Cammie
Sunlight dances in patterns across my palm as I lie on the sofa, my arm slung over the side to rest on the floor. I twist my fingers back and forth watching the slivers of gold that morph and merge on my flesh.
“Are you only taking the three boxes to the Salvation Army, love?” Mum flits between the entrance and Taylah’s room, finishing what I started.
“At this stage.”
It may have taken me four or five attempts, but finally, after changing my mind almost daily about it, I stepped inside her room last week to begin the task of selecting what to keep and what to be donated to children in need.
The agent has a fair offer on the house—not my parents’—and if nothing else, I know for certain that my time here is limited.
Five weeks have passed since Duke left, and I think it’s fair to say my last reason to stay here left that day, too. I’ve let go of the torment over Taylah that kept me shackled to this house as though it were a shrine to my daughter. The only good memories I had left here were those I shared with him. And now he’s gone and ruined those, too.
“Mum?”
She pokes her head around the corner. “Yes?”
I can almost smell how eager she is from here. She’s been on at me to talk to her for weeks … since Duke left, really. But I’ve kept her at arm’s length, a little mad and harbouring a grudge over the fact it was her meddling that got us involved to begin with.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” She adjusts her messy bun as she glides into the room, settling on the floor beside me.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
Her hands go to her chest as her eyebrows rise in the middle. “Oh, Cam.”
“Is it possible to know in such a short time the truth of how you feel about a person, or do you think that feelings will always change?”
Her hands drop to her lap, and she places one to the side to lean her weight on it. “I believe that yes, people’s feelings do change over time, but it’s more of an adjustment. You learn to accommodate a person, to live with the things that may have irked you at the start, and likewise, you learn to adjust the things you do that irk them.” She pauses, rubbing her lips together. “But … I also believe that the root of what first brought you together never changes. If you love someone, you love them; it’s that simple.”
“Do you still love Dad, then?”
She shrugs. “I love him, but I’m not in love with him. Regardless, the way I feel about him is still different to how you love a friend.”
“Hmm.”
She picks my hand up, massaging the palm with her thumbs. “What have you been thinking about, love?”
“Everything.”
The way I coped in the first two weeks after Duke left can only be described as chaos in motion. The after-show drinks at the pub turned out to be the first of several nights when I ended up so shit-faced I couldn’t remember how I got there.
But then the show ended.
And with that went my last reason to keep busy, keep occupied. I crashed hard and spectacularly, breaking down in the middle of the office at work, tears tracking over my face no matter what I did to try and stop them.
Three forced sick days later, and I assured my boss that I could return to work without combusting at the simplest word or sound. I came back swinging, stronger than ever, doing things I had avoided for years.
Like sorting Taylah’s room.
But through it all, I’ve remained empty, devoid of direction as I float under the surface of my black sea, watching the sunshine make patterns on the surface. I’ve achieved a lot, and yet the victory seems so hollow.
“You know I have his number, Cammie.” Mum squeezes my hand, begging me in her silent way to accept it, to try.
“What would I say?”
“That you’re a stubborn old mule, and that you miss him.”
I snort, closing my eyes. “He made it clear his life wasn’t here with me, Mum. If he thought it could be, he would have come back.”
In hindsight, I guess that’s why the first weeks were the hardest—I lived in the limbo Duke had spoken of, hoping he would return to sweep me off my feet.
But he didn’t.
“Then I don’t know what else I can say,” Mum tells me as she sets my hand down and stands. “You know the answer, and yet you’d rather suffer than bruise your ego by accepting you both made a mistake in choosing to carry on with separate lives.”
“How am I bruising my ego?” I cry. “He left me.”
“And you did nothing to change that,” she says. “Make a damn phone call, Cam, and be done with it. If he rejects you twice, you can let it go and move on. I’m sick of seeing you miserable over something you could fight to change if you really wanted another chance with him that badly.”
She doesn’t get it. I might be miles from the shore, but my drifting has distanced me from the shipwreck all the same. If I call him, hear his voice, bring the echoes to life, then I put myself back at the start. If he rejects me again, then I’m forced to hang up and face the fact he lives somewhere else, has a life away from here all over again.
I’m forced to say goodbye a second time, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough do that.
“What time does the Salvos shut?” I swing my legs around and sit myself up.
“Four,” Mum mumbles, heading back into Taylah’s room.
“I’ll throw these boxes in the car then and get them into town.”
Because the sooner we get this over with, the sooner Mum goes home. And the sooner my mother leaves, the sooner I can go to bed and lie awake pretending my nightmares aren’t my life, and my dreams aren’t where I wish to be.