19. Chapter 19
19
Chapter 19
FINN
“ C am changed everything.” I look at her, but she’s deliberately looking into the monitor.
“How?” Hope asks. “You still…you still tried to take your own life.”
“She asked me a question a long time ago.”
“What was the question?”
I think back to London, her book. The photos of the lighthouse keeper.
“She asked me why it mattered that someone was gone.”
“And what was your answer?”
“I haven’t given it to her yet.”
Camille drags her eyes away from the screen, looks at me, guarded.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “It matters only to those who are left behind.”
A grimace of pain flashes over Cam’s face.
I hate that I’m here, in front of these people, the cameras. And yet, I know that if I wasn’t doing this, I would never have gotten the chance to speak to her at all.
I reached out to my therapist last week. Asked him to refer me to someone else. Someone I could maybe connect with. I had expected him to be offended. He sounded optimistic, was happy to recommend a colleague.
She had had one ultimatum to take me on. Honesty.
Camille’s eyes are locked on mine, finally. She is the only real thing I can tether myself to in the room. I have this fear that if she looks away, she’ll never look at me again.
“I’m so sorry, Cam. I thought nothing could conquer my guilt. My hate. And I thought I could keep that part of myself from you, could keep you at arm’s length. I didn’t know you were so…”
Everyone’s eyes travel between me and Cam. My honesty, it’s so raw it’s making them uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable. Dixon shuffles his feet and Jay nods along as I speak.
Only Cam’s face remains unchanged.
“Beautiful?” Hope ventures.
I shake my head. “Observant.”
Dixon laughs softly.
“But beautiful too, obviously.”
Cam scoffs and guides the conversation away from her. Now that the ice is broken she gets down to business.
She asks question after question, rips every emotion from us.
Hope’s motherless childhood, how she took on the role of mothering her little brother. How as a teenager she resented the fact that it was my money that put food on the table, paid their rent, paid the executors who maintained the trust I had set up for them. Their resentment towards the caregivers they had throughout their lives. Her angry teenage years. She was appointed to a psychologist after an incident at school and it changed her life. She started processing her anger and grief and guided Chance along in her wake. She now saw beyond the food on the table, at the opportunities she had to further her education, how my money would enable her to one day be able to care for others.
And then Cam changes the flow, she plants the seed.
“So what are you going to call the foundation?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Hope asked.
I smile.
“She thinks we should start a charity.”
Hope’s eyes get a faraway look in them.
“We could give counselling for survivors or families affected by crashes.” Hope is lost in thought.
“We could offer them financial support.” I shrug.
“Wait, would you be interested?” Hope’s voice is tentative.
“Absolutely,” I say without missing a beat.
“Let me think it over.” She tugs at her auburn ponytail, twists it forwards over her shoulder where she twirls the tip between her fingers.
“Sure.”
Her smile lights up the whole room.
Dixon, at Camille’s shoulder, leans into her and whispers something in her ear.
She gives a small frown and I watch as her eyes travel to mine.
She nods. Clears her throat.
“Rumour is, Finn, that Erik Lindqvist from Delta Victor has extended you another two-year contract. Is that true?”
“Is it true that Delta Victor offered me another two-year contract?” I pause for dramatic effect. “Yeah, Erik approached me a couple of days ago. Wanted to formally put the offer back on the table.”
I can feel my heart beating in my chest. When I swallow, the sound is loud in the quiet room.
This is the reason I asked her to come. There is a lie I need to repent for her.
My mouth is dry, and I lick my lips while I wait for her to ask me about it.
Her face falls as she watches my mouth.
The question never comes. Instead, she wraps it up, tiredly.
She’s done what I asked her to do. She gave me the opportunity. And I blew it, somehow. Maybe it’s too little too late.
I should be grateful I had this opportunity at all. And yet, I had hoped, somehow, to bring her back to me.
She is letting me down easily.
It aches in my chest, and yet, I can’t blame her for it. I feel gratitude for the respect with which she’s done it.
Dixon brings us paper cups of coffee he begged off the hospital staff and we stand around for a few more moments, watching the crew pack up their gear.
We’re both tired. Hope’s heavy eyes blink slowly as Bruce removes her microphone. Casey gives her a big hug, and spares me a kind nod. We’ve been through the wringer.
Cam and Dixon stand off to one side talking quietly.
I watch her guard come up when I walk over. My lips feel numb. So much truth spilled today. My chest aches, an empty cage.
“Cam?”
Dixon excuses himself and joins Jay where he’s packing up equipment. From the way he angles his body, I know he’s keeping Cam in sight, keeping an eye on her.
“Thanks for agreeing to do this.”
She nods. Turns away.
* * *
CAMILLE
“Cheers.” I thank Dixon when he sets down a colourful cocktail in front of me. There is fruit on the rim and a little umbrella spears a strawberry. I laugh.
Dixon smiles when he hears it and takes the seat opposite me.
We are at the hotel bar. The crew all gave me fond farewells and then went their own way. They had an early flight the next day. Jay had hung back, looked me over, gave me another hug. His easy familiarity soothed my soul.
I missed them all.
“Shouldn’t you be heading off yourself?” I take a sip of the cocktail. It’s sweet and tangy and utterly ridiculous. I love it.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
“I know your funding for the Silk Road project was approved, but since I am obligated to inform you of all offers, I have to bring this up with you.”
Nonplussed, I cock my head.
“They’re doubling the budget for next season. Rupert has given me carte blanche on the team members.”
“Who is Rupert?”
“My boss at WebFlix Max?”
“Oh!” I laugh. “Mr Higher Up? ”
Dixon scoffs.
