybe.” I’d looked up the definition once. A lot of what my dad had said over the years fit, but it was hard to admit it. “He’s manipulative, that’s for sure. But you’re wrong. I am angry. I am filled with white-hot rage a lot of the time. I’ve just learned from a lifetime of being in my family, from being me, and from observing his interactions with my mother, that he wins no matter what.” My shoulders sagged with the burden of the pain. “I learned that I have a choice. I made the choice to be quiet and bide my time.” I looked down at my hands in my lap. “It’s hard. Knowing exactly what you are and hating it. When I read about learned helplessness, saw the pictures of those dogs, it hit me as hard as if someone had punched me in the stomach. They were me.”
Hannah eyed me. “But?”
I sighed. “But what?”
“But I don’t think you can stay quiet anymore. And you know it too. You’re not that helpless dog now. At some point, it has to hurt more than speaking up, doesn’t it? You want to go home. You want to be with Tatum. You want to be with your mom. And really, what say does your dad have in any of this right now? He’s in freaking prison. He can’t physically stop you from moving back into your house. He can’t unenroll you from your high school. This sounds like the perfect opportunity for you and your mom to empower each other.” She paused and inspected my face. “Right?”
It sounded so good. I wanted this picture Hannah was painting to be my life. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m ready to say something.” Maybe.
Hannah put her arms around me and hugged me tight. “I’m gonna quote you on that.”
I put my head on her shoulder, like I’d done with Tatum so many times. “Okay.”