Cam sat at the kitchen table, cup of coffee cradled in his hands as Ty zipped up the last of his luggage. He was leaving later that evening, flying out to Abu Dhabi, via Amsterdam. Cam’s fingers clenched around the mug. He should have had a second cigarette before coming back up with their takeout, but he’d been reluctant to waste even a single minute he had left with Ty.
“That’s about it.” Ty stood with his hands on his hips. He surveyed the room before turning back to Cam.
Cam’s heart skipped a beat as their eyes connected, and then it skipped again as Ty headed over. It had been doing that a lot lately. Often when Cam least expected it and couldn’t brace himself for how much it hurt. It didn’t help that they’d been together almost constantly since they made up after their fight on Thanksgiving. If they weren’t at work, they were at one of their apartments, ordering takeout and having sex. Cam had brought Christmas dinner leftovers from his parents’ house to Ty’s office when he had to work the holiday. They had turned down Izzy’s and Cary’s invitations to New Year’s parties and opted to stay home on the couch with Busker in between them.
It felt like they’d been trying to squeeze in as much time together as they could. But now it was already January, and it didn’t feel like enough.
Ty pulled a chair over and sat down next to him, close enough that their legs automatically tangled together. “Hey, you okay?”
No, he wasn’t. “Yeah.” Cam tilted his head toward Ty. “You’re the one moving halfway around the world.”
Ty dropped his eyes to the table and traced his finger along the edge of the surface. “How did your session with Dr. Brown go yesterday?”
It had been a hard session. A lot of back and forth as Dr. Brown coaxed his feelings out of him. “It was fine.”
Ty’s gaze bore into him, disconcerting as always but now with the comfort of familiarity. “You’re still set on going to South Sudan?”
Cam took a shaky breath. That was the other thing he’d hashed out with Dr. Brown. “Yeah. We settled on the three-month idea.”
“That’s good. Only three months in the field. And you’re doing Skype sessions with her, right?”
Cam nodded.
“And then I’m back in three months too, so we’ll be together again.” Cam wasn’t sure who Ty was trying to reassure.
The way Ty laid it out there, it seemed so simple. Short stints away—him in the dredges of a war zone, Ty in the opulence of wealth—and then back to New York like nothing had happened.
Except the war zone might kill him. And Ty’s return would be temporary. And what would they do after that?
Cam knew this was goodbye. They’d both known for weeks now.
Ty leaned in, and Cam let himself be caught for a kiss. There went his heart skipping a beat again, and the sharp stab of pain that came along with it. Cam squeezed his eyes shut as they rested their foreheads together, the words fighting to get out as he forcefully shoved them back inside. No, he refused to ask Ty to stay, despite everything in him itching to grab Ty and never let him go.
Cam pulled away, a little shaken, and reached for the bag of food on the table. They ate their deli sandwiches and pickles in silence. Or rather, Ty ate while Cam picked at the pastrami and dipped and re-dipped the same fry in ketchup.
“You’re not okay,” Ty said.
“I haven’t been okay in a long time, haven’t you heard?”
“Cam.”
He put down the sandwich he’d been shredding and wiped his hands on a napkin. “No, I’m not okay. But I will be eventually, right? That’s what Dr. Brown says, at least.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Ty’s forearms were braced on the table, and he leaned toward Cam with that intense, I’m-worried-about-you look. “I mean, you’re not okay with this, with me leaving.”
“And you’re not okay with me going to South Sudan,” Cam shot back.
They stared at each other across the corner of the kitchen table. Ty was right, but Cam was also right—there was no way to win an argument when both sides were right. Ty sat back first, and the standoff fizzled with all that they had left unsaid in the past weeks.
“Why don’t you want me to go?”
Cam didn’t answer right away, unsure what kind of answer Ty was fishing for. “I never said I didn’t want you to go.”
Ty scoffed. “Don’t bullshit me. You don’t want me to go, like I don’t want you to go to South Sudan.”
He tightened his jaw and closed his eyes, the words of his heart battling with those of his mind. His mind won out. He looked straight at Ty. “No.”
Ty threw him a glare. “No what?”
“No, I’m not going to say what you want me to say.” Cam raised his hands, palms out, as if that would stop the direction of their conversation.
“I want you to say what you’re thinking.”
