by Jiffy Kate
Part of me wants to forget all about it and go on like nothing happened. It wants to spare my feelings and embarrassment. But the other part of me wants to slap its counterpart and say “what the hell are you talking about? Of course, you’re going to talk to him.”
Before anything happened between us, back when we were just Cami and Deacon—good friends, confidants, quasi-family—I promised myself that if anything ever happened between us, I wouldn’t let it get in the way of our friendship. So, I’m holding myself to that.
“You ready?” my dad asks from the doorway of my bedroom.
I glance back at him through my mirror, and the smile on my face grows.
“Daddy, you look so handsome.”
The blush on his cheeks makes him look younger, and it makes his blue eyes shine, so much like Tucker. Well, I guess it’s the other way around. I’m so used to seeing my dad in overalls or work clothes, and his skin is usually dusty from the fields. This clean-cut guy in the nice button-down shirt is a rare sight, but welcome, all the same.
“I can’t pay you for those compliments,” he says, his eyes bouncing down to the floor and back up to me. A sly, crooked smile that doesn’t make an appearance often enough takes center stage.
He’s so handsome, and I’m not just saying that because I’m his daughter. He’s a looker.
I remember when I was little, right after my mama died, there were several women who were interested in my dad. Ada Dupuis was one of them. She had major hots for my dad. She was always trying to sit beside us at mass, and she’d make extra food and bring it by the house. After a while, he finally had to tell her that he wasn’t interested . . . that he might never be interested. And that was the end of the that.
“You shouldn’t waste this,” I say, motioning to his shirt and boots. “I better see you dancin’ with someone tonight.”
“What do you know about this?” he asks, looking down at himself and then smiling up at me.
“Enough.” I smile back and kiss his cheek.
He shakes his head. “You’re growing up on me.”
I give him a sad smile and shrug my shoulders. “That’s life, right?”
“You know, Cam, I probably don’t tell you this enough, but I’m really proud of the beautiful young woman you’re becomin’. It’s like you grew up overnight.”
I don’t know where this is coming from, but his sweet words make my eyes tear up. He hugs me to him, and I squeeze a little tighter than I normally would. Thinking about the day that Tucker and I are both out of the house and my dad is on his own always makes me feel sad.
“Aren’t we going to a party?” my dad asks, pulling away and squeezing my shoulders.
“Yes,” I laugh lightly, sniffling up the tears that were trying to leak out of my eyes.
“Well, let’s go party,” he says, taking my hand.
We walk to the Landry’s, enjoying the early fall breeze. When we make it to their property, the sound of people and music fill the night air. As we round the corner, I can see that the patio is full of people, and there are tiny lights hanging from the house to the trees, creating a canopy of white. There’s also a large pit with a pig cooking over to one side. No, make that two pigs because you can’t have a party this big and only have one pig. And there’s a live band on the other side of the yard with a dance floor that takes up space beneath the largest oak tree. Tables are set with beautiful flowers in the center. Servers are walking around with platters of shrimp and tiny toasts with stuff on them. I’ll stick to the shrimp. I know shrimp. I love shrimp.
My dad takes several of the toasts and a glass of wine and then bids me farewell as he walks off to visit with people.
Everyone is here.
I see Micah talking to some girl over by the greenhouse. Tucker is flirting with another girl on the patio.
And there’s Deacon.
He’s leaning against the trunk of a tree, arms crossed, legs crossed, head tilted back laughing. He looks like he’s from one of those photo shoots for Gap. He’s beautiful. The pain in my chest—the one I’ve felt since he was supposed to come home six weekends ago and didn’t—multiplies.
As if on cue, his focus turns to me, and he levels me with his stare.
At first, there’s a look of recognition, like he knows—he knows he should’ve kept his promise, he knows my feelings are hurt; he knows we need to talk. And then, the sweet smile I’ve always loved creeps onto his face. He leans forward and says something to the person he’s talking to and then makes his way over to me.
We don’t speak. He just wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him. And it feels like heaven. I know I’ve been missing him, but I didn’t know to what extent until now.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
“I’ve missed you too,” I reply, feeling relieved that this isn’t weird. I’m still pissed at him for not coming home, and I’d still like an explanation and to know whether or not he’s been avoiding me, but I’m glad we can still be Cami and Deacon, in spite of it all.
I’m about to tell him that we need to talk when the boisterous voice of my annoying brother interrupts us, and Deacon pulls away almost instantly.
“Deke, dude. You better get over here and defend your title. Micah and Everett are tryin’ to say you’ve gone soft since you’ve been at college.”
Deacon chuckles but turns to give me an apologetic look that’s only for me. “I’ll be there in a second,” he calls out over his shoulder.
I try to put on a brave face and pretend like none of this bothers me. I don’t regret for one second what happened between Deacon and me, but at this moment, I wish we didn’t have a big elephant standing between us.
“Go,” I tell him, pushing gently, feeling his tight abs under his shirt, which instantly reminds me of our night together. My eyes flicker to his and his scan my face, looking for answers. I don’t miss the way he pauses when his gaze falls on my lips. It makes my insides hum and hope starts to swell inside me. Maybe he hasn’t been avoiding me. Maybe he still wants to kiss me as bad as I want to kiss him.
