15 going on 16, Between Two Minds
That summer I explored in confidence with head held high, where once I had plodded in silent trepidation, shy and wanting most of all to be invisible. That summer I was almost a completely different person than I had been two years before. And going back to that camp; it was a little like it must be for a butterfly to come back to a flower a few days after it emerges from its cocoon; and while it’s glorying in the sun with its new wings and tasting the sweet pollen it looks down upon a half-eaten leaf and remembers the spot. It remembers being a slow, timid caterpillar munching on that leaf and looking up wistfully at the pretty flower and the free open-spaces above it, but never dreaming it would someday achieve them. Well I’d grown my wings, and nothing could hold me back.
That summer was the summer of running carefree and barefoot across sunbaked pavement, lush green grounds, carpeted activity centers, and sandy shores. They called me Puma. It was the summer of the ghetto basketball, the dirty honey-if-you-love-me-please-smile, the search for just the right branch to roast marshmallows over the fire, the acrid smell of snake urine, the climbing of the great weeping willow tree, and the late night spin the bottle and a dare to go up into the attic and catch a cockroach with my bare hands. It was a shot of freedom and confidence. I called myself Terrez, a quirky spelling of my middle name that at times I felt suited me better than my first. There was no one to know any different; I could be whoever I wanted. There was no one to know what to expect; I could be whatever I wanted.
That summer, however, would have only been a fun memory, with not much substantially good about it if it hadn’t been for a certain young man—a boy who hadn’t yet grown his wings—and for me remembering what it was like before I’d grown mine.
I am Isaac. It was the 1st day of camp and somehow I mustered up the courage to leave my room and the stability of the adults and venture into the activities set up for teens. I was mortified of the thought of having to interact with them, but I figured as long as I kept to myself and didn’t say anything that could be replied to or move unless absolutely necessary I’d survive. (But before I take another step let me take a moment to explain to you where I am and why I am here to begin with. My family is part of a missions organization called Christar, with workers helping people all across the globe. They plan a retreat/meeting for their workers every summer, usually one in each country or continent. The North America retreat is held in New Jersey at a place called Keswick. This is where my family and I had driven down to from Canada to spend a week of our summer.) I wasn’t in the main room—where they gather us all together for the morning program—but a few minutes before a bold, brown-skinned girl approached me and asked cheerfully, “Are you with Christar?”
“yes”, I managed affirmatively.
She brightened and said, “Me too! There aren’t very many of us here…”
I gave something of a nod and avoided her bright gaze. To my relief the teen leaders got everyone’s attention and began the day’s activities. After some preliminary get-to-know-you games, worship songs, and devotionals they announced that we’d be going outside and playing a game of link tag. Oh good! Running and the outdoors, both things I enjoy. Wait. Everyone has to have a partner? All of a sudden I hated the idea. This was always so awkward, no one would join up with me and I’d either be the only one on my own or with the other person that nobody wanted to join up with. As these dismal thoughts crossed my mind that same girl caught my eye and shot me a cheerful smile, I was a bit stunned, I didn’t know what to do, but before I could do or say anything she was by my side and had claimed me as hers. The game itself went by in a blur, with myself changing hands/partners several times and even having to try and chase her down once, I say try because no one who tried to catch her that day could, her bare feet barely touched the ground as she ran. Afterwards, she walked companionably beside me as we went back inside.
After that first day at camp and seeing Isaac for the first time, so quiet and withdrawn from everyone; I understood immediately and completely where he was coming from. I also knew I wasn’t going to give him the lonely peace he wanted to have. I’d been in the exact same place and felt the exact same way not so very long ago. It was the feeling of overwhelming uncertainty and seclusion on account of not understanding the people around you and not knowing how you are supposed to interact with them. It comes from being uprooted and taken out of everything you knew and are comfortable in, out of a culture you loved and were confident and accepted in; and into a new country and a different culture in which you feel utterly lost. You can hardly understand how and why the people act the way they do let alone start figuring out how you ought to act and talk yourself to be accepted by them.
