Yours Truly, Cammie

by S. J. Sylvis

  “Yes?” I asked harmlessly.

  He didn’t say a thing, and the only thing I could think about was how his biceps were glistening in the early evening sun from below his rolled-up camouflage uniform. When he was right in front of me, I placed my bare feet down on my wooden porch and stopped the swing from hitting him in the knees. His smile was enigmatic, and I suddenly felt extremely worried about how he’d retaliate, because I knew he would.

  “Smell me.” His voice was demanding, yet playful.

  My heart picked up speed. “Excuse me?”

  “Smell my arm, Cammie.”

  A laugh bubbled up in my throat.

  “I’m not smelling you, freak,” I quipped.

  “Yes, you are. Smell me.”

  He reached down and placed his bare forearm up to my nose. I tried to back away, but his smoldering look caused me to think twice. So I leaned in and grabbed his forearm with my hands, ignoring the tingly sensation his skin sent through me and I took a small, pitiful sniff of his arm.

  “What do I smell like?” he asked, tilting his head to the left while peering down at me on the swing.

  I crinkled my nose. “You smell like lemons.” Then I laughed. What the hell is this?

  “That’s right. I smell lemony-fresh, just like the soap YOU left behind on the kitchen sink after taking all my shit.”

  Ah, damn! The kitchen soap!

  I giggled. Then my giggles turned into uncontrollable, stomach-hurting, knee-slapping laughter. When I looked back at him, through watery eyes, he only smiled and shook out his sandy blond hair.

  “You just wait, Doc. You just wait!”

  Then he stormed off my porch, boots stomping all the way over to his house. I looked over, smile growing wider than ever, before he stepped inside and slammed the door.

  He may be the best neighbor I’ve ever had. This was just too much fun.

  But that’s all he was. A neighbor. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a neighbor.

  Eight

  My night started off in a really shitty place. First, I got a postcard from my mom in the mail. Whatever. That was all fine and dandy. She was in France with José, who “says hi.” I was glad she was living her life to the fullest, even if it weirded me out that José was a fraction of her age.

  But then I received three missed calls from my father. I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why he continued to call me. We hadn’t spoken since Alexander’s funeral. Not once, yet he called me almost every single week like clockwork. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to hear about Alexandria and Danielle. Sure, they were my half-sisters, and when they were older, I’d make an effort to be in their lives, but my dad had taken it too far with their names.

  They were born three days after Alexander’s funeral.

  Three days.

  And my father thought it was a good idea to honor Alexander’s life by naming his twin daughters, whom he conceived with someone else while still married to my mother, Alexandria and Danielle. Alexander Daniel…Alexandria Danielle. Low blow, Daddy-O. Low, fucking blow.

  So, we hadn’t talked since I’d seen the announcement on his social media account. I had ignored every single call and every single text. I talked to his wife once, to congratulate her on the twins, but that was it.

  Right after I’d thrown my phone on the counter and busied myself with the dirty dishes piled up high in my sink, was about the time my night took an even more awful turn. Luke and I hadn’t really spoken much since I’d thrown out all his towels and stuff, but I knew a prank was coming. He wouldn’t let me get away with my little trick. I sure hoped not, anyway. We ran in silence in the mornings, while I ogled his behind, and that was about all the contact we’d had.

  But when I was doing my dishes, I just so happened to look up out the window above my sink, which was lined up perfectly with Luke’s window. I had never seen him in it before; I honestly wasn’t even sure he knew how to do dishes. I pictured him only eating on paper plates and bowls so he wouldn’t have to do them. Because, seriously, I had never seen him standing at his kitchen sink, ever.

  Until tonight. Already heated up about my father, scrubbing the same damn dish over and over again to work out my frustrations, I spotted him. Luke was standing in front of his tiny, square, kitchen window, with the lights down low, shirt off and displaying those lick-worthy pectorals, gulping down water so fast that I could see his throat moving with each swallow.

