21. Emotional Support Bee
TWENTY-ONE
To topthe one he had before finding Justin at the bonfire, Cameron slammed two more shots of whisky. If he burned his throat, maybe he could burn from his eyes the sight of Isaac holding Avery close. Then, the more gut-wrenching view of him pulling her away right after she said he was always the best part of her day.
He grabbed a bottle of water and started to walk back to campus.
She was never more desirable than when she shoved her own hurt aside to defend her dead brother and her friend. Her drive to heal her heart and calm her fears led her to that moment, and the blazing bonfire next to them could spark nothing else so lovely.
He was the brightest part of her day, but it wasn’t enough. Maybe she wasn’t enough. The emptiness and the ache persisted.
He stumbled on a broken section of sidewalk and kept his eyes turned down as he walked, looking for more potholes. Spotting a loose triangle of concrete, he broke his stride to jump over it, then skidded to a stop when a bright color caught his eye.
At the edge of the pavement, next to a shrub well into losing its leaves for the fall, wriggled a bumble bee.
Cam crouched down and glared at it. “You’re out too late,” he said. “Go home, stabby guy. It’s October. Too cold for you.”
The bee curled on its side and lay still on a brown leaf.
“I didn’t mean die. I said, go home.” He picked up a rock and poked it. “Come on. I support the pollinators. Where’s your nest? Go home, so we can have flowers next year.”
The bee batted a wing at him.
“Go home!” he shouted, the whisky still hot on his breath. “You don’t belong here, you fuzzy little shit. Go away where it’s warm. It’s still warm in Tennessee. You’ll die if you stay here.”
Cam shook from the effort it took not to mash the rock into the helpless bee, and threw it across the road so he wouldn’t be tempted.
“Why don’t you leave?” His eyes welled. “Turn left at the tree or the pylon or the lilac bush or the whatever, the end zone, I don’t know. Then y’all end up half-dead or mostly dead and plain lost. Why are you even here, you chunky fluff? There’s nothing here for you. You couldn’t even sting me if you tried right now. You’re so damn tired. I bet I could pet you.”
Uncapping his water bottle, he flopped next to the shrub to catch his breath. He scooped some damp, dead leaves and clumps of mulch from the base of the shrub and built a wall around the bee. It squirmed a little on its leaf.
“Bet I could do it,” he mumbled. “You’re just a freaking pom pom. You’re a fluff face. Bet I could pet you.”
Scanning the area, Cam saw a honeysuckle bush the bee might have visited in the summer, and he collected the wilted blossoms gathered at its base.
“Didn’t get the memo that the buffet closed for the season, huh?” he asked, crumbling the driest petals to dust and sifting them around the little wall of leaves and mulch.
“Hey, pom pom.” The bee’s wing fluttered. “Is that your name? Watch this.”
He touched the end of his left pinky finger to the bee, then laid the softest honeysuckle petal across it like a quilt.
“And my epi-pen’s in the truck,” he said, pumping his fist in the air. “Porter takes the long shot and comes in clutch with the game on the line, right, buddy?”
He placed a leaf over the bee like a roof. “Kidding. You only get to be clutch if you screw up, you know? You’ve got to be down to rally for a comeback, and I am so sick of losing before I can even hope to squeak out a win. Where’s my first-quarter lead? When am I ever going to put the first points on the board? Look at us, Pom Pom. You’re the dumbass who went to a dead honeysuckle vine. I’m the loser who can’t keep my grades up, because I’m too busy trying to fix the fact that I don’t talk right or dress right or look right. Did you know I was on a podcast? I didn’t.”
Chest heaving, Cameron slouched forward, elbows on his knees, and raised his voice with every word. “Why does it even matter if she gets back with him? I can’t even take care of myself. I’m not sleeping, I’m not eating right, I barely have the energy to throw the ball right, and you know what? Aside from the one person who I wish was interested, I am tired of people looking at my dick!”
