CHAPTER 3 #2
“Or whenever your schedule permits. As you can tell from the level of grime, these have been waiting decades for your gentle touch. An extra season or two won’t make a difference.”
“It’s not that,” Cameron said with a guilty swallow. He hadn’t yet told Charles the news. Their relationship was the last refuge where the future hadn’t invaded the present. Until now. “I’m moving back to Maine.”
“What?” Charles cried, aghast. “Whatever for?”
“Now that my parents have split up, my mom wants to go home. Which to her means the place where we have the most family. But that’s the thing. To me, this is home. I feel like I belong here, in Pride.”
“Despite this town’s shortcomings, I share your sentiment.” Charles released a gentle sigh. “When are you due to depart?”
“At the end of the school year.”
“That isn’t so bad. You can get everything set up in Maine and come back for a visit during the summer to see your friends. That should take away some of the sting.”
“I wish,” Cameron said before swallowing. “My mom doesn’t do so well on her own. She has a drinking problem.”
Charles stared for a second. “I’m getting the impression that there are a good many things you haven’t told me!”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Now then—”
A bell rang up front. Someone was ready to check out.
“We’ll have to put a pin in this conversation,” Charles said apologetically. “I’ll be right back.”
Cameron busied himself with the chairs, removing each from the stack and arranging them by condition, best to worst. He studied the one that had the most intact seat and was flipping through the book Charles had given him when his friend returned.
Cameron didn’t make him play twenty questions.
He explained the situation with his mother—how she had tried to get help but continued slipping up.
“I keep hoping, now that my dad isn’t around, that she won’t be as tempted to drink. Then again, she drank the most when he was out of town, so I don’t know.” He chewed his bottom lip before releasing it. “She needs me.”
“You’re a good son. Take care of the people you love. That’s the most important thing.”
Cameron’s shoulders slumped.
“Oh.” The rest of the implications seemed to have hit Charles. “What does Anthony think about it all?”
“We might call it quits.”
“Because of the distance?”
“Because of who he is.”
Charles tensed. “Was that your idea or—”
Cameron shook his head. “He says it might be for the best, but I don’t know. I’d like to at least try. We’ve talked about a long-distance relationship. Maybe that would help, since it would be more about how we feel and less about… the rest.”
Annie. That’s what Anthony called her, the other side of himself.
Or as he had recently tried to explain, the person he felt he was supposed to be.
Cameron struggled to understand why, perhaps because he loved Anthony so much.
As far as he was concerned, his boyfriend was already perfect and didn’t need to change.
Charles considered him, his expression sympathetic. “Would you like my advice?”
“Please!”
“Keep being honest with each other. Nobody wants to be settled for. Francis, despite all evidence to the contrary, has always found me beautiful, and I’ve certainly never had to fake my attraction to him.
Don’t underestimate the importance of physical chemistry.
It’s the glue that will keep you together during the early years while something more ethereal slowly takes its place.
Telling someone what they want to hear might seem kind but can end up doing more harm than good. Keep that in mind.”
Cameron nodded, humbled. “I will.”
“As for the rest…” Charles sighed. “This doesn’t mean the end of our friendship. I’ll come visit. I’ve heard the antiquing scene in Maine is truly something to behold. We’ll remain in regular correspondence until then.”
“What about the business side of things?” Cameron asked. “I know it’s your shop, but me restoring things to keep inventory up was part of the plan.”
“I don’t see why that has to stop! Take these chairs, for instance. Did you know they were designed to be shipped disassembled? How serendipitous is that? Feel free to take them to Maine, if there is room on the moving truck.”
“I’d rather reserve that space for you,” Cameron said warmly. “I’ll roll you up in bubble wrap.”
“I’m afraid Lover Boy would never allow it. Now if you took both of us with you…”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Charles smiled. “I’m sure your friends will make similar concessions.
You’ll be eighteen in less than a year, Cameron.
Your life will soon be your own, including where you choose to live.
You’re right to prioritize your mother until then.
Give her the support she needs. With any luck, by the time you graduate from high school, you’ll be free to pursue your dreams, secure in the knowledge that she’ll be fine, even without you by her side.
Pride will still be here. And so will I. ”
Cameron hugged the older man spontaneously, relieved that not everything he loved was slipping out of his grasp.
— — —
Silvia used index fingers to poke at the typewriter keys, frustrated with the slow progress.
Her intent was to transcribe the words playing over the record store speakers, but by the time she got one or two lines done, the song had usually switched, resulting in a bizarre hodgepodge of lyrics.
The fool on the hill wanted someone to wake him up before they go-go so he could pour some sugar in the name of love.
She really needed to master typing with all her fingers at once.
Silvia was about to sigh when someone beat her to the punch.
Omar was supposed to be setting up his camera so he could record customers coming and going.
He wanted to experiment with time-lapses, muttering something about Godfrey Reggio before he’d trudged off.
Now he was leaning against the counter with his back to her, the camera hanging from the strap he wore over one shoulder.
“Still looking for the right spot?” she asked.
