The Exit

Amanda came down from the loft just after sunrise dressed for another world. Her hair was pulled back, her white button-down was pressed, her gray skirt fell perfectly at the knee, and the gray blazer made her look like the woman who had arrived in New York every morning for the last fifteen years. The heels completed the disguise. They were completely impractical for camp and therefore perfect.

Deb was standing outside the office with a mug of coffee when she saw her.

“Where are you going?”

“I have an interview.”

Deb looked her up and down. “Where?”

Amanda picked up her bag. “Civilization.”

Deb stared at her for a moment before understanding. “Camp has two days left. You’re leaving us now? We still have the closing bonfire. You were planning the whole thing with Ben.”

“He can handle it.”

“What happened with you two?”

Amanda hesitated. She didn’t want to explain the wall. Saying it out loud made it sound even more ridiculous, but she told Deb anyway: the photograph, the comments, the things she’d seen, the way she’d interpreted them. She explained that she couldn’t go through another relationship where she thought she knew someone only to discover she’d been wrong.

Deb listened until Amanda finished.

Then she laughed.

Amanda frowned. “What’s funny?”

“The wall.”

“What about it?”

“It’s a joke.”

Amanda stared at her.

Deb shook her head. “They call Ben the biggest flirt because he’s friendly with everybody. That’s the joke. He talks to everyone, helps everyone, makes everybody laugh, and never actually does anything. The girls chase him because they can’t get him. That’s why they keep writing things on the wall. It’s camp mythology.”

Amanda felt the blood leave her face.

“You mean…”

“Yes. The guy you’ve been avoiding because you thought he was sleeping with every counselor is apparently the one guy here who isn’t.”

Amanda looked toward the lake.

Ben’s laugh carried faintly across the camp.

She had spent the entire night preparing for an interview in New York.

She had already packed her bag.

Her gray suit was already on.

Her car was already waiting.

The new information should have stopped her.

It didn’t.

Deb watched her walk toward the BMW.

“Amanda.”

Amanda stopped.

“You don’t have to leave.”

Amanda looked back at her cousin. “I know.”

Then she got into the car.

The white BMW had been white when she’d arrived in Maine. Now it was streaked with mud, pine dust and road grime. Amanda looked at it for a moment before starting the engine. It was the first time she had seen something she’d owned become visibly altered by Maine.

She didn’t clean it.

She drove.

The camp disappeared behind her in the rearview mirror.

⸻

Deb found Ben near the waterfront.

He was carrying two canoes toward the rack when she called his name.

“Ben.”

He turned.

She could tell from his face that something was wrong.

“What happened?”

“How much do you like Amanda?”

He stopped. “A lot.”

“Good.”

Deb told him everything.

The wall.

The misunderstanding.

The job interview.

New York.

Amanda leaving.

Ben listened without interrupting.

When Deb finished, he looked toward the road.

“How long ago?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

Ben dropped the canoe rope.

“Ben.”

He was already moving.

“Where are you going?”

“After her.”

Deb watched him run toward his bicycle.

“You don’t even have a car!”

He was already on the bike.

“Exactly!”

Then he pedaled down the road.

It was completely irrational.

He had no plan.

No map.

No idea how far Amanda had gotten or whether he could catch her. He didn’t know what he would say when he did. He didn’t know whether she’d even stop.

He only knew she was leaving.

So he went.

That was Ben.

Amanda had spent her life building plans before taking action. Ben took action and figured out the plan afterward.

He pedaled harder.

The camp disappeared behind him.

The road stretched toward the horizon.

And somewhere ahead was the woman who had taught him how to drive a six-speed, how to see waste, how to build a better system, and how to make a place work.

He was going to teach her something in return.

Sometimes you didn’t need a plan.

Sometimes you just needed to go after what you wanted.