"Cam," I interrupt. "What did you have planned if you won?"
He pinches the bridge of his nose and then lets out a little groan. "I looked into housing on campus. For us, Luce. I thought maybe we could get an apartment together. If I take that money and the money I saved over summer we can get one, just for a semester, but it's a start. And we wouldn't have to even room together. I looked at the two bed, two bath ones. You can have your own room. I just thought..."
I stare down at the table, crying harder with every single word he speaks. Nothing's changed. My feelings about him are still the same. So are my feelings for him. I love him. Which is why I say quietly, "I can't, Cameron."
"Yeah," he breathes out. He turns away, his shoulders heaving with each breath. "I didn't think so. I had to ask anyway."
The ache in my chest is suffocating. "Cameron." He flinches when I touch his arm.
I stand up, not wanting to say goodbye, because I won't be able to live through it. "Will you do something for me?"
"Anything," he whispers, not looking at me.
"Pick up a pen. Believe in yourself. Believe in your heart."
He laughs a bitter laugh. "You are my heart, Luce. And now you're gone."
-CAMERON-
I call work when I get in the car to tell them I'm going to be late. Chris answers. He tells me that it's dead and they really don't need two people on. He'll clock me in and out so I still get paid, but not to bother coming in. I thank him profusely, and pull into Mom and Mark's driveway.
Mark grins from ear to ear when he opens the door.
"Don't be too happy to see me," I tell him. "Soon you'll get sick of me asking for your help... and your money."
"Finally," he shouts, waving his hands in the air. He steps aside for me to walk in and pats my back when I do. "Pretty sure you have fifteen years of asking for my help to make up for."
We spend the afternoon searching online and making phone calls, trying to find the perfect space. There's a reason Mark's dealership is so successful. It's because his negotiation skills are amazing. He reads out his credit card number to the person on the phone and tells them I'll pick up the keys first thing tomorrow. When he hangs up, he puts his credit card away, but pulls out another one and hands it to me. "For supplies and what not," he says.
I look down at the card in my hand—it's got my name on it. I suck in a breath and try to give it back. "I can't accept that."
He scoffs. "Fifteen years, remember?"
***
The next day I pick up the keys, use Mark's card to buy supplies, and go to the space he leased for the next year. And then I do something that I haven't done since the day Lucy left.
I pick up a pen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
-CAMERON-
I smile when I read the text from Jake. All it says is the name of a building, a room number and a time to meet there. I don't need to ask what it means.
I make Minge come with me to pick up what I need, and meet Jake outside Lucy's future room. We moved into ours yesterday. Micky told Jake that Lucy was coming the day before classes started. That gave me just under a week to get it perfect.
"I can't even thank you enough," I tell him.
"It's no worries," he responds. "Just don't tell Kayla I had to flirt with the RA. She'd be pissed."
Minge scoffs. "You're all assholes."
Jake pulls a key out of his pocket and opens the door.
And we all get to work.
-LUCY-
"I'm nervous," I tell Heidi on the phone.
"Are you nervous for classes, or nervous for Cameron?"
"Cameron."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
I drive into campus and try to find a parking spot near enough to my dorm. "Two weeks ago at Lachlan's party."
"How was it?"
"Hard."
She sighs loudly. "I'm sorry, Luce." Her voice quiets and drips with sympathy when she adds, "For all of it. The baby thing. I guess some people don't realize how lucky they are to get pregnant in the first place, right?"
I'm taken aback by her words but try not to choke up. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Call me when you're settled, okay?"
"Okay." I hang up and pull into a spot.
Rose is already waiting by the doors. "Bitch!" she screams. "I missed your perfect little ass!" I laugh when she hugs me tight and lifts me off the ground. I haven't told her what happened. I don't think everyone needs to know. I still see the way Dad and Lucas are around me, like they're walking on eggshells, and I don't need that. I don't want that.
"Have you been to the room yet?" I ask her.
She shakes her head. "I'm waiting for some guy I met online to come by and unload my shit and carry it up there. I don't do manual labor, Luce." I take a box from my trunk and hand her a suitcase. "Did I not just say that—"
I exaggerate a pout.
Her eyes narrow. "You're lucky you're so cute."
We're laughing as we walk to our room.
She opens the door.
My heart drops.
And so does the box in my hands.
"Whoa," she whispers.
We walk to the center of the room and turn a slow, full, circle. I hadn't realized I'd stopped breathing until I gasp on needed air.
"Are you okay?" She takes my elbow and leads me to the bed. "It's like the blood just drained from your face."
I want to reply, but I can't. I can't speak. My gaze moves frantically around the room, trying to take everything in, but it's too much. There's too much. And before I know it, I'm sitting on the bed and crying into my hands.
"Luce," she sits next to me and curls an arm around my neck, bringing me closer to her. "Do you know who did this?"
I wipe my eyes on my forearm and nod.
"Who?"
"Cameron."
She lets out a low whistle. "Cameron's an artist?"