“No. I gave up. The light sucks today or something.” Omar turned around to face her, the usual abundance of enthusiasm absent in his dark eyes, which dropped to the typewriter.
“Is that homework?”
“Not really. I’m practicing.”
“On a Saturday? Isn’t that what school is for? Five days of Hell is enough!”
Silvia took a deep breath. She hadn’t told him about the epiphany she’d had recently.
At first because she wasn’t sure if her excitement for the idea would last. Declaring her intent to become a lawyer sounded so na?ve, like a child announcing they were going to be president when they grew up.
Aspirational, but not at all realistic. And yet, ever since an immigration attorney had helped her parents escape a sticky situation, Silvia felt like she’d found her calling.
She only needed a plan to get there, which their vice principal had promised to help her with.
For now, she was determined to prove to herself that she really wanted it, which meant taking whatever action she could.
“Never mind,” Omar grumbled when she didn’t respond immediately. “God forbid I ask you anything personal.” He turned around again.
“I’m not being secretive,” Silvia said. “I just don’t want to embarrass myself. I’m trying to improve myself because, well, I’d like to become a lawyer.”
There. She’d said it. Omar didn’t spin around, his face lighting up with the idea. There was no “You can do it, babe!” like she’d hoped for. His response was sullen.
“Oh. Is that why you were too busy to go to my grandma’s funeral?”
“Omar,” she said, waiting until he turned to face her. When he did, his arms were crossed. “You know why.”
His brow furrowed. “So you would’ve had to cover up and stand behind a bunch of men for like five whole minutes.
Yeah, it’s a stupid custom. I’d never expect you to do that, but couldn’t you have at least done it for Mamani?
Like in her honor or whatever? She was a strong woman, and she was cool with it. ”
Silvia swallowed, torn between expressing herself and not wanting to hurt his feelings. “I’d like to think that Mamani would have respected my decision. After all, she came to this country to escape rules that she found too draconian. Like how she was denied an education.”
Omar narrowed his eyes. “I guess, now that she’s dead, we all get to make up how she would feel.”
He stomped off, as if he intended to leave, but stopped short of the door to glare at the street outside.
She was the real target of his ire. The only question was how long he’d hold a grudge.
Silvia walked over to join him, flipping the sign on the door that announced she would be back in half an hour.
“What are you doing?” Omar asked in suspicious tones.
“Taking my lunch break early.” She placed a hand on his chest. “So we can have some alone time together.”
“Uh-uh,” Omar said. “No way. I never thought I’d say this, ever, but I’m not in the mood. Even sex can’t make this better!”
“I’m not trying to seduce you,” Silvia said, unable to hide the amusement in her voice. “I want to talk, so we can fix our relationship.”
“You’re fine.” Omar seemed to deflate. “I get why you didn’t want to be at the funeral. It’s just…” He paced deeper into the store while shaking his head. “I hate everything now. Ever since she died. You have no idea.”
“You’re right,” Silvia said gently. “I don’t know.
I’ve never met my grandmother. We talk on the phone, but that isn’t the same as meeting in person.
I’d be sad if she died, but honestly, I’m not sure how much.
You got to live with your grandmother for your entire life and make countless memories together. Think how special that is.”
“Yeah, but that only makes it hurt more,” Omar said, his voice wavering.
“I suppose that’s the price we all pay.” Silvia placed her hand on his cheek, like her mother did when wanting to instill comfort. Then she let her hand drop. “What would the alternative be? Mamani wasn’t getting any younger. Her body was failing. How much longer did you want her to live?”
“Just until I got old and died,” Omar croaked. “I get what you mean though. This is just how it goes, right? The circle of life or whatever. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“No. Me neither. But you know what Mamani would want you to do?”
“Go back to having sex with my hot girlfriend?”
“Among other things,” Silvia said with a chuckle. “It’s okay to grieve her. And that you don’t have much enthusiasm for anything at the moment. Just don’t turn your back on life while you’re dealing with death.”
Omar’s chin trembled. Then he nodded. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Silvia said, taking his hand. “For your loss, and also not being there when you needed me.”
He shook his head adamantly. “Like I said—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “But I could have waited outside the mosque. Or driven you there, so you’d know I wasn’t far. Just in case.”
“That’s all right. My boyfriend had my back.”
Silvia stared. “Your what?”
“My boyfriend. I’m leaving you for Anthony. I’ve been trying to find the right moment to tell you.” A twinkle in his eye gave him away.
Silvia breathed out in relief. “If you ever leave me for anyone, make sure it’s him.”
“Deal.” He stepped forward to kiss her. “I’ll never leave you though. I swear.”
The vulnerability in his eyes made her yearn for more. “We still have half an hour to spend.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Neither am I.”
He reconsidered her. Then he winced. “I’m not ready yet. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” she said instantly. If anything, it only made her love him more.
“Actually,” he said, his hand tightening around hers. “Can I film you?”
“In this light?” she asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Yeah. The day is looking a little brighter now.” Omar unslung the camera and managed a smile. “Now tell me about your dream to become a lawyer.”