Lupine Dreams Pt. 02 Ch. 05-07

Author's note: You definitely will need to have read Part 1 first, FYI. And just a reminder that this is a romance through and through, meant to appeal to your heart, not as much to other parts (; So there will not be sex in every batch of chapters.

Enjoy (:

~~~

Chapter 5

[vibe track: good time girl - sofi tukker, charlie barker]

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK... WHACK.

"RRRGGGGHGHHHHHHHHHH!"

Cameron shook her hand out a little, taking a couple quick breaths, glaring as menacingly as she could at the coffee machine that wouldn't cooperate.

Why the FUCK WON'T YOU FUCKING WORK GODDAMMMMMITTTTTTT!

It was entirely too early, entirely too bright. The hypnotic silence of the night was gone, though that was mostly thanks to Cameron. There were still some partygoers slumped on the couches and the floor in the living room, and the fan was still blowing around the varied smells of a Saturday night party gone stale. It wasn't hot yet, at least.

The YouTube tutorial made it seem pretty hard to fuck up. But the machine just fucking sat there, doing nothing. She'd poured the water. She'd found some God-knows-how-old coffee grounds lurking in one of the cabinets and dumped in what looked like a reasonable amount -- she hoped, anyway. She'd put the... thing in the thing, and now... fucking NOTHING.

She wanted to scream. Or just destroy the coffeemaker. Both, actually. But for once, she convinced herself before she did it that beating the shit out of the problem wouldn't actually solve it.

I'd fucking feel a little better about it though. Maybe.

A door creaked open behind her and she whipped around, afraid she had run out of time.

But no, it was Kendra.

Ugh. That's... almost as bad.

For once, Kendra didn't look put together. It was too early even for her, Cameron figured. Her usually meticulously styled hair was flattened on the side and frizzy all over, and she was wearing only a pair of gym shorts and a bra.

Once she saw who was making the racket in the kitchen, she squinted and blinked, looking around, then behind her, and finally back to Cameron.

"What the fuck is going on?" she said in a morning croak.

Cameron simmered, trying to burn through the coffeemaker with her eyes. It still didn't work.

"You're... making coffee? On... a Sunday morning? And..." Kendra came closer, sidling up to Cameron as if she were seeing a mirage. "Are you... showered? What the fuck happened while I was asleep! What universe am I in??"

It would've been a joke, but Cameron thought Kendra looked so groggy that she probably was 50/50 on whether she'd fallen through some wormhole or something.

Not that Kendra would know a wormhole from a... like... just -- she wouldn't know it. It's too early for this shit.

"Piece of shit--" Cameron smacked the machine on its top again "--won't work."

Kendra gave her a long, confused look, then shifted to see if she could help with the coffeemaker.

"Yeah, I did that," Cameron said in protest as Kendra began double-checking her work. "I put the thing in the thing and the coffee in the thing, watered the... thing down, all that shit. But it just won't--"

Kendra reached behind all the various things and stretched, plugging in the cord. The machine beeped on.

...

This would probably be kinda funny later, but Kendra knew better than to make eye contact right now. Cameron was in no fucking mood, not after wasting 15 minutes at the ass crack of dawn on something she wasn't even sure why she was doing to begin with.

Cameron roughly stabbed the button that hadn't been doing anything and it beeped appreciatively, oblivious to her frustration, as it started its work.

She still didn't turn to Kendra, but she could feel her standing there, trying to figure out what the hell her friend was up to. Cameron opened and closed cabinets instead, but there wasn't enough in them to really need to root through them.

"People like... milk, and like, sugar, in their coffee, right?" she wondered out loud.

"Huh?"

Cameron stopped and turned to Kendra, impatience showing. "Sugar and milk. Or cream, or whatever. People put it in their coffee? Do we have any?" She gestured at the cabinets.

"Ohhh," Kendra nodded with understanding. "Yeah, wasn't that on the list for the servants to buy?" She mocked a horrified look and did a British accent that was so bad she dropped it halfway through. "Oh my! Just wait until I tell Lord Haberdashery about this!"

Cameron gave a very long blink, glowering at her best friend.

"Bitch I don't know!" Kendra said in her normal, but exasperated, voice. "I don't drink coffee and neither do you!"

Opening the refrigerator, Cameron hoped maybe someone, for some reason, had some old milk in there. There wasn't any.

"By the way, I heard you scalped Naomi's friend and made her eat it?"

Cameron snorted, shutting the fridge. "I mean...." She thought about it for a second. "Well, I didn't not do that, but I wouldn't have said it that way."

"How would you have said it?" Kendra said, amused.

Cameron turned to her. "I pulled some dumb, high bitch who can't read out of my room instead of beating the shit out of her like I should have." She stared Kendra down, daring her to say she was wrong.

Kendra let out a little laugh instead. "Yeah, definitely say exactly that to Naomi, right after you tell her you beat the shit out of her coffeemaker, too."

The machine didn't... look dented.... Still, Cameron could feel her face flush, and she dropped her head for a second, running a hand through her hair. Kendra was right, she had showered, although she hadn't done much with her hair. It was back to her all-natural black now, just swished over to the side so it stayed out of her face.

