Invidia

FOUR

          He found Justin, holding a to-go box, just outside the elevators.       

          “Come on. Let’s go see my sister.” Cameron followed Justin down the hallway.

         “Justin, why were you gone so long?” His mother scolded him. Cameron had always thought Justin and his mom looked just alike, but it was even more prominent today with them being dressed so similarly—from the gray t-shirts and jeans to the straight dark hair to the black Converse sneakers.

         “Because the cafeteria is on the other damn side of the hospital?” Justin sassily questioned. “And then I met Cameron on my way back up, so I walked back with him.”

         “You, sir,” she pointed at Cameron.

         “Yes, Ms. Nelson?” Cameron looked up at her innocently.

         “I missed you, kid,” she smiled, pulling him into a hug.

         He hugged her tightly and responded, “I missed you too, ma’am.”

         “Thank you for being here with us. Even though she’s still sleeping, I know Carly would be appreciative that you’re here, even if she would be masking it with teasing you boys,” she ruffled Cameron’s hair, and it made him think of the time he’d first met her.

         He was in the third grade, back in 2154; he and Justin had recently started becoming close friends, so their moms scheduled a playdate for them. Of course, being at that age, calling it a “play date” sounded stupid, especially to eight-year-old boys. Cameron and Justin were always correcting them to call it a hangout.

         Ms. Nelson (or at the time, Mrs. Morrison) and his mother were talking about them. Cameron didn’t know what his mother meant when she called him “cute.”

         “Moooommm,” he moaned. “I told you I’m not cute. I’m a scary boy. Raahhh!” He growled and chased her like a monster.

         “Yes, you are, baby,” she said, and then she ran playfully away, moaning in terror. “Ahh! Save me!” Then she ran and grabbed him, and Cameron laughed.

         “Cameron,” Ms. Nelson said, “you are one phenomenal kid. I’m glad you and Justin are becoming friends.”

         Justin piped up with his squeaky, little kid voice, “Me too, Mommy! I like playing with Cameron! He’s cool!” Then Justin picked up his fabric sword and chased Cameron around the yard, both boys screaming with glee, their mothers looking very blissfully unaware of how different their lives would become over the next nine years.

         Smiling at the simpler times, Cameron stepped further into the room and sat down in the window seat beside Justin.

         “Why are you smiling like that?” Justin asked with his mouth full of chocolate-glazed donut.

         “Do you remember when our moms first met, back in third grade?” Cameron asked him. Justin nodded, and Cameron said, “That’s what I was thinking about.”

         Justin finished chewing before saying, “Dude, I remember that. My voice was so squeaky back then, and that stupid little fabric sword. God, we were pitiable children,” he complained.

         “Oh, admit it,” Cameron said, “you can’t help but smile at the nostalgia.” Justin nodded admittingly and pulled a second donut out of a paper bag that was sitting beside him.

         “You want a bite?” He offered a donut to Cameron, and he obliged.

         “If I ever turn down a donut,” he joked, “shoot me.”

*****

         After sitting there with Justin’s family for about twenty minutes, Cameron had to step out to answer the furious call from his stepfather.

         “Where the bloody hell are you?” He demanded.

         “I stopped by the hospital for a while after school to see my friend,” he answered.

         “And why didn’t anyone let me know where you were?”

         Cameron asked, “Who did you want to let you know?”

         “Either you or Frank should have let me know, boy. Since you didn’t, I’m assuming you thought Frank was going to,” he growled. “Is that right?”

         “No, sir,” he defended, “No, no, no. Don’t blame Frank for any of this, okay? I asked him not to tell you anything.”

         His stepfather raised his eyebrows, and Cameron knew he would have the beating of his life waiting for him when he got home when his stepfather said quietly, “Oh? And why did you do something like that?”

         “Because—” he paused, trying to think of an excuse, “Because I knew you wouldn’t let me go see them in the hospital, so I went to see them without your permission.”

         “Come home now,” was all his stepfather said before hanging up the phone. Despite defending Frank, he still broke into a cold sweat.

         He walked shakily back to Carly’s room and said, “I have to head out now. My stepdad wants me home now,” before walking out.

         Justin must’ve sensed something sinister in his tone because he jogged after Cameron and said, “Is everything alright? You’re shooting out of here faster than I’ve ever seen you.”

         He sighed and said, “Yeah, it’s alright, man.” He clapped Justin on the shoulder. “Just stay here with Carly and your mom. Don’t worry about me, and don’t forget to let me know if anything changes.” Cameron’s tone said he wasn’t going to broach the subject any further, so Justin gave in and bid his own goodbyes.

*****

         It was nearly midnight when they got home, and Terry walked out on the front lawn before Cameron had even gotten out of the car and screamed, “What the hell did you do to make him so mad?”

         “It’s none of your business, Terry,” he warned him darkly.

         “Fine, but just remember that you’re the one who pissed him off, so you deserve what’s coming to you.”