  My scrubbing went from full-on scraping the porcelain off the dish to barely moving my hand. I was frozen, mouth gaping, while I stared at him. Then my hands gripped the sponge so hard, I thought it would rip in half. He placed his cup in the sink, turning his body slightly, when a pretty woman wrapped her hands around his neck. My mouth opened even further, and I felt as if I were watching something I shouldn’t…but it was so hard not to. I couldn’t take my eyes off what was unfolding like a fucking Hallmark birthday card.

  He wrapped his hands somewhere down below the kitchen window, no doubt on the pretty woman’s behind, and kissed her fiercely. I swore I could see his tongue jolt out and lick her lip. Jealousy tore through my body like the aftershock of an earthquake. My eyes stayed trained on the window as I felt the heat pool down below my belly. It was a strange feeling. Half-jealous and half-yearning. It scared me how badly I wanted to be that woman. It scared me how badly I was turned on. It scared me even more when he turned his head towards the window.

  My eyes flew out of my head, but I didn’t look away. I couldn’t. My gaze was trained on his, never wavering for even a second. My chest heaved up and down, full of rage and lust, and then…

  He winked.

  He winked at me, because he knew I was watching. He put that little show on for me. My mouth closed and then parted slightly as my eyes narrowed in his direction. He didn’t take his eyes off me when he pulled her closer to his torso. She had no idea that his real attention was on me. She had no idea. When he smiled at me, from the corner of his mouth, my entire body erupted in flames. He smiled even wider before he dropped himself and the girl to the ground, out of my view, no doubt to fuck her on that kitchen floor.

  I was half-tempted to grab my vibrator and do the same thing on my kitchen floor, but my phone went off, bringing me back reality. I was being called in to work, and I couldn’t have been more glad.

  I would have done anything to get my mind off Luke and his half-naked self on that kitchen floor. And my wish came true. My mind completely left Luke as my night progressed. It ended with me crouched down behind the nurses’ station, wiping hot tears from my face and taking deep breaths.

  I felt Becky’s hand on my shoulder. She squeezed it tightly at the same time that I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the world.

  “Remember what they taught you in school, Cammie. Act first, cry later. This isn’t later. Cry in your car after your shift. Come on.”

  Becky’s voice was stern but comforting. I took a deep breath and held it so long I started to see spots. I let it out slowly, as I rose from the cold, tiled floor. I shook my body out of my pathetic trance and carried on.

  It wasn’t foreign or uncommon to lose a patient, especially in the ICU. But tonight, it hit me hard, and the sad thing was, I wasn’t even crying for the actual patient. When she took her last breath, I wasn’t watching her face. I was watching her husband’s face. They had been married for fifty years, and she died. Just like that. She died, leaving him here to fend for himself. His wrinkled, tired face was distraught. He looked completely brokenhearted, and so incredibly sad. I literally watched the light from his eyes dim, the second she was gone.

  I was sure I looked the same after Alexander died. Which was exactly why it hit me so hard. That wound wasn’t healed. It was just stitched up, with fine little sutures, barely holding together, and now it was ripped open wide. Blood seeping out into every little crevice of my life.

  Even as I sat in my car, hours after the death, I was still trying to close the gaping hole in my ch
est. It wouldn’t close, but I had to act like it did. I was taking the saying, “Fake it ’til you make it” to an entirely different level. It should be my life motto. Hell, maybe I’d even get it tattooed on my body somewhere, considering it applies to more than one aspect of my life.

  The tapping on my car window scared me out of my thoughts. I hastily glanced up and my eyes found a green t-shirt, pulled tightly over a firm-looking chest. I took a deep breath, letting the small amount of air in my Mustang to fill my lungs completely. I wasn’t really in the mood for Luke today. He’d want to be annoying, egotistical, and snarky when I got out of the car, and I just didn’t have the energy after that shift. I was tired. I was tired of everything.

  But I opened my door anyway, because I couldn’t live in my car forever, and his tapping was getting progressively worse.

  “Stop tapping my window.”

