by Lila Felix
I must’ve read over it thirty times as I paced the floors of the house, the shop, the porch. How could she? She knew that it was those very cravings of grandeur were the same ones that took me away from my family. Every resolve I’d made the night before opened my mind’s door and crawled back into their place, spreading and creeping along the folds of my brain until I was nearly consumed. I’d given her a good life—right? We didn’t have the best clothes or the best food, but she was fed and clothed. And if I couldn’t even provide for a teenaged sister, how did I ever think I would be able to provide for Cami? It’s was funny how it took weeks for Cami’s light to make the night fade but in an instant it was back, roaring its head in victory, holding me hostage.
The headlights shone through the kitchen windows and an orb of regret poked its head out of hiding before being drowned by my fury. Will and I had always been honest with each other—always. And she’d been the one who tried to place the blame on Cami. I buried my face in my hands as she entered the door, not even sure if I could face her at this point.
“Hi! I had such a great time!”
“I’m glad you did. Sit down.”
“Um—ok.” She sat in the chair next to me, but my skin crawled at her being that close. The anger didn’t want her anywhere near me.
“Sit over there,” I pointed across the table.
She didn’t hesitate and took the chair opposite me. She looked so confused I hadn’t realized my sister was such an impeccable actress.
“So when did you take the knives?”
She laughed and rolled her eyes at me. I didn’t think it was possible to get angrier at that point, but at the nonchalant gesture, my torso began to tremble in madness.
“There’s nothing funny, Willa. When did you take them?”
“I didn’t,” She answered me adamantly.
“Well that’s awfully funny because look at this.”
I shoved the letter over to her and scrubbed the top of my head while she read. I didn’t even want to watch her reaction. I didn’t want to see the deceptive facial expressions she’d have to make up in order to continue playing this game with me.
“Stock, I didn’t do anything, I swear it. They offered you that much money?”
Denial—again. There were a lot of things I put up with but dishonesty wasn’t and had never been one of them.
I slammed my fists down on the table and she jumped, “Don’t lie to me, Willa Wright. What, you didn’t have clothes like everyone else? You didn’t have a nice enough car? What was it exactly that drove you to do something like this?”
She stood now and I realized she was no longer the little girl that had to be pulled away from the empty caskets at my parents’ funeral. She was now a young lady—and I guessed she’d made a big girl decision.
“I didn’t do anything!” She shouted at me. Willa never shouted. I’d seen her angry hundreds of times but only a handful had I ever heard her yell.
“Oh, so a ghost or a perfect stranger must’ve come in our house, dug through our drawers until they found a letter of solicitation from a company, signed my name, got some of my knives from the shop and then packaged it all up and brought it to the f-ing post office! That must be it!”
“Screw you, Stockton,” she feebly mumbled and before I could stop her, she was halfway down the driveway.
Immediately the knife of regret turned counter clockwise in my sternum and I nearly chased after her.
Until Cami, she was the most important thing in my life and I’d just treated her like a common criminal.
I must’ve called Willa twenty times before Cami answered the phone.
“Stock, she’s with me. She’s safe. But she’s very upset. She’s,” I could hear Willa over the top sobbing across the connection, “She’s crying so hard. What’s wrong with her? Did something happen?”
“If she’s old enough to make a decision like the one she already has, she’s old enough to fess up to it. Call me if you need me to pick her up.”
She sighed into the phone, “Stock, this doesn’t sound like you, darlin’.”
The girl had a little hillbilly in her after all.
I’d never heard her call me anything but hillbilly as a term of endearment, she was trying to coddle me.
But before I could say anything else, she continued, “Tell me what happened so I can help her?”
“What makes you think someone did something to her? Maybe she did something to me and got caught.”
“I’m coming over there, and I’m bringing Willa home. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you two but we’re going to figure it out tonight.”
Not thirty minutes later, the Macon’s truck, slinging dirt and rocks everywhere, plowed up my driveway. I stood outside on the porch, my anger now subsided, hurt and shame had replaced it.
I watched Cami escort Will from the truck, up the steps and into the house. She sat next to me on the steps and released a world’s worth of pain in one breath. I should’ve known that hurting Willa would hurt Cami too.
Back to the bastard.
“I really don’t know what’s going on with you two but it’s pissing me off. You two are the most important people in my life and I can’t stand to see you like this.” She turned her head sideways and her facial expression read, ‘your fault.’ I knew no better, so I thought this was it. She’d find out how I treated Will and she’d leave and probably take my sister with her.
Not an hour earlier, I’d asked ‘How could she?’
Now the question was ‘How could I?’
Will came out a few minutes later but I could still hear the chest wracking sobs she tried to hide.
I could also feel Cami’s eyes on me, begging me to relent.
Cami finally got up and hugged Will again and asked us all to sit down at the table inside. We obeyed and I was determined not to be the first to speak.
“Will, can you tell me what happened?”
“He—he—Stock thinks I did something that I didn’t do!” Her voice progressed through the sentence from a hefty cry to an all out angry shout.