“But you already know what I’m thinking, don’t you? Because you’re the journalist and you can parse my words and read between the lines. You’ve got me all figured out—you have ever since Kenya, haven’t you?”
The words spilled out without Cam knowing what point he was trying to make, fueled by the unease and fear that normally resided in his darkness. He hadn’t wanted to make their parting a thing. They both knew how this would end, and they were adults. They could pick up whatever pieces of their lives remained after today and move on.
Ty shook his head and stood, throwing the scraps of their food back into the delivery bag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cam glared at him. “Don’t you?” He stood and followed Ty into the kitchen. “You want me to say that I’ve changed my mind and that I won’t go to South Sudan. You want me to tell you not to go to Abu Dhabi, to ask you to stay here, so we can be together. Isn’t that what you want?”
Ty stood at the sink, back to Cam, with hands braced against the edge of the counter and head hanging forward. Cam knew he was right because he wanted to say those words too. He went on. “But I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to be the guy who asks you to give up your dreams just for some relationship.”
Ty pushed away from the counter, turned, and rolled his shoulders, then planted his hands on his hips.
“And you’re not going to be that guy, either.” Cam’s heart did that beat skipping thing as he stood a few feet away from the man he loved. Cam had admitted that to himself one Monday morning as he slipped past Ty in the bathroom while they were getting ready for work. He had put a hand on Ty’s waist as he reached for the toothpaste, and in that moment, it’d all clicked. That was also when he promised himself he wouldn’t ask Ty to stay.
Ty’s eyes were hard as he gazed back at him, his lips pressed together in a firm line. Ty looked like he wanted to argue, but Cam could tell he wouldn’t. “Goddamn it, Cam, it’s not just some relationship for me.” Ty’s voice sounded raw.
“It’s not just some relationship for me, either.” He forced himself to loosen his jaw. “But that doesn’t change things.”
Ty took three steps toward him, grabbed the back of his neck, and pressed their lips together in a hard kiss. It was bruising, like Ty was trying to impress his mark onto Cam, and Cam kissed back, eager to leave a mark of his own.
When they broke apart, panting and hearts racing, Cam had to instruct each of his fingers to release their desperate grip on Ty’s back. He forced himself to take a step back, and then a second step until Ty was out of arm’s reach. He didn’t trust himself not to latch on and never let go.
Ty stood with his hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders hunched over. His eyes were shut, but after a moment he opened them and straightened his posture. “We better get going, then.”
The cab ride to JFK airport was silent. They held each other’s hands in a death grip while they gazed out their windows, attempting to appear nonchalant. Cam didn’t know if the cab driver could feel the stress in the air between them, but Cam could, and it was so thick, he could barely breathe. He helped drag Ty’s suitcases to the check-in counter, his heart cracking a little more with each step, knowing that they were inching closer and closer to the end.
By the time they reached the security doors, Cam’s prickling was back in full force, his skin sensitive even to the fabric of his sweater. They stood inches apart. Cam didn’t want to say goodbye—it felt too final.
“This isn’t goodbye,” Ty growled at him.
Cam pressed his lips together. Of course Ty would know what he was thinking. “So, I’ll see you later?”
Ty nodded. “I’ll message you when I get to the other side.”
Cam tilted his head for a kiss. This one sweet, gentle. Ty said it wasn’t a goodbye, and for the duration of that kiss Cam let himself believe it.
He took a step back, giving Ty room to walk away. With his leather duffel thrown over his shoulder, and a silver hard-cased carry-on, Ty headed toward the security doors. He stopped right before he went through, turned, and waved. Cam’s heart skipped a beat, and then Ty disappeared through the doors.
Cam stood there, alone, and counted to thirty-five before he let himself walk away. First stop was outside for a smoke—maybe two. As his nerves settled, the call of his darkness echoed around the edge of his consciousness. Ah, fuck it. Cam put out his second cigarette and started for the train back into the city. It was a special occasion—he would indulge his darkness tonight.
Cam stepped off the plane onto the dry, dusty runway at the Doro refugee camp in South Sudan and was met by the burning heat of the scorching African sun. It hit him like a wall, dense and suffocating, rendering his lungs momentarily useless. Around him, people swarmed, rushing the cargo plane and shouting over the roar of the engine, eager to unload the shipment of much-needed supplies.