“Go,” I repeat, giving him a smile so he’ll go because I know we can’t do what I want to do here. Not in front of his family and my family and everyone else in town.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes taking on a seriousness I haven’t seen in a while.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound convincing. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” he says, nodding his head, his brown hair a little longer than the last time I saw him, but the streaks of summer are still there. “We’ll talk later.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “I’ll save you a dance.”
His smile grows wide. “Sounds perfect.”
I watch as he walks over to join Tucker and Micah at the corn hole game that’s in session. Seeing the three of them together makes it feel like old times and nostalgia settles in hard. I almost tear up until I feel a warm hand wrap around my waist and Annie’s familiar scent waft over me.
“It’s good to see all of y’all together,” she says, squeezing a little.
I turn and give her my most honest smile. “Yeah.”
“You okay?”
This must be the question of the night.
“Of course. Why?”
She shrugs, her soft brown curls falling to one side as she tilts her head to get a better look at me.
“You just look like you’ve got somethin’ on your mind,” she says. I watch as her eyes twinkle when she takes in the night. The lights hanging from the trees amplify her baby blues. It’s so funny how Micah is so much like her, and Deacon is so much like Sam, but somehow they’re both so much like the other—a perfect mix.
“Just takin’ in all of this,” I tell her, waving my hand across the yard, hoping she doesn’t read what’s going on because this is supposed to be a special night for her and Sam. She shouldn’t be worried about me. Besides, there’s no way I can tell her the truth, not about this. “Everything looks so beautiful. Happy Annive
rsary, by the way.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” She leans her head into mine.
After Annie goes off to find Sam, I mingle.
I talk to Ms. Becky, who offers me a job at her bakery, which I politely decline. I’m pretty good at baking, and I do want to make some money to put aside for my senior year, but I’m hoping to do that by selling some of my paintings. I’ve been busy and have quite the collection going.
One thing about Deacon being gone is that I’ve had a lot of free time to be in my head, which translates to more paint on canvases. I’d never tell him, but he’s been the inspiration for most of the recent pieces I’ve done. Stacey tells me they look sad, but that’s just because I’ve used a lot of blue . . . and that’s because Deacon’s eyes are a mixture of blue and green and some days, they’re all I can see.
When it’s time for dinner, I sit with my dad and watch Deacon from afar. He’s so wrapped up in his conversation with Micah and Tucker that he never even turns to look at me. So much has changed in the short time he’s been gone. I almost feel invisible or like an outsider looking in, and as much as it hurts, I can’t look away.
I listen to him tell them all about the fraternity he’s in and all the good places to eat around campus, including the restaurant he works at. Then, I listen to him go on and on about a really cool building he found that he wants to buy. He’s happy. I can see that. And he’s still the Deacon I’ve always known and loved.
Most guys Deacon’s age are into girls and partying, but not him. He’s trying to figure out what kind of loan he’ll need to purchase this building.
I listen as he and Micah make pipe dreams about opening a restaurant together. They talk animatedly about what they could do with it and what kind of food they’d serve.
I smile because I have to. Because if Deacon is happy, then I’m happy. But the more he talks, the more I realize he’s building an entire life in Baton Rouge. No, it’s not that far away. But it’s far enough that it doesn’t include me.
Realization settles in as I blindly eat my food and sip my sweet tea: Deacon’s in college and I’m in high school, and those two worlds don’t mix.
He has frat brothers and a job and dreams.
I have homework and my paintings and hanging out with Stacey.
For sixteen years our worlds meshed perfectly. But now, they merely parallel. Sure, he’ll be home for important occasions, like tonight. I’ll probably see him on breaks from college, if he’s not working or doing something with his fraternity. But the slow days of lying out by the pond or walking the dirt trail between our houses, those days are gone.
Finally, as dessert is served, Deacon’s eyes fall on me. He holds up a fork full of cake with pink icing and waggles his eyebrows. I can’t help the smile that pulls on my lips. After everything, in spite of everything, he’s still my Deacon.
I look out the glass doors of the Landry’s kitchen. I just helped Annie make sure the last of the food was put away. If truth be told, I’ve been procrastinating for the last hour. Deacon is still outside with the guys, but I was hoping that we’d be able to talk tonight. I know he’ll be here tomorrow, but we have mass, and I’m afraid he’ll leave before I get a chance to talk to him.
“Need me to drive you home?” Sam asks as he walks into the kitchen. “Annie went upstairs to get out of those God forsaken shoes.” He laughs shaking his head. “I don’t know how you women do it.”
“Not me,” I say, kicking up a leg to show him my sensible flats. “I’m not down with all of that pain is beauty mumbo jumbo.”
“Good,” he laughs. “Keep it that way. Besides, you’re pretty enough. You get any prettier, and Clay and I are gonna have to start standin’ down on the main road with our shotguns.”
“Please!” I exclaim, rolling my eyes. “I don’t even have a boyfriend.” I don’t add that I would like to have one and that I would like it to be his son. He doesn’t need to know that. I can only imagine the fallout from that bomb.
