17

THE NEW BOOBS SITUATION

NORA

WHEN CAMERON WALKS in to The Fly Trap with a rack built of falsies like I’ve never seen, I am legitimately without words.

“Wow,” she says, propping her hands on her hips, which does not take my focus away from her stuffed bra. “Nora Bennett speechless. I was waiting for this day.”

It takes me a minute to shake loose some kind of a response. “What the hell, Cam?”

She looks down, adjusting her sculpted creations. “Oh, you know,” she says. “I just wanted to make sure I don’t want to go big. You know—”

“Go big or go home, right?” I ask, smirking. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t intended to be literal.”

She chuckles. “Perhaps.”

I notice her voice has gotten a little higher in pitch; her features are a bit more rounded and soft. I guess the hormone therapy is starting to kick in.

“So, what do you think? Stay reasonable? Or pull out all the stops?” Cam shimmy-shakes her would-be boulders at me like an awkward stripper.

“Are you fucking with me?” I ask. “I mean, are you changing careers? Porn may be lucrative, but I daresay it may not be the fulfilling path you seek.”

All I get in response are hairy eyeballs.

“Oh, so the Boobsie Twins are destined to become part of your stand-up set?”

She takes on a pensive look. “Oh, well that is an idea now, isn’t it?”

I can’t tell if she’s serious.

“Cammy.”

“What? Every comedian has their schtick.”

“Or sch-tits, as it were,” I deadpan.

Cameron’s face goes slack. “You have been hanging out with my sister for far too long. Don’t make up words.”

“I—”

“I’m pretty sure ‘sch-tits’ is not a legit part of the Yiddish language, or any other, for that matter,” she tells me, grinning.

At least she finds the humor in it. If she didn’t, I’d have to report her to the comedy police.

“Fair.”

A couple of regulars come in, plopping themselves at the other end of the bar, so I excuse myself to tend to them. When I return, Cam is nibbling on a handful of maraschino cherries.

“So,” she says, “dish.”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, bitch. Dish.”

“Don’t ‘bitch’ me, bitch,” I say. “I’m working. And anyway, I have no idea what you’re on about.”

She smiles the knowing smile of someone who has the upper hand. “One, there are exactly three other people in here right now. I think you’ll survive this rush and still be able to spill the beans. Two? Bull. Shit. You know exactly what dirt I’m here for.”

“Seriously, I don’t,” I insist.

I shrug and spread my hands out. And because I claimed to be working and unable to focus on our conversation—she’s right; it’s bullshit—I pick up some glasses and start washing them.

“Doc,” she says, loudly. “As if you didn’t know.”

I did, but I feel protective of our… thing. Relationship? I mean, yes, we’re dating. Okay, I can woman up: Relationship. It strikes me suddenly that I’m afraid to talk about me and Doc as though I might jinx it. Again.

“Hello?”

Cam reminds me we’re currently having a conversation, and I blink.

“I mean, you’re hitting that hotness on the reg, and I need deets. And then those flowers he sent? And the note? Sweet Christ, you bish, I’m dying here.”

I stack the glasses I just washed and cock an eyebrow at her. “Did you grill Sophie like this about Fox?”

She makes a face. “Honey. He’s nearly my brother—both in law and figuratively—from growing up together.”

“Knowing him since she was a kid didn’t stop our darling Lollipop,” I say.

“I do question my sister’s taste sometimes,” Cam says.

I laugh loud enough to startle the customers at the other end of the bar.

“Anyway, Fox is not my type. Doc, however…”

My mouth gapes open. “Really? How did I not realize this?”

“It’s like we’re not even friends,” she says with eyes like slits, but quickly breaks into a chuckle and grin. “Now, start spilling. I need some juicy tidbits to distract from my own lack of love life.”

I start to question, but she waves me off. “I’ve got too much going on with my transition to deal with dating at the moment. Hormones have my libido all out of whack, and frankly, I’ve been too busy to think about it. That doesn’t mean I don’t nail a one-nighter from time to time. It’s just sparse as of late.”