He stepped off to the side, getting out of their way, and gave himself a moment to acclimatize. It was always like this when he came off a flight from Europe. He shut his eyes and turned his head toward the sun, letting its rays seep into his pores until the very core of his being glowed with its molten fire.
When he opened his eyes again, his skin buzzed with the frenzy of activity around him; he had always interpreted that as excitement, but this time it felt eerily like the prickling that heralded his darkness.
His darkness—the security blanket he didn’t want to use. Even now, it sat in the corner of his mind, waiting.
He hoisted his backpack over his shoulder, the weight of his laptop a reminder that he wasn’t facing this alone. Dr. Brown had agreed to Skype sessions, and Ty had demanded them too. And the bottle of whiskey Cam had stuck into his giant duffel bag at the last minute wouldn’t hurt either. Three months, he could do this; he repeated the mantra he’d created for himself.
Grabbing his stuff, Cam headed toward the line of trucks that sat off to the side of the runway. As he approached, a familiar blonde came around the cab of a Land Cruiser.
“Hey, boss.” The Australian wore a big smile, ponytail bobbing as she jogged the last few steps.
“Patsy.” Cam dropped his bags and gave her a hug. “So good to see you. I was skeptical that they would let you come after I requested your transfer.”
“Eh, well, Robinson’s got things sorted, so Dadaab will survive without me for a few months.”
Cam hoisted his bags into the back of the Land Cruiser and mentally slipped into a role that felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. “What’s the situation report?”
“Inventory is a mess. They can’t keep track of what they have.” Patsy slid into the driver’s seat as Cam hopped into the opposite side of the cab. “Doesn’t help that security is almost nonexistent. Raids on supplies at Dadaab are nothing compared to what they’re describing here.”
“Great. Sounds like paradise.” Cam sighed. His brain churned to build a list of things that needed to be done, slowed by the rust that formed from months of lack of use.
“Oh, come on, boss. This is the life!” In any other setting, Patsy’s laugh would have been contagious, but Cam could only manage a smile.
The drive to Admin Block was short, and Patsy showed him around before taking him to his cabin. She left him to settle in after letting him know about the team meeting later that day.
Staff cabins were the same no matter which refugee camp they were in. Some might be larger, some were smaller, but they all held that same barebones, slightly despondent aesthetic. Cam had never noticed it before; now it stood out to him like a sharp stick in his side.
He dropped his stuff in the corner and pulled out his laptop. No internet connection in the cabins meant he’d have to go to the common areas to get onto Skype. The thought of venturing back out into public made him want to pull out the bottle of whiskey.
Instead, he dug around for his cell phone and checked that it was connected to the local cell towers. The beauty of Africa was the leap-frogging of technology—food and shelter might be in short supply in some places, but cell phone reception blanketed the entire continent.
He pulled up Ty’s contact and tapped out a message, but his thumb hesitated over the Send button. Ty had dragged a promise out of him to text when he arrived. Yet, sending it now felt like checking in, like they were a thing.
He dropped the phone onto the bed, message unsent. They had texted back and forth during the week between Ty’s shipping off to Abu Dhabi and Cam’s own departure to Doro. It had been nice to maintain the connection, almost as if nothing had changed. But that was in New York, and now he was in Doro—and things had changed.
The same arguments repeated themselves in his head: it was unhealthy and unfair to use Ty as a crutch; he needed to figure this out on his own. And yet the pull was unmistakable, even in the middle of Africa with Ty miles away on another continent.
Maybe he should pull out that whiskey. Fuck it. Cam grabbed the phone, hit the Send button, and dropped the phone on the bed again as if it burned his skin.
The connection was slow but the message went through. Seconds ticked by. Then an incoming message appeared on the screen.
Glad you made it! How was the trip?
Cam let out the breath he’d been holding. He grabbed the phone, now the lifeline he needed to keep his head above the suffocating heat threatening to drown him. Things were different now, but not in the way he’d expected.
The career he’d built had been fueled by pure determination and stubbornness. But maybe New York had made him soft, or maybe it was Ty. But determination and stubbornness alone weren’t going to get him through the next three months. As he watched the progress bar inching along the screen, Cam clung to his lifeline as fiercely as he dared. Three months. He could do this.