Chapter Nineteen. Variance
Chapter Nineteen
VARIANCE
With June came a renewed appetite for the future.
Self-pity morphed into purpose, and Cam busied herself with bettering herself.
That meant listening to every (exhausting) detail about Drew’s life, and keeping up with Morgan’s international exploits, and tasting each new beer recipe Danny played around with in his shed.
She wrote in her free time, outlining until finally reaching the drafting phase.
And when she could, she took long, restorative walks on the beach, and got back into reading, her box of untouched fantasy novels the first to be explored.
If she focused on change, and making herself happy, maybe she’d be an entirely new person in a year. Maybe by next summer, her life would be completely different.
That hope kept her motivated into the first weeks of the month, kept her smiling through every shift at Beau’s, kept her busy in front of her spreadsheet, figuring out the best method of debt payoff.
Snowball? Avalanche? Would she qualify for student loan refinancing again when she got a new job?
Would cutting out her three iced coffees a week from Café Tupelo magically improve her finances?
Yet even with her sights set on writing and fixing her money woes, there was a different piece of change weighing on her mind.
Her roots were growing in and the multicolor hair did her no favors.
Knowing it was time for another transition, she held her head up high and marched to the bar.
Her afternoon shift was over, and while her plan was to write on the beach, she first needed to talk to Esme.
To take her up on her offer.
Esme didn’t look up from the drink she was making. “Let me guess,” she deadpanned. “Finally sick of your roots showing?”
Cam exhaled, immediately regretting her decision. “Maybe.”
“I’m not keeping the blonde.”
“Good. I want to go natural.”
The declaration finally grabbed Esme’s attention. She added an orange slice to a pint of beer, smirking as she handed it off to a customer. “Yeah? I wasn’t expecting that from Corporate Camille.”
“I’m ready for change. It’s time.” Cam sat at the bar. “I figured my hair was a good first step.”
“It is. But it’s also painfully safe. Boring. You know what isn’t? A tattoo.”
“A tattoo?” She’d never thought of getting one. Not even as a teenager. “I don’t know.”
Danny sat beside her. “What’s this about a tattoo?”
“Corporate Camille’s letting me do her hair because she wants something new,” Esme replied. “I said get a tattoo. Axel’s one of the best artists in New England. Why waste the opportunity?”
Danny laughed, positively giddy at the prospect. “Milly! Let’s do it. We can get something small and simple.”
Tattoos were fun, but they were permanent.
Forever.
And yet … it was something she’d have complete control over.
When was the last time she felt in control of anything in her life?
“A tattoo would be stupid. A monumental waste of money,” she said slowly, kinda sorta hoping he’d disagree with her.
And classic Danny, the king of whims, did exactly that. “Nah. Nothing’s a waste of money if you want it enough.”
She bit her lip, growing more tempted by the second. “You’d get one too?”
“Hell yeah!”
Inspired by his enthusiasm, she replied, “Okay. I’m in.”
“I’ll talk to Axel,” Esme said, feigning her usual disinterest, even though Cam spotted the smile teasing her lips. “As for your goodbye to blonde, we’ll do it Tuesday afternoon when we both get off.”
Cam stared at the fraying ends of her blonde ponytail. After ten years, she was ready for something different.
She wanted to be herself again.
Tuesday afternoon, Cam drove with Esme to her house, somehow managing to survive the most awkward car ride of her life. They parked in front of a quaint New England–style beach cottage, which while common in the area, was nothing like Cam expected for Esme’s home.
Esme led her to a detached garage that seemed to function as both storage and a small salon. A corner was dedicated to hair, with a single sink and a salon chair. The setup was tiny but well loved, decorated with plants and a fuzzy rug and smelling of incense.
“Sit,” Esme said, motioning to the salon chair. As soon as she sat down, Esme started grabbing tools and products. “This is going to take a while.”
As Esme fiddled with the supplies, Cam took a moment to study her reflection in the mirror.