“So you need a ride home?”
“No, I’m sure Tucker will be ready before too long. Besides,” I tell him, quirking an eyebrow, “it’s not like somethin’s gonna get me.”
He laughs, leaning against the counter.
“You never know. You can’t be too careful.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”
He takes a deep breath and cranes his neck to see outside. “Those boys are probably gonna be out there half the night. If you change your mind, come find me. I’ll be watchin’ the ball game in the den. I TiVo’d it.” He raises his eyebrows like I should be impressed, and I am because Sam might be a genius lawyer, but he sucks at technology.
“Look at you, Mr. TiVo.”
“Be sure to tell Deacon. He thinks I can’t do anything now that he’s not livin’ here.”
Does everyone have to remind me of that?
“I’ll be sure to give you a glowin’ review.”
“And that’s why you’re my favorite.”
I smile and laugh, shaking my head as he leaves the kitchen.
Walking over to the glass doors, I watch as the boys laugh and occasionally punch each other in various body parts. This could go in all night, and I’m tired.
Just when I open the door and think I’m going to forget about it and take the shortcut home, Deacon glances up this way and sees me watching. He says something, slaps Tucker on the back and jogs up to the house.
“Are you headin’ home?” he asks as he slows to a walk when he gets to the patio.
“Yeah, I’m tired.”
“Mind if I walk with you?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head and trying to feign indifference, but inside my heart does a flip.
Our talk starts off casual.
“How’s LSU?”
“How’s FS High?”
“How’s the job?”
“How’s the paintin’?”
And then it starts to take a turn to where we need it to be. “Missin’ home yet?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he admits, his hands pushed down in his pockets. “It’s kinda weird, ya know? When I’m there, I love bein’ there. But when I’m home, I realize how much I miss everything here and how much I love bein’ here.”
“I bet the food isn’t nearly as good as your mama’s,” I tease, loving the feel of the ease we’ve always known.
“Not even close,” he says, laughing lightly.
When the lingering fire from the pit in the backyard is a distant glow behind us, he takes his hands out of his pockets and slips an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. Kissing the top of my head, he breathes deeply. “I’ve missed you most.”
Tears prickle my eyes, and I have to force them open, so they don’t slip out. It’s what I wanted him to say, that he missed me, but now that he’s said it, it kills me because deep down I know things won’t be like I want them to be. Deacon isn’t coming home anytime soon. But it doesn’t keep me from telling him how I feel.
“I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you,” I confess.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come home when I said I would.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” he says, his voice low and regretful. “I promised, and I didn’t keep it. I’m really sorry.”
We walk in silence until the faint light from my porch is visible. I slow my steps, not ready to give up this alone time with Deacon and knowing there’re things we still need to say.
“You told me you couldn’t make me any promises,” I reminded him.
“Cami, I—” he starts, but I cut him off, because if he’s getting ready to say that we shouldn’t have done what we did, it’ll kill me. So, I put my hand gently over his mouth and force him to hear me out.
“And I told you I wanted to do it anyway. I still don’t have any regrets.”
I look up at him, letting my hand slip from his mouth, and silently plead with him to not say that he does. I want to go on believing that he wanted that as much as I did and that
he doesn’t regret it either.
“I know we’re at two different places in our lives,” I continue. “And I’m okay with just being your best friend. My only fear was losing you completely, but if you can promise that won’t happen, I’ll be okay.”
“That will never happen. I’ll always be your best friend. I might not be around as much, but if you need me, I’ll be here for you.” He gives me a slow, small smile as his eyes fall to the ground. “I wish I could promise you more, but it wouldn’t be fair. You should be livin’ it up and enjoyin’ your last couple years of high school, not waitin’ around for me.”
I nod, swallowing down the pain and regret. Not regret for loving Deacon, just regret that we can’t be together like I want us to be. I want it so bad. No one has ever had to tell me life isn’t fair. I’ve known that my whole life. My mom died when I was six; I know life isn’t fair. But right now, it sucks. And instead of crying and stomping my foot and demanding more, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying and offer Deacon the most sincere smile I can muster.
“I feel the same,” I croak out. “You’re in college. It’s supposed to be the best years of your life, right?” I smile up at him. “You shouldn’t be worryin’ about me.”
“I’ll always worry about you, Cami.” His arms wrap protectively around my shoulders and my head nestles right under his chin. We fit perfectly together.
Three words are right on the tip of my tongue, but I know if I say them now, it’ll only make this harder. So, I swallow them down along with my tears and wrap my arms around his waist, wishing I could anchor him here forever.
Wishing our lives didn’t have to change.
Wishing we could grow up, but still be the same Cami and Deacon.
But that’s not how life works.
People change.
They grow up.
They move on.
And I still wouldn’t change a single thing.
Even though my heart is currently breaking into tiny pieces.
All of those pieces will always belong to Deacon Landry.
Camille
Present
AS SAM PULLS INTO A spot near the emergency room entrance, my hand is on the handle, ready to jump out when he puts the truck in park.