“We want you to head up the team again next season. Maybe expand on the members, add another crew.”
He holds up his hands, palms open, when I start to speak.
“I know, Cam. I know that this isn’t your style, but I have to make the offer before I leave.”
“What?”
“I’m retiring.”
I’m speechless. “Dixon, this has been your dream since I’ve known you.”
“Dreams change, Cam. You’re allowed to change your mind about what you want.” He says this intently, vehemently.
“I’m sorry, of course-”
“I don’t mean me!” he interrupts me, throwing his hands in the air. “I mean you .”
“What about me?”
Dixon groans and shakes his head.
“Will you at least think about it?” he insists. “I don’t think you realize what you achieved here. Much of the footage you’ve submitted so far has offered great insight into the Prima Grande world. It’s a very distinct style. You could actually make a difference here.”
“Dix, I-”
“Before you say no.” He gives a booming laugh. “The salary will reflect the appreciation of WebFlix Max.”
“And what are you going to do?”
Dixon shrugs.
“Please, Cam, at least think about it. You don’t have to decide right away.”
I nod, but I can feel my stomach knot at the thought.
We finish our drinks in companionable silence. The clenching in my gut doesn’t go away. I hate when I feel like this, so full of…regret?
Seeing the crew today, the easy way they fell back into my preferred way of filming. The places I’d been these past few months, the people I’ve met. So much as yet unexplored, unexplained, unappreciated.
Back in Japan, when they had made the offer for the Silk Road project, I had felt that pang of my gut clenching, hadn’t read into it, explained it away as excitement, or nerves.
It never occurred to me that it could be regret.
Since uni I always felt like I could be a voice for the voiceless. That stories matter. And that I would have to sacrifice on a “normal” life if I wanted to tell them. So many possibilities had been sacrificed at the altar of my dreams, Marcus, now maybe this documentary, the life I had imagined with Finn in the past. Would I betray myself, if I walked away from the Silk Road project?
I’m too tired to think about it now. Too drained after today.
When I’m back in my hotel room, I fall back onto the bed and blow my curls out of my face.
Before I know it, I’m asleep.
* * *
CAMILLE
FINNEGAN brENNAN SIGNS ON FOR TWO YEAR EXTENSION ON CONTRACT WITH DELTA VICTOR.
“Holy shit.” I brush the tangle of curls out of my face. Frown.
I had asked him about this yesterday, and he had licked at his lips. A lie.
And yet, here it was, front page news .
Wait . I scramble upright. Had I actually asked him about it?
Why me? I think for the thousandth time. Why had he insisted that I do the interview?
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I had this thought that he…I don’t know. That he had something to say to me. And he did, he apologised. I might find a way to forgive him, especially after he recounted the accident. His pain had been evident, a millstone about his neck. And for a wild moment I had thought that he…
That he what? That he would ask me for another chance?
I glance down at my phone screen, the headline still displayed.
He wouldn’t. So many times he had said it, that it had become his mantra.
“You can’t be a race car driver and have a life,” I say out loud, to the empty room. He had accepted this offer from Delta Victor days ago. He never intended to ask me for a second chance.
He had made it explicitly clear that he would never have a legitimate relationship while he was a driver, wouldn’t expect someone to live with the fear of losing someone they loved.
I had tried to tell him so many times, and he never really understood what I meant.
Angrily, I pack up. It’s time to leave, to move on.
A soft knock at the door startles me.
“I’m coming!” I scramble around for a hair tie and give up. Straightening my wrinkled clothes, I open the door.
My stomach swoops. It’s Finn.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” I narrow my eyes. “How’d you know which room I’m in? ”
“Dixon.” He shrugs. “Concierge wasn’t helpful at all.”
“That bastard.” I brush my curls away, and he smiles. Unsnaps a hair tie from his wrist, hands it over.
I turn it over in my hand. It’s mine.
For some reason it makes me want to cry. I turn away from him, tying my hair up.
“Congratulations on the new contract,” I say, my voice thick. “Why didn’t you say you accepted it yesterday?”
“You didn’t ask.”
I turn back to him, but I can’t look at him. The five o’clock shadow on his jaw, the full bottom lip. His brown eyes.
“Guess I’m not a very good journalist.” I laugh.
He doesn’t join in. “Why didn’t you though? Why didn’t you ask?”
I’m trying to think back, but yesterday is still so raw. Hope’s tears when Finn recounted the story, how he had turned to her when she spoke, as if she was his peace.
It’s why I suggested the foundation in the first place. A way to tie them together, a way for him to keep her close.
And suddenly it’s clear. “I didn’t ask, because I didn’t want you to lie to me.”
“Camille.”
“Don’t. You know what I mean.”
“I do.” He nods. “I understand. I wouldn’t have given me a second chance, either.”
He gives me a nod and starts to turn away.
“What?”
He pauses, looks at me with regret. His face is back to what it was before. A mask.
He’s hurting.
“What do you mean? ”
He blanches, frowns. “I was hoping to…”
He takes a deep breath.
“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I thought it was obvious that I was asking you for a second chance.”
Heat flushes my neck.
“How would that be obvious?”
Before he can answer, I interrupt him. I want to cry again, but this time from anger.
“You accepted the contract with Delta Victor.”
He eyes me guardedly.
“Yes.”
“You did that before I even came for the interview.”
“Yes,” he says, as if stating the obvious.
“You can’t be a race car driver and have a life.”
He flinches, as if slapped.
“So,” I barrel on, “you never intended a second chance for us.”
He swallows again. His eyes are black again, and I can see he’s struggling, searching for words.
“I was actually thinking that, this time, it can be your choice.”