He looks sternly at me. “Starting tomorrow, Cam, you will go to the doctor and get a shot. And you’ll get one every week until it’s all cleared up.”
“Dad. No. It’s the law.”
“If you think you’re big enough to deal with the law, then go right ahead. You want to sue me for caring about you? I’d like to see that one.”
I’ll do it.
“No,” I say. I’m talking to The Other Guy, but Dad thinks I’m on him.
He wags a big finger at both Beth and me. “Listen closely, you two. You’ve got a week to shape up. That’s right, a week. I’m going to be watching you, and your mother is going to be reporting to me. If things haven’t changed in your attitude, then I’m laying down some additional rules, and you probably won’t like them, either.”
“But you can’t—”
“Try me,” he shouts. “Just try me.” Then he turns to Beth. “And if you expect to ever see your friends again, you’d better shape up yourself.”
Beth’s eyes glow like a werewolf’s, but she quickly stares down at the table.
“Understood?” Dad asks.
“Understood,” Mom says. She smirks and I want to tell her off.
But I don’t, and Beth whispers, “Understood,” while in my head I hear:
Oh yeah. Understood all right.
Up in my room, I’m making a decision. In or out? Am I in this family or am I out? I realize it is one of those decisions that can make your brain tip out of balance, but somehow, after Dad’s ultimatum at the dinner table, it doesn’t matter all that much. And I’m already out of balance anyway.
I’m in the middle of my plan when Beth knocks on my door.
“No,” I say, but she comes in anyway.
She takes one look at me and says, “I thought you were up to something.” On the bed, my coat and my watch cap are waiting for me to put them on.
“You should be too,” I say. I position the watch cap on my head.
“Where are you going?” Beth asks.
“Out,” I say. I busy myself putting underwear and socks in my coat pocket. Then I think it’s stupid and pull them out.
“Uh, this might not be the best time to go out,” she says.
“You heard him,” I say, stopping in the middle of the floor. “I have one day. Then my life as I know it ends.”
Beth licks her lips and says, “She’s right, isn’t she? You’re not taking your meds.”
“Who cares?” I say.
“Are you okay?”
“Course I’m okay.”
“Look, Cam,” she says. “I’m pissed off too, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to run away from home.”
“Who’s running away?” I ask. “I’m just going down to the door and stepping out. I don’t plan to run.”
She grabs at my chin and forces me to look in her eyes. “You’re not okay, Cam. I can see it.”
“It’s not your life,” I say.
“But where are you going?” Beth asks again.
I shrug, but I do know.
“To your girlfriend’s?” she asks.
I can’t tell if she’s making fun of me or not, but I nod anyway. I expect her to say something that Mom would, but she doesn’t.
“Be careful” is all she says.
Eighteen
It is easy to leave home after a fight. Mom, Dad, and Beth are someplace else in the house licking their wounds and figuring out whether they won or not. I know Mom and Dad are sure they’re the winners. It’s time to prove them wrong. So, arming my hands through the sleeves of my jacket and carrying Mom’s little flashlight, I turn the knob quietly and I’m out the back door.
It’s dark, and the breeze is cool enough to make me shiver and strong enough to rattle the new leaves of the vine maples as I make my way down the driveway. It looks like the breeze might have blown the rain away. When I go down around the corner, I snap on the flashlight.
It doesn’t take long to get to the highway, not as long as on the foot-dragging school mornings. Once I get there, I’m not sure what my next move will be. I stand by the mailbox while a couple of cars whiz by. Neither of them slows, but the last one throws up a spray of muddy water that coats my shoes.
Last chance to make the right decision. Slow and steady wins the race.
“Do you even know what you’re talking about?” But what The Professor says does make me balk for a moment. A new life seems a long way off right about now.
Are you giving up on me?
“No.”
You’re not paying attention the way you used to. It’s The Girl, isn’t it?
We can do it. The two of us together can. We can have whatever we want because we have love.
“Is that really all it takes?” I say.
Just look at your parents. Aren’t they in love?
“Well yeah. They are in love.”
And they’ve been together all this time. What do you think has held them together?
And that’s all it takes. Of course it’s their love and having each other to rely on. That’s what I want. Without people wondering whether I can handle it or not.
I cross the road and take off walking. It’s a lot different from riding the school bus, more at ground level, like Dylan’s car. Blinding headlights come toward me and from behind, where I am sure I make a silhouette. I walk into Lexington, which is about a mile through and through, and an hour after that, I’m under the railroad bridge.
To get to Nina’s place, I would have to walk another four miles into town, cross on the Peter Crawford Bridge, and then backtrack to a point that I can almost see now just across the river. But there is a shorter way, and I’d thought about it a few times while on the bus. The local railroad crosses the river right where I am now standing. A car comes along, and its headlights flash higher on the bridge where I can just make out the familiar words in big red lettering:
DANGER! LOG TRAIN OVERHEAD!
It used to scare me when the train would go over just when the bus was going under, and I thought the logs might fall off and crush us all.
