Say You Want Me

by Van Mol, Stefanie

  “I hope this won’t be long. My ankle’s killing me.”

  Karen gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure the doctor will be here soon.”

  She stares back at the TV in the waiting room. To make it even more ironic, it’s a rerun of ER.

  The current episode can’t seem to distract me from my black thoughts. I stare at the other people sitting around in the waiting room. I wonder what all the other people’s stories are. Like the construction worker who probably hit his head, guessing by the kitchen towel he has pressed against his head. The white towel is almost completely red by now, and the guy is looking awfully pale.

  The pregnant woman on my left keeps rubbing her belly; her depressed look makes me fear something serious is going on with her baby. But it’s the little girl across from me that catches my attention the most. Her mother is watching TV just like Karen. Every now and then, she reassures her daughter that it won’t be long anymore.

  The little girl’s left arm is in a sling that’s tied around her neck. On her lap is a small, white toy rabbit. She keeps patting it on the head.

  “You don’t have to be scared, Mister Rabbit. The doctor will be here soon, and Mom says she’ll make us all better.”

  I can feel a smile appear around my lips. Maybe my troubles aren’t the worst.

  Jonathan

  For the first time in years I’d rather be somewhere else. My mind’s just not with the afterparty. I keep wondering if it was a good idea to let Karen and Camille leave on their own. I shouldn’t have asked her if I should bring her home, I should have just done it. As soon as Camille left, I didn’t want to be here anyway.

  I walk toward my dressing room and check my cellphone. Still no text from Camille. I have to admit I kind of expected her to have contacted me by now. I try to call her, but after a few rings it goes to voicemail.

  What if something happened? What if she didn’t make it home all right? I’m about to call her again when the door to my dressing room flies open. Mike stares at me with a dark look on his face. I hang up and fix him with my eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Camille asked me not to tell you, but I think you should know. I just dropped Karen and Camille off at the hospital.”

  What?!

  “Is she all right?”

  “I don’t know, Sticks. Karen called me that they needed a ride to the hospital.” Mike hands me a paper with the address on it. “This is the address of the hospital where I dropped them off.”

  I snatch the paper out of his hand and run down the hall when I hear him call after me, “Drive safe!”

  Like I care about that now. I have to get there as fast as possible. What could have happened? And why didn’t she call me?

  A hundred thoughts race through my head, but the most important one is that I have to get to her. All my other questions will be answered once I have her beside me.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later I park my sports car in the parking lot outside the hospital and rush over to the emergency room. I run straight past the receptionist, who tries to stop me.

  “Sir, you can’t just walk in here like that.”

  She will have to bring out an army to try and stop me. At the end of the corridor, I see a nurse coming toward me, pushing a wheelchair with Camille sitting in it. Karen’s walking beside her, talking to what I assume is the doctor. I run over to Camille and caress her cheek with my hand.

  “What happened?” I stammer. “Are you okay?”

  Camille looks pale and exhausted. Her eyes silently beg me to take her away from here, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Because Camille doesn’t answer me, I focus my attention on Karen and the doctor.

  “Will she be fine?”

  “It will all be okay,” Karen assures me. “Her ankle was badly sprained, she has a few scrapes on her hands, and I guess she’ll have a few bruises tomorrow.”

  I look back over to Camille, who’s still just staring in front of her. When I sink down on my knees to get on eye level with her, I carefully put my hand on her leg and see the tears in the corners of her eyes. She’s trying to fight them back.

  “You scared me there, baby.”

  A lone tear rolls down her right cheek, and I wipe it away with my thumb. Camille closes her eyes because of my touch. She looks at me, and our gazes lock.

  “Please, can you get me out of here?”

  Here words are barely above a whisper, but I can feel the urgency in them. I immediately stand straight and look at the doctor.

  “She’s coming home with me.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’d like to keep Camille here for the night. I want to be sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”

  I look at the doctor. I think she’s the first woman who doesn’t flinch at my appearance.

  “No matter what needs to be done, I will take care of it, but she’s coming home with me tonight.”

  The doctor looks over at Camille and must notice that she’s really upset.

  “Okay, I’ll arrange all the discharge papers. This night you will have to wake her up every three hours and check that she’s not disoriented. If she is, or experiences dizziness or severe headache, you have to return here immediately.”

  “I’ll take care of her, doctor.”

  * * *

  The entire way home she just sits there and stares out the window. She hasn’t spoken a word. I know there’s something more going on, and I hope she trusts me enough by now to tell me once we get home. I swear if I find out who hurt her, I’ll make sure they regret it for the rest of their life. It makes me wonder if that douche from the charity has something to do with it.

  Once we get home, I walk around the car, open the door, and lift Camille into my arms. Without hesitation, she puts her head against my shoulder. I can feel her warm breath against my neck. The whole day has taken its toll on her, and we’re not even in my bedroom yet before she falls asleep in my arms.

