It’s surprisingly easy to convince Mom to let me go camping for the weekend, and I use the term “convincing” loosely.

I simply mentioned to her during one of the few times I saw her in the living room, that my friends—leaving out that they were very new friends—had invited me camping for the weekend.

For a moment, she stared at me blankly, almost as if her mind was trying to place the question with the child in front of her.

I could tell by the pinched expression on her face that she was thinking of Ruby. Ruby was always asking to do things over the weekends. She looked like she might cry at first, her eyes glistening, and then she’d nodded and grinned a little too wide.

She insisted that we needed to go shopping for camping clothes after that. She didn’t even ask if there would be parental supervision or who the friends were, that’s how excited she was.

I’m not sure it even occurred to her. It hurts a little, knowing Mom has that much trust in me. Especially, when I know I mentioned it only, so she knows to look after Butters.

I’m not sure why I would need new clothes for going camping, but I didn’t argue with her. It’s the first time in weeks that she’s spent time with me, and I didn’t want to say anything to stop it.

With three new outfits, a new swimsuit, backpack, first aid kit, flashlight, camping pillow (didn’t know they had pillows specifically for that), and an assortment of random things that Mom thinks are necessary for a camping trip, I think I can survive anything. She even bought me a little emergency fire starter thing and a flashlight so heavy it can double as a weapon, both of which I highly doubt I’ll need.

I probably would’ve ended up with an entirely new wardrobe if I hadn’t reminded her that it’s only a two-day trip, three if you count that we’re leaving after school on Friday.

I also had to remind her that my friends would have most of the camping gear when she tried to buy a tent, sleeping bag, and an air mattress, then a cot, because she couldn’t decide what was best.

I had to show her V’s text as proof. Really, I probably didn’t need the new clothes or any of the items Mom got me, but I appreciate them. Really, I appreciate spending time with her.

It was nice, shopping with Mom again. We hadn’t been shopping since before the funeral when we needed to find something to wear for the ceremony.

We’d all chosen to wear Ruby’s favorite color, orange, and had to find something nice that was appropriate. It was easier for Daddy and Jasper, but finding an orange dress, or even a nice orange shirt outside of Halloween and fall time had been hard for us.

On the way home, the car is silent, the trip to the store had been spent with Mom talking about the things I might need and sharing stories of going camping when she was my age.

She told me about getting lost and nearly spraying Aunt Haley with bear spray when she found her.

Now that we’re on the way home, it’s as if we don’t know what to talk about, though, as if we’ve used up all our conversation already.

“You know, I think your sister would be proud of you for branching out,” Mom says, breaking the tense silence.

I nod before remembering that she’s looking at the road and not at me.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Why?” I normally would nod, but the word slips out before I can stop it.

“I just am. You haven’t been keeping to yourself as much lately. I know I’ve seen Brie around a few times, I just…” She swallows and I can see how tightly her hands are gripping the steering wheel.

There’s so much that should probably be said… about that night, about Ruby, about what was said, about the part I played that she still doesn’t know, but neither one of us will bring that up. Some things are better left unsaid.

“I think it’s good that you’re not letting what happened…” she trails off, seemingly unsure how to finish.

I think I know what she wants to say—she’s trying to tell me it’s okay that I’m going to go out and have fun. Maybe she’s concerned that I’ll feel guilty about having fun when Ruby’s dead, as if all the fun has to die with her.

A part of me does feel guilty that it hadn’t occurred to me that it might not be okay to go and hang out with friends this soon, as if we’re supposed to hole up in the house and mourn.

But being at home alone all the time, I hate it. I used to not; I loved being alone, but now it reminds me how really alone I am.

And another part of me resents the idea of avoiding doing things because of what happened. Ruby dying is what happened, and that isn’t my fault, not really. It’s her fault. She made the mistake that night, not me, but I feel that I’m being punished for it instead of her. She got the easy out. I have to live with the consequences.

“Just…I don’t want you to think that Ruby would be upset with you. I think you should try to spend more time with your friends,” Mom has that soothing tone that she always used to settle arguments between Ruby and Daddy. That ‘it’ll be okay’ tone.

That statement stabs me in the chest.

Mom doesn’t realize that I didn’t have friends, not really. I had Ruby, and I guess Brie, but Brie was Ruby’s friend before she was mine, and Kenneth, who again was Ruby’s friend, and… Samson.

But I don’t want to talk to Samson.

I had all of Ruby’s other friends that pulled a vanishing act after she died. That was it.

It was me and my little world, oblivious to how truly alone I was, until the one person that would pull me from my world into the real world died.

I almost tell her that my friends are people I just met, that I’ve only eaten lunch with them a couple of times now.

That I don’t know how to talk to people.

That I never had to make friends because Ruby made them for me, and I didn’t really care to be alone until recently.

But I don’t know how to talk about any of that. I don’t know where I’d even start. And I don’t want to talk about it.

“I get what you’re saying,” I tell her instead, even though I don’t, I really don’t.

Why should I care if Ruby would be upset with me? Does she care that I’m upset with her for leaving me alone? Who knows? I’ll never get the chance to ask her now, will I?

“Butters,” I say, leaving the unspoken question hanging. Since Ruby’s death, his care has mainly fallen to me since I’m the only one he’ll get near.

He’s the only reason I thought to ask Mom’s permission. That’s probably wrong of me, but it’s not as if she asks me when she disappears all the time.

Even though she is the adult, and I guess has the right to do whatever she wants, but she still has me. Jasper’s nineteen, so I guess he can take care of himself now, but I’m still sixteen. I shouldn’t have to be the adult in this situation. I shouldn’t have to beg for her attention.

I shouldn’t have to worry about what I’m going to eat because no one has bothered to buy groceries. I shouldn’t be the only one cleaning the house because no one else is coming home.

I shouldn’t have to be a lot of things that I have to be now and it’s not fair.

And it’s Ruby’s fault, all her fault.

I bite my hand again to distract from that feeling in the back of my throat. I feel like I’ll suffocate on all the words I don’t want to speak but probably should.

With Mom driving, she doesn’t even notice. I lean my head against the window, watching the blur of trees and cars and houses as I swallow my anger down.

“I’ll make sure he’s taken care of, don’t worry.”

***

Dear Ruby,

I’m going camping. I suddenly can’t remember if you ever went camping. I can’t remember a lot at times. If you happen to be watching over us, keep an eye on Butters while I’m gone.