Chapter Seven Kami #2
I looked at a patch of trees as I buttoned my coat up and stuck my hands back in my pockets. It was freezing, but it felt good being out in the middle of nowhere. It was as if I was in another world, another time—somewhere I could think and reflect.
“What did they tell you at the police station?” I asked, trying to change the subject or at least buy a little time. I wasn’t ready to face my feelings yet. And I sure wasn’t ready to face Thiago’s.
“They’re a bunch of morons,” he said as he walked around the side of the camper and came back with a few logs of firewood. “They said they’ll let his parents know, but that’s all they can do for now. For them, it’s just a case of bullying, and they want the school to take care of it.”
“How is the school going to deal with it? He’s not even a student there anymore. They expelled him.”
“I told them that,” he said, arranging the logs and lighting a newspaper to get the fire started.
Soon orange flames started to rise, and the pale, icy landscape around us took on warmer tones.
I reached my hands out toward the bonfire, and soon the heat had warmed my bones.
I felt good at last, and even better when Thiago went inside to make us a couple of cups of coffee, then came out and sat next to me.
It was a subtle move, yet I couldn’t help but notice he was finally trying to get close to me.
“Here,” he said, handing me a mug. I cupped it in both hands and took a sip, feeling it warm me up on the inside.
“Thanks,” I said, not taking my eyes off the fire.
“Kamila, I don’t like this any more than you do, believe me,” he confessed, and I could feel his eyes on me. I didn’t turn, because I knew if I did, and I saw his face so close to mine, I would do something stupid, something that could only make things worse.
“He was my boyfriend. He was my best friend…” I said, already knowing how Thiago would respond.
“He is my brother,” he affirmed, letting me know this was harder for him. He and Taylor were family.
“You think I don’t know that?” I asked, my voice getting louder. I got up and walked away, hugging myself. “I’m the worst person in the fucking world!” I shouted to the trees. Feeling the chill in my bones, I walked back to the fire.
“Come here,” Thiago said gently.
We were together. This was our chance—fleeting as it may be.
There was no one on the other side of the door, no one about to arrive, no one to interrupt us, and being together was no longer forbidden.
And yet, I told him, “I can’t.” I didn’t even feel capable of looking him in the eyes.
I covered my face with my hands and began to cry.
I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t hold back. Not anymore.
For months, everything had been going wrong. Nothing had worked out. Everything I wanted to go one way inevitably went the other way.
Thiago hugged me from behind, and I melted into the soothing warmth of his big, strong arms.
His embrace.
What better shelter was there?
I turned around and hugged him tight, taking refuge in his body, letting him warm me up. It was just the two of us in this moment.
“There’s nothing wrong with loving, Kamila,” he whispered in my ear. “And that’s something you’re good at: loving. You wouldn’t be in the position you’re in if you didn’t have so much love to give. Who can hold that against you?”
“It’s wrong to love two people, though… It means there’s something wrong with me.”
He cupped my cheeks and lifted my face until I was looking him directly in the eyes. I had to blink a few times before I could see through my tears, but at last, when I focused on those bright-green eyes, I knew what he was saying was true.
Green eyes. Blue eyes.
I loved them both.
Was I in love with both of them?
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just human,” he said, wiping away my tears.
“I’m only human, too, and I can tell you love is complicated.
It’s hard. You can love and hate someone at the same time.
You can want them and wish you’d never see them again; you can be happy and sad at the same time; you can be furious and full of joy… ”
I realized something right then.
Sure, you can love two people. But I only wanted to love one.
And that person was him.
I was absolutely certain of it.
He was the one who awakened things in me no one else could.
Thiago was the only one whose kisses made me want to die, whose simple presence made me want to live… Fuck! Loving someone the way I loved him wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t good, not for me and surely not for him.
Could Thiago love me the way I needed? Could I give him the place in my heart he deserved?
“Spend the night with me, Kam,” he asked me, and his lips grazed my cheeks, red from the cold.
“Stay here, share the heat of your body with me, just give me that, and afterward, you can decide what you want to do… I promise I won’t interfere…
I won’t tell you what to do, I’ll accept whatever decision you make, but I deserve one night… just one night.”
His request, and the things I saw in my mind when I imagined fulfilling it, made me nearly double over to try to calm the enormous butterflies in my stomach.
“Show me your new place,” I said, gulping, my pulse racing.
What we would do in that caravan would mark a before and after. I knew that. We both did.
He let me go and led me inside. I felt as if I was entering directly into his mind, and I wondered how a person as mysterious as he was would decorate a home of his own, or this vehicle that was passing for a home.
What I saw inside was the very last thing I would have imagined, knowing that it belonged to Thiago Di Bianco.
The furniture was rustic but cute. To the right, a table was wedged into a tiny space with a grayish sofa and blue plaid pillows. There was no way he’d bought those himself, and I was tempted to ask him where they’d come from.
The little kitchen had two small windows with curtains that matched the pillows.
On the ground was an Iron Man doormat. He had obviously picked that out himself.
Clean plates and glasses were piled up haphazardly in the drying rack.
To the left was a double bed that just barely fit the space.
It was neatly made, and a pile of books sat on a shelf that served as his nightstand.
There was a TV in one corner, and another door that I guessed led to the bathroom.
I was surprised, as I walked farther in, to find the drawing I had made for him months before and that he had gotten so angry about. The image of us as kids with his sister, Lucy… It made my heart ache; I was touched.
This place, it was Thiago, it was everything he represented: austerity, gentleness, longing, masculinity, and most importantly, simplicity. Because that was what he was: a simple guy with small dreams, a brilliant mind, and a camper for a home.
That was him, and it wasn’t surprising, exactly, because I had known all that already. What surprised me was how much I liked what I saw, and how I identified with all the little things there that were a part of him…and a part of me.
What surprised me was how much I felt at home.