  I put her down on the bed carefully. I take off most of her clothes to make sure she can get some sleep. I don’t want to take advantage of her, but I can’t keep my eyes from wandering down her body and notice the lingerie she’s wearing. I pull the covers up to her chin. I leave the room and look at her from the doorway. She looks peaceful, and I enjoy the view of her in my bed.

  Fuck, I can barely believe she’s still here.

  While I go freshen up in the bathroom, I conjure up all kinds of doom scenarios about what could have happened. Who would want to hurt Camille? I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl as nice and sweet as Camille.

  When I enter the bedroom again, Camille is sound asleep. As quietly as possible I crawl into bed next to her. Once I’m there, it only takes a few seconds for her to move; she rolls over on her side to face me. She nestles herself in my arms and puts her head on my chest. A smile forms on my lips. Even in her sleep she wants to be near me.

  * * *

  When I wake up in the morning, Camille’s still in my arms. I kiss her on the crown of her head and breathe in her unique scent. I caress her back and enjoy her closeness. Her body slowly wakes, and I smile when she sits up and wipes the the sleep away from her eyes.

  “Good morning.”

  She looks nervously at me and bites her lower lip. “Good morning.”

  There’s a charged silence between us. I understand that she didn’t want to tell me yesterday, but today I have to know what happened. That look she had on her face yesterday? I don’t want to see that ever again.

  “Are you ready to tell me what happened?”

  She pulls the blanket up a little higher. I don’t like the fact she’s trying to hide, but I let her. For now.

  Without looking at me she starts to tell me what happened yesterday. As soon as I hear Sofia’s name I’m about to explode. What on earth was she thinking?

  My muscles are taut. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to drive over to Sofia’s house right now and tell her exactly how I feel ab
out her. When Camille is done telling me the entire story, I notice the tears in her eyes.

  “I’m really sorry, Camille. I’ll make sure she leaves you alone.”

  She nods her head, but I can’t shake the impression that there’s something more going on. When she avoids my eyes, I put my finger under her chin and force her to look at me.

  “What else is going on?”

  Her pupils dilate, she clearly didn’t expect me to see through her like this.

  “I just hate hospitals.”

  I kiss her softly on her forehead. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about. Most people hate hospitals.”

  “Ever since my mom died, hospitals remind me of her. The last days of her life she was only a shadow of herself.”

  Her mom died?

  I haven’t been home in years, so I didn’t know. How awful that she lost her mother. I still remember Miss Van Damme. She used to make pancakes every time I came over. She was a happy, cheerful lady. When I look at Camille, I can see the resemblance. She looks exactly like her mother now.

  “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t know.”

  I pull her close against me and we just stay there for a while. After hearing her talk about her mom, all kind of questions pop up. Would my parents still be alive? I never wondered before, but with Camille here in my arms, the questions are on the tip of my tongue. I know she has the answers, but do I want to know?

  As if Camille has read my mind, she asks, “Aren’t you curious about your parents?” With her finger she makes tiny circles on my chest. “Or your brother?”

  It has been years since I’ve seen my brother, Vincent. Of course I’m curious about him and my mother. I deliberately didn’t let myself wonder how they were doing. Because if I knew, that would mean I wouldn’t be able to stay away. And I had to stay away; there was no way I can be in the same room with my dad ever again. Too much has happened for that.

  “Of course I still think about them. Do you still see them a lot?”

  Camille looks at me with her hooded eyes. She studies my face, looking for any sign of emotion, but I know she won’t find what she’s looking for. She wants me to look sad, but over the years I have learned not to show emotions.

  “I still see your parents from time to time,” she says carefully.

  “And my brother?”

  “Vincent and I are close friends. We go out together every once in a while.”

  Why does it feel so strange to hear Camille talking about my family? For her it’s like the most normal thing in the world. I can barely remember what they look like.

  Camille bites her lip, and I know she’s struggling with something. She wants to ask me a question, but she’s too scared. I can see it in the way she looks; she’s playing with a strand of her hair and looks nervously at me. Just when I think she isn’t going to spill what’s on her mind, she looks up at me with those big, blue, innocent eyes and says: “I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

  I freeze the moment the words leave her mouth. “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t accidently run into you, Jonathan. I came here for Vincent.”

  I don’t understand what she’s saying. How can she be here for Vincent? Shit; is he in trouble? Is she asking for money? Why on earth would she think I was going to help them? I jump up from the bed. I can’t be anywhere near her right now. I walk over to the chair on the other side of the room and pull on my jeans. I have to get out of here as fast as possible. Was she just using me? Was this all a game?

  “Whatever it is you’re looking for, you won’t find it here. My family is dead to me.”

  When I finally manage to get my jeans on, I pull my T-shirt over my head and jam a cap onto my head. Camille is still sitting in my bed with the blanket pulled up to her chin. Fear is in her eyes. She looks at me like I’m a wild animal that’s escaped from its cage.