“You okay, kid?”
He glanced up and followed the voice to the street, where a police officer gestured from the open window of a patrol car.
“Yes, sir,” he called.
“Where are you headed?”
“Back to campus.”
“You been drinking?”
“I’m just really tired, sir.” He took a drink from his water to emphasize his commitment to healthy fluid intake and wondered if he could make a puddle for Pom Pom to drink from without drowning it. He scraped his finger into the dirt and made a little hollow next to the wall of his makeshift nest.
“Who were you talking to just now?”
“A bee.” He bit his tongue. “Nobody, sir. Just thinking out loud, I guess. Rough day.”
The officer squinted at him. “Well, yeah. I guess for Cameron Porter, it’s been a rough day.”
“Excuse me?”
“Heck of a fight today, kid. You boys almost pulled it off.”
The banners. The magazine. Whatever his face was on, everyone, including city police officers, saw it and knew who he was. He envisioned the next headline: Cameron Porter Requests Sideline Accommodation for Pom Pom the Emotional Support Bee.
“It was a rough one, but it’s fuel for next week. Thanks for cheering us on.”
“Get in, buddy. I’ll give you a lift home. You look exhausted.”
“I’m okay, really. Thank you though, sir.”
“You’re not sleeping out here, and nobody wants you in the news as an intoxicated minor tripping on broken sidewalks and breaking his arm.”
Cam tipped a few drops of water into the hole he made and frowned when the dirt dried in a blink. “Dammit, Pom,” he muttered. “I’m trying.”
“Porter.”
“Just a—yes, sir. Thank you, I’m coming.”
“Sit up front. I’m not your limo driver.”
They rode in silence toward campus, each block busier than the last, leaving Pom Pom in the shadows, as comfortable as he could make him in a makeshift nest away from his friends. He didn’t know if it was his heart or the whisky, but his chest ached the way it did on the field when Jordan’s ghost pushed him back.
He spoke up as they neared his residence hall. “I appreciate the ride, sir.”
“I appreciate your wise decision not to drive tonight. I guess you were coming from the football houses. Those guys don’t cause trouble. They still take everyone’s keys when you get there?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have to dig mine out of a pile tomorrow.”
The officer stroked his gray sideburns. “They’ve been doing that a long time. We never get called for the guys on your team who live in that area. Closer to campus, well.”
Cam nodded, unsure what to say.
“From everything I’ve read about you, Porter, you’re a good kid, and even drunk as a skunk—don’t lie to me, whisky breath—you made a good decision.”
“Whisky isn’t a very good decision.”
“You didn’t drive. That’s the most important thing.”
“I guess.”
“A kid like you is in a position to be a role model. My son is twelve, and he’s a big fan. Always sad when the guys kids admire make bad choices.”
whisky was the least of his poor choices. The good thing about having a bee for a friend was that he didn’t lecture or talk back. Cam nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s a good reminder.”
“And between us, I would have gone for it at fourth-and-two.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Would have made the difference, you know.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The notion of sleep evaporated before his head hit the pillow. Pieces of the evening swirled behind his eyelids in a blur of orange flames and yellow fuzz, and the organic, earthy smell of dead leaves and damp mulch.
Cameron
Who’s up?
Hayden
Meeee hey loser. We’re cool.
Ethan
I am.
Cameron
You’re right, Hammy, we are so cool.
Hayden
You should come to the party. Best parties here.
Ethan, dude, let me post a photo. You’ve got to see this girl.
Cameron
I’ll stay for the party next time.
Whoops, roommate just got in, got to do something.
Cameron Porter has created a private chat.
Ethan
Hammy’s starting to worry me. What’s up?
Cameron
Do you remember Manning Passing Academy five years ago?
Ethan
Were you there when I was there?
Cameron
Do you remember the kid who got stung by a bee the first day and never came back?
Ethan
WAS THAT YOU?
