Invidia

FIVE

          The next morning, Cameron pulled out his HoloComm and shot a text to Justin: Hey, man. Can I ask a favor? If I ever start acting like my stepdad, will you promise to bust my ass? Then he hit send with no context whatsoever. He could already envision Justin’s brow crinkling with confusion. It’s a Saturday. It’ll be three hours before Justin even responds, he thought to himself. He probably went to stay with Carly all day. Cameron wished he could too, but his stepdad definitely wouldn’t let him after all the shit he’d pulled the night before.

          Figuring out how he was going to spend the day, he pried himself off the bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Scuffing his feet all the way to the bathroom, he groaned. He’d decided to spend his Saturday cleaning. He kept the room quiet and smelling nice with the wax warmer he had by the window. It was his mother’s favorite scent—rosemary and frankincense. She always said those scents always helped clear her mind when she was trying to focus on something important. Cameron rarely used the wax cubes in that scent anymore; he was almost out, but he knew a morning like today required a fond memory of his mother.

           At one point in time, in their old house, Cameron and his mom were preparing for the holidays. They’d been cleaning their small, two-room home in a middle-class neighborhood. His mom made him waffles that morning, a rare treat. He sat down at their small yellow wood table with the biggest smile on his face.

          “Waffles!” He exclaimed with cheer. “Thanks, Mom!”

          “You’re welcome, honey,” she said, smiling at her son’s happiness. “After breakfast, we have a long day of cleaning ahead of us, so eat up.” He nodded hungrily and dug into the delicious crunchiness of the waffles. He sat in happiness, and then he was finished. Feeling satisfied, he went to help his mom with cleaning.

          “Where should I start, Mom?” He asked.

          “You can start in the bathroom. Let me put on some music, first. Okay?” She answered. She popped the CD into the boombox and grabbed her duster. “Don’t forget that dust is one of the most important things to clean. If we have dust—”

          “—we have bad lungs, which leads to bad air,” Cameron finished for her, rolling his eyes lovingly. “I know by now, Mom.” She walked over and brushed his hair.

          “Finish up soon,” was all she said before planting a kiss on top of his head and going into the living room. The duster was bright yellow from it recently being cleaned too. Cameron watched his mom while he finished his waffles. She’d dust the bookshelves with a reverence he’d never seen before.

          “Mom, why are you always so careful with the books?” He asked curiously.

          “Well, Cameron,” she smiled bashfully and said, “As your father used to say, son, books make people uncomfortable enough that they don’t want to admit they need to change.”

          Cameron didn’t understand the true depth behind that quote until very recently. Literature is one of the only things that can survive multitudes. Storytelling was humanity’s way of living the life of another, and it’s one of the only things in this world that is relatable across every generation. Smiling, he finished up the very little number of things he actually needed to take care of, which consisted of throwing his laundry and towels down the chute and wiping down his bathroom.

          Hey, can we talk? His HoloComm lit up with a text from Madison. Sure, he replied. What’s up? He set it back down on his nightstand and laid back on the bed. He just stared at the ceiling in the few minutes it took her to reply. You don’t need to worry about talking to Justin for me anymore. I thought he was the one I wanted to go out with, but I was wrong. Cameron’s eyebrows crinkled when he replied, What made you change your mind? Justin’s a good guy. He sighed in sorrow for his best friend. Yeah, I know. I’ve just started getting feelings for someone else, I think. You don’t need to worry about it anymore. Thank you though. He replied, Okay, but if you ever need anything else, you can always hit me up. I’ll try and be there for you when I can. I can always text you, but I won’t promise my jackass stepdaddy will let me out of the house. He sent the text and awaited her next reply, which was, I’ll keep that in mind. I do have a question now, though. Was Mr. President a jackass before or after he had you as a son? Cameron couldn’t help but laugh out loud, Can I call you? I know that sounds weird, but I need to talk to someone for a while. When she said, Sure, he dialed her code.

          She answered on the third ring with her face appearing in the hologram, “Hey.”

          “Hey, I’m sorry if this was weird. I’ve just had a rough morning.”

