Chapter 26 – May 29, 1994 – Camille
Erich was off. Ever since the day we took a cold swim in the river. He was avoiding me, and I was replaying every interaction since that day to try to figure out why.
The look he gave me… I thought it was longing. I thought he was holding back on something, and it stirred excitement.
I wasn’t irritated so much as I was concerned he wasn’t as happy there as I was.
I don’t think his goal was to step away from the dive bar hustles like mine.
In fact, I don’t think he ever planned to have me around as long as I had been.
He cared for me, yes, but I had no idea what he was thinking because he would never tell me…
Maybe I had to accept I wasn’t part of the ending he had planned. Maybe he was getting restless.
Maybe Mystique was wrong when she said I was what he needed. Maybe I’d never break through.
I remembered our time in New York after thinking of Mystique’s final words to me. Olivia warned me he’d drop off, disappear, and leave me too. How could I have assumed I was immune to his actions? They were clearly described to me by someone who knew him well.
I had a dreadfully long, boring day of cleaning and staring at the river and rain through the window of the cabin.
I read for a bit. I tried to write in my notebook.
I went as far as to write a grocery list. But I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe my fairytale dream was coming to a drawn-out end.
Was he getting sick of me? Was he getting bored with our cabin? Did he plan on taking off?
When I couldn’t still my racing thoughts any longer, I curled up in bed wearing an ugly argyle sweater from Erich’s side of the closet I’d never seen before and let the low grumbles of thunder and the intensifying pelting of rain on the roof and windows lull me to sleep.
I woke up to the creaky front door opening and Erich calling for me. The question in his voice grabbed my attention. I wondered if it worried him that I didn’t respond, but I soon pushed the thought out of my mind to remember my worry for him.
Before I could answer with where I was, the floor creaked and the bedroom door opened.
He was still wearing his boots and jacket.
I noticed I had let the fire go out with a shiver, glancing from the gleaming embers of the fireplace to the rain-soaked window next to it.
I had been out for a few hours. It was dark outside, and I remembered that when I fell asleep, the sun was still out.
I reached for the bedside lamp, pulling the cord down to illuminate the room, and got nothing.
Great, I thought. The power is out too.
“Is something wrong?” Erich shut the door behind him. He stared me down in the dark. Despite the lack of light, I could see the concern etched in his jaw. He unzipped his jacket, hanging it next to the fireplace before kneeling down to get it started again.
I watched him in silence, pulling the blanket up further over me and cocooning myself to keep warm.
The moonlight outside the window caused his backside to appear illuminated.
He put a log over the red-hot charcoal, letting it catch and slowly start to glow before he realized I didn’t answer his question.
He got up from his knees at the fireplace and turned to me.
“I don’t remember falling asleep,” I mumbled, sitting myself up to speak.
He raised an eyebrow, sighed, and shook his head, falling backward into the wooden chair next to the fireplace.
He slipped out of his boots, setting them beside the small fire he revived before leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his eyes.
“Power’s out all over town. I was sent home early. ”
We sat in silence, me wrapped in blankets on the bed staring at the fire, him resting his chin on his hand, elbows still on his knees, staring at the wall.
It was uncomfortable. It didn’t feel normal. He didn’t feel normal… There was something else on his mind he couldn’t come face-to-face with. He finally got up out of the chair to dig in the dresser and grab a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, leaving the room to change in the bathroom.
I focused on the sound of him moving around the cabin.
Firm footsteps on the wooden floor toward the kitchen; a pause and a creaky cabinet opening.
The metallic “thunk” of an old coffee can being set on the counter.
I realized the night before that he was putting cash away, but with how little I’d seen him, I hadn’t yet asked him what it was for.
Then there was the repeat of the creaky cabinet, footsteps to the bathroom, and the old wooden door screeching for its hinges to be oiled as he shut it to change.
I lay back down and snuggled deeper into the blankets.
After a while, the whiny bathroom door opened again, and Erich’s footsteps sounded throughout the tiny cabin.
It was louder than the nearby sparks from the fire.