Cameron
I hadn’t even picked up a ball. We were stretching. The very first time Peyton Manning walked over to my group, I got stung. My epi-pen was in my sideline bag. I didn’t want to make a scene. I didn’t feel too bad at first, so I didn’t run and get it.
Ethan
I remember. God, do I remember. A couple of kids really thought you died.
Cameron
Bees get me at the worst times. And in hindsight, I think those were warning signs.
Ethan
That’s a reach. You can’t help what a bee does.
Cameron
The first time I picked up a real football, I got stung. My mom never wanted to let me out of the house again, and I fought to play anyway. The first day of MPA, my first summer camp away from home, I got stung.
My parents wouldn’t let me go back. And when I got offered a spot to sit next to you at UT, I was so afraid I’d ruin my dream if I lived it I said no and came here.
Ethan
You wanted it so much you said no?
Cameron
Tennessee was home. The backup plan, because I just knew that if I came here to UND, I’d get stung and lose my airway and have to go home, and at least going home would be okay because it wouldn’t be the end.
Ethan
You were really going to come here? Why didn’t I know that?
Cameron
Because you were a senior commit when I was recruited. You weren’t at the spring camps.
I got the offer and committed to UND less than a week later.
Ethan
You’d have been on my bench. Jesus. I’m a little sad right now. We’d have torn this place up.
Cameron
You’re a little sad? I’m fucking miserable.
Ethan
You didn’t have a great game today, man, but let’s put it in perspective.
Cameron
Football is not the problem. It’s everything but the actual game of football.
Beer, tequila, whisky, screaming and fires and cops and podcasts and magazines and one fat bumble bee.
Ethan
You know it’s bad when it’s nothing but sentence fragments. Got any verbs?
Cameron
Scream is a verb.
Ethan
You used screaming like a noun. That makes it a gerund, which is more or less a noun. What were all your nouns verbing?
Cameron
My God.
Ethan
They told me I had to major in something. I picked English. Sorry. Tell me what happened.
Cameron
Avery had an older brother named Isaac who died three years ago tonight.
Her brother Justin got drunk off his ass at a party and got in our friend Isaac’s face, screaming about his dead brother, like Isaac WAS his brother. Bitter shit, like how he let them all down.
Ethan
That’s messed up.
Cameron
My friend Benny and I had him by the elbows. Isaac just stood there and took it. Thousand-yard stare, just trying to let Justin get it all out, you know? This is our pseudo-Cory. Manifesting peace.
Then, Justin turns on Avery, and he’s yelling at her about having all these issues. She shot it all right back at him about how he was refusing to cope and taking it out on her and his friends.
Ethan
God, what a mess.
Cameron
After that, it’s me and a couple linemen helping him to the toilet to barf up half a bottle of tequila while she goes off with her ex to feel better.
Then when I go looking for them because Justin wants them, I find Isaac snuggling her. I just stood there for a minute until he said something that upset her.
Ethan
Maybe he’s not quite the Steal-Your-Girl version of Cory if he upset her after all that. But to be safe, I am paging @CoryThatcher, the one and only, since I am not qualified to handle this alone.
Cory Thatcher has joined the private chat.
Ethan
Wake up, Thatch. Read it all. I’ll wait.
Cory
Oh my God. Oh my freaking freaking God.
Cameron
I didn’t even get the October F-bomb. That’s encouraging.
After all that, I made the wise decision not to drive after slamming some whisky, and a cop pulled up and offered me a ride home because he recognized me from all these stupid photos.
By the way, he would have gone for it at fourth-and-two, and thought I should know.
Cory
Buddy. You’ve had a night. I’m sorry.
Cameron
I’m sorry, too. But I got myself into this mess, and I’m getting myself out.
Cory
What do you mean?
Cameron
As soon as it opens up in December, I’m hitting the transfer portal and landing wherever I land.
Ethan
You most certainly are not.
