Damn it. First he brings up cutting my hours. Then he tells me I’m fired after I graduate. Obviously, Dad’s working hard to derail me. But I’m not veering off course. “You know, Julian’s important to me. I care about the fact that you just drove him out of the house.”
“He has a place to stay.”
Good. At least he’s finally acknowledging the subject. “Brandon’s place isn’t nearly as convenient for him and you know it. You’ve been there. And you had no right making him promise to stay away from me when he first came here.”
Dad glares at me. “Excuse me for wanting to protect you. Did you know Julian got into several top colleges before he enlisted?”
“So, what does that have to do with anything? You’re going to hold that against him too?”
“No, my point is he’s reckless. He doesn’t value his intellect or his future. He doesn’t wait and get a degree first so he can become an officer. No. He just turns down college to go fight.”
I wince inside. “I think it’s courageous of him.”
Dad snorts. “Figures.”
We’re both quiet.
“You’ll hear from UVM soon?”
Ugh, my God. He’s like a radio station that plays the same song over and over. “I have homework,” I tell him and walk away.
* * *
Days go by. I can’t sleep. I can’t focus on school. I hate my new economics class—the teacher talks in a constant monotone and the subject’s so stupid—macro vs. micro? Guns vs. butter? Who bothers thinking about these things? We’re chefs, we’d choose the fricking butter. There. Done. And when in life am I ever going to need to know where a mink’s bladder and heart and intestines are located? And could there be a book any darker than Heart of Darkness? Heart? Of Darkness? Please—I’ve got your heart of darkness right here, you know?
At least statistics is actually trying to teach you how to use numbers that might actually mean something. How many times will most people eat out in restaurants each month? Men more than women? How about people at different income levels? Different ages? Oh, sorry Cami, you can’t run any of those surveys because your research has to be focused only on THE STUDENTS AT YOUR FRICKING SCHOOL. The most bogus place in the world. Yes, I have senioritis. Want a piece of it?
I finally really fall for a guy, and he breaks up with me, I text Taryn six days later. In those six days, Julian and I have traded a handful of depressingly brief text messages, and he’s come up every day with an excuse for why he can’t see me.
HE’S NOT BREAKING UP WITH YOU, Taryn texts back. FOR THE DOZENTH TIME, RELAX. HE JUST TOOK WHAT YOUR DAD SAID TOO MUCH TO HEART.
Plus, I’m worried he’s planning to reenlist and get himself killed on me, I text her. Maybe that’s why he wants me to follow my own path—because he knows he may not be around for long!
WOULD YOU PLEASE CHILL OUT? she texts. He won’t be allowed back over there with one leg. The recruiters are lying to him! At worst he’ll get a desk job at Fort Whatever. Trust me.
Great. He’ll be miserable.
First things first. Ditch class and go see him. Tell him how much you love him. You know.
Should I do this? My stomach clenches at the prospect. So far, Julian’s always found a reason to keep me away from Brandon and Claire’s house. If I did just show up there, it could be a disaster. Or it could work. There’s no way to tell. Maybe, I text back. I’m not sure he’d like it.
HE WILL LIKE IT, TRUST ME!
Huh... She seems confident, which is good. But still, the idea of just showing up unannounced makes me nervous. So, instead of heading directly over there, I go to work early. I work and work, pretty much ignoring Dad’s demand that I cut back my hours. Dad sees me and says nothing about it. Which is smart of him. Then just as the dinner rush slows, I decide I can’t stand it anymore, take a container of the soup I’ve just made, feign illness and bail for Brandon and Claire’s. They live only a few minutes away from the restaurant.
I head over there, and Claire buzzes me up and is waiting for me by the front door when I arrive. “Hey guys, look who’s here.”
“Hi, Cami,” says Brandon. He and Julian are watching TV. Julian’s stretched out on the sofa in sweats and a T-shirt. He looks tired to me. I haven’t seen him in several long worrisome days.
“Hi.”
I’m there in my black clogs, chef’s pants and chef’s coat. I lose the clogs and walk up to Julian. He’s having a bit more trouble focusing. I can tell this only by the way his eyes won’t leave the basketball game on television.
The burning knot in my stomach rises to my throat as I crouch down next to him.
“Julian?”
His eyes shift momentarily over to me and then back to the TV again. “Yeah?”
“I brought you some soup.”
A slight shrug.
“It’s not midnight soup, but...”
“Thanks, but I ate already.”
His eyes won’t meet mine. At all.
“How’ve you been?” I ask.
“Fine.”
Damn it—I turn and walk away from him. Head for the door. Open the door. And then stop. Because I know what’s going on here. I know why he’s doing this. And it’s bullshit. I shut the door and turn back towards the room. I must have one hell of a pissed-off expression on my face too, because Brandon and Claire are both eyeing me warily.
Julian, meanwhile, is still completely ignoring me. I take one of those tiny little tangerines out of the basket on the counter and hold it in my hand. “Hey, Julian?”
“Hmm.”
“Catch.” I hurl it at him, hard, but he manages to deflect it in time.
“Hey!”
“I think we’ll just...” says Claire. She ushers Brandon towards the bedroom.