          That sentence was all it took to set off years of hatred for this place. Cameron slammed him and pinned his body against the car. “You know what, Terry? I really don’t. I’m sick and I’m tired of the constant shit I get treated like around here. I am tired of you. I am tired of Shane. I am tired of the damn President. But most of all, I am tired of getting the shit beat out of me every single night for just existing. Go on and report this to my stepfather because you know what? I frankly don’t even give a damn anymore.” Then he let Terry go, where he scurried away into the house, presumably to go straight to his boss like a dog on a leash. Cameron took a minute to cool down before going to face his punishment. He saturated the white-hot rage burning inside him and dared to go into the manor.

          “Cameron,” his stepfather said, calmer than he’d ever heard him before. “Come with me.” The rage and the fear were fighting a vicious battle in Cameron’s chest, but the fear would win if he didn’t follow the man. He hadn’t felt this much anger since his mom’s death—when his stepdad had just watched her die.

          “Where are we going?” He questioned with the same calmness that concealed his wrath.

          “Just follow me,” he answered, leading him up the west stairs.

          Cameron hesitated and defied, “Not until you tell me where it is we’re going.”

          His stepfather turned around, slowly, and Cameron’s fear was starting to win the war, “We are simply going to pay a visit to your mother’s study. There’s something in there that I would like you to see.” Now curiosity struck, and it was the strongest force of all so far. That led him to follow the man that no doubt only had malicious intentions.

          They continued up the red-carpeted stairs, down the cherry wood hallway and through to a door he hadn’t opened since his mother died. Yet, his stepfather walked right up to it and walked right in like he’d done it a million times. Cameron, however, hesitated. He could still feel the presence of his mother lurking in the air. Her, working at her desk; she always said she was going to write the next great novel. Reading had been much of her only pastime those days since it didn’t require extra oxygen use to read or write a book. She had passed her love of books onto Cameron, which was why he adored his literature class.

          “Here, this way,” his stepfather said. Cameron had forgotten he was there, but they went into the adjoining room—his mother’s closet that was designed by her and paid for by the foul man standing in it. “It’s okay, boy. You can come in. Come on, now, Cameron.”

         “What is it you wanted to show me, sir?” He asked, feeling peaceful with the presence of his mother all around him. He didn’t know why he hadn’t come in here before.

         “Ah, yes,” he said. “It’s on that shelf, right there,” he pointed. “If you could hand that to me, please,” he said. Cameron was taller than his stepfather, so he easily reached up and handed it down to him. “Now, let me show you. Right this way,” and they went back into the study, where he’d placed the box on the desk. The box was simple—it was a circular cardboard box with white lacy fabric on top. It looked like an antique, probably passed down. His stepfather ruffled through some things in the box before pulling out an old piece of paper and holding it up. “If you could read this aloud, please, Cameron.”

          “Um, sure,” he said, taking it from his stepfather’s hand. “It says, ‘James, I just wanted to write you a letter. Cheesy, I know. I had an amazing time with you last night. It was the best night of my life, actually. I don’t know what else I would be doing if I weren’t going out with you. I love you. Love, Christy.’” Then Cameron understood why his stepfather dragged him up and forced him to read this letter. Making Cameron read a letter from his mother to his stepdad about their intimacy and personal lives was the worst form of punishment he could ensue. He wouldn’t let his father get the sick satisfaction he was so badly pining for. He swallowed his emotions, grit his teeth, and said, “Why did you want me to read this?”

          “Why do you think, Cameron?” His stepfather asked, smiling maniacally.

          Cameron gave him his best fake smile, “Because you wanted me to see something my amazing mother wrote?” He questioned, feigning innocence. If he wants to get under my skin, he can just go on out and say it, Cameron thought to himself.

          His stepfather just gave him a fake smile in return and stated, “Exactly.” Then he patted him on the shoulder and walked out of the room. The tension in his mother’s study was higher than it had ever been before. He could feel it echoing off the floral wallpaper. Cameron looked out to the door to see if it was clear before he sunk into the chair at his mother’s desk.

          “Why would you do this to me, Mom?” He asked the room—to the walls, throwing his head in his hands. A single tear leaked down his cheek and stained the paper that he couldn’t cease to stare at. “Why would you marry him? Why would you leave me with that monster?” His voice broke, and then the dam holding back his waterworks shattered along with his heart. He hadn’t yet felt angry with her. Until now. He was disgusted with himself for dishonoring her like that. But he couldn’t stop the tears. He’d been holding them in for far too long, and his stepfather finally managed to do the one thing he hadn’t been able to yet.

          He’d broken him.

          “Cameron,” he heard a small voice at the door. “Can I talk to you?” Cameron wanted to say no. He wanted to scream at whoever it was to go away, but when he looked up and saw who was standing at the door, he couldn’t say no.

          “Shane?” He said incredulously. “You actually want to talk to me?” Shane nodded his head shyly, and Cameron’s skepticism grew. “Uh, sure, I guess,” he said awkwardly, rubbing his tears away. “Where do you want to talk?”

          “Here is fine,” Shane answered. “Can I come in?” Cameron concurred, and Shane stepped into the room. “You know, all this time, our parents have been married, and I’ve never set foot in here.” He didn’t really know what to say, so he just inclined his head. Shane continued, “Look,” he took a deep breath, “I know things really haven’t been the best between us.” Hmph, he thought, that’s an understatement. “but I want you to know that I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.”

