Page 94 of You're So Vine
Just to be clear, I want to rise. Very much. But that’s no guarantee that I will.
I’m roused from sleep by the sound of the front door shutting. The click is barely audible, so part of my brain must have stayed awake, listening. Now, every sense is on high alert, trying to figure out when Cam will come up to bed. I could go downstairs but that might seem needy. If Cam and I are going to start talking about our future, then I want us to be honest. I don’t want one of us to agree to anything because they feel obligated.
I try to identify the sounds. He takes off his boots and hangs his jacket. Runs the kitchen tap—glass of water is my guess. Door out to the bathroom creaks open and shut, and after a couple of minutes, opens and shuts again. Then … silence. Forages.
Dammit, he’s probably gone to sleep in an armchair so as not to disturb me. I try to summon him with mind power but no dice. Nothing for it. I’ll have to go down.
Cam is in an armchair but sitting in the light of a hurricane lamp set on the table, leafing through what looks like a compact photo album. He looks up when he hears me on the stairs.
“Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet.”
“I was only half-asleep,” I say.
The room is still freezing, and I shiver. He shifts the album onto the table and pulls off the blanket that hangs over the back of the armchair. Opens his arms, inviting me onto his lap, and when I’m settled, he wraps the blanket around me. I’m like a swaddled child but it’s kind of nice. Comforting.
“What’s the album?” I ask.
“Blair’s wedding. Everyone who went got one as a souvenir. Plus a piece of cake, but I already ate that.”
He reaches for the album. I straighten out my legs so he can lay it on my lap.
“Oh my,” I say. “How old were you again?”
“Just shy of eighteen. And yes, I really was that skinny. Army training put thirty pounds of muscle on me.”
I turn a page. “Your sister is beautiful.”
“You mean she looks nothing like me,” says Cam, but I can hear the smile.
“Same eyes,” I say. “Same thick hair, only blonder.”
“It’s silver now,” he tells me. “Blair started going gray in her late twenties. Didn’t bother to dye it. Suits her.”
I crane my neck to look up at him. “When was the last time you saw each other?”
He makes an embarrassed face. “Two years ago?”
“She’s in Oregon, not Antarctica,” I point out.
“I call,” he says. “But yeah…”
I don’t know exactly why he decided to get this album out, but I feel its significance. Old photos show past us, before we started down our current paths. Our younger selves, full of promise and energy, but also with absolutely no idea of what’s about to hit us.
“We could take a trip to see her?” I say the next bit quickly before I have second thoughts. “And, maybe, go on to visit your parents in Wyoming?”
“Cut through Idaho?” he says. “Home of the potato?”
It’s not a no.
“Without potatoes there would be no curly fries,” I say. “They’re a legendary vegetable.”
Gently, Cam lifts the album off my lap and puts it back on the table. He wraps his arms around me, and I feel his breath warm my ear.
“I really want to make this work,” he murmurs. “If … you do.”
It’s like I’ve been suddenly filled with light, the kind that swirls and sparkles. If Cam didn’t have his arms around me, I’d float up to the ceiling like a balloon.
“I absolutely do,” I assure him. “Is it okay if I have no clue how?”