I hurl another one at Julian—this one he catches. Then another. And another.
“Okay! You’ve got my attention, now are you happy?” he yells.
“What’s come over you?”
“You’re the one throwing shit at me!”
“You know what I mean!”
“I’m not the one for you. All right?”
My heart wrenches; my eyes burn with tears. “You’re not the one for me.”
His eyes seem sad—for the millisecond before he turns them away from me. He doesn’t answer.
“Julian, my father was wrong about what he said about you.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
I come up to him and crouch down next to him. “Where are you?”
“Right here.”
“No, you’re not. Where are you really?”
He shrugs a little, and I climb onto the sofa with him, so I’m pretty much on top of him, only I have to avoid his legs, so I curl up my right leg and squeeze it beside him. But this leaves no room for my left leg. It’s a little awkward to have it off the sofa, but not terrible. “Damn it. It won’t work,” Julian says, and I’m not sure if he means us on the sofa or us in general.
“Yes, it will.”
“Just get off.”
“If you want.” I press my face to his neck and he strokes my hair a little.
“I’m a wreck. A fucked-up, one-legged war vet who took the virginity of my seventeen-year-old step-cousin.”
“That’s insane,” I say, cutting him off. “I can’t believe my father got to you like this.”
“Well, he did. And I think in light of your future and mine...and despite whatever I think I...we...”
I’ve started cuddling into him. Because he feels so nice and smells so sexy and it’s been too many long miserable stressful days without him.
“...at the moment...”
“Have you always beaten yourself up over everything like this? Or is that the Marine in you?”
His head turns to mine a little. Progress—I hope.
“Julian, I need you. Not in ways you can see. But in ways that I feel. If I’m your life raft, we’re in trouble—because you’re mine.”
His mouth moves near mine. “I’m no g
ood for you.”
“Maybe you just don’t want me.”
He kisses me with such force, our teeth knock together.
“Ahh...”
“You okay?”
I pull him back to me. His hands struggle with my chef’s coat.
“What the hell...kind of pain in the ass...straightjacket...”
I remove it for him. He reaches up my undershirt. I moan—and we hear a door close. I freeze, and Julian holds me and looks around the room.
“What happened to my brother and Claire?”
Huh. I didn’t realize he thought of Brandon as his brother. That’s kind of nice. “They went to bed.”
He brings his mouth near my ear. “There’s an idea.”
Tears come to my eyes, though I manage to fight them. Stupid guy worrying about wrecking my life. Getting so down on himself, beating himself up like this over the worry that he might be holding me back.
“I need you, Julian. I need you to look out for me,” I add. “Make sure I don’t lose myself. Turn me in the right direction when I get fouled up and not let me become a workaholic my whole life.”
“Anything else?” he says, nuzzling my cheek.
“Well—of course you’ll also need to regularly smear mud on me. And pin me against walls.”
He smiles. “No problem.”
“And if you should happen to have your old dog tags lying around...wearing those might be...nice for me.”
His eyebrows go up. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. And let me win every pillow fight, kiss me whenever you feed chocolate to me, swallow all seeds and bits of shell...”
He winces. “Nope.”
“Love Shelby unconditionally.”
“Impossible,” he says, shifting me off him. “She’s disgusting.”
“No, she isn’t,” I argue, heading to the kitchen.
“She is. She had a sneezing fit the other day that went on for about an hour. Ker-choo! Ker-choo! Ker-choo! Ker-choo! Estella was like, ‘is she okay?’—Two spoons for the soup.”
My cell beeps.
SO? Taryn’s text reads.
“Why, you don’t want my germs?” I ask Julian.
I text Taryn back a smiley face and slip the phone back in my pocket.
“Too late for that,” he says, getting off the sofa.
I hold up the two spoons—and the soup container. “Come on. Slowpoke.”
“Wait ’til I’m done with this cane.”
I start heading down the hallway. “Are you coming or aren’t you?”
Julian grins and hurries along after me, shutting the bedroom door behind him.
Chapter Thirty
“Hey,” he whispers with a smile the next morning. Yep. I stayed the night. Bet Dad loved that.
“Hmm...” I sigh, utterly content. I burrow into Julian.
“Happy birthday!”
I inch back and look at him. With all that’s been going on between us these past few days, I’d kind of forgotten. “Thanks! I’m eighteen now. Legal!”
“Good thing.” He grins. “How about breakfast in bed?”
I smile. “Not yet.”
Julian’s mouth is sweet and rich in the morning; his hands are gentle. He shifts me above him until we both feel hot and desperate. We stay in bed for hours. It’s heaven. Eventually though, I do force myself to glance at the clock on the nightstand. Ugh—I missed school completely. Plus, my phone is beeping like mad. I ignore it. “Hungry now?” Julian asks.
“Starved.”
He kisses me. Strokes my bottom lip with his thumb. “I’ll make us some food.”
He pulls his jeans back on and hobbles out, only to return five minutes later with a stack of buttered toast. I wrap myself around him while he eats it, and then he feeds me some. “Turn onto your stomach.”
