13. Cameron
THIRTEEN
cameron
“So bring your goddamn A games.” Coach Haskins looks at us in turn from under his gray eyebrows. It’s our weekly captains’ meeting and we’re just about to wrap up, which is good because I’m starving. “All right, last thing real quick here. Dalton and Forrester, which one of you wants to answer a few questions for the Daily Phantom about the game against Reynolds? They want a hometown boy.”
“I’ll do it,” Reeve says to the surprise of no one.
“Good. The girl will contact you about it.”
Reeve hesitates. “The girl?” I know what he’s thinking. There’s only a small handful of writers who usually interview the team, and they’re all dudes.
Coach is scribbling something on his clipboard and doesn’t look up. “Yeah. Lainey or something.”
Suddenly I’m not hungry anymore. Reeve and I look at each other. I don’t know what my face says but his clearly reads, Oh, shit .As it should.
Coach looks up from his paper. “Problem, Dalton?” Before Reeve can answer, he adds, “Don’t go bringing personal shit into this, remember?”
Reeve clears his throat like he’s about to make a speech, and his brow furrows in concentration. He’s digging deep for some elaborate excuse. Reeve is the king of bullshitting.
“I’ll take this one,” I say.
Reeve’s eyes cut to me. Coach glances between the two of us. Even Tim, our other captain, is staring. I don’t volunteer for interviews, ever. I ignore the looks and nod at Coach.
“Fine,” he says, eyeing me a second too long. “I’ll give her your info.”
Reeve squeezes my shoulder as we walk out. “Thanks for saving my ass. You’re the hero we all need right now.”
I nod instead of saying that I didn’t do it for him. I don’t have a clue how it works at the paper, but I’m wondering if Lenni was given this assignment or if she actually asked for it. And if she asked, why would she want to be anywhere near a football player after what happened?
Later, Reeve and I grab dinner at a pizza spot off campus. He makes a point of saying how overrated he thinks Reynolds University’s top-ranked wide receiver is. He must be sensing my nerves about our upcoming matchup. What he’s careful not to mention again is Lenni.
He hasn’t said a word about what went down in his bedroom that night, which means he feels guilty—Reeve rarely has a problem laughing about other people’s embarrassment—but apparently not guilty enough to apologize to her. I’m tempted to tell him how shook she was after he left that night, but she wouldn’t want that. What happened when it was just me and her feels private.
Memories of that night linger in my head, and not just because of how hard it was to see her cry.
I’ve gone to sleep every night thinking about her curves barely contained by that lacy red getup she wore. I knew she was stacked, but damn, her body is fucking solid. Big, juicy ass, thick thighs, and soft, pillowy tits. Jesus. I should feel guilty thinking about her this way when it was probably one of the worst moments of her life, but a man can only do so much once an image like that is burned into his brain. At least I haven’t let myself jerk off to her. Yet.
Dammit, it’s enough to make me wish she was a jersey chaser who wants nothing more than a long night with me and some bragging rights to follow. But I don’t think that’s Lenni. I just don’t know what is; that’s why I need to forget her.
I don’t date girls who aren’t perfectly explicit about what they expect. As far back as I remember, that’s the only way I know how to relate to women. If a woman doesn’t tell me exactly what she wants from me, I can only disappoint her.
Besides, I need to keep my head in the game. Lenni is a distraction I can’t afford, not if I want to get drafted. And I do; at least I think I do. Most days.
As we’re leaving the pizza spot, my mom calls; it’s like she knows I’m doubting the path she’s set me on since birth.
“Hey, Ma,” I answer, waving to Reeve as he heads off to the library and I turn toward home.
“Hi, doll. How was practice? You’re taking care of yourself?”
“I always do.” I nod as I pass a guy from my ethics class.
“Good. The last thing you want right now is an injury.” If Mom could cover me in bubble wrap all through college, she would; anything to get me to the pros intact.
“I know. What’s new with you?”
“Well, you know how eager I’ve been to show you off this season. I was thinking I’d come the week after the Reynolds game and bring the whole crew. Rick and Gloria and their kids, and the Wiltons along with their daughter,” she says, naming two of the families Mom is tight with. Then her voice turns girlish. “And I’d like to bring Harris too. He’s just dying to meet you.”
