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“I know,” he replied. “But we keep trying anyway. Who knows why? Maybe it’s the same reason they played music on the Titanic at the end. You have to feel like you’re holding onto something amidst all the chaos. For me, that’s trying to get kids to recapture something that I think society is losing. For you, that might be continuing to apply for jobs to keep your eye on the light at the end of the tunnel. I dunno, I just met you.” Colin shrugged.
June thought for a moment. She loved that Colin didn’t try to give her any sympathy or false praise. He didn’t know her background, her experience, her education, so anything he said would have been flattery. He just said how it was - and it was shit at the moment.
“Thanks,” she finally said. “I appreciate your honesty.”
“See? People eventually come around to my cynical optimism,” he grinned at her, and June’s warm admiration was joined by a rumble of lust that coursed through her. Abruptly, she was remembering the way his lips felt against her own, how his hands had roamed her body and settled on her hips. June’s face grew heated, and she knew her skin was revealing her thoughts. Colin, to his credit, ignored the tinge she knew was spreading across her face. “Are you hungry?”
“God yes,” June said, grateful for the change in conversation. Colin reached to his side and handed June the small cardboard box she had seen him walk on the dock with. “I had Cara, our food coordinator, put you together a quick snack pack when we didn’t see you at lunch.” June opened the box to see a sandwich, an apple, and a cookie. A simple lunch, but, to June, it could have been a five star dinner.
“I didn’t know if you were allergic to peanuts, so I had her make it with sun butter,” Colin added softly. Such a painless little gesture, a detail that June would have thought of with any of her students, but it felt so different to be taken care of in this manner. To have someone consider the small things that they didn't know about you yet, and err on the side of caution and comfort.
“Thanks,” she said softly, picking up the sandwich and unwrapping the saran wrap. She took a bite and chewed while Colin sat next to her, pointing out different features of the camp and the plans he had for the grounds.
“The dining hall is new, thank goodness,” he said, “But the cabins will need to be renovated in the next couple of years, which means we’ll need to do another fundraising campaign. The trails are maintained nicely by a group of retired men who used to camp here when it was a boys-only camp. I spent the early parts of the shutdowns working on rebuilding the campfire rings, so those are good for a few more years or a few more bad snow winters.” June was grateful for the distraction as she finished her sandwich and started on her apple.
“I’m on the fence about whether I want to keep the archery field,” Colin continued. “I’m happy the old director got rid of the BB guns, because the last thing I wanted to do was to encourage gun culture here at camp, especially in this state, but there’s something that feels less harmless about archery? It’s cool to see kids build confidence there, and also to see little boys pretend to be Katniss and girls pretend to be Hawkeye, but it’s still a weapon, y’know?”
June finished her lunch and placed all the trash back in the box and folded it up neatly. “Thank you,” she said, interrupting Colin’s monologue. “For lunch. And for talking with me. And distracting me.”
“Trust me, you’re the one who’s distracting me,” Colin said. “When I didn’t see you at lunch, I was worried.” Now it was his turn to look a bit awkward, his hands fidgeting in the pockets of his joggers, his fingers moving and toying with the fabric. “You’re easy to spot and I was looking forward to seeing you again.”
“That’s really sweet,” June said, smiling.
“Anyway,” Colin said, swiping a hair out of his face that had fallen out of his bun. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” June nodded eagerly. “Can you meet me at my house at 6?”
“I don’t know where that is,” June said. Colin pointed across the lake to his left, where June could just make out a wooden structure through the trees. “You live there?!”
“Yeah, it’s a pretty sweet perk of the job,” he admitted. “Anyway, I have something planned for us, if you’re okay to stay on camp property tonight. We could also head out to dinner if you’d like.”
“Staying here is fine,” June said. “Do I need to bring anything? I can head into town and grab something if you need?” She pulled her knees up to her chest and flexed her feet, then slipped her socks and boots back on and prepared to finally leave the dock.
“I’m good, but thank you,” Colin replied. “I have to head back to the office and work on some stuff and I have a few calls this afternoon.”
“What kind of things do you do all day?’ June asked, getting herself up, straightening and flexing her stiff joints.They began to walk down the dock together towards camp.
“Well, for example, this afternoon I need to work on the budget for this year’s summer camp now that I have revised figures from the board for donations. Along with that, I have to start ordering supplies for summer - the biggest expenditure is food, because damn, can kids eat - and I have a video interview with an international counselor applicant this afternoon.”
“That’s a lot,” June said, annoyed that she couldn’t find a better series of words to convey how impressed she was.
“It’s the type of job that I feel like I never get bored of, because there's always something else I can be learning or should be doing,” Colin said. They stepped off the dock and paused, June looking towards the teacher cabin and Colin looking towards his office attached to the dining hall.
“I used to feel that way about teaching,” June said wistfully. “Like, the fact that every day was a new adventure was exhilarating when I was young, but now I want to sell out to corporate America and just have a boring job that pays the bills. How pathetic is that?”
“Not pathetic, just a reflection of changing priorities,” Colin gently corrected, causing June to roll her eyes and laugh. “Also, you’re not old.”
“You don’t even know how old I am.”
“Let me guess.”
“Go for it.”
“31?”
“Ha! 34! Practically mid-thirties. I’ve been teaching for a decade - a decade!” June shook her head, causing curls to go flying in a few directions.
“Not old,” Colin said, smiling.
“And you are?” June mentally prepared herself to guess. Once she hit 30, she had taken to assuming that everyone she met was the same age as her, in the way that the ages between 26 and 48 collapsed into the general category of “adult”.
