“Now I can text you, and you can text me back,” I tell Ernie.
“If I have something to say to you, I’ll say it when you’re here. Unless you’ve wised up and decided to stop coming after all.”
“No, I have not,” I say firmly. “And you better respond to my texts. It’s rude not to.”
He mutters something under his breath.
“What was that?” I ask.
“I’m saying maybe my brother got the better end of the deal, not having to deal with this nonsense. Gareth Richard Solomon IV, the lucky son of a bitch.”
I try not to laugh.
“I haven’t told you the best news,” Ernie says now, after we’ve put the watch away for the day. “Clarisse has asked to be moved from next door. Says living beside me has been a nightmare, worse than all her previous marriages combined.”
He slaps his thigh as he roars with laughter, but I only shake my head.
“She seems like a nice lady. Maybe the two of you could have been friends if you’d been kinder to her.”
“Oh, come on,” Ernie says. “What’s the point of making it this far in life if I can’t have a little fun every now and again?”
“Kimberley said she would send the fart machine,” he continues now. “So whoever the next goddamned sucker is, he’s in for something special. I give him a month.”
Maybe I’ve fallen out of the rhythm, being away from Ernie for a couple of weeks, but instead of laughing with him the way I might have, I just feel sad. Why is he so determined to keep everyone away? He chases off all his neighbors, tells me repeatedly not to come back, and acts for his family like he doesn’t care if they visit or not.
He’s never denied what he’s doing, either. He straight up told me weeks ago that he wants me to go before I get sick of him. And maybe I should be the one who’s worried about him getting sick of me, but I’m all he has, and I care about him. If Mel taught me anything, it’s that being all someone has and caring about them counts for a lot.
“You know there’s nothing you can do to chase me away, right?” I tell him now, but he just snorts.
At the end of my two hours with him, I squeeze his arm. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, Ernie.”
He doesn’t say anything as he watches me go.
Over the next few weeks I fall back into a rhythm. Camp, Ernie, tennis lessons. In the last week of August, Willow’s dad calls me into his office at Tennis Win and asks if I’m interested in a paid part-time coaching position. I’d pretty much be doing the same hours, but I’d be paid for it. It’s basically a no-brainer. Except it’s not why I started volunteering at the club. First, they lost an instructor when they lost Ro. Second, I wanted to make someone love tennis as much as Ro did. He never got to come back to Winchester and become head coach, the way he always said he would if he didn’t make it as a pro or when his tennis career was over.
So I thank Mr. Hastings for the offer and say I’d rather keep volunteering. He looks at me like I’ve sprouted a second head.
“I’m essentially offering to pay you for exactly what you’re already doing,” he says.
“I know. I just don’t feel comfortable taking it,” I say. “This is my way to ... give back.”
He stares at me for a second, then shakes his head. “All right. Let me know if you change your mind.”
I promise I will, but I know I won’t.
The next day, Diana calls me into her office to talk to me. In my mind, because the meeting with Mr. Hastings was a “good” thing, this meeting with my boss has to be a bad thing. It’s the only way the universe maintains its balance.
“You wanted to see me?” I say, sticking my head into her office.
“Yes. Come and have a seat,” she says, motioning to the empty chair on the opposite side of her desk. “So—all of us here at Camp MORE have been so impressed by your work over the summer. Now that camp is ending, most of your fellow leaders are going back to school or college, but I understand you’ll be in Winchester for another year?”
I nod.
“Great. Before you commit to something else, I wanted to talk to you and see if you would be willing to be part of the team that runs our day programs during the school year.”
“Really?” I ask.
She smiles at me. “Really.”