I nod. “Can I mix you up a cocktail, then?”

She smirks. “Sure, you know what I like. A cocktail to preface your cock tale.”

I’m annoyed that I find her comment hilarious. “Fucking comedians.”

Cameron stays for a while to interrogate me about Doc, and given that it isn’t an incredibly busy night, I end up talking a lot more about him than I planned to. Part of me wants to keep it as mine. Or at least mine and Doc’s.

She stares at me, clearly dissatisfied with what she considers a measly offering thus far. “Details, my darling. I’m talking, what’s his stamina like? What kind of rod is he packing? Do you have to take Tylenol with codeine after sex? Or is he a minute man? Does he ask you to put your finger in his—”

I turn away from mixing her a heavily poured cosmo and interrupt. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, miss.”

She guffaws like a balloon suddenly popped, echoing in a silent room. Paulie is the only one who doesn’t react, save to look at Cam like she woke him up from a nap. This is why he’s on security detail—can’t ruffle those feathers.

“You know I’m teasing. I’ve heard you animals,” she says, eyeballing me. “I want deep stuff. Like, is he romantic? Does he smell good up close? How’s his morning breath? Does he have a twin who likes transgender women with perfectly sculpted new boobs? I’m thinking ahead here.”

I lean my forehead on the bar so I can ugly laugh.

“Cameron, I love you.” Turning back to the drink I was making, I continue. “No, sadly, his only brother is in Hong Kong and married.”

“Ripoff.”

“Indeed.”

“Romantic?”

I stop curling a lemon peel to think about it. So many instances come to mind—among them the archery lessons, the flowers, the police escort. My body warms, and I picture his smile, feel his body at my back, his whispered words in my ear.

“Yeah, I think he is,” I say. “He’s almost shockingly considerate and incredibly sweet, but, like, only when no one is looking but me. You know? He has a way of making me feel as if no one else exists but us.”

It gets quiet, and I realize everyone is staring at me. Teresa, the new bar back who just brought out some ice. I catch Paulie wiping a tear from his eye.

“That better be sarcastic, Paulie,” I say. When he flips me off, I grin, but I secretly want to hug him. “Cam? Where’d you go?”

“I melted,” she calls, apparently from the floor.

“Drama queen.”

“No, comedy queen,” she says. “Big difference. Laughs rule.”

She stands up, smiling huge, and leans forward so our noses are barely a foot apart. “So, how are you doing with that? Sounds like he’s angling for something serious.”

The brisk focus and genuine concern of the question after her slapstick bit shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. The reason for my relationship turn-off blooms icily across my naked shoulders like a tattoo of fear, forcing a denial out of my mouth before I can think.

“Pfft. He is not.”

“Whether or not that’s true, you just panicked a little, didn’t you?” Cam’s eyes are sparkling when I meet them. She shrugs, but smiles warmly. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’ve seen you wrestle with yourself whenever he was around before you reconnected.”

“I, um.” I pull myself to full height and cleanse the shadows with a breath. “It’s a little complicated, but I’m enjoying us right now. I can handle where we are. I’m… comfortable where we are.”

She nods. “Okay, I believe you. Because I like you together. You fit. Even though I’d steal him if I could.”

I laugh, handing her overdue cosmo. “Drink up, bish.”

Her surgery is only two days away, so before I put Cam in a cab an hour later, I promise to see her before they wheel her away. “It’ll be so great,” I tell her. “Sophie and I will both hate you because you’ll have such a great rack. Especially Sophie, given that breastfeeding is going to destroy hers.”

“You’re evil,” she says.

“So, are you going to take before and after titty pictures?” I ask her.

“Of course. For my boob albums.”

She laughs and closes the cab door. The window rolls down, and she throws a piece of her boob stuffing at me. I catch it and hold it up. It’s a tooth fairy pillow, a small puff with a pocket sewn on the front for a kid’s tooth.

“Are you serious?” I yell after her, but the cab has already pulled away. I hear Cameron’s throaty laugh trail off and disappear, along with the cab.