To stare at her blonde hair and take in the last time she’d see herself like this.
But the observation was short-lived, with Esme turning her chair around.
Without access to the mirror, she relaxed, focusing on the feeling of her hair being clipped into sections.
“We’re going to need to fill more than once,” Esme said. “Since you’re going blonde to brown.”
“You’re the boss.” They settled into the white noise of products opening and closing. But uncomfortable with the silence, she said, “Your house is really cute.”
“It’s not mine. It’s my Aunt Renée’s. She’s letting me crash here while I save money. Or…”
“Or what?”
“Or until Axel and I move in together,” Esme snapped. “But he hasn’t asked yet, so … Who knows?”
“Is that what you want?”
Esme scoffed. “We’ve been together for two years. Isn’t that the next step?”
Cam laughed, even if she felt one wrong move away from having her hair dyed green. “The next step is whatever feels right. I dated my ex, Cory, for almost three years. And now, I’m sleeping on Danny’s pullout couch, and Cory will be eating his wedding cake at Beau’s in August.”
“Ah. Danny’s friend getting married is your ex?” Esme slapped a black protective cape over her. “Tough luck.”
She rolled her eyes. “My point is, there was a time when I thought Cory and I would graduate and by twenty-four, we’d be wearing rings. But that didn’t happen. Because time with someone doesn’t mean you need to shift into something more permanent. Not unless you want it to.”
“Hmm. I guess you aren’t so bad.”
“Thanks. I think.” She flinched when some of the fill landed on her neck, and Esme roughly wiped it away. “So … do you do hair often? I got the impression you quit.”
“I don’t love doing this but I take appointments for extra cash. Usually a few every month. Except during homecoming and prom season. Then the schedule fills up.”
The thought of school dance–bound high schoolers invading Esme’s little studio made Cam smile. She couldn’t imagine Esme doing the fancy updos or fixing the byproduct of a viral styling video. It felt so out of character.
Except … she didn’t know Esme.
Not really.
“Are you from here?”
“No.”
Cam exhaled slowly. This would be a difficult afternoon. “Where are you from?”
“Virginia.” Then, after a beat, Esme added, “NoVA, unfortunately.”
“Ah.” She laughed. “I get it. DC and the surrounding areas are … intense.”
Esme cleared her throat, and to Cam’s surprise, replied, “I come from a family of doctors. Both my parents work at NIH and my older brother works at Walter Reed. My little brother is finishing his last year at Hopkins, so he’s on his way there, too.”
“That’s a smart bunch. Must be a lot to live up to.”
“You could say I’m a bit of a washout.” Esme faltered for a few seconds but quickly laughed off the delay.
“I tried. I lasted two semesters studying bio at UVA. But then I dropped out, got my cosmetology license, and tried doing hair for a few years. Realized I hated that too, took Renée up on her spare room offer, and ended up here. At Beau’s. ”
“And you stayed.”
“Two and half years so far.” The silence returned, and after what felt like forever, Esme sat on a stool beside Cam. “This first round needs to process for a bit, so hang tight.”
Cam nodded, still thinking about Esme’s uncharacteristic sharing. “Did you want to be a doctor?”
“At one time, yeah. I like the idea of … fixing things. That’s why hair sounded fun. But … I think that’s why I like bartending. I can fix a bad mood with good advice and a cold drink.”
“Then maybe you’ve found your calling.”
“Maybe.” Esme shrugged. “But I don’t like the idea that everyone has a career as a calling. I view work as what pays the bills, not who I am or what I do.”
“You sound like Danny.”
“He and I are kindred spirits with that.” Esme flicked fiery hair over her shoulder, thoughtful.
“My entire family makes their identity medicine. That’s it.
There’s nothing else to them. Think … reading medical journals for fun, criticizing hospital dramas over dinner, and drinking your morning coffee out of a mug that reads I heart Fridays with an anatomically correct heart.