Cameron
I am not supposed to be at this school. I told you, I came here for the wrong reasons.
Ethan
You can’t quit on your team like that. They already lost Jordan. This is a bad night at a party, and you’re half drunk.
Cameron
I was running scared from chasing a dream. I can’t be scared of anything anymore.
Cory
But your team is your team now, however you landed there. Some things will always be scary, and we grow up and work through them.
Ethan
How does anything about tonight add up to quitting? You don’t just pack up and walk back to UT and start over.
Cameron
There was a bee tonight. A big fluffy bumble, right on the sidewalk.
Ethan
There was a bee.
So you’re leaving.
When you put it that way, it makes perfect sense.
Cameron
He was so cold and barely moving. Bees aren’t supposed to be out in the middle of the night. They’re not supposed to be out at all this time of year. I bet he was scared.
I made him a little house.
Ethan
You are dangerously, maybe fatally allergic, and you made a house for a bee on the sidewalk. What did you drink?
Cameron
He doesn’t belong out here, and neither do I. He was lost, and so am I.
And I petted him.
There are a million guys who can throw a football. Let them throw it here.
Cory
No, there’s not. There are very few people who can do this job, and that’s why we have to stick together.
Cam. It’s just a bad night. That’s all.
Cameron
This life is ruining everything I liked about myself. I came here to study art and play football, not to be a role model or a magazine model or whatever the hell else you guys have to be. I can’t do it.
Cory
Being elevated off the bench not only to start the game but to be the face of the program is HARD.
Struggling doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong. It means you’re doing it.
Ethan
I’m not quite over that you made a house for a bee who told you to transfer.
You petted a bee?
Cameron
He was soft like a fuzzy pom pom. I might not be allergic to him, you know.
Ethan
Are you still drinking?
Cameron
No. Have you ever seen a drunk bumblebee? They get all that pollen stuck on them. Those motherfluffers are hilarious.
Ethan
There’s nothing hilarious about this.
And it’s really rich how you went after Hammy about not being there for his team for one game when you want to quit yours entirely. I’m about to page him in here for this bullshit.
Cameron
Do it. Wait till I blow all your minds and tell you I’m never playing again after college. I’m leaving the country the day after graduation.
PORTER WILL NOT ENTER THE DRAFT. EVER. That’s the only decision that’s still 100% mine.
Cory
WHAT?!
Cameron
This game pays for my degree. I’m not here to lead anybody. Everything is wrong, and it hurts, and I’m tired of feeling this way.
Ethan
Sweet Jesus, Cam, listen to yourself. Read all that out loud and see if you can do it without slurring.
Cameron
Now who’s not supportive enough?
I’m allowed to be sad. I’m allowed to hate this stupid job, and I’m allowed to say I am done trying to battle this fucking adversity. I am done.
Cory
You could use the job to your advantage, Cam. There are bee conservation groups. It’s a big thing. You could adopt a hive or something. Just don’t visit it.
If you don’t want to play later, just play now and bank the money. Stay with UND. You’ll make more as the starter than you will on anyone else’s bench. Boom. So many bees saved.
Cameron
But I don’t get to “just play” anymore if I stay, do I?
I’m a solid backup. I love football, and I love being a backup. I don’t know why that offends everybody.
Cory
Maybe we can do something about the exposure part of it. Let me think. There’s got to be a way.
And Ethan, take a breath. He’s venting. No one’s leaving mid-season.
Ethan
I’m pissed and disappointed, so I can vent, too.
Cam, if you try to come here and make my team your team, like your real team never existed, you and your bumble buddy won’t get through the door. I’ll make sure of it.
Ethan Engel has left the private chat.
Cameron nearly dropped his phone when it rang.
“Hi, Cory.”
“This is easier. I jammed my left thumb today.”
“Sorry.”
“All good. A little tape.”
Cam heard the crack of a can of something fizzy and couldn’t hold back a smile. “I didn’t get the F-bomb, but I’m driving you to drink?”
