Heat Wave: A Summer Loving Anthology

by Anthology

  As soon as I log into my computer my email pings. It’s an email from Sharp.

  Camila,

  Heard you had a nice time with Natalie. Hope your head doesn’t hurt too much. I like what you did with One Key’s site — good job. Don’t get too thrilled that I complimented your work, which is supposed to always be flawless.

  Here’s some more sites to review. You know what to do.

  -Sharp

  Sharp,

  You always say the sweetest things to me ;)

  Yes I’ll be fine. I have my latte and ibuprofen so I’m ready. Side note, I always do a great job, that’s why you still have me, HA.

  -CAM (stop calling me Camila. You’re annoying)

  Pleased with my email, I start my work. It’s going to be a long and oh-so-fun day.

  Cam

  “THANKS FOR DINNER TONIGHT,” I lean over, kissing Henry’s cheek. He surprised me tonight with lilies and a heartfelt card.

  Cam,

  I’m sorry for being distant. Please know how much I love you.

  Forever yours,

  Henry

  He handed me a gift-wrapped box and inside was a beautiful, black, v-neck dress. He told me to get ready for a night just for us. And I did. Playing the part of his wife is easy and honestly, even though he sucks in bed, I’m a woman with needs. He’s there to give me foreplay while I finish it. Sure I can go out and find a play thing, but honestly it’s not worth it. I haven’t been in the dating world in years. Honestly, I don’t think I know how to flirt.

  While at dinner, Henry kept his word and paid attention to me. He listened to me and kept my hand in his. The entire time he listened and was attentive. When I was done, he took my hand, kissed it and apologized. He admitted to spending more time at the practice and with his friends than me because being home hurt him. He promised he was going to try harder, and I believed him. Damn his charms!

  “The night’s not over.” Henry swoops me up in his arms, walks up the stairs and for the first time in months makes love to me.

  • • •

  RUNNING MY HAND through his hair, I watch him sleep. The way he breathes, letting air in and out, makes him look like my Henry again, the man I love and married. Ready to fall asleep, I hear my phone vibrating on the bedroom floor. Slowly getting out of bed, I slip on my robe and pick up my phone.

  Matt: Check your email.

  Weird, he never texts me. Opening my mail app, I see his email and quickly cover my mouth, silently screaming.

  No.

  • • •

  I LOVE RUNNING on this path. It holds history of old train stations, railroad tracks and an unnerving peace. I love how when I’m here, running, I can clear my head. There’s nature around me. The dirt on the ground to the large trees, covering the sky. I love it here. There’s no distraction, just me and my thoughts. As the cool breeze blows, I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing. I need to focus on running and not what’s burning in my pocket. I can’t break down. I can’t. I push myself harder. I don’t know how long I’ve been running for, and I don’t care. I don’t care if my legs are numb. I don’t care if I need water. I just need to run.

  Coming close to the bridge, I sprint. Running with the last ounce of energy I finally make it, gasping for breath. Placing my hands on my knees, I let out a ragged scream. The tears I don’t realize are there rush from my eyes and fall to the wooden bridge. I’m scared, and lost. I don’t know what to do. Standing against the railing, I look down. I love this bridge over the running stream belong me. Placing my arms on the wood railing, I look down and imagine a life like the stream, rolling through different places and not caring about the weather or where it’ll be next.

  The cool breeze flows through my long dark brown hair. I shut my eyes and grip the railing tighter. I’m trying to hold on so I don’t fall in. But a part of me wants to. A part of me wants to disappear and never come back. Swaying side to side, I’m losing my grip on reality.

  Pulling out the piece of paper from my hoodie, I look at it again. My hands violently shake, not wanting to believe what I keep reading. I don’t know how many times I’ve read the sickening and breaking words, but I can’t stop. Falling to the ground, the pain in my knees travels down my legs, but I don’t care. Nothing compares to the pain of my broken heart. Sobs break through, and I can’t stop crying. I hug the letter as if it’s the only thing keeping me alive. Looking at the words again it doesn’t sink in. I won’t let it sink in. They say when you lose the one you love, you feel their pain because your love is strong enough to carry the feeling. I never felt that pain.

