"Taylor, come on, man!"
Taylor looks at the plain brick building, then back at his new friends Anthony and Ethan. They're good guys for being such white suburban types. They all tease each other a lot but it's always friendly, never ugly. Taylor had worried about not fitting in at first, but happily he was wrong. "I'll be there later," he says.
"Come on! Hannah's gonna be there."
Taylor grins. He likes Hannah quite a lot, and it would be amazing to see her in a bikini. And camp ends tomorrow. "I'm coming, just something I gotta do first."
After more laughter, the other boys leave for the pool. Taylor hitches up his backpack and heads back to the classroom building.
Mr. Jay is packing up his laptop and some papers into a bag when Taylor comes back into the classroom. He glances up with a quick birdlike movement of his head and smiles. "Mr. Carter!"
"Hi, Mr. Jay." Now that he is here Taylor feels shy. "I, uh. I just wanted to say thanks. Last day and all. I learned a lot this summer." Taylor, much to his surprise, had received a full scholarship to the prestigious Weymouth Institute summer camp for computer science and robotics. All the way in New Hampshire – Taylor had never been this far from New York before. His dad was thrilled the day they got the acceptance letter, over the moon with pride.
His mom would have been too.
Mr. Jay smiles some more. "I'm very glad." Kind of a funny little guy, but the best teacher Taylor ever had. He explains things thoroughly and patiently, with a little bit of sly humor, and he knows just when to step back and let you try something on your own. He never makes anyone feel stupid. Mr. Jay makes hard subjects seem fun, easy.
And he's a sharp dresser, too.
"So...what you doing now that camp's over?" asks Taylor.
"Oh, I teach at the Berman Academy in Chicago," says Mr. Jay. "It's time for me to go back. But I like New Hampshire better. A little quieter." He pauses and looks into the distance. "I may...take a bit of a vacation and try to see an old friend before I head back."
"Yep, I hear ya," said Taylor. "I'm going back to New York, but I kinda don't want to. It's not like it used to be." Now why did he let that slip out?
Mr. Jay looks at Taylor intensely. "I know that your mother passed away this past year. I read your application essay. It was extraordinarily moving." The man's eyes are bright in the quiet afternoon light streaming through the open windows.
"Just writing what I felt, I guess."
"I've lost many people I cared about as well, Taylor. I lost my father when I was about your age, in a way – he was committed to an institution with early onset dementia shortly before he died. I know it's very hard to lose a parent."
Early onset dementia does sound pretty crappy. Taylor hunches his shoulders. "Does it get easier?"
"I wish I could say yes. But it gets...better, I suppose you can say. Your life will become full of accomplishments and friends and love and responsibility." He pauses with pursed lips, thinking. At last Mr. Jay says, "I've been debating whether to tell you this, but I was acquainted with your mother."
Taylor feels a jolt of surprise. "Really? How?"
"I lived in New York some time ago and Detective Carter – your mother – helped me very much with some very serious problems."
Taylor studies Mr. Jay and feels he's telling the truth. He's evasive, sure, but after living around cops his whole life, Taylor understands that sometimes people need their help but would rather keep the reasons private. Maybe this had something to do with the way Mr. Jay moves with stiff pain, has to turn his whole body if he wants to turn his head.
"I can't go into the details," Mr. Jay goes on, "but your mother struck me as perceptive and compassionate and very tough-minded."
"That's her," says Taylor, smiling faintly.
Mr. Jay continues. "I know about what she did later, everything she did to expose corruption. And I know that she was extraordinary, like you. A hero in every way."
"I don't feel extraordinary," Taylor says with a shrug.
"Many times we don't, despite everything we're capable of doing. And I see so much promise in you, Mr. Carter. I know you will live up to it."
The skeptical teenager inside Taylor wants to roll his eyes – it's as corny as an old-fashioned ABC afterschool special. But at the same time, he feels a swell of pride. He wants to make his mother proud.
"Well, have a good vacation before you get back to work, Mr. Jay. Where you gonna meet your friend?"
Mr. Jay's smile lessens. "I'm not sure yet. But I hope I meet him. I haven't seen him for some time and I worry about him."
"Taking your dog?" Mr. Jay had a big dog, scary but friendly at the same time, who waited patiently in the hallway during workshop time. He was out there now resting on a dog bed with his chin on his paws. Taylor wondered if he was an assistance dog of some sort.
"Always. He's rather attached to my friend."
An awkward goodbye later, Taylor heads across the green lawn toward the pool. He feels glad and somehow relieved. Taylor still carries grief for his mother like a stone in his chest. But maybe the stone is a little lighter, if someone smart and kind like Mr. Jay feels he's special.
Now he looks forward to the pool, to his friends, maybe Hannah in a bikini. And tomorrow it will be good to see his dad again. They may go to a new fishing spot off Long Island and see the new Fast and Furious before school starts in a few weeks.
Mr. Jay stands at the window and watches the young man walk away confidently over the quad, afternoon summer sun filtering through the trees. Then he turns away and finishes packing his few things.
He doesn't want to keep his friend waiting.