Hmm. Okay. I roll over, curious what he’s up to, and Julian disappears again, only to return a few minutes later with an enormous bottle of baby oil.
“Claire’s?” I ask.
“Yeah, look at the size of this thing. Why so big?”
“No idea. Maybe she uses it for cooking, too. You know, you take off your mascara with it and use it to fry chicken.”
Julian grins and starts giving me a full body massage that winds up with us napping again on each other, me coated in baby oil, and him cuddled against me and sleeping more in the last twelve hours than he’s probably slept in the last month.
I awaken later to find Julian gone—and a gift on his pillow. I open it. It’s a book: The World’s 100 Most Fascinating Places.
Julian comes in holding a glass of juice for me.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it from him. “I like my book. Is it to inspire me for our great plan?”
“What plan?”
“The one where we go wherever we want and do whatever we want but don’t tell each other? Hey, it’s like our own private don’t-ask-don’t-tell.”
“More like hide-and-seek, I think, but yes. That’s why I got you the book. And...” He smiles. “There’s something to go with it.”
“More presents? Yay!”
He grins and reaches into the night table and hands me a gift-wrapped necklace box.
Inside, there’s a sterling silver necklace with two pendants—a little open heart in front, and behind it a bigger, solid heart with an inscription: What Dreams on one side, and on the other side the words, May Come.
“You like it?”
“I love it. Where did you find this?”
“I got it online,” he says. “It’s actually kind of morbid when Hamlet says it. It’s like he’s talking about suicide and he wonders about the dreams you might have after...”
I put my hand over his mouth. “I read the play this year. Remember?”
He smiles. “My point is that’s not how the words are meant.”
“Oh, you mean it’s not a secret message about how I should off myself?”
He rolls his eyes and then puts the necklace on me. “Claire and Brandon will be home soon.”
“It is their apartment.”
“I mean we should get going. You can’t be late to your own party—he said to the oiled-up goddess on his lap.” Julian grins. He looks thoroughly happy, I realize.
“I don’t want to go and face Dad and everyone.”
“He can’t be mad at you today, can he?”
“I didn’t come home last night and didn’t call. So...”
“I texted Estella when you went to brush your teeth.”
“You did?”
“I didn’t want her to worry.”
I kiss him. “Such a considerate boy.”
“Uh-huh.” He smiles. “Your daddy doesn’t think so.”
I smile, too. “No, he doesn’t.”
* * *
When Julian said party, I thought he meant the family and maybe Taryn for dinner. Instead, when we get to the house there’s a full-fledged bash going on—cars are parked everywhere, the music is blasting, and people are overflowing the front door. “Cami! You’re here!” shouts a guy from the restaurant. Okay, no way all these people are just from work. Which means Dad’s invited half the town. Or Taryn has. I go in, shocked, with Julian, and someone who I think is Taryn cries, “SHE’S HERE!”
The house has been rearranged so it’s mostly open, and the room is filled with people. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CAMI!” everyone shouts. I’m utterly stunned. There are banners up that say HAPPY 18TH BIRTHDAY, there are black and gold balloons, the formal dining table is covered in black and gold and has snacks on it—some gourmet, some simple. I guess Dad and Estella worked together on it.
“Thanks,” I say. “Oh my God!”
“We wanted it to be a surprise party but that idea kind of didn’t work out,” Estella says with a smile. She and I haven’t been on bad terms since Julian moved out, but we haven’t been on the best of terms, either.
“That’s okay, I’m still completely shocked.”
“Great.”
“Happy birthday
,” Dad says. He looks like he’s mad, but trying to hide it. “Glad you made it.” There’s the dig.
“Sorry I didn’t call last night,” I say.
Dad purses his lips and eyes my new necklace. I touch it, a bit protectively.
“Julian,” Dad says darkly, by way of a greeting.
“Chris,” says Julian.
Estella sees the exchange and frowns at Dad. There’s been a definite layer of ice between Dad and Estella since Julian moved out. Their room upstairs, with the door shut and me back downstairs, is way out of earshot. But I suspect they’ve had some animated discussions about it.
Dad and Julian turn away from each other—and I’m besieged by friends, by music, by people from school and work. I say hi to everyone and thank Dad and Estella again, but I can’t seem to reach Taryn. Then at some point I also lose track of Julian. People talk to me, I talk to them, he gets caught up in conversations with other people. The music is loud.
“Having fun?”
“Taryn—there you are. Thanks for helping with all this.”
“Sure.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “There are some people smoking pot in your backyard.”
“Oh.” I wince as an image of Dad throwing them physically off our property comes to mind. “That’s their problem.”
“Speaking of problems...”
“What?”
“Luke texted me today,” she says. “He asked me if you were dating Julian now.”
I gape at her. “Huh?”
“He sent me a text—here, read it yourself.” She holds up her phone.
I know this is random. But is Cami with Julian now? Just curious.
I scroll down to see her answer.
Yes, she is. How are you? How’s NY?
I scroll down more, but that’s the end of it. “He didn’t respond?”
Taryn shakes her head no. “Strange he sent it to me on your birthday.”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t even know he still had my phone number, to be honest. Is it okay what I said?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
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