  My voice came out drained, tired, and empty of any type of feeling whatsoever.

  When Luke took a step back to let me out of my car, he crinkled his forehead for just a slight second, and then he smirked.

  “Did you enjoy the show last night?”

  I couldn’t even roll my eyes; that’s how unamused I was. Like the life had been sucked out of me.

  I didn’t muster up a response, and Luke stopped walking.

  “Nothing to say this morning?”

  “Go away,” I mumbled, dragging myself up the front steps.

  It didn’t take long for him to catch up to me. I caught a whiff of his manly scent, with a touch of deodorant or cologne, and I wanted to freeze in this exact spot, with his scent lingering in the air, causing me to forget about everything.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, worry touching his voice.

  “Nothing.”

  I pushed past him, but he grabbed my arm to stop me. I looked down sharply at his hand on my white, long-sleeved undershirt.

  “Cammie, what’s wrong?”

  “Why do you think something is wrong?” I asked as I pulled my arm out of his grasp. I quickly reached into my crossbody purse to fish out my keys.

  “Because I know when something is wrong with you.”

  I huffed, “You act like you know me or something.”

  “I do know you; something’s wrong. Tell me.”

  He pulled on my other arm and I willingly let him lead me to the porch swing. It creaked beneath our weight, and I let out a frustrated sigh.

  We sat there for awhile, and I knew that he was ditching his morning run to be here with me. My heart strummed a little, but then I remembered my night and it suddenly went dormant.

  I focused on our legs touching. Brushing along one another, making a swishing sound between my cotton scrub pants and his silky gym shorts. I started to adjust my leg, but he stopped me by placing his palm on my knee. Confused and a little bit jolted, I blurted out, “I lost a patient tonight.”

  It only took him a few seconds to respond. “That really sucks.”

  I closed my eyes for a brief second. “It’s nothing new. It’s just…”

  “What is it?”

  How could I put this so he wouldn’t think I was completely broken inside? Why did I even care? I shouldn’t care what he thought of me. I shouldn’t care if he thought I was weak. What’s the worst that could happen?

  “It’s the first patient I’ve lost, at least while I was on a shift, since my brother died, and it just… reopened some old wounds.”

  Luke nodded his head in agreement, making the swing shake a little more vigorously than before.

  His voice was barely audible when he spoke again. “Those wounds never really heal, do they?”

  I slowly turned my head to face him and searched those bright green eyes. I would be lying if I said I couldn’t see the pain lying so quietly behind them, and I would be a naive fool if I thought he had never lost anyone in his life. He’d been to war. He’d been in a combat zone. He’d lost somebody, too, probably many somebodies.

  “No,” I whispered, still staring at him. Small flutters started up in my chest, and I suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. “I’m just going to go to sleep. I’m tired.”

  His face froze, eyes huge. He turned his head towards my door. “Yeah, uh. Give me like twenty minutes.”

  I pulled back.

  “What? You’re not coming in there with me. Let alone in my bed!”

  He barked out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. Hold on.”

  When Luke stood up from the swing, I stood alongside him. “What are you doing, Luke?” I asked, as soon as he reached for my front door. I leaned back and crossed my arms in annoyance. Obviously, because he couldn’t get in without a key.

  “Wait—” Confusion set through my body. What the hell? Did I not lock my door?

  “Just give me twenty minutes. Stay out here.”

  “Uh, no. Move. And get out of my house!”

  I pushed past him, ignoring his warm and snuggle-worthy body heat and stopped dead in my tracks the second I made it to the living room.

  There were no words.

  “You see, if I’d known how bad of a night you had, I wouldn’t have done this…”

  Oh my…he was good. He was really good. My eyes scanned the contents of my living room and kitchen, and I didn’t even want to venture into my bedroom. The dark wooden legs of my couch were staring back at me, standing alert like weeds on an overgrown lawn. Every single piece of furniture I owned was flipped upside down. My bar stools, small kitchen table, couches, everything.