They’re all doctors first, people second. ”
“That works for some people,” Cam said. “Sometimes, I’m jealous of that single-minded focus. Because it doesn’t work for me. I guess that’s why I’m here now.”
Esme guided her to the sink and began rinsing her hair. “When Danny ran off to pick you up, I had all these ideas of what you’d be like. And yeah, you’re Corporate Camille, but … I respect what you’re doing here. I see how hard you’re working, and I admire that. I admire that you just … go for it.”
Cam laughed. “I don’t go for it.”
“Seems like you do. You left DC. You’re trying a new job. You’re spicing up your life with new hair. A tattoo.”
“I guess you’re right.” Maybe she was getting better at being decisive. Taking chances. “I think Danny is rubbing off on me.”
“Just don’t hurt him.” The water shut off, and Esme took a towel to her hair. “Danny is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I think I might love him more than I love my own brothers so … be careful. Please.”
“Danny is my best friend. I’d never hurt him.”
“Maybe not intentionally.”
Before she could respond, the blow dryer was on. It took a bit, but eventually her hair was dried, and the second round of filling began.
“I’m more worried about hurting myself,” she added quietly.
“I came to Elswick knowing I was only here for the summer, but it’s getting harder to see past Labor Day.
To imagine where I’ll be in the fall.” She frowned.
“It’s getting harder to imagine another seven-hour drive between me and Danny.
Not when it’s been so … fun living near him again. ”
“And is that all this is? Fun?”
“No. It’s not just that. For the first time in a long time—maybe since college—I feel alive.
I don’t feel this deep-seated … dread every morning.
Like everything I do is pointless because it just leads back to my nine-to-five.
” She tapped her foot, feeling antsy in the chair.
“Since the moment I got my degree, and sat in my first cubicle, it’s been like one nonstop case of Sunday scaries.
It never goes away. Not during long weekends, or vacations, or the holidays. It’s always there.”
Esme was quiet as she worked, and Cam wondered if she was rolling her eyes.
“Sorry,” Cam continued. “First-world problems, right? Whining about a job and a salary most people would kill for.”
“I think your feelings are valid, Corporate Camille.”
She wasn’t looking for Esme’s acceptance, but she was glad to have it. “You do?”
“I do. I don’t think humans were meant for this bullshit.
But … if we have to do it to survive, it should be rewarding.
My family is obsessed with their chosen field and it’s an important one.
Every day they help people. It’s empowering for them, even on the hard days.
That’s what I want. I won’t be saving lives, but I want to feel like I’m making a difference. ”
“Yeah … that sounds nice.”
“Then what would you do?” Esme asked, finishing up the next round of fill. “In a dream world.”
“I’d write books. Stories that people can read on the beach or while drinking their morning coffee.”
“What kind of books?”
“Um…” Cam laughed. “Right now, I’m drafting a fantasy novel.
Which feels … crazy. I always thought I’d write romance or literary fiction.
That I’d either go full mainstream or I’d stick my nose up at it.
But I’m realizing I want to write whatever feels right in the moment and currently, that’s magic and monsters and strong women kicking ass. ”
“I think that sounds fucking cool.”
“Thanks. What about you?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll figure it out. For now, I like working at Beau’s. Danny gives me a lot of freedom. That means sometimes I’m tending the bar, other times I’m running the place while he’s out, and if I need a break, I work as few hours as I want.”
“I’m glad you found something that makes you happy.”
“Me too.” Esme returned to her stool. “Okay. This needs to process again.”
“Do you … think it’ll look good?”
Esme was smiling, and Cam wasn’t used to her looking so …
relaxed. So normal. “Hair has taught me that we look and feel our best when we’re ourselves.
Sometimes, being ourselves is going natural, like you.
And for some of us—like me”—she waved at her fiery highlights—“being ourselves is whatever we want it to be.”
“Well, I’m ready to be myself again.”
“Your hair is too. It needed a break.”
“So did my wallet.”
Together, they laughed, and Cam knew she had a new friend in Elswick.