  Dead.

  Ayden’s dead.

  The report states he was found dead in a dark alley. He died alone. I wasn’t there to protect him. No one knew where he was. Did he have a proper funeral?

  “How you holding up?” Beverly puts her arm around me, placing her head on my shoulder. Ayden was her friend, too. She sniffles, holding hands, as we look down, not able to look at each other.

  “I never got to say goodbye. I don’t believe it though. It’s not true.”

  “You have all the evidence though babe. It’s time to let go and now you can move on. Now you can focus on Henry and you. Find out what’s wrong with your marriage, and then you’ll be free. Dylan and I are here for you, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  We stand on the bridge for a while longer before she takes me home. I enter my dark home and pull out a bottle of white wine. Grabbing a wine glass from the cabinet, I settle outside on the deck, looking up in the sky full of stars, wondering if Ayden can see me.

  “I’m sorry, Ayden. I’m so sorry,” I cry. The tears soak my pink tank top. I haven’t stopped crying since finding out.

  Putting the wine glass to my lips, I take a few healthy sips. I need the alcohol to numb the pain in my heart. I need something, anything, to fill the holes in my body. It’s not my heart that’s broken. My whole body is broken.

  Beverly’s right. I have to accept Ayden’s death. I have to move on and maybe now I can, but that doesn’t mean I can’t cry on the inside for the boy who stole me with his beautiful smile.

  “My name’s Ayden.”

  “Hi,” I shyly respond, looking at the really cute boy in front of me. He smiles and I smile back. “I’m Cam.”

  “Cam? Is that a nickname?”

  “Yeah, I guess. My real name is Camila.”

  “I like that better. Camila.” When he says my name I blush.

  “Is it okay that you’re talking to me? Boys and girls can’t be friends.”

  He cocks his head to the right, “why?”

  I shrug. “Those are the rules.”

  “Well,” he walks closer to me, looking around before looking at me. “I’m a rule breaker.”

  I jerk, remembering where I am. Sweat slides off my face and I blink a few times, shaking off the hazy feeling. I finish my first glass of wine and pour another. Tonight’s about me for once. Me and my broken heart. I’ll cry and mourn today, and then move on tomorrow. It’s what I do best.

  I tell myself to breathe, but when I do I think of Ayden. The report didn’t go into the specifics of his death, but he suffered. Dying alone with no one to help you is the saddest death anyone can experience. Sure, death of a loved one, family or friend is sad, but when you die alone there’s no one to help you. You’re lost, wandering around the dark circles.

  My chest tightens, as if someone is stepping on it restricting my breathing. I can’t see clearly. Everything around me is blurry.

  “I love you, Camila. You saved me, and I get to spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you.”

  “Ayden,” I whisper, “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  Ayden: Don’t forget about tonight. Baby I promise we’ll start fresh. It’s you and me against the world. Your parents won’t be able to stop us. No one can and no one will. Wait for my next text and we’ll leave together. We’ll leave Atlanta and never look back.

  But his text neve
r came.

  And I stood waiting for him.

  Cam

  I STOP THINKING ABOUT Ayden’s death. I mourned for his loss, but I’m moving on. It’s the only thing I can do. I can’t stop my life because he’s gone. Even though I don’t think about him, it doesn’t mean I forgot about him. I just have to live my life again.

  Surprisingly, Henry’s back to normal. He’s coming home at a reasonable time and taking me out on our weekly dates. Pushing aside the memories from the gala, my heart tells me he’s done cheating on me and is putting focus on our marriage. I’m slowly feeling better. Very slowly though.