  I give her one last glare before I head for the door. My hand is on the door knob already when her final words make me truly freeze.

  “Vincent has acute leukemia and he needs a bone marrow transplant. He’s in desperate need of a donor.”

  Camille

  Jonathan remains frozen.

  I’m sure he heard me, but I give him some time to process what I just said. The first time I heard the news about Vincent, I reacted the same way: I was devastated.

  Of course I had noticed for some time that he was looking very sick. He was always pale and complaining about exhaustion. It took a while before the doctors found out it was leukemia, and when the diagnosis came it hit us like a ton of bricks.

  The only thing that can save him is a bone marrow transplant. Most people in our neighborhood had themselves tested, but until now we haven’t found a match. The chances that Jonathan is a matching donor isn’t that much higher. But Vincent is my friend, so I had to try. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try.

  A few awkward minutes pass while Jonathan still stands at the door, his back to me. He hasn’t spoken a word since I told him the news.

  “Please, talk to me. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was just so scared about how you were going to react.”

  Very slowly, he turns around and looks at me. His eyes are bloodshot when his gaze meets mine.

  “Is there a chance I might be a matching donor?”

  Of all the questions I thought he was going to ask, that is the last one. I expected him to be angry. Outraged, because I didn’t tell him the truth.

  I nod my head. “Yes, the chance that your bone marrow matches Vincent’s is thirty percent.”

  He goes silent again. I can see he’s processing the information I gave him. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head right now. Maybe it’s better if I leave him alone for a while. I gingerly get out of bed and slip into the bathroom to get dressed.

  When I return from the bathroom a few minutes later, Jonathan is sitting on the bed, his legs a little bit apart and his elbows leaning on them. His head supported by his hands. When he notices me, he instantly looks up at me.

  “Can you take me to him?”

  I don’t know what I expected him to say or do, but this wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.

  “I can, if you’re sure that’s this what you want.”

  “No matter what happened in the past, it wasn’t his fault. He’s still my brother. That will never change.”

  Well, I can’t argue with that. I know Vincent always wanted to get in touch with his brother again. But because he still lives at home, it just wasn’t that easy for him.

  Jonathan comes to stand next to me, towering over me. Instinctively I take a step back. When he notices, he also takes a step back and looks at me, a hurt expression on his handsome face.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I wanted to, really, I tried so many times to tell you. But I just got you back, and I was scared that when I told you, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I know it’s not an excuse, but I wasn’t ready to lose you again.”

  He keeps staring at me, but it’s like he’s looking right through me. He bends forward and takes his car keys from the table.

  “We’ll talk about this later. Right now I just want to go and see my brother.”

  Despite the fact that I can clearly see he’s upset – and that he’s still angry at me for not saying anything sooner – he walks with me to the elevator. Because of my bad ankle, he has to help me walk, and even though it still hurts a lot, it seems like the least of my problems.

  Once we’re riding the elevator to the underground parking lot, I call Vincent on my cellphone and tell him Jonathan would like to see him. He sounds just as surprised as me, but he’s very happy with the news.

  When I end the phone call, I can hear Jonathan call Joe. He tells his manager the whole story and that he won’t be able to play at the concert tonight. I can hear Joe shouting down the line, but that doesn’t scare Jonathan. I know that Joe, being manager of the band, can’t
be pleased that they have to cancel the concert. But it doesn’t happen every day that you find out your brother might be dying. Because that’s what will happen if we don’t find a matching donor. So all of my hope is set on Jonathan right now.

  “I don’t care what you say, Joe, my brother is my top priority right now. I’ll call you once I know more.”

  With those last words, he ends the phone call and goes back to being quiet.

  * * *

  When we arrive at my family home, it seems so unreal. I know this must be weird for Jonathan too; it’s been years since he was here. We remain in the driveway for a while, just sitting in the car. I can see Jonathan glancing over at his house, and I have no idea what’s going through his mind right now. We’ve hardly spoken to each other since I told him.

  I decide to take Jonathan with me to my house first. When I open the front door, my dad walks into the hallway, surprised to see me.

  “Camille? You’re home already? Is everything okay?”

  I run toward him and give him a giant hug. I can feel his stance change when he notices Jonathan behind me. His body goes rigid. He lets go of me and pushes me behind him. I step out from behind him again and walk over to Jonathan.

  “Dad, this is Jonathan, don’t you remember him? He used to be our next-door neighbor.”

  Dad’s eyes widen in surprise. He clearly didn’t recognize Jonathan. I have to admit: the first time I saw him again, I didn’t recognize him either. He no longer looks like the innocent boy who used to live next door.

  Jonathan walks over to my dad and extends his hand.

  “Hello, Mr. Van Damme, it’s so nice to see you again.”

  It takes a while, but my dad takes Jonathan’s hand to shake it.

  “Nice to see you too, boy—or should I say young man?”

  They both start laughing.