  Before I could stop myself, a wicked, hysterical laugh poured out of my mouth. It was like all the emotions I’d been keeping dangerously hidden beneath my surface were coming out full-force in a scary, high-pitched sound. I couldn’t stop the laughter. My hand pushed on my stomach from the sharp ache left behind, and I bent down, putting my head between my knees.

  I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop laughing, but Luke was completely silent. When I looked back over at him, his mouth was barely parted, and he was eyeing me with utter suspicion. As soon as my laughter started to dwindle, that’s when my eyes began to water. They became blurry, and I quickly let out a few more chuckles before backing myself up against the far wall, and very slowly sliding down to the cedar floor.

  My eyes were pouring. I was crying. Wait, why am I crying? What’s happening? Why does it sound like a horse is trying to unclog itself from my chest? Was that a sob?

  Oh, my God. I’ve completely lost it.

  I’ve lost it all.

  My mind.

  Alex.

  My family.

  Pain shot through me like no other. My shoulders shook; tears fell gracefully from my cheeks, landing on my scrub top like it was a fluffy pillow. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could do the same? Just fall so gracefully onto a pillow and never look back?

  “Cammie,” Luke breathed, right beside my ear. “It’s okay…” His warm breath tickled the loose hair from my ponytail, and I cried even harder because although he was the most comforting thing in my life at the moment, he wasn’t really mine, and he never would be.

  But, right now, I didn’t care. I let him pick me up off the floor, and I allowed him to carry me to my bed. Which, thankfully, wasn’t flipped over. He’d left it untouched—my white comforter still pushed down from when I’d climbed out of bed the last time I slept, which I can’t really remember when that actually was.

  Once Luke placed me on my side, I curled up into a little ball, still feeling the tears cascade down my face. I hiccupped and felt his warm lips press against my forehead.

  He whispered, “I’ll come by after work and flip your furniture back.”

  I went to protest, shaking my head, but he silenced me with his whisper. “It’s okay, Cammie. Just sleep.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I let my breathing slow and fell into a blissful sleep, pretending that everything was going to be fine when I woke up. That everything would be back to normal, before everything had gotten ruined a year ago
.

  Nine

  Luke’s hands trailed down my bare arms like a flower petal falling gracefully from its stem. It tickled, but not in a humorous way; it sent prickles all the way down to my core, erupting goosebumps over my entire body.

  When he placed his lips to my collarbone, I lay completely still, relishing his touch. His hands continued to trail down my body, reaching my knee, then right back up my thigh. His fingers traveled achingly slow all the way to the hem of my shorts. With his hand and lips moving over my body at the same time, I almost came undone in that very moment.

  I breathed out his name like my life depended on it, “Luke…” but he didn’t stop. He just worked his fingers up higher and higher, until I felt them wistfully skim my hip bone. I bucked my hips up, wanting more. Needing more. He was good at this game, teasing me until I almost died. Was that a thing? Dying from not being touched in all the right places? Maybe I would be the first known case.

  “What do you want, Cammie?” he asked, voice raw and raspy.

  I swallowed and thrusted my hips up again, harder this time.

  “Tell me,” he barked.

  “You. I want you.”

  Then…

  He hissed at me. Like a snake. What the hell?

  Hiss. Hiss.

  “What?” I cried out.

  My eyes flew open. My vision was blurred at first, but I then realized I was in my bedroom, which was very poorly lit from the barely-there sun setting through the window. My gaze lingered there, amazed at the beautiful pink hues cast in the North Carolina sky.

  I slowly sat up and looked around my room. I sat up even straighter when I heard another hissing noise come from the bottom of my bed. Oh my God! So, that wasn’t a dream?

  When I looked down at my blanketed legs, I screamed bloody murder. I flew out of the bed so fast that I fell right on my ass. The second I felt the floor underneath me I scooted backward all the way to my dresser. My eyes widened as I stared at the black snake casually lying on my bed. He was lounging there, staring me like I was the intruder in his home. Not the other way around.