  Sitting across from Henry, he takes my hand and smiles. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  I smile thinking back to the IVF appointment. Things looked good and I’m feeling good as well. “Yeah, I am. This round was hard,” I whisper. “I hope it works. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

  “I know what you mean.” His thumb rubs small, lazy circles on my hand. “I want the best for us, Cam. You are my world, Sweetheart. I want to see us with a family. A boy, a girl, I don’t care.”

  “What if this doesn’t work? Then what?”

  “Adoption,” he calmly says. “I want our house full of children, running around, laughing and calling us Mom and Dad.” He smiles making me smile too.

  “Sounds like a plan,” I laugh. I don’t feel alone anymore, and I know I’m not leaving Henry. Marriages have ups and downs. Right now we’re on an upward hill, and we’re doing so well. I feel loved and wanted. I want my husband to come home and make love to me.

  Finally, I can truly be happy. I’ll be okay, I remind myself. I’ll be okay.

  After dinner, Henry and I head home and make passionate, sweet love. He takes his time admiring my body and telling me he loves me. This isn’t for him; this is for us.

  Falling asleep in his arms, I can breathe and settle in a peaceful sleep, letting go of my insecurities and trusting in our marriage.

  • • •

  WE’RE SITTING IN HIS office, staring at the envelope holding the results. Today we find out if I’m pregnant or not.

  “Open it.”

  “Okay,” I answer reaching out for the envelope. Slowing sliding my finger across the flap, I take out the letter and see the words.

  Negative.

  Entering into IVF wasn’t an easy decision, but we want to start a family. It hasn’t been easy since we lost Patrick six months ago. I didn’t want to wait long. I want to be a mom. But news like this is breaking me apart. I’m a woman! I’m supposed to be able to carry a baby and go through the steps of giving my baby life. I’d like to believe there’s another path for me, but right now all I can think about is the negative result.

  Why is life being a bitch? Oh, I know — because she fucking hates me. Since I can’t have a baby, Henry looks for someone who isn’t broken. He puts his dick in random pussies while I stay at home waiting for him.

  Why do I accept this life?

  Because I do.

  As we’re walking to the car I feel lost. There are no words to help me understand any of this. I’m drifting away from reality, trying so hard to hold on, but losing hope. Losing faith. I can’t breathe as the water fills my lungs, grabbing my legs and dragging me down into the deep, dark waters. Sometimes I want to give up and disappear. Life keeps shitting on me and I’m not sure how much more I can take. In twenty-seven years I’ve had nearly everything ripped away from my life. What’s the point?

  Henry places his arm around me, telling me everything’s going to be okay. I look into his dull, light-green eyes and see his lips moving, but I don’t hear him. I think he’s saying we’ll keep trying. That’s the thing — I don’t want to keep trying. All the pain and suffering and for what? There’s a part of me that doesn’t believe it’ll happen. I’ll never get to be a mom and hold my baby in my arms. I want to be able to watch my baby go to preschool and walk the stage accepting his or her diploma. I want to watch my baby get married and live a happily ever after. But none of that will happen.

  “I told you we needed to wait,” I mutter, looking over at Henry. He doesn’t respond. His cold eyes are on the road. His body rigid and unwelcoming. The tension in the car is hard to ignore. “Can we look more into adoption, Henry?”

  “No. Absolutely not, Cam. I will not raise another man’s child.”

  “But last night you said you wanted to do that. I know the baby won’t be ours, but we’ll raise the baby as our own. This child will be ours. We’ll raise him or her together and you’ll see—”

  “Stop this!” he yells, clenching the steering wheel. “I’m not bringing it into our lives. It’ll never be our child.”

  “Stop saying it! BABY! SAY BABY!”

  “We will keep trying until we have a baby. You’re healthy and young. And if that doesn’t work, then we’ll hire a surrogate. Either way, I will have a child.”

  “I don’t know how much more I can take. You’re putting me at risk, Henry. We can’t jump into trying again. My body needs to rest.” I’m exhausted. I don’t know how much more I can take. My emotional state is all over the place. Whenever I’m with Henry and we talk about our future everything inside me twists and turns, like a vice gripping me making it hard to breathe.