Strangely, I’m not scared now. But I don’t want to be caught, so I jump down in the ditch when another car’s headlights show in the distance. The tall wet grass soaks my pants. When the car goes by, it’s another easy decision. I carefully remove my jacket and tie it around my neck. Now my arms have more freedom. I shine the light up the huge Lincoln Log timbers of the railroad bridge. It’s as if the structure were made for me. I notice that the ends of the timbers might just jut out at the right proportions for me to climb all the way to the top. I reach up and feel a timber. It smells like creosote.
But before I start, I hear from The Professor:
The local log train does a night run. The chances of crossing the bridge on foot and making it out alive are 50 percent. You must think about this.
“But it’s way shorter,” I say.
Yes; however, it’s a long way down.
Before The Professor can say another word, a second voice roars in:
Do it anyway.
Hard and demanding. As if I must obey or else.
Do it now, chicken boy.
Anxiety courses through me. I grab on to a timber.
“Back off a little,” I say.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
I heft myself up, worrying as my jacket swings out. It is surprisingly easy to hoist myself to the next timber, and the next.
That’s it, boy. That’s it. Could’ve done it all along.
The Other Guy is right. What had been keeping me from doing something like this? Maybe I always should have listened to him. Now, instead of fear, I feel a pulse of courage and scramble even faster up toward the dark top. I can smell the mill up here, the trees, the dankness of the river below.
My heart goes out to you, Cameron, and I certainly understand your motives, but is this really the way to go?
“I like you better when you just give me the facts.”
Sweat breaks out on my face but is quickly lapped
up by the breeze. I stop to jam the flashlight between my front teeth. Now I can look up and see the next timber more easily.
It takes me fifteen more minutes to get to the top. Meanwhile, the headlights below get dimmer and dimmer. The wind dies down as a light fog drifts around me. Above it, the moon momentarily wins a battle with the clouds. It shines on the slick silvery rails. I reach up and put all my weight onto one of those rails. As I lift myself up and around the last timber, I lose my grip and hold on by only one hand. I think the slipperiness will make my hand slide off, but it holds for an instant, long enough for me to wrap my entire arm around the timber and secure myself. From there, I slowly drag my body up onto the top.
I gently untie the arms of my jacket and lay it on my chest as I rest on my back. My breath comes quickly, but it feels good.
Hello, Cam.
“I hear you,” I say.
I never knew you were so strong.
“I don’t care what The Other Guy says. I am a man.”
My man.
Lying there, I know I could listen to her voice forever.
You left home. You ran. That takes a lot of guts. You’re really in charge of yourself now, aren’t you? In charge of us both. It makes me want you even more.
I stand up then and put on my jacket. I feel I might be able to take care of the whole world. At this point on the bridge I’m still a few feet from the edge of the river. It runs slow and smelly way below me. I take off toward the other side. In a few steps, I start to see the moon’s reflection off the surface between the timbers. I wonder how brave I must look from down below. I wonder what my mother would think if she happened to see me. The boy she so carefully protected is now in the worst possible place she could think of.
In fact, nobody would think I could do this. If kids in the regular classes saw me now, they would start talking about me differently. They might even step back when I come down the hall. I’d hear whispers all around me. “He’s the one. He’s the guy who walked the bridge at night.”
Damn straight.
I could go in through the regular school door.
And I’m going to get you through that door, big guy.
“You and I,” I say.
The walking is uneven. It’s just wide enough so that I have to stretch my step a little. I can’t get too comfortable, or I might find myself shooting down through the timbers, bouncing off them like a pinball, and then splashing into the water, unconscious, drifting down to the Columbia and out to sea, never to be heard from again. How would my mom feel then?
I stop in the middle. I think I hear a distant whistle, but maybe it’s just my nerves. I wait another few seconds, hear nothing, and then take off again. When the clouds take back the sky and the moon fades, it grows darker, harder to see. I wave my flashlight into the blackness, but then pull it back sharply. What if someone can see me, even from way over on the hills? What if they call the cops and they come to get me? Who knows, they’re probably already out looking for me. Thwarted before I even get started. I snap out the light and wait a moment until my eyes have adjusted.
I trip once and cast out wildly for a hold but realize there isn’t one. I fall and hit the hard timbers. My foot hangs between two of them. I can feel my heart zinging in my chest. So this is what it’s like. This is what those mountain climbers feel. This is what runners feel before a race. It must be. All bad and good and exciting at the same time. I let my legs dangle awhile.
“I love this!” I shout.
I’m getting a little worried, Cameron.
“I don’t need you,” I say. “I can do this on my own.” And to prove it, I stand up again and start walking.
Kind of like the life you want, isn’t it?
In order to make it in the world, you must proceed with caution. There is happiness in caution.
I wonder if The Professor has ever given me the right advice. It seems that in order to make it in The Professor’s world, you have to deny yourself. What if there’s a world where all you have to do is trust yourself? You just have to know that when you stick your foot out, it’s going to hit the next timber. You shouldn’t even have to look down.