***

On the day of Cam’s surgery, I meet Sophie in the waiting room. Fox is off work today, so I’m guessing he stayed home with Henry. Doc asked if he should come with, but he was helping a friend move into a new house all of yesterday and late into the night, so I told him to stay home and sleep. I’ll wish Cam well for him.

“Fox says he and H-man are having a ‘dudes day,’” Sophie tells me by way of greeting, following up with a hug. “The kid’s not even five months old. Henry’s probably going to sleep most of the time I’m gone, especially since I hit him with a boob just before I left.”

“Fox or the kid?”

“Nice,” she acknowledges with a nod. “Though the elder Monkhouse is certainly enjoying the boobs, too.”

“I really don’t need those details.”

“In fairness, boobs are why we’re here today,” she adds seriously.

I shake my head. Time to pull a U-turn.

“So what’s your man-child going to do? Wake the baby on purpose and try to teach him to play Mortal Kombat?” I ask. “Can a baby that young even focus on a TV screen? I didn’t think they could see that far yet.”

Sophie shrugs and lets out a snort. “Not yet. But I wouldn’t put it past Fox to prop the baby up in his bouncy chair and explain the finer points of ‘fatalities’ to him. ‘I’m just trying to start him early!’” Her voice drops to imitate Fox’s. “I’m like, dude. Can we wait until he can walk to hook him on TV and screens? Idiot.”

I chuckle, but I also feel a little out of sorts. Sophie’s a mom now. In a handful of months, she’ll be a wife. A wife. The word makes me a little woozy. Maybe nauseated. I’m happy for her, but I’m just not sure I’ll ever get there. Not after my previous… engagement of sorts. And that’s quite enough thinking about that. I’m happy with where Doc and I are now—though we’re not dating other people. I mean, I honestly don’t know how I’d find the time if I wanted to.

Together, Sophie and I walk to Cameron’s room, where she’s crying and having a last-minute hail-Mary consultation with her doctor. Sophie rushes over and pushes the doctor out of the way.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she asks, panicked and instantly near tears herself.

I peer around her to see Cam wiping her eyes.

Cam looks up at us and declares via cracking sob, “I’m going to have the best tits!”

The doctor behind us laughs. “Only if you stop crying and let us take you to surgery, Cameron.”

I glare at Cam and flip her off playfully. “That’s for freaking us out. Now go get your tits on and cork the tears, will you?”

Cam chuckles and gives Sophie a kiss. “Thank you for coming. Is Mom here yet?”

“I’m here! Don’t leave yet!” Mama Margaret comes flying through the door, already emotional and red-eyed. “I’m sorry, Cammy,” she says, panting. “Traffic was a killer. But I made it in time. Right? No boobies yet?”

The room falls silent until Sophie breaks with a blend of nervous giggles and labored breathing. Cam and I join in, and the humor is solidified when the doctor ends up snorting along with us.

“Christ on a donkey, y’all,” Cameron says with an epic, out-of-tune horn-sounding sigh. “I so needed that. I love you all so much.”

***

When I get home, the apartment feels extraordinarily empty, and I feel extraordinarily stupid for not realizing the impact my dear friend has on her environment. I wonder how only a day’s absence could possibly create such a vacuum, but then I remember the doctor’s words.

“She’s in a lot of pain,” he’d said. “Everything seemed to go very well until she showed signs of brachycardia—that is, a serious slowing of the heart rate,” he said. When a bunch of eyeballs popped out at him, he added, “Immediate action was taken to avert cardiac arrest.”

That was where Margaret fainted. A circus of nurses swarmed her, and Sophie had to be restrained to prevent her from slapping the doctor for being so dry about her sister’s potential heart attack. The incident didn’t have anything to do with Cameron’s pain levels, but they did decide to keep her overnight to monitor her.

The brush with almost losing a friend and family member had shaken me, but I didn’t realize how much until I’d arrived back at the apartment after dark. I find myself wandering around because I don’t want to be alone. When I feel like this, there’s only one place I gravitate toward. Thank God he gave me a key.