I roll my eyes. Harris is my mom’s shiny new boyfriend, and I couldn’t give a shit about meeting him. Why put both of us through the farce where I pretend he could be a good father figure and he pretends to be one? Meanwhile, we both know what landed him here: Minnie Forrester is pretty, rich, and insatiably hungry for attention.
I’m about to tell her fine when I remember who else I invited to that game. My stomach knots up. “You’re already coming to the Reynolds game, right? Can’t this crew come with you then? It’ll be a better matchup than the next game anyway.”
“Harris might have a hunting trip that weekend. Is there a problem with me attending both?”
“Sort of. I already have guests coming to that game.”
Mom chuckles, but I can tell she’s confused. “Surely there’s enough room in the stadium for another few.”
“And I’ll be busy after the game too.”
“With who?” Mom’s honeyed voice has lost its honey.
Guilt grinds at me. “Serena and Liam.”
In the dead silence that follows, a car horn blares from somewhere across campus and someone shouts angrily in response. I clear my throat unnecessarily. Then, finally, Mom says, “Cameron.” And for the moment, that says it all.
All my life, my mom called me “Cammy” and I hated it; it’s a name fit for a toddler in pigtails. My dad was Cameron, or occasionally Cam when Mom had downed enough wine. Then Dad was gone and the whole messy life he’d kept hidden from us spilled out, and suddenly I was Cameron. You’d think she’d never want to utter the name again after what he did to her, but instead she reclaimed it—for me. Cue my short-lived reinvention of myself as Forrest...Forrest Forrester. Yeah, didn’t think that one through very well, did I?
“Why would you do that, Cameron?” Mom wants to know. “Why would you invite her?”
“Liam’s been asking to see me play.”
“I had no idea you had that kind of relationship with the woman.” It’s not a statement but an accusation.
“You know I talk to her.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t know that amounted to a relationship of this sort. You’re treating her like family, Cameron!”
“Liam is my family, and the kid needs all he can get.”
“Oh, hell’s bells, with the amount of money that woman has gotten out of us, she could buy the child a new father. And what are people going to say when they find out your so-called brother has a mother not a decade older than you?”
“No one here cares about our family drama.”
Mom sighs slowly, gathering herself. “Honey, I know you want to do right by the boy, but you are not responsible for your father’s sins.” Because that’s all Serena and Liam will ever be to my mom: sins.
“I gotta go, Ma. I’m sorry. Pick any other Saturday and I’m all yours.”
“I’m your mother, Cameron, and I should be able to attend any Saturday I want. It’s not as though I’m there every weekend.”
I sigh. “So you’re asking me to uninvite Serena?”
“I suppose I’m only asking you to decide what’s more important.”
Not what, who . That’s what she means. So I’m trapped. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”
After we exchange a quick goodbye, I sit down on the brick stoop in front of my house. The street is quiet, and as usual, no one’s bothered to turn on the porch light. I feel like a shit son. Mom’s pissed, which is one thing, but she’s hurt too. All because I went off script.
In the beginning, when we found out that Dad not only had a mistress but had fathered her son, I hated Serena almost as much as Mom did. I even hated Liam. He was just some dumb little kid whose father never wanted him. Until I realized that’s what he was: a clueless kid whose father had barely been in his life and never would be again. I couldn’t hate him for that.
Mom thought I’d take her side no matter what because for so long, I did. It was just me and her, hurting together, trying to pick up the pieces Dad left when he blew up our family. And now that I’m trying to be a brother to Liam, she’s hurt even more. Story of my life. Either meet expectations or live with the guilt of letting down the people you love.
I pull out my phone to check the time, suddenly wanting to hear my little brother’s voice. He’s not much for phone conversations, but he has a birthday coming up, and I bet I could get a nice monologue out of him if I asked what was on his wish list. But it’s past his bedtime, so I settle for searching the internet for a replacement for the blue toy car Lenni took home with her in my rain jacket. I know she’d give it back, but I like knowing it’s with her.
Turns out they don’t sell the exact car anymore, but I find a new-in-box version on a resale site for ten times the original price, which still only amounts to about twenty-five bucks. I order it, feeling a small sense of victory. So maybe there’s more to life than living up to expectations.