I take my time and settle my emotions, then stand back up and take in the room. A full-size mural on opposite walls take up the entire space. The other two walls are filled with single page sketches. I move closer, wanting to take them in. "He picked up a pen," I whisper to myself. There are so many sheets of paper, so many sketches. So many memories of us. The river behind his house, our dock by the lake, the front porch of my house, Filmore, a close up of the pegs of his bike, my brothers—each on separate pages, my cabin—everything. He took everything that ever mattered to us and he made his art. "What's this one?" Rose asks, pointing to one that I missed. It's bigger than the others, and framed behind glass. I walk to her so I can see it clearer. "Oh my God," I sob. I lift the frame off the wall and grip it to my chest. Then I sit on the bed and run my fingers over the glass. It's my room, the one he envisioned for me. The walls are filled with books, the fireplace is burning, the armchair is still there, but the little ones are gone. They've been replaced with a draft table. And underneath the sketch are the words that tear my heart in two. 'None of this matters without my forever.'
"What's with the sunrise?" Rose asks, pulling me from my thoughts. She's standing in front of the mural with her back to me.
She looks over her shoulder while I wipe my never-ending tears. "It's the sunrise and sunset," I tell her. "He says it reminds him of our love." I struggle to speak, but I push it down and continue, "Because it's eternal—the rise and fall of the sun. It's forever. Just like us."
***
I leave campus and drive back home. I end up at the one place that I know will help. And I speak to the one person that I know can fix me.
"Mom," I whisper. "I need you."
I lay the flowers in front of her headstone and sit in front of it. "I'm scared," I tell her. "And I'm broken."
I sit for an hour, shedding more tears, wondering how it's possible that tears can keep flowing when your heart is left dry. Then I reach into my bag, pull out pen and notebook, and do something I haven't done since before she passed away.
*Untitled*
By
Lucy Lovesalot.
...
-CAMERON-
She was supposed to be on campus yesterday, but I haven't heard a word. She hasn't contacted me, or Micky—so Jake tells me. If she's seen her room, surely someone would know. I've left Rose as a last resort because I don't know if she knows anything that happened to us this summer, and I don't want to be the one to tell her.
"Dude," Minge says, walking into our room. He lifts a package in his hands to show me. "Have you seen this?"
I narrow my eyes before getting off my desk chair and taking it from his hands. Sitting on the bed, I look at the newspaper wrapped package with my name scribbled on it in Lucy's handwriting.
"So... I'm gonna go... and uh... do... something else," Minge mutters.
I glance back up at him. "Thanks man."
He nods before leaving the room and shutting the door after him.
I wipe my hands on the bedspread, waiting for my heart to stop thumping. On the first breath that doesn't feel like a thousand hammers to my chest, I slowly rip it open. It's the Back to the Future hoodie she had in that picture she texted from New Jersey, a model Delorean, and a folded note. The thumping of my heart starts again, but I don't wait for it to settle. I unfold it and read the first line.
Untitled - by Lucy Lovesalot.
I laugh once, and then stop myself, because I have no fucking clue what her next words will do to me.
******
This is a story of a boy, and a girl, falling in love.
Or at least it should be. But it's more than that. It's a story of a boy and a girl who fell so hard in love that love was the only thing they knew. And for so long, that love was enough. That love was their everything.
They shared their dreams, their hopes, their plans for their future. They shared it all, and in doing so, they gave themselves each other. Not just in the physical sense, but in all the other senses possible. Then one night, after sharing their most intimate possession, the girl got scared. She worried that maybe someday the boy would not be there, and this broke the girl's heart.
"You're wrong," the boy told her. And then he proceeded to tell her his thoughts, his dreams, and what he envisioned for their future. Kids. He wanted a perfect little house, with his perfect little wife, and their perfect little kids.
And the girl—her heart swelled at the thought of it. Not just of their future, but of their now. And the eternal love the boy showed for her.
And then one day... it was over.
Just like that.
They shed a thousand tears, over and over. And when it was done, they shed a thousand more.
Now, the boy is still there. Still watching her. Still waiting.
With their dreams of the future broken, he waits.
But the girl is scared. The girl can't let her heartbreak belong to both of them forever. Because one day, she believes, this boy will build a time machine.
He'll go back to the past, to where it began, to where their love was all they needed. Where they could imagine their future, and a house full of their children. He'll want to go back to the boy, falling in love with the girl. And to the girl that could give him his dreams.
He'll want to stay there forever, in a life that was simple, and the only thing that mattered was love.
But here they are, stuck in the present, wondering how to move forward.
The girl thinks, and feels, and thinks some more, no matter how much it hurts her. But she doesn't have the answers. So one day the girl builds a time machine, but she doesn't join him in the past, she goes to the future. To where she sees the boy she fell in love with many, many years ago. And she sees his sadness. She sees him look into the room he designed just for her. She sees the frown that pulls on his lips when he glances at a single armchair. She sees him watching his friend's kids at little league, and wondering to himself what he did in life that was so wrong that he couldn't have that. Then she sees the way he looks at her, with so much held in regret, and sadness, and anger, because he couldn't have any of it. And one day, that regret and sadness and anger—they turn into hate. And the love they once had, the love that made their world spin, has turned into hate.
