Life-moving moments

Chapter 30

I'm half expecting Matt to message or call again but I've made up my mind to ignore him and, if necessary, actively avoid him.

I'm relieved though when Wednesday rolls around but I have not heard from him again.

On the downside I haven't heard from James either. I think about calling him several times but change my mind every time because I don't want him to feel used again, as if I only call him when I am upset about a break up with Matt.

I'm not sure if James still thinks of me as a friend, or thinks of me at all. I hurt him and calling him so soon after Matt and I broke up is just a repeat of the unhealthy pattern of the past which I need to change.

But I miss him furiously.

On Friday I see there is an email from Phumlisa. The email names the team for the camp. Terence and I are the only ones from our previous team who are on it and Phumlisa is our team leader now.

I tamp down my disappointment. I'm supposed to be focusing on my relationship with God. Being around a guy I'm attracted to in a romantic environment would be distracting, so this is for the best but I've never been on a camp without James and a part of me is already dreading it.

The first camp is next weekend.

Another week goes by where I gratefully hear no more from Matt. I'm excited when Friday comes and get up early to pack. I tell my mother that I will be going straight to the camp from work and she wishes me well. Olivia does a wiggly happy dance when she hears that she has the room to herself all weekend.

"Yay! No snoring for a whole weekend," she says.

"I don't snore," I say indignant, to which she snorts.

The new campsite is very rustic. I'm one of the first to arrive and Phumlisa gives me a very tight hug.

"Glad you're back," she says. "More than half of the volunteers joined other organisations."

"I almost did too but none are as good as this one," I say.

Phumlisa smiles. She's been heading Happy Campers for nearly 10 years and told us during the training workshops that it was heartwarming when youth come back to train as facilitators once they turned 18.

"This is so sad," she says, wiping away tears. "I have so many memories of these camps. I saw so many young people meet their future husbands and wives at these camps."

"I'm sure it will work out Phumlisa," I say. "Hopefully this new donor will come on board fully."

"This new donor is a pain," she says, moving to help me with my bedding. This is the first time I'm bringing bedding along since the other campsite, which was in the mountains, had its own bedding and linen and had a full staff that cleaned and cooked. "And not nearly as generous. I don't know if these camps will be as much fun now, with all the extra work we'll have to do. There will be cooking and cleaning and programmes to run. I don't know if we will be able to do it."

"We'll figure it out Phumlisa," I say. "I'm sure we will."

As we walk the past the first few empty cabins, Phumlisa says: "I've put us in the Beach Cabin."

"That sounds nice," I say, but I can tell by her face that it sounds nicer than it is.

The cabin is a five minute hike from the others and is hidden between bushes. It is closer to the beach though because I can hear the waves getting louder as we walk.

"The only bonus for us is that as the only two girl facilitators, we will have this cabin to ourselves. It has room for six but it will just be you and me in there," she says as the cabin comes into view.