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I jump a little at the sound of Cammy’s voice, but it’s still enough to pull another hiss out of me.
“I’m good,” I reply, when I’ve settled back. And I smile at the please-don’t-lie-to-me face Cameron is wearing.
“I moved too quickly,” I assure him, and he doesn’t comment.
Instead, he takes a seat in the sofa chair after turning it a bit so he can face me.
I would have preferred having him sit closer, but I understand why he wants to keep his distance. I’m not sure what he’s expecting, but I am sure he’s going to be upset.
I clear my throat, unsure of where to start, and then again when the words don’t come. I focus my attention on my hands, because I don’t want to see how frustrated Cameron must be.
“Start from where you feel most comfortable.”
“I . . .” But then I stop because I don’t have enough courage.
Cameron’s hand lands on my knee and it’s as if I’ve been given an injection of bravery.
I take a deep breath and start from the beginning.
“I never told you this, but I had a lot of problems at home. My dad wasn’t an easy person to live with.” I laugh, a sad one, because that’s an understatement. My dad was a bastard that lived for the pleasure of seeing others suffering. “He was a person who didn’t mind using his fists to make sure we all followed the rules. His rules.“ I’m breathing easier now that I’ve started, so I continue quickly, not wanting to lose the strength I’ve gathered. “Most of the time, being away from home was a blessing, and returning was something to be afraid of.”
I shiver at the thought of entering the house without knowing if he was behind the door waiting. How many times did that happen? How many times did he ambush me? How many times did I have to cover the results of his abuse?
I look at Cammy, surprised by the fact that he hasn’t spoken yet. He was always ready to jump in and save others, most of the time forgetting to protect himself.
What I find is Cameron, with eyes full of tears and a hand on his mouth to stop the sobbing. The need to go to him, to make it better even if I know I can’t, surpasses the pain I’m going to go through to reach him. I don’t care about the pain. He’s the most important thing in my life.
It takes me longer than I want to get to him, but he hasn’t moved, and he looks like he’s not fully in the room. Probably picturing what my life has been like in his mind.
I pull him up gently and sit in his place, and then I have him sitting on my lap.
“I was so close, and I was so blind,” he whispers, over and over. His skinny hands are trembling while his body shakes.
“It’s in the past. I’m fine now.” I close my eyes when it hits me, that he just rescued me from the street after I was beaten and violated. And while that is still something that eats at me, it also gave me Cammy back. Or I hope so, anyway.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Cam, it’s not your fault.” But his tears increase, so I pull him as close as my injured body allows.
Even in his guilt, he’s still aware of me and the injuries I have, because while he allows me to pull him closer, he tries to keep his weight off of me.
“It’s my father’s fault for being an asshole, and my mother’s for allowing him to do whatever he wanted with us.” I use my hand to dry some of his tears, and then two fingers to turn his head towards me.
“We are not to blame. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I could have helped.”
“Maybe. Or maybe not. We’ll never know.”
“Why did you leave without a word? I would have come with you.”
“I know.” That’s why I didn’t tell him. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to live without your family. I couldn’t offer you everything you deserved.” I hate his dejected face, but nothing can change what I did. I can only hope he’ll be willing to start again.
What I wish for the most, is that I could go back in time and open up to him. Go back in time and stay with him. Go back in time and find another way to deal with my father.
“The day I left, I’d gone back home, and my dad was there waiting for me. Drunk out of his mind and upset because one of his friends saw me with you.”
“Oh my God. It was my fault. For being me.” His sorrow is thick in the room, so much so that tears spring to my eyes for him.