So there they are; the boy in the past, falling in love with the girl. And the girl in the future, with the boy that can no longer love her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
-CAMERON-
My body shakes as I march to her dorm, her note scrunched roughly in my hands. I bang on her door harder than I should. People stare, call me crazy, but I don't care. "LUCY!" I bang again. Harder, louder. "LUCY!"
The door opens, but it's not her. "Where is she?"
"Whoa," Rose says, her hands up in surrender. "Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not fucking okay! Where is she?" I shove the door further open and step inside, my eyes frantically scanning for her. I push open the bathroom door, but she's not there either.
"Where is she, Rose?"
"I don't know, Cameron, you need to calm down." She settles her hand on my shoulder. "Breathe," she says.
And I do.
Once the adrenaline settles and my muscles relax, I look her in the eyes. "Rose, if you know where she is... please tell me," I beg. "I need to see her."
***
Ten minutes later I'm parked behind Lucy's car at the front of Jake and Micky's house. I try to stay calm as I knock on their door. Jake answers but I shove him out of the way and I walk to Lucy sitting on their couch. "What the hell is this?" I yell, raising her note in my hand.
She flinches and brings her knees up to her chin.
"I'm fucking serious, Lucy. What the hell?" I tried to stay level, I really did, but I'm pissed. Beyond pissed.
"Cameron," Micky says, standing up and pushing me away.
Lucy starts crying, or maybe she already was. I don't know.
"Lucy! Look at me!"
She doesn't. She just continues to sob with her arms shielding her head, hiding herself.
Hiding from me.
My fists ball. "How the fuck can you feel any of this? At what point have I ever done anything, ANYTHING," I shout, "to make you feel like this! To make you feel like I didn't love you or would ever stop loving you! This is bullshit! I've done nothing but fucking love you every day since the day I knew your goddamn name and you think you can walk away! I'm not letting you go!"
"CAM!" Jake's at my side now, pulling my arm and leading me to the door. "I'm not letting you go, Lucy!" I shout, just as Jake shoves me out the door, closing it behind both of us.
"You need to calm the fuck down," he says. But there's a sadness in his voice and I want to punch him. I need for people to stop feeling sorry for me. I just need people to understand.
"You don't fucking get it!" I tell him, sitting down on the porch steps. "You don't fucking understand!"
He sits next to me, silent, for what feels like hours.
And I cry. Again.
He rubs the back of his neck before speaking, "You think I don't know what it feels like to want to be there for a girl that you love? When she's so broken and hurt that she doesn't see you standing there, with your arms open..." His voice breaks, before he clears his throat. "Trust me, dude. I know. It's the fucking hardest thing to do—to be around the person you love, every day, and not be able to love them. I've been there. I've lived it. But she needs time—"
"Time? She's had all fucking summer and she's done nothing but push me away! Nobody gives a fuck about the way I feel. She needs time? I need her. And no one fucking cares!"
"It's hard, Cam. She's here because Kayla understands. She's helping her deal with her grief."
I turn to him now, eyes narrowed. "What grief? What the hell are you talking about?"
His eyes widen slightly, as if surprised. "She has to mourn, Cameron. You guys made a baby, and that baby..."
I don't hear what he says next. I can't hear him through the sound of the blood rushing in my ears. But over that sound, I hear her voice. "Cameron?" she says, taking a seat next to me.
I turn to her, my eyes searching her face for an answer. Or a question. "I didn't know," I whisper.
She places her hand on the side of my face.
With eyes closed, I tell her, "I didn't know you were mourning. I was so focused on us and what you thought was our future that I didn't think about the past. I didn't think about what we lost. I didn't even think about losing a baby," I sniff back my sob. "I'm so fucking sorry, Lucy. I should've known. I was always able to read you, and I failed when you needed it the most."
She cries now, bringing my face to her neck. "It's okay," she soothes. "I'm hurting, Cam. And I don't know how to deal with it."
She pulls her face back but I hold onto her tighter. "Why won't you talk to me about it?"
She shakes her head. "I don't know what to say. I don't know how to explain it. I mean, with Mom I knew it was coming, and when it did, I was relieved. But this—I didn't expect this. I didn't know until it was over. And we never even got to say hello, or goodbye. There was no goodbye. No closure."
-LUCY-
He tells me to meet him at the river behind his old house. He doesn't tell me why, but he makes me promise to show up right before sunset. And to bring Lucas and my dad.
He must call them beforehand, because when I show up Saturday afternoon, they're ready, dressed in suits, the way they only ever do when we visit Mom on the anniversary of her passing.
I look down at my clothes, wondering if I'm underdressed. "You look beautiful, sweetheart," Dad tells me.
We get in Dad's truck with me in the middle. Lucas holds my hand the entire time. And I still don't know what's happening.
The instant my eyes see the river, and Cameron standing at the edge dressed in a suit, and Heather and Mark dressed in black, I know.
I try to turn around, but Lucas holds me in place. "It's time," he says.
There are six folding chairs, three on each side. One side for his family, and one for mine.
Cam won't look at me. Not directly. When he sees us arrive, he sits on the chair next to his mom, and we take the other three.