          “What’s this about, Shane?” Cameron asked. Shane was worrying him. He would never talk to him like this unless things were really bad.

          “I just need to get this out,” was all he said. “Look, Cameron. I’m sorry about what happened between us. I’m sorry I’ve always treated you like shit. I don’t know why I did, before you even moved here, I treated you like shit. I guess I was jealous there was another kid around to get my dad’s attention.”

          Shane had gone silent, so Cameron assumed he was finished. “That’s it?” he exclaimed. “You’ve treated me like trash all these years because you’re jealous? No, that can’t be it.”

          “It’s not, but if you’d have let me finish my damn sentence, you’d know that,” Shane snapped. “Now, as I was saying,” then he took a deep breath to calm himself, “I was treating you like shit because you had something that I always wanted.”

“And what was that? What could Shane freaking Hendrickson want that I have?” He asked, folding his arms.

          “A mother,” Shane’s voice cracked, and Cameron could tell how much this was killing him to say—especially to him.

          Cameron took a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally smacking himself for being so stupid. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He looked up at Shane, how vulnerable he looked—his blonde hair was disheveled, his usually green eyes were bloodshot, and his shoulders were slumped. This had been eating at him for some time now. How could I be so stupid? He thought to himself. This must’ve been on his mind for months. “Are you okay, Shane?” He consoled.

          “Yeah,” he breathed, “sorry. I’m sorry.” He started to regain his composure, “You know what? This is stupid. I’m sorry. I never should’ve bothered you with this.”

          “Why do you think that?” he asked him. “I’m your brother, aren’t I?” He tried to lighten the mood, “well, stepbrother, but you know what I mean.”

          “Still. I’m sure you’re probably torn up right now, being in here. I know Christy was never truly my mother, but I always wished she were. I always wished she were my real mother instead of that crackpot that is my mom,” Shane admitted.

          “I never actually knew what happened to your biological mother,” Cameron stated. “No one ever told me.”

          “Well,” Shane said, sighing. “She and my dad got married young, like seventeen. She had me at eighteen. After a few years, she and my dad fell out of love. They realized they weren’t right for each other. That happens with young couples a lot, you know.” Cameron nodded his understanding. “Actually, it was more my mom’s choice. My dad is still head over heels for her—probably always will be. They were each other’s first love, and they always say you never get over your first love.” Cameron’s heart sank. He knew his stepdad used to be okay. He didn’t know he’d actually had a heart at one point. “But I think since he was her very first of anything, my dad always said she had doubts about their relationship. Apparently, her doubts were getting worse every day of what else was out there. At first, she’d only have those doubts every few months or so. As time went on, my dad said she’d have them like every other day. She was hit with heartbreak and fear and doubt that she couldn’t control. She was the kind of person that needed to be sure of things before sinking in all the way. She didn’t want to live her life in regret. My dad said that she told him she’d always be left with that fear that she was settling, and she didn’t want to settle. She needed to know if he was really her soulmate or if they were just head over heels in first love.” Then Shane went quiet, so Cameron assumed he was finished.

          “So, what happened?” he asked.

          “She left him,” he answered. “It broke his heart. It broke my heart, even though I was only about two when that happened. We haven’t heard from her since then, so my dad assumed she’d remarried, but I like to tell myself she's a drug addict. That's about the only thing I can bear thinking as to why she'd leave me. She could be dead for all I know.” Shane reached up and brushed his hair out of his face. “But I’m glad he married your mom. I’m glad he found love again.”

          “Me too,” Cameron said. “For what it’s worth, and that’s probably nothing, I’m sorry your mom walked out on you all like that.”

          “Yeah, me too,” Shane croaked. “My dad always said he’d understood. He didn’t want her living her life with regret and fear. He loved her enough to know when it was time to let her go.”

          “That sounds like true love,” Cameron didn’t really know what to say. He’d felt so stupid all the years—thinking he was the only one who had been through tragedy. “What did she look like?”

          “I don’t know,” he said, “my dad never kept pictures of her.”

          “Again, I’m sorry. I was stupid.” Cameron scolded himself.

          “Why were you stupid?” Shane asked, dumbfounded. “I was the one who always treated you like vermin.”

          “I was stupid because I always hated you. I always thought you had a perfect life.” He answered. “I just don’t know why I thought that. I guess I just assumed.”

          “Cameron, you weren’t stupid. I wanted you to think I was perfect. I wanted you to feel like shit. I wanted you to feel the same jealousy I had been feeling over you all these years,” Shane confessed.

         "Just go," he felt his anger flaring again, and he wasn't sure he'd control it this time.

         Shane scurried away, clearly embarrassed about opening up to him like that. Cameron turned to the room again, saying, “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Mom. I lost my cool. I couldn’t control myself—not that that’s an excuse.” He just took a few deep breaths to calm his pounding heart and walked out of the room—the distant screams in the house plundering through the spurious attitudes that abound in the house.