“Hey!” I called after him as he started to mount the stairs to his room. He paused a few steps up and I leaned on the banister at the base of the stairway and asked him, “What are you up to? You wanna hang with us this afternoon? We’re probably gonna go to the lake or explore some of the trails…”
“Well…I…I’m busy with my family this afternoon, sorry, have fun.” He replied awkwardly.
“Kay, well, see ya later.”
I sighed as I watched him disappear up the stairs not to be seen until supper. Almost every afternoon and evening I’d ask him what he was doing and invite him to join us on our adventures: basketball, canoeing and swimming on the lake, sand volleyball, a search for the ‘secret’ bridge that leads to the island, cards in the lounge, bonfires on the lakefront, and all the other random fun we filled our days with. Most of the time it was no use, he would come up with some excuse then bury himself in his room and read, but I persisted. I was on a mission. In the meetings and the group activities I was almost always companionably by his side and it seemed he warmed to me a little more every day and with each friendly gesture he emerged a smidgen more from his cocoon.
One bright afternoon he stayed outside and joined my brother and me canoeing on the lake. It was a beautiful day and the sun sparkled across the water and the old canoe rocked on the waves and the oars guided the way as we explored the corners and bends of the small lake. I do love the water and feeling its resistance at my fingertips through the oar and watching it part and roll across the sides of the canoe as we slide along. A perfect lazy afternoon, the water a beautiful distraction, the reflections on its surface almost made me think it’s the entrance to a parallel universe, one much more dreamy and soft and abstract. We both enjoyed silence, though we were silent for different reasons; he was quiet for the reason that I used to be quiet, because he was too afraid to speak and didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say. I was quiet because sometimes one doesn’t really need to say anything, sometimes one can appreciate more in the silent moments than in the moments filled and distracted by words.
Terrez disappeared into the bathroom, her hair looking a bit like a tabby that had just got zapped by a wet wire, and even though she hadn’t said anything, I waited for her. It was the last day of camp. Everyone headed back home in the morning, and as for me, I at least could say that this week had gone infinitely better than I could ever have hoped. I’d gained a friend, and life didn’t seem so dark that I wanted to run away from it anymore. Terrez popped back out, her hair slightly tamed, and we started across the camp to the main conference hall where all our parents had been having their meetings, it was twilight and the stars were just becoming visible as we chatted amiably. My mind wandered back to earlier in the afternoon: I had been in the gym playing Ping-Pong with my dad when she started to come over from the chaos of the basketball court with the dangerous little black girl tagging along beside her (all the guys felt especially wary and protective of their genitals whenever she was around). Terrez had won the little devil’s respect the first day by outrunning her and they’d been nigh inseparable ever since. They approached, Terrez obviously trying to shush her younger friend, but it was no use, as soon as she knew I could hear her she burst into my face with ,
“You know she likes you?”
“You should ask her out.”
And several other proclamations of the kind, her voice part ridicule, part encouragement. Having said her piece of mischief she sprinted back over to the basketball courts and Amanda laughed it off saying ,“You never know what she’s gonna say next, she’s crazy.” But was she blushing a little? I think I was; I’d never expected that, even now, it’s ridiculous. But she hung out by the Ping-Pong table watching the game until my dad left, then she asked if I wanted to play one-on-one soccer and I did. Soon the rest of the kids headed out and we had the gym to ourselves for a fun game. Sooner than I wanted we realized we were going to be late for the last big meeting of the week and so here we are, walking in the twilight both high on adrenaline and enjoying the fresh air and each other’s company. A few minutes later we reached the building, entered the sanctuary, and separated to find our families.
It was that bittersweet evening of goodbyes. A parting of ways from people who have been my adopted family for the past week, whom I have spent my every waking moment with. I hate goodbyes.They had all become dear to my heart and each of their unique personalities had made an indelible impression in my memory. I think we grew to know each other in a way that even our closest friends back home didn’t really know us, not necessarily in a better or a deeper way, but in a different way. Who are we when we don’t have anything else obliging us to be any different?
In conclusion, I would like you, reader, to think of this as a true story, but also, and almost more so, to think of this as a parallel story. I cannot speak for Isaac with complete and honest certainty but I can speak for myself. I am Terrez, but I am also Isaac. They are both portraits of myself, years removed, but who cross in this story, this place, this time.
