After we sit at the table and start to eat, Mrs. Sandy begins to speak. “So, this year, Will and I thought we’d do something a little different.” Once she sees that she has caught our attention, she continues. “This year we will be pairing Liam, Sarah, Jackie, and Kenleigh up to work with specific kids. The rest of y’all will be working with groups just like last summer. We’ve already assigned everybody. I only have one question, and that is how do y’all feel about this?”
It’s quiet for a few minutes while we all ponder the idea. I lay down my fork and lean back in my chair. “Personally, I think it’s a great idea. It gives us more one on one time with the kids. Will we be changing kids every day?” I ask.
“No. The child that you’re paired with will be with you for the duration of the camp. Listen, Will and I thought long and hard about this. We really believe this is a great idea for all of you. These kids are all special, and I think you can learn just as much from them as they can from you,” Mrs. Sandy answers as she looks at each of us. This is something she is certain of and really cares about.
“Who do I have?” I ask with a smile. I know everyone else thinks this is a good idea, too. The thought is just a little intimidating since we’re used to working with a group of kids.
“Okay, so, Kenleigh, you have Bailey. She’s a twelve-year-old girl who lost her seventeen-year-old brother in a car accident six months ago. They were very close, and her parents tell me her depression has gotten worse over the past couple of months. They’re hoping that this will help her return to her normal self.”
I feel all of the blood drain from my face. The loud thudding in my ears drowns out all the sounds from everyone else. My heart stampedes like a herd of buffalo on the move. It’s as if I have been transported back in time. Back to the summer vacation home that we had in Conroe. Back to the fire. Back to the night that I watched my parents die. Black spots begin to cloud my vision. I want to scream, but I can’t breathe. The smell of burnt wood assaults me. I know this isn’t real. Horrid visions from that night hold me hostage. The insufferable pain that I felt years ago tears at my soul all over again. I do not want to feel the deep aching pain of being alone again. Acutely aware, I can feel myself moving. To where, I don’t know. “Kenleigh… what… hear… me…”
It’s a man’s voice. Wes, I think. My head turns from side to side, as I try to make sense of what he’s saying, but the memories of my screams from that fateful night continue to drown him out. “Breathe… Listen to my voice… Breathe…. Come back to me, Kenleigh.”
The whispers help me slowly return to the present. I’m no longer in the kitchen. I’m lying down in my bed with Wes hunched over me. “Breathe, Kenleigh; breathe. I’m here. I’m here for you. Just breathe,” he whispers softly in my ear. I smell the wonderful scent of his cologne, and my heart gradually starts to return to its normal pace.
“What happened?” I whisper, as I take comfort in his gentleness.
He pulls back and cages me in with his hands next to my head. Wes’ eyes search my face and his worried look makes me feel awful. “I could ask you the same thing,” he replies softly. “All of a sudden, you became really pale and looked like you were about to pass out. It scared the shit out of all of us. Just before you fell out of your chair and hit the floor, I caught you and brought you up here.”
I turn away from him as my face heats with embarrassment. Of all the times for this to happen, it had to happen not only in front of Wes, but in front of everyone else, too. All too soon, I feel his fingers under my chin as he forces me to look at him. “Are you okay?”
I cringe as I recall what just happened downstairs. “I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe that just happened in front of the volunteers, your mom, you,” I whisper while I cover my face with my hands to hide my chagrin. “They’re going to ask questions, and I don’t have any answers to give them.” Tears well up in my eyes as I roll over onto my side and turn away from Wes.
The bed dips and strong arms envelop me from behind. We lay like that for I don’t know how long. Wes just holds me, comforts me. He doesn’t push me to say talk. The death of my parents is not a memory I like to think about, let alone talk about. But I know, at the very least, that I owe him an explanation. People don’t almost pass out for no reason. I take a deep breath. My voice cracks and I have to swallow the ball of emotion lodged in my throat. “My parents died in a horrible house fire when I was twelve, and I had the unfortunate luck of having to watch it happen.” His arms squeeze me tighter to him as he inhales a sharp breath. “We were so close. We did everything together. My dad was my hero, and my mom was the one I turned to for everything. They were my best friends, and then, just like that, they were ripped away from me.” Warm tears glide effortlessly down my cheek, over my nose as they spill onto the pillow.