“Who else would do it?”
“I don’t,” Cami tugged on her hand, silently asking her to stop yelling, “I don’t know, but immediately blaming me is just—stupid.”
Thirteen year old Stockton busted out of my memory and spoke next, “Did you just call me stupid, little girl?”
But I was not speaking to little Willa anymore, “No, Sir, I wasn’t. But accusing me without getting all of the information was a stupid thing to do.”
Cami looked from one of us to the other, like a confused audience member at a deranged tennis match.
“What are you guys talking about?” She demanded. “I need all the facts.”
“We are talking about this,” I slammed the letter and the check in front of her. I eyed Willa the whole time she was reading it but Willa was eyeing Cami. She knew something I didn’t, I could just tell.
“When did you get this?” Cami asked, still staring at it.
“Today.”
“And you assumed Will sent these people your knives?”
“Of course. Who else would pull that bullshit stunt?”
Cami moved the letter away from her and then folded it up neatly. Tears welled in her eyes and she opened her mouth to speak several times before any words came out.
“Me.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cami
I watched the anger return to Stockton’s body in varying degrees of red. He seemed to heat up from the base of his thick neck to the top of his shaved dark head. He was so pissed.
I trembled from fear of his undiluted fury. In my deepest convictions I knew he would never hurt me physically; never, ever, ever lay a hand on a woman. But my heart was out in the open now, laid out and vulnerable-especially after our life-changing revelations-and he was certainly capable of all kinds of destruction on that vibrantly beating organ.
Lucky for me, I’d had my heart shattered b
y people I loved my entire life.
I waited quietly for him to form some kind of response to my confession. In my blissful naivety I imagined this grand gesture from me was going to be received with a big smile, a heartfelt “thank you” and lots and lots of kisses; so many kisses my lips would be swollen and red and my hair forever tangled in his huge, talented hands.
I imagined him showing me the letter and the hefty check-now crumpled and discarded on the table-with beaming pride and a sense of relief. I imagined helping him decide how to use the money first. Would he buy Will the book set she’s been wanting? Or put a down payment on her college first? Would he do something for his brothers? The ones I hadn’t met yet, only heard stories about. Or maybe he’d go really crazy and spend money on himself? I had been excited to share that with him, share this incredibly impressive moment with him.
He helped me find a better version of myself. And he inspired me to follow dreams I put on hold and kept secret from even myself. I didn’t believe in myself until Stockton. I didn’t value myself until him.
And I had foolishly hoped that he had found a way to do both because of me too.
His dreams were put on hold because of injustices done to his family, not because he did anything wrong. And I only wanted to gift him back some of the life he lost when his parents died.
“Willa, go to your room,” he growled out.
She shot me a sympathetic look but disappeared immediately. It was probably better that way. As much as I wanted a compassionate supporter, she should not have to witness this.
Stockton paced across the small kitchen floor like a caged lion, hungry and vicious, until Will’s door closing echoed in our charged silence. He ran his hands down his face and turned to look out the window placed above their sink-turning his back on me.
I waited for him to speak first. I couldn’t have spoken even if I wanted to. I was too shaken up, too undone and unsettled by his focused resentment. Maybe he was expecting an apology from me, but I wasn’t sure if he was going to get one yet.
I wasn’t sorry for what I did.
He should be making that kind of money on every single one of his well-crafted creations-not trading hard hours of work for eggs and bacon. Yes, he needed to feed his family, but the check that those three knives I sent in earned him would get this family a whole lot further than fixing fences and doing favors for old men.
I just didn’t understand why he couldn’t see that. Why he couldn’t see his true potential or invaluable worth.
“What gave you the right?” he growled out with so much anger and frustration that my heart ached inside my chest and he hadn’t even dealt the worst of his blow yet. “What gave you the right to go behind my back and do something so vile, so… deceitful? I trusted you, Cami! And you do something like this? How could you!”
“I didn’t mean to be deceitful,” I whispered, my voice raw with pain. I rubbed the heel of my hand over my throbbing heart, desperate to relieve the agony. How could these ugly words be spoken between us just hours after those beautiful, eternal promises we confessed last night to each other at my window? The same promises we whispered every single night he stood at my window. He spun around, defying me with his body language. “Stockton I didn’t mean to piss you off! I was trying to help you!” I was defensive now. How could he not see my good intentions?
“You were trying to help me?” he scoffed, his minty green eyes were dark with emotion and his entire body seemed to vibrate with anger. “How is snooping through my things and going off without my permission helping me? Didn’t it ever cross your mind that if I wanted their money I would have sent the samples in myself? Or did you think I was too stupid to figure that out? I’m just some dumb hillbilly that doesn’t understand the postal service?”
I stood up to face him, my own self-righteous anger beating a rhythm of retaliation in my body. “Enough of that. Don’t patronize me because you’re upset. I sent that letter from a place of generosity, a place of love. I didn’t intend to make you mad. I just wanted to help. You struggle, Stock. You and Will struggle every single day to survive and make it. I wanted to lighten your burden, give you breathing room. Hell, I wanted to give Will that chance to go to freaking college! I honestly didn’t think it would make you upset. I thought you would be grateful!”
