42
CAMILLE
I didn’t think ahead. In the shock and realization that Ben and Drew are connected—related—I ran. My feet pounded against carpet, linoleum, and pavement, propelling me to the truck parked in front of the building. And then my mind caught up, and it reminded me I can’t get into the truck because I don’t have the keys. They are stuffed in the yellow envelope I threw on Ben’s table.
I no longer own my truck.
My body crouches over, hands over knees, and I breathe. I’m on the brink of convulsing, upchucking, imploding. I need a paper bag, an oxygen tank, a redo. Someone to yell at and to blame, because none of this is my fault. I lost the truck because I was put out of business. I was sabotaged. The thing I emptied my life into is no longer, and I can’t give myself a ride home. Because of Drew, I’ve got to take the bus home. A true walk of shame.
Except, as I piece together the movie reel of the last month, I know it’s all not true. Lucianna was my responsibility, my business, from the gas to the grill, from the wheels to the panini press.
Truth: Drew didn’t tell me he was part of True North, but he didn’t throw those obstacles in front of me.
Truth: the blog post was a fluke.
Truth: I took the loan out with Ben. I offered the truck as collateral.
But the stabbing pains inside of me don’t subside, because that’s what makes it worse. No one else had a hand in it but me and the set of circumstances I chose to be in. I could have told Ally that sending her to Austin was impossible. I could have chosen another spot, away from a restaurant owner who hated me. Or I could have risked cooking something for Kaya Banks.
So I push it all out of my head as fast as my logic speaks, because I don’t want to be the one at fault.
Somehow my feet manage to take me three blocks down to the next bus stop, and thankfully only a few minutes pass before a bus rolls up with its large billboard of graffiti and advertising. I climb in, deposit a handful of coins, and make my way to the furthermost row, to an empty seat. My forehead finds comfort on the Plexiglas window, ignoring Nonna’s warnings of germs on the glass, wishing instead for the safety of Drew’s arms. The feeling of his body half covering me, tucking me into his warmth and protection.
I clamp my eyes shut. No. I must make new memories, must seek comfort in other things and people. Not Drew. Especially not Drew.
The bus lurches and then stops. Traffic. I feel the shift of bodies around me.
“Is this seat taken?”
My eyes fly open at the sound of his voice. Drew. He sits next to me, hands braced against the rocking stop and go of the bus.
Though I saw him in the flesh minutes before, he feels like an apparition, like I concocted him out of my wishes. “How’d you—”
“I never ran so hard in my life.” He exhales for what seems like the first time today. His face is slick with sweat. “I take that back, I’ve run way harder in the Army, but running after you is something else altogether.”
“And why’s that?” My heart booms in my chest against doubt and fear. I shouldn’t be giving this man any of my time, but I’ve missed him. Being this close, so close I can feel the heat of his skin, seems so right.
“Because I have everything to lose.” One arm stretches across the back of my seat, and his left hand finds mine on my lap. I let him, needing this contact. There’s no animosity when we touch, no anger or resentment in my heart, and it surprises me. I look up at Drew’s watery smile. “Hear me out,” he says. “Give me these next few minutes before you have to get off this bus. Please?”
I nod, unsuccessfully trying to keep my tears at bay. I don’t wipe them away. My body is done trying to hold everything together.
He continues, massaging his thumb into my palm. “I had no idea my uncle made that deal with you. I didn’t know the blogger was going to post about you. But I know I lied. There was no excuse for not telling you who I was when I found out who you were. I’m still kicking myself in the ass that I didn’t say something sooner. Would it have mattered? Would I have lost you sooner? I don’t know. I never will, because I completely messed up. I thought my priorities were on point, right on. But I didn’t expect to fall so hard, and then somehow have to protect you from my own dad . . . because I love you both. I wanted both of you to be happy.
“My pop is my best friend and my worst enemy. He’s everything I want to be, and there are parts of him I abhor. But I love him. When I left home, I hurt him. And there’s nothing worse than knowing you could die, he could die, at any second and there would be no chance to make it right. I came home to make it all up to him, to find the peace I had with him when I was a kid. But in trying so hard to protect you and him, I ended up hurting both of you.
“When I see you, Camille, I don’t just see you as you are now. I see all of you. The young you in your jean overalls, making pancakes in home ec. Sharing your food with friends. Now, driven and generous, giving up your dream for your sister. And I know this sounds wild, but I see you, in the future, with me.”
“I . . .” Tears choke off my words. When I open my mouth again, he squeezes my hand to silence me.
“I love you, Camille Marino. I feel like those words were due well before we said them to each other. They should have been said ten years ago, as naive as they would have been. And I’m not sure what I can promise you except for all of me. I know I can’t even promise you time, because I leave Sunday. But I couldn’t go until I told you that you are the best thing that’s happened to me. And to think I almost didn’t come home for leave. I wouldn’t have been at the festival. I wouldn’t have realized you were the reason I came home. It was always you.”
His words liquefy and work through my veins. I feel woozy, drunk. My tongue is twisted, and I’m seeing double, dizzy from trying to make sense of the fact that I will lose him soon. I thought I’d lost him already, but I took the passage of time for granted. “I’m not sure what to say.” I gaze at our hands, so perfectly paired, neither one more powerful or capable, both inextricably tangled.
He’s leaving Sunday.
He’ll be gone for six months.
But who am I now, right this second? And what do I want? Without Lucianna, without Ally, I am free. Dropping off my keys meant a new beginning, and it frankly scares the living crap out of me. My life is a blank slate I can barely fathom, where anything is possible and nothing is off the table. It’s as easy to give into Drew as it is to walk away.
My mind can’t wrap itself around that idea. And I can’t give voice to these thoughts churning in my head, quieted by the flutter of panic caused by the timeline I’ve been presented. To do what—I don’t know.
Drew nods, looking down. “Fair enough.” He clears his throat, then pulls the cord above me to signal for the next stop. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I’m jarred as I watch him stand.
“For loving me, even for a short amount of time.” He leans down and presses his lips on my forehead. His thumb grazes my cheek. My eyes shut, and I breathe in his familiar scent, not caring that an entire bus is watching us.
When I finally open them, Drew is gone, the back of his jacket the last thing I see as the bus pulls away.