  Henry’s phone beeps, and he looks at it. “Cam, something came up with Martin. I’ll drop you off and head back. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

  “No, I want to talk, Henry!”

  “About what?”

  “You’re cheating! I saw you with your whore the night of the gala. I know you’ve been cheating on me, but then you were back to being the man I fell in love with. Now, since I’m not pregnant, are you going to go cheat on me?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie!” I scream, letting go of my emotions. Banging my hands against his arm, I scream for the truth. “Just tell me!”

  Henry jerks the car to the side of the road, grabbing my arms and shaking me. I push him away, but he doesn’t move. His strong arms get tighter around my arms, squeezing, trying to control me. I spit in his face, screaming for him to let me go.

  “Calm down, Cam! It was a one-time thing, and I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry!”

  “No! It’s not enough. I need to know you’re not going to cheat on me again.”

  “Stop. All right. Do you understand me?” His hand lets go of my arm, but he grabs my chin, smirking at me. “I’m the man in this marriage. You do not tell me what to do. If I wanna fuck someone else then I’ll fuck someone else. You do your part, and I’ll keep buying you whatever you want.”

  “I want a divorce!”

  “Too bad, Sweetheart,” he smirks, pushing me against the seat, quickly getting on top of me.

  “Stop! Stop!” Using everything in me I try to push him away, but he’s too strong. His mouth devours mine as he holds down my neck and pulls down his shorts. His other hand yanks my dress up and rips off my panties.

  “Henry, stop!”

  “You want this,” he mutter, sliding his fingers in my pussy. “You may think you don’t want this, but feel how wet you are.” Before I can say anything he slams into me, thrusting in and out. “Tell me you fucking want this.”

  “I want this,” I whisper. “I want this.”

  Holding back the tears, I tell myself not to cry. I can’t cry. I don’t cry. Crying shows weakness, and I am not weak. It doesn’t matter what’s going on in my life or how I feel. Throughout the years I’ve learned to shut down during stressful situations and keep it all to myself. I’ve let someone in before and it left me vulnerable, as if my heart was pulled out of my chest and stomped on several times. I don’t let very many people in. I have a few close friends from high school. I’m not popular. I’m not the greatest with conversation. I’m simply me, Cam Ellison — wait, VonWart. I’m the girl waiting for the rain to come back.

  Cam

  DAYS GO BY, and I’ve been working endless hours, keeping myself busy so I don’t have to think ab
out what’s going on with my life. Henry’s been gone, away on business so he says. I’m turning into the pathetic woman I told myself never to become. Alone in her bed, watching the sun rise and fall, hoping for a revelation, but never getting one.

  Picking up the half-full bottle of wine, bringing it to my lips, I drink until the final drops are on my tongue. Picking up the bottle from my nightstand, I take a handful of sleeping pills, not enough to be dangerous, just enough to sleep for a while. Drifting in and out of consciousness I finally close my eyes and forget about everything.

  The bed sinks in, and I feel a warm hand brushing my hair away from my face. I will myself to wake up, but decide against it. I’m dreaming. I smile, touching the hand of a man I don’t know. This isn’t Henry. I know Henry’s hands. These hands are familiar. Maybe it is Henry, and he’s trying to be a better man and husband.

  Lips are on my cheek, and I feel his hand resting on the other side of the bed. He smells delicious. What’s that cologne? It’s nothing I’ve ever smelled before.

  “I love you,” the voice rings through my head. I know that voice. Forcing my eyes open I look around the room, but it’s just me.

  “Impossible,” I mutter, reaching for my phone and ignoring all the messages. I dial Beverly’s number and tell her to get over right away.

  Jumping in the shower, I wash away all the crap I’ve been going through these past few days and breathe in and out. This isn’t happening. This isn’t possible.

  By the time I’m in yoga pants and a tank top, Beverly’s at the door. I unlock it and am met with a slap on the arm with yelling.

  “You had me worried sick! What the fuck is wrong with you!”