He barked out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Cami, not everyone needs millions of dollars to be happy. Yes, we struggle, but there’s more to life than money. Maybe you can’t understand that since you’ve never wanted for anything in your whole damn life; since you’ve been so pampered and spoiled you can’t even comprehend the concept of missing a meal or wearing second hand clothing. But this is our reality and it’s just fine for us. You’re the one with the issue, not me. I don’t need or want someone else’s handouts. Was my lack of money a turnoff? Did you miss all your fancy dates and designer clothes wearing boyfriends? If you can’t accept me for who I am, then what the hell are you doing falling in love with me?”
It took me a minute to unpack all that. Where I was mildly angered before, now I was just down right livid. “You think I sent that letter because I needed you to have more money? You think I couldn’t love you for exactly who you are? Stockton, how dare you. Yes, I come from money. But because of that I know exactly how unhappy it can make you. But I also know how much easier it can make things for you and your family. I never thought money would make you a better person, a more eligible boyfriend. Your lack of money is one of the reasons I’m so f-ing in love with you in the first place. No, that doesn’t even explain it right. Because my feelings have nothing to do with money whatsoever. Because you don’t have money it’s made you into a hard worker and that is what I respect. Because you don’t have money you value things like family, friendship and community. That’s what drew me to you. Money had nothing to do with it! And even if I showed up in this stupid mountain town spoiled and entitled, I haven’t been that way for a long time. I thought you saw that. I thought you recognized the change in me-especially when you were the one that demanded it from me in the first place! I didn’t send those samples to that manufacturer with any other intention than to try to pay you back in some small way for all the good you did in my life. You inspired me to be a better person, to get over my past and follow my dreams. I only wanted to do for you a fraction of what you did for me. And if you can’t see that, then I feel sorry for you. If you can’t remember everything that we said to each other last night, or the night before that, or the night before that, then that’s your loss. I would never intentionally hurt you and you should know me better than that!” I paused for just a second before adding, “And since when is getting paid for your work a handout? Last time I checked the free market worked on a supply by demand basis. They like what you do Stockton-they want to pay you what you deserve. They’re in no way doing this out of the goodness of their capitalism-loving hearts!”
Pain and regret flashed as bright as lightning in his eyes and I watched him struggle to swallow. “I just don’t understand why you went behind my back, Cami. This was never something I wanted. You pushed something on me that I equate with the worst possible thing you could do to me. And you’re Ok with that. You’re yelling at me like I should be on my knees kissing your feet for all the gifts you’ve bestowed on me and my family. But I have been betrayed by someone I trusted-someone I loved. What do you want me to do about that?”
The anger subsided just as quickly as it came and in its place was the ugliness of despair and heartache. My heart hurt so bad my fingers tingled. My vision blurred until everything seemed to fade into an abyss of black. This was it. This was all it took to push him away. I’d been screwing up my entire life and pushing people away since I could remember. I pushed away friends because I had an inability to be real with people-until Stockton. I pushed away my sister because I couldn’t live up to her standards of shallow perfection. I pushed away my parents with my reckless behavior and attention seeking methods. And now I’d pushed the o
nly man I’d ever loved-and the only person that had ever loved me in return-away with another number on my endless list of mistakes.
My chin wobbled and the tears I had been desperately fighting finally broke free and spilled down my cheeks in messy streams of sorrow. My fingers trembled, my entire body felt cold. I couldn’t stand here anymore. I was seconds away from collapsing into a pathetic ball of emotional instability and I would die before I let Stockton witness that.
“I don’t know,” I whispered harshly. Struggling for a stronger voice I sniffled and then said, “I truly did not mean to betray your trust, Stockton. Obviously I could never think you’re the stupid one, when I’ve been so shamefully stupid myself. I was trying to do something nice for you. I was trying to give you the kind of gift you gave me. And I’m sorry you don’t see it that way. I’m sorry I did anything with that letter. I really am.” The last, itty bitty remnants of my pride surfaced and I salvaged what I could of my dignity, “But as far as the money and the manufacturer go, it’s a pretty easy problem to solve. Even an entitled rich bitch like myself can figure it out. Don’t send them any more of your work and don’t cash the f-ing check. As far as whatever was between us… just don’t worry about it. I won’t bother you anymore. I won’t mess up your life any more than I already have. Thank you for being my friend these last few months. Thank you for helping me become a better person, for getting over the obstacles of my past. I truly hope one day that you too can stop fighting the ghosts that haunt you and move on. You’re such a good person, Stock. But, you have so much potential to be great. And I see that now. There might not be much to me, but I deserve someone great. Someone who can look beyond their pain and see a bright future-not just a muted gray one built out of the fragments of their heartache. That’s what I’m trying to do. And anything else would just be settling and I’m not about that anymore.”