ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟚 #2
The memory had always been there, I just stopped letting myself touch it.
"I have to tell Molly!" She takes off running to her cousin.
Slow down!" Dixie yells.
"No!" She calls back.
"Jordyn!"
I smile despite myself. Some things never changed.
Molly had always been her favorite person after me and Dixie. If Molly learned something exciting, Jordyn learned it five seconds later. She was like her fake sister in a way.
The video skips forward slightly. Now we're in Jordyn's bedroom. The same bedroom Dixie and I refuse to acknowledge.
Jordyn sits cross-legged in bed, in her pink unicorn pajamas.
She's still holding the tooth. She'd carried that thing around all day, and refused to put it down.
"Daddy." She mumbles. Jordyn hated bedtime.
"Yeah, sweets?"
"What if she has other kids?"
"Then she'll visit them too."
Jordyn frowns. "I'm her favorite, though."
Dixie laughs behind the camera.
"Did she tell you that?"
She hesitates. "...No."
"Then how do you know?"
She shrugs.
Past me sits closer to Joryn on the bed, bringing her into my arms. "Don't you worry. The tooth fairy will reward you 'cause you're the best daughter ever."
Every second of this video felt like being handed pieces of a life I used to live. A life that belonged to somebody else. Somebody luckier.
Somebody who still had a daughter.
On the screen, Jordyn crawls across the bed toward the camera. "Mommy, will you and daddy stay with me tonight?"
"Definitely. Of course we will."
The camera skips again. We are still in Jordyn's bedroom, but the lights are off, except for the faint dim of her lamp. The footage shows Dixie crouched on the floor, carefully switching out the tooth with a crisp 10 dollar bill.
The bill we'd picked up specifically for this.
Because Dixie insisted: "No child of mine is getting a dollar."
I'd laughed at her.
Looking back now, it was ridiculous- but Jordyn had woken up the next morning convinced she was rich. That's what made it worth it.
The video ends shortly after. The screen freezes, then fades to black. The basement is now silent again.
All I can think about is how none of us knew. None of us knew that one day these recordings would be all we had left.
These were supposed to make Jordyn roll her eyes and groan. I imagine it kind of like this:
"Ugh, dad. Seriously? Turn this off."
"Nope."
That was always the plan. Instead I'm sitting alone in a basement years later, watching a little girl who never got the chance to grow up.
My vision starts to blur. I stare at the black screen, at my own reflection staring back.
I can't do this alone.
I quickly got up, and head towards the dining area, where I knew Dixie still was. By the time I get there, she's hunched over bunches of paper, circling sections.
"Dixie." I say, my voice quiet.
She doesn't even look up. "Hm?"
She's surrounded by evidence, theories, and work. I've never seen her look more alone.
"Dix."
Her pen pauses. "What, Cameron?"
"Come downstairs."
"I'm busy right now." The pen continues.
Of course she's busy. She's always busy working.
Meanwhile I'm standing here feeling like somebody ripped my heart out and left it in the basement. "Dixie."
"What?"
"Please."
She sighs dramatically, finally looking up. "What now?"
I open my mouth, but nothing dares to come out.
How do I explain this?
How do I explain that our daughter is downstairs?
"Just come with me."
Her eyebrows pull together, concern flashing across her face. Only for a second- then it's gone.
"What happened?"
"Nothing." She was impossible sometimes.
"I am working."
"I know."
"So let me work."
I grab her wrist- enough to stop her from reaching for her pen again. Immediately she pulls away, like magnets repelling.
Now she's fully looking at me, concern replacing irritation. Something must finally be showing on my face.
"Cameron."
I look away. If I look at her too long, I might completely lose my composure.
"Yeah?"
"Look at me."
I don't.
"Are you okay?"
No.
No, I'm not okay. Not even close.
Dixie stands slowly. Now she's worried. Dixie worried is somehow scarier than Dixie angry.
"What happened?"
"Nothing happened."
"Then why are you acting like this?"
I run both hands through my hair, trying to find words and explain. Instead I say:
"Please."
She sighs, long and defeated. "Okay."
Relief hits me so fast it almost makes my knees weak. I nod quick.
She reaches for her chair, pushing it in. Closing her files, and setting her pen down.
"You are being incredibly weird- like, serial-killer weird."
Despite everything, I laugh, which makes her look even more worried.
I reach for her hand. This time she lets me take it, her fingers immediately curling around mine. It's a warm, nostalgic feeling.
