In My Eyes, You're Beautiful

I don’t want to be here. I’m standing with my parents in the admission office, my duffel bag in one hand and my bag of prescriptions in the other, listening to some airhead talk about how much fun I’m going to have here and how great it is for me to meet other kids like me. People like me. Yeah. Great. On the walk from the parking lot to this office, I hadn’t seen anybody that looked to be over the age of twelve.
My mother is now talking to the counselor about how they’re going to administer my medications every day and what will happen if I have any problems while I’m here. My father is looking at the ground with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He never really stated his opinion about this whole thing, just went along with Mom, who thought that it would be such a great idea, and who, after consulting with Dr. Milton and Dr. Lang, was hell-bent on me coming here this summer. Me, not so much.
“Alex, sweetheart, it’s time for us to go, okay?” My mom takes my meds and hands them to the counselor, who then hands them to the on staff nurse, who magically appeared by her side. I can feel her hand gently trace the skin of my shoulder, exposed by the tank top I’m wearing. Her fingers glide up my neck, up to my ear, then back down to my upper arm. By now, I’m used to her doing this all the time, as if she has to remind herself that it’s real, that it really did happen and that her son really isn’t okay anymore. She leans down the slightest bit and hugs me tight, her hand rubbing small circles on my back, the space that even now, I’m not ready to show anybody.
“Honey, you have to promise me that you’ll at least try to enjoy this, okay? I know that this isn’t how you want to spend your summer, but it’s only two weeks. Judy here,” she motions to the counselor, who is now talking to a man holding the hand of a little girl, “said that there are going to be three other boys here that are your age. I want you to try and get along with them, okay? Just try. And if you end up completely hating all of this, you never have to come back.” My mother holds me at arms length and smiles at me for a moment, then moves out of the way so that my father can hug me, his arms wrapping around my skinny body gently. Unlike my mother, he never really touches me anymore. He says it’s because he’s afraid he’ll hurt me, but I think that he’s repulsed by me. He barely even looks at me.
“Have fun, bud,” he says halfheartedly, giving me a quick smile before looking at the floor once again. I try not to let his tendency to put as much distance between us as possible get to me. He’s my father, and I’m required to love him, even if he doesn’t really love me anymore.
The counselor smiles at me brightly. “Are you ready for me to show you to your cabin? You’ll be sharing it with the other boys your age. One of them has already arrived and is unpacking. His name is”-she pauses a minute to glance at the clipboard in her hand-“Rian. I’m sure you’ll like him.” I try not to groan. That’s adult language for ‘he’s a weird kid but you have to be nice to him because his parents paid a lot of money for him to go to this camp and you’re spending the next two weeks with him so you better be friends with him, Bucko.’ Great.
I force a smile onto my face and then turn back towards my parents, giving my mother a little wave before following the counselor out of the office and onto a gravel road that will no doubt lead me to my cabin and the infamous ‘Rian’.
Let summer camp begin.