Well, theoretically speaking. Which means the bridge wasn’t built with exact measurements between the ties. I’m sure the plans started out that way, but they didn’t take into account human error. About three-quarters of the way across I am looking up through the hazy clouds and take the wrong step. The front of my shoe slips against the tie and I almost fall through. Almost. But I am lucky and catch myself before I do.
Ah, Cameron. Now it’s more than 50 percent. More than a 50 percent chance of failure the longer you’re caught between the ties.
I like the way you challenge yourself, Cam. It means you aren’t just going to sit back and watch life pass you by.
“Thank you,” I say. But I can see I’ve got myself into quite a challenge. Although I can barely feel a narrow support somewhere beneath me, I don’t know if it will hold my entire weight. I feel like a prairie dog, with only my head and shoulders poking out above the level of the rails. And although there’s no danger of my really falling because of the grip I have, I’m going to have a tough time boosting myself up enough to climb back onto the bridge. And this time, before I can think of any other problem I’ve gotten myself into, I do hear a faint whistle.
Hey now. Here we go. Time to prove yourself.
I suddenly have to pee. Jamming the flashlight back in my mouth, I brace both hands on the creosoted ties and try to lift my lower body up like a gymnast on the rings. In a few seconds, my arms are shaking badly and the strength is leaking out of my muscles. I gently ease myself back on my elbows.
Uh, oh-oh.
“I can figure this out.”
Cam. Isn’t that the train?
“I think so.”
You’ll get us out, of course.
“We’re together now, aren’t we? Of course I’ll get us out.” But I’m not so sure. After a few seconds of rest, I try to leverage myself up again. I get a little higher than before, but my muscles are even shakier this time. Meanwhile, the sound of the train whistle comes definitely closer.
I couldn’t have planned this better if I’d tried.
“A little less sarcasm,” I say. “And a little more help.”
I look around me. There is nothing to grab on to, to help hoist myself up. I crush against the timber and try to boost my body, using the the wood as a lever. But I’m not going anywhere.
Cam?
“I’m trying,” I say. “I’ll think of something.”
It’s coming. I can sense it.
And she’s right. I can feel a rumbling in the timbers. A thundering herd is about to round the corner up ahead. I desperately try to recall how much space is below log cars. Will there be enough room?
If we die, I will always remember this happy life I’ve had with you.
“We’re not going to die,” I say, just as the heavy beam of the engine light shines against the timbers. It is loud now, its warning precise. I no longer have to pee. In fact, everything is blocked in my body.
Cam? Cameron? I’m getting a little worried.
I wonder now what it is I can do. It looks like death is barreling along toward me. And I definitely don’t want this.
I’m so sorry, Cameron.
There’s too much to think about, too much to say. I want to tell Beth I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed her by being her crazy little brother. I want to tell Dad that I wish I could have been more of what he wanted me to be. And I want to tell Mom that it’s not her fault.
The end is the end is the end is the end.
These words do not comfort me as the engine comes around the curve and straightens its light so I am full on washed in it. I close my eyes, but I can still see the bright light behind my lids. I feel a strong wind blow into my face. I wince and prepare for the worst.
Nineteen
It is natural to hunker down before a big blow comes, and this is what I
do. I squeeze myself between the timbers, balancing on some unseen narrow wooden support. But the broad sweep of the engine’s power nearly knocks me over and down through the space. I can hear everything, feel almost nothing. At times I think the grabbing wind will suck the air out of my lungs, and I gasp as if it has.
It takes maybe five minutes for it to go over, but it is the longest five minutes of my life. Once I know my head isn’t going to be chopped off, I get used to being beneath the train. I try to look up to the undercarriage of the cars, but they are going too fast and all I see is a dusty blur. My arms start to shake and I fight to keep them steady.
It is so noisy and windy that it takes me a moment to realize the train has finally passed over me. I peek up over the timber and see the red light of the last car disappear around the bend.
I love the roller coaster.
“You do, huh?”
Yes. It’s thrilling. When you feel the thrill in your stomach and you just have to scream it out.
I don’t really want to chat. Instead, I try to figure out a way to get up and off the bridge. I know there are other trains that will be coming along, and I don’t want to end up like that panicked prairie dog, just popping up and down out of my hole whenever danger is close.
I try the flashlight again and in a moment see the way. It has been there all along. Where my legs dangle, I see a ladder connected timber to timber all the way across the rest of the bridge. If I swing my legs, I can catch it and crawl to safety.
And there is even better news. After about five timbers’ worth of crawling, the ladder connects to another one, which I take up onto the surface of the bridge. I lie there to catch my breath. No voices, but a certain amount of real satisfaction. It doesn’t last, though. The electric shock is back in my legs. In a moment, I get up and trot to the other side.
At the end, I jump off the bridge and slide along the rocky ballast until I hit solid ground. I know my way from here, and after a half hour of picking through old train tracks and gravel roads, I stand in front of Nina’s house. The porch light throws a weak semicircle onto the lawn, but I can make out another light in the kitchen. I go to the front door and knock.
Cameron and the Girls Page 9