He eventually walked back into the room with his clean, comfortable clothes on.
I watched him run a hand through his hair as he took one last glance at the fireplace.
The short sleeves of his white shirt showed the taut muscles beneath.
Could he feel me watching him? Did he know I was catching on to the dread of what he could be thinking?
Satisfied with the fireplace and the invigorated embers, he came over to the other side of the bed, and I felt it move with his weight as he got on. My back was facing him. I waited for his request that I unbundle myself to share the warmth of the blankets I was hoarding. It never came.
“Are you still awake?” he finally asked.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. I didn’t dare move a muscle.
“Long day?” His attempt at small talk was agonizing.
His forced communication contributed to the knot in my throat.
I thought maybe my fears and anxiety were finally reaching the breaking point.
Maybe I was starting to realize how hard it was to be left in the cabin alone all day.
Maybe I was finally realizing I had no one while he was gone.
My throat tightened, and a single tear rolled down my cheek onto the pillow beneath my head.
Erich waited for a reply in silence before I loudly sniffled, and he realized I was crying.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Am I forgetting something?” The bed moved again, forcing the worn mattress to squeak in protest. He was facing my back, waiting for me to turn over.
I shook my head, sniffling again and wiping my eye with the corner of the blanket. How pathetic that was. I had a backbone for one day in his ex’s house. Where was it now?
“Talk to me.” His voice pleaded. It was the first time I heard real emotion from him in a while, and even then, I could count on one hand how many times he let it show.
I shakily gulped, trying to bring myself back down to earth to say something reasonable. I finally let out a deep exhale. “Are you trying to leave? Are you unhappy here?”
He was unprepared for my question, and it was evident in the silence following my words. He held his breath and finally got his thoughts together to form a sentence. “Turn towards me, Camille.”
I clenched my jaw. I didn’t want to show him my red, puffy face, yet I still turned towards him. He was holding himself up with one arm. The defeat shadowed his light blue eyes.
I didn’t know how to interpret it. Was the look of defeat confirmation he was leaving?
He reached over to hold my chin with his other hand. He leaned down, and sparks ran through my veins as his lips gently met mine.
My head was spinning. I wanted more.
It didn’t last long. He pulled away just enough, and my lips quivered from the abandonment. “I told you, you’re stuck with me.”
I opened my eyes to meet his. The heat coming off my face surely warmed the room more than the growing fire.
His hand went from my chin to my cheek, his familiar rough fingers brushing away the wet trail of a tear.
His eyes were warm, but also held feelings that were deep and strange—a change in pace from the defeat I noticed moments earlier.
I didn’t care.
I leaned up to sit so I was level with him; his mystery sweater I stole earlier in the day was too big to cover my collarbones.
My hair was a mess. I didn’t feel anything but weakness moments before, but now my thoughts were slowing and turning to mush.
I could be confident. I could feel beautiful.
I didn’t care what his kiss meant to him; I knew what it meant to me.
He started to move to sit as well. As if he were about to run away, I interrupted the adjustment and took his face with both hands and kissed him back.
While his kiss was gentle and soothing, mine was passionate and hungry.
He didn’t pull away. He wasn’t tense. He kissed me back, matching my passion. My heart was skipping beats. My breath was coming out short and rapid when I could catch it. Everything I was holding back since the day I caught feelings for him broke the dam of self-control, and I let it.
I was no longer in control of my hands. They moved down from his face to his chest, then lower to the bottom of his shirt, reaching under to graze warm skin.
If he wanted to stop me, he didn’t show it.
His breath was hot and heavy on my face as he stopped kissing me for a quick break.
More fuel for the fire as I recognized I had given him the same effect.
His hair started to get sticky with sweat from the fire he revived seconds before, a few feet away from us. The pelting of rain from his walk back inside contributed, and the reflection of the fire made him appear glowing.
It excited me. I could feel his heart pounding in rhythm with mine. I had never experienced the addictive power that came with being wanted by someone I’d wanted for so long.
I have never loved anyone else. I was never given the chance.