Normally the poster child for athletes’ nutrition, Cory’s one vice was a disgustingly sweet strawberry carbonated water that he savored like Cam savored strawberry milkshakes. He tried a can of it once and barely swallowed. Cory sipped his through a straw so the artificial red dye didn’t stain his teeth.
“It’s not that bad, Cam. You’re not alone in trying to balance all this.”
Cam shoved his hat under his pillow and yanked at his hair, whisky still burning in his raw throat.
“Look, Avery loves her brother more than anyone in the world, and had the strength to shout him down when he was treating people badly. She had no problem dumping some classes to prioritize her art, and she has the freedom to do that. She took control of whatever was going on with Isaac that made her upset, and rose above it because she needed his help with Justin. If I had half the power she does, I’d be as good at this job as you are. As it is, I’m forgetting to go to class. I forgot I did a podcast. Everywhere off the field, I’m useless.”
“It’s a lot to process,” Cory said. “I’m sorry Ethan came at you, but I’ll listen if you want to talk.”
“There’s nothing else to talk about. Like I said, my choices got me here, and my next choices are going to get me out.”
“Jordan got you here. You came to UND to ride the bench and collect your degree, and the plan derailed because of something completely out of your control.”
Cam squeezed his hair tighter and grimaced.
“It wasn’t just this summer,” Cory continued. “Jordan could have broken his neck during the first game your freshman year, and you would have been up. Starter, poster boy, team captain, all of it. This life was always coming for you. If it isn’t worth it, then quit.” He took a loud, strawberry slurp. “I don’t think that’s really what you want to get out of this crisis, though. If you really wanted to quit, you wouldn’t make a big announcement and invite us to your nervous breakdown. You’d shut up and bail, just like Jordan did.”
“Jordan didn’t want to quit.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Cameron snapped. “He loved this job and loved this team too much to just hand it over and give up.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You didn’t know him at all if you think he wanted to quit.”
“I meant you’re wrong about how he left you his team.” Cory sighed. “Cam, there’s a lot you don’t know about how?—”
“Then tell me. Why didn’t he tell me? Why won’t you tell me what really happened here?”
“Trust me, or don’t. I believe in you. I always have. Jordan did, too.”
“Did, or does?” Cam held his breath. “Cory? The first game this year, you said it was okay to be nervous. I was never nervous. Y’all thought I was being cocky, but I was never nervous about playing this game with these guys. Every struggle I’ve had that actually relates to my on-field performance is something I can handle. The rest of it’s horseshit. I’ll get a seat halfway down the bench in Alabama and call it good.”
“If you and Avery got together tomorrow, you’d stay.”
“That’s not happening.”
“If it happened, would you stay?”
“It’s not about Avery.”
“I’m glad you realize that, because stay or go, she’s not the problem or the solution. Staying for her wouldn’t fix anything. If you left because you can’t have her and you don’t want to be QB1, you’d have a clean slate in Alabama or Georgia or someplace where they talk like you and no one cares how your pants fit, and you’ll probably never play another snap.”
Cory paused.
“Is that what you want? You could have it. You could walk away from what happened tonight and never throw to Will Bennett again, or beat tackles from Justin and Isaac in practice. You might never look at a scoreboard and see your points up there, ever again. Is that what you want?”
Cameron choked on a breath, and the tears that had been building since he met Pom Pom the bee finally spilled out the corners of his eyes as he glared at the ceiling. “It’s not a cafeteria,” he said. “I can’t just pick the girl and the practice field and say no thanks to being a starter and doing podcasts and photo shoots. It’s all or nothing.”
“Sleep on it. You’re still probably a little drunk, and exhausted. There’s no such thing as all or nothing.”
“There’s sudden death overtime,” Cam grumbled.
“You don’t end up in overtime if you get it right in regulation. We’ll talk in the morning.”