          “Everything alright?” She inquired. Cameron just sighed deeply, which was answer enough for her apparently. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

          “Yeah, but we hardly know each other,” he pointed out.

          She tilted her head in thought and replied, “Doesn’t that make it easier?” Cameron must have looked confused because Madison continued, “Isn’t it easier to talk with someone you don’t know very well and may never talk to again? They won’t have any expectations for who you’re supposed to be or how you’re supposed to be acting. You don’t have to have a façade.”

          He nodded slowly and said, “I guess that’s true. I’ve just been having a really bad morning mentally. I tried to focus on things that would distract me, but the hole is still lingering there. I feel like if I can’t crawl out of this hole that’s inside me, it’s going to swallow me whole.”

          “I know exactly what you mean,” she admitted. “It’s been a hard day for me too. I woke up this morning and realized I couldn’t remember when the last time I actually talked to someone was.”

          “Don’t you live with your dad?” Cameron asked.

          “Yeah, but he’s been so busy at work lately that he hardly even notices me anymore. He just comes home every night with this haunted look in his eyes. I’ve been so worried about him that it’s been hard to take care of myself,” she opened up.

          Cameron felt extraneously selfish now. She had real shit going on in her life. “I shouldn’t plague you with this. I’m sorry, Madison.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You’ve got a lot going on in your life. It would be wrong of me to burden you with my problems too.”

          “Whoa, whoa, whoa, there, buckaroo,” she said pointedly. “You don’t get to pull that card. You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle. If I want to take on the burden of your troubles, then it’s my choice.”

          “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” She nodded her forgiveness, and right that second, a scream echoed through the house.

          "What the hell was that, Cam?"

          "I'm not sure, Madison. I've been hearing weird whimperings like that for a while in this house, but I usually ignore them. I'd be more concerned if people that lived in this house weren't screaming."

           She shrugged. "Are you okay though?"

          "I will be. I just had some flashbacks of things I used to do to myself during hard times, but I'll be alright. I didn't mean to scare you," it was hard getting the words out, but it was easy talking to Madison.

          “Don’t be, Cameron. Don’t ever be sorry for confiding that in me. I swore to myself when I lost my sister that way that I would do anything possible to help stop someone else from doing the same thing,” she said passionately. “I should thank you for confiding in me. Thank you for coming to me when you did, okay?” Cameron nodded his head. “That thing you said to me about being there any time? That applies vice versa, okay? I will be there for you any time, day or night, if you ever feel like you need someone to talk you down from the ledge.”

          “Thank you, Madison. I am really sorry I scared you, even if you are grateful that I did,” he apologized.

          “Don’t worry about it, Cameron,” she said. “And, by the way, you can call me Madi or Mads if you like. I only let cool people call me those.”

          “Then I’m honored,” he said, mockingly flipping his hair, “Mads. And don’t call me buckaroo.”

          She smiled, and they talked for several more hours. They talked about anything from the upcoming dance to the game that was coming on that night. He told Madison about everything that had been plaguing him before he finally brought up the courage to thank her.

          “Can I just say thank you, Mads?” Cameron said.

          “For what?” Her brow furrowed.

          “Listening to me,” he sighed, “I would go to Justin with this stuff, but he would just go out of his way to try and convince me to leave, to seek help, he would do anything but just listen to me when that’s all I’ve ever really needed.”

          “Cameron, I will always be here to listen and pick up any pieces,” she promised. “I’ve gotten pretty good at putting people back together.” She put her head on her hand and said, "Oh yeah, and don't go ignoring screams like that. Speaking from experience, it never leads anywhere good."

*****

          “My room is clean,” he told his stepfather over their dinner of chicken that night. He didn’t know if his stepfather would even acknowledge him or not, but he knew he heard him.

          “You sure?” Shane said, putting on his own facade in front of his father. “You were saying a lot of ‘Oh thank you’s. I thought you were finally screwing that ugly friend of yours.”

          “Shut up,” Cameron warned him, his knuckles turning white from gripping his fork too hard.