~
The television from the basement flicks back on as Dixie and I enter. She squeezes my hand tighter as we walk inside.
She quickly turns to me. "So what happened."
I look at her. Then I glance behind her, where the next clip is playing. Jordyn's first day at school.
I point to the television behind her.
Slowly and surely, Dixie's eyes move toward the television. Towards the girl skipping back from school, hands interlocked with her mom.
The color drains from Dixie's face. Her entire body goes rigid.
"No." The word barely leaves her lips. I don't think she realizes she said it.
Her eyes are locked on the screen, unable to look away.
As past me records the both of them walking back, Jordyn laughs, her giggles filling up our space. Completely unaware that years later her parents would be standing here watching.
Dixie finally notices the basket beside the couch. The DVDs with her handwriting.
Her hand slips from mine. She takes one step forward, then another.
"Cameron..where did you find this?" Her voice is barely audible.
I point toward the storage area.
"Behind some boxes."
Dixie stares, then looks back at the screen. Then back at the basket. Like she's trying to decide which one hurts more.
The memories, or the fact she'd forgotten where they were.
I stand by the entrance of the basement, hands in my pocket, watching the clip play. For a moment I think she might leave. Might tell me she can't do this.
But instead, she places the DVDS back carefully, walking beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch.
Neither of us speak. The screen does it for us.
A couple minutes pass by. Then I feel Dixie staring at me. I don't look at her immediately.
Maybe if I ignore it, she'll stop, but unfortunately that doesn't work.
Finally, I glance over. She's looking directly at me.
"What?"
She doesn't answer right away, her expression softens.
"Cameron."
The way she says my name makes my stomach drop.
"Yes?"
"You're crying."
I blink. "What?"
"You're crying."
Instinctively, my hand flies to my face. The second my fingers touch my cheek, I feel it. Wet, salty tears.
Immediately, I laugh. Somehow, I genuinely hadn't noticed. "Geez, seriously?"
My voice comes out lighter than I feel. I wipe at my face quickly. "Sorry."
Dixie's eyebrows immediately pull together.
I look away, back toward the television at Jordyn. Anywhere but her.
Gosh, this is embarrassing.
The last thing I wanted was for Dixie to start worrying about me. Especially now.
Not when she has enough on her own plate.
So, I clear my throat and force another laugh. "It's fine."
She doesn't reply.
Five-year-old Jordyn is currently talking about her first real friend at kindergarten. Her fake friends would be considered as her stuffed animals, but she always thought they were real.
Present-day me wishes the floor would swallow me whole.
"You don't have to apologize." She says softly.
Slowly, I turn my head. Dixie hasn't moved. She's still staring.
"You don't have to apologize for crying."
The words stay with me, because nobody's said that to me before. At least not when it really mattered.
For a second I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. Neither does she. The silence settles between us.
Suddenly, Dixie steps closer. I barely have time to register it. She's close enough that I can see every detail of her face.
She's on her tippy toes, gently reaching up both hands and cupping my face.
Every single thought in my head disappears.
Her palms are warm against my skin. Her thumbs brush beneath my eyes, wiping away tears I didn't even realize were still there. The gesture is so gentle it almost hurts.
"Don't apologize for crying." Her voice is quiet.
I stare down at her, completely speechless. Which almost never happens, especially around Dixie.
For several seconds I don't move, and I don't feel like looking away.
I smile slightly. "Firefighters don't cry."
Dixie immediately smiles.
"I know one that does."
I laugh, bringing my head down.
"Gosh, you're mean." I say halfheartedly.
"You can survive my sarcasm." She tells me.
Before I can say anything else, she embraces me, her arms wrapping around my neck.
I quickly freeze. I genuinely wasn't expecting it- not from her, anyway. I think she realizes I've frozen too, because she squeezes slightly.
"Stop being stupid and hug me back, Cam."
Cam. That nickname.
The one she had stopped calling me when our world fell apart- she was calling it now.
I quickly wrap my arms around her. One around her waist. Then the other pulling her head closer. Holding her warmth against me.
The basement doesn't feel quite as cold anymore.
The fact that she saw me falling apart and stayed anyway makes my grip tighten just slightly. Dixie doesn't pull away. She doesn't even make a joke.
Instead, she rests her head against me. "You can cry as much as you want."
I close my eyes.
"You don't have to be the big, strong, firefighter every second."
"Especially not with me." She adds softly.
I sigh, content. For years I thought I had to be. The one holding everything together, for her.
For me.
For everyone.
For the first time in years, I don't feel alone in my grief.