          “Don’t tell your brother to shut up,” his stepfather chimed in. “Apologize now.”

          The tone he used with Cameron told him not to push things, but he knew it would be too late. “No. He called my friend ugly. I’m honestly not even sure which one he’s referring to since they’re all awesome, but I’m going to stick up for them.”

          “I. Don’t. Care.” His stepfather said, enunciating each word slowly and carefully.

          “No. Not until he apologizes,” Cameron defied. “He earn—” he was cut off from a punch in the gut, tearing the air from his lungs. Of course, it was a punch under the table so no one actually saw it. They only heard him let out an “oomph” from the pain, doubling over in his chair.

          His stepfather leaned in close enough so only Cameron could hear, “I told you to apologize to your brother.” All Cameron could muster was a weak gesture with a finger that earned him another smack across the back of his head.

          “Fine,” he breathed out, “Sorry.” He made it very clear that he didn’t actually mean it, but he wanted the beating to stop before it even got started.

          “Go to your room,” the President commanded. Cameron stood up slowly with a grunt. “And get a haircut. You look like an imbecile.”

          “You are an imbecile,” he said under his breath. “And an asshole.” Even though he’d gotten a punch out of the situation, he smiled to himself. He had pissed him off with his hair. It was a small act of defiance, but it felt good.

          Grimacing with each step up the stairs, he heaved up his dinner when he got to the bathroom. He’d had the pain enough times he knew his stepfather had left him with a bruised rib or two. Those were the shots he went for: the ones people wouldn’t see unless they were looking, but Cameron would feel them with every single racking breath he took.

          When he was finished retching, he drank some water out of the sink and started choking. He coughed up the water hard. Once. Twice. Three times. Once he’d coughed up all of the water, he noticed there was blood in the sink. Ohhhh, shit, he thought. That’s not good. He decided he would bind his injury for a few days and just keep an eye on it. Grabbing the ice pack from the cooler under his bed, he placed it on his ribs. The pain soothed at the cold.

          After leaving the ice pack on for a generous amount of time, he picked up his HoloComm and shot a text to Madison: Hey, Mads. I know we just got off the phone a while ago, but I just wanted to let you know I probably won’t be at school tomorrow. I tripped on the stairs and now my ribs hurt like a bitch. He couldn’t stand to tell her the truth yet. He didn’t want her looking at him like an injured puppy. Adjusting his pillows to sleep as comfortably as he could, it was a hellish night. When he did dream, he had nightmares of a house burning down. His mother ran outside in front of it, screaming to a man he didn’t recognize.

         “Garrick!” she shrieked. “Garrick! Don’t go!” His mother’s piercing shrill echoed in his mind when the man was shot by the soldiers waiting for him. Cameron knew the soldiers had set the house on fire. They were the ones who took the man away from his mother.

          He tried to run at them, to scream, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything. He was trapped by something, and the ground was too far. He looked around, and his mother was holding him. Cameron started to cry. Hot tears started dripping down his face, and his mother pressed him close to her chest.

          “Shh, baby,” she consoled. “It’s okay, my sweet boy.” He felt comforted by the sound of her voice, but he couldn’t stop crying. He hated to cry. He didn’t know why he was doing it now, but he was.

          He kept trying to speak to his mother, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t form words. He wanted to know why those scary soldiers had shot that man—why they had set the house on fire. It scared him. Everything was so big and terrifying and loud. The neighbors were screaming, the fire was soaring, the soldiers were hollering “Give us the child!” Cameron cried again and pushed his head back into his mother’s chest. He didn’t know what child they wanted, but he wanted them gone. He wanted the fire and the screams, and the soldiers gone. All he wanted was to be with his mother.

          He didn’t know how it happened, but the world blurred for a moment, and then it was all gone. He was sitting on a porch swing with his mother. He looked up at her beautiful face, her chocolate hair swaying in the wind. He felt safe again. There were no more loud noises or scary people making him afraid anymore.

          Looking up at his mother’s face, Cameron’s crying vanished just like the world a few moments before.