"Shit. Well..." Cameron sighed, throwing up her hands. "I'll fucking buy her a new one, okay? And some fucking milk and sugar while I'm at it."

Kendra just eyed her, amused at the whole situation. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she was patient, and she'd stick around until Cameron explained or until she figured it out herself. She always did.

In the meantime, Kendra started to tell a story about whatever guy she had waiting for her in her room. Cameron wasn't paying close attention, biting at her nails. She was nervous about the timing, and nervous about what Kendra might say, although that was further down the list. Just an annoyance, really. Cameron's eyes flicked back and forth between her room's door and Kendra.

A few seconds later, the door slowly opened, creaking loud enough for Kendra to stop mid-sentence. She'd seen Cameron's eyes jump wildly to the door, and Kendra turned around to see what was happening.

Henry poked his head out of Cameron's room cautiously, his eyes still bloodshot and his brown hair sticking up in every direction except where it'd been pressed against his forehead. He squinted into the daylight and spotted the two of them in the kitchen.

With a questioning look, he pointed toward the bathroom, and Cameron nodded, adding a little shoo signal with her hand to try and get him to move his ass before Kendra started doing... whatever Kendra was gonna do.

That turned out to be just gape.

She turned from Henry to Cameron and back again, then back to Cameron -- her mouth wide open, torn between delight and shock -- as Henry tiptoed to the bathroom in his boxers and the sweat-stained shirt he'd been wearing all night.

Cameron didn't look for the reaction. She knew what it was. Instead, she opened another cabinet and pulled out a mug. She knew where those were, though she never used them. Grabbing a random one, she ran it under the faucet and wiped it off. It said Oh Yes Wyoming! on the side with the silhouette of the state and a lasso.

Fuck. Naomi's from Wyoming I'm pretty sure. Guess I'll add this to the tab.

She dried it off and then dumped a couple of Advil from a bottle into her hand, just in time for the coffeemaker to start beeping.

Whew.

Still staring, Kendra was clearly barely restraining her surprise, and maybe a little... is she impressed? Proud?

Cameron didn't want to do more than steal a quick glance at her. More would've invited discussion.

She concentrated on pouring the coffee instead, then picked up the Advil and started toward her room, brushing past Kendra.

Does everything have to be a fucking thing? Sometimes I feel like doing shit, and sometimes I don't, okay? Jesus.

Cameron wasn't sure who she was arguing with, but she felt like she was losing.

Luckily, Henry came back, giving a shy wave to Kendra, who had of course picked that time to conveniently stand outside her door as if she were juuuust heading into her room.

"Hey Selena," he said to Cameron with another of those self-effacing smiles, embracing the awkwardness of the situation. It managed to turn his face into something new, different from the sagging remains of last night, and into something warmer.

As Cameron shut the door behind him, she caught Kendra leaning around with a teasing grin.

"Selena??" she mouthed silently. Cameron didn't acknowledge it and shut the door with a little more force than was required.

"Here," she said, shoving the coffee mug in front of him with one hand and the Advil with the other.

He took both, looking down meaningfully at the coffee, then up at her. Another smile crinkled at the corner of his mouth. He got it.

Beneath the bleariness, Henry's eyes were a deep, deep brown. Like there was more there than there should've been. Or something.

Is this the first time we've actually made eye contact?

She wanted to look deeper, but even more strongly didn't want him looking in her eyes. The latter won out.

He gulped down the pills and a swig of the coffee with muttered thanks.

"We uh, don't have any milk or cream or sugar or whatever," Cameron said, not really sure what to do now.

Henry shook his head and then froze halfway through, making a concerted effort to swallow more of the coffee. Guess Naomi didn't buy the good stuff.

Well, get what you pay for, asshole. Bring your fucking keys next time you pass out.

She leaned back against the pock-marked door, propping her foot against it behind her. Her legs were freshly shaved, sticking out of a pair of faded, frayed black jean shorts below a loose, dark purple What So Not T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. He definitely wasn't just looking at the coffee.

Guess the pervert is waking up. She tried not to roll her eyes.

"So, uh, what's... what's the story with my keys?" he asked, his voice a little raspy. He still looked pitiful -- clearly far, far out of his element.

"Right. You didn't have any. Your buddy--"

"Paul."

"Okay. He had some story about his wife's mom in the hospital. Didn't wanna wait to put you in an Uber. I was there, so I said I'd take you."

She hardened her stare as much as she could. "We're even."

He nodded, but didn't drop her gaze. He just kept looking. "Thank you, really, I was... in a bad place."

The schoolteacher in front of her didn't look like he'd ever been in a bad place in his life. Except maybe her bedroom.

You don't even know what a fucking bad place is. Boohoo, you're fucking divorced.

"Yeah, real fuckin' bad -- you saw your ex and couldn't handle it. I'd hate to see what you'd do if something actually fucking bad happened." She crossed her arms, knowing she was daring him to clap back.

He didn't. He just looked up at her over the rim of the coffee mug, and the beginnings of another smile started in the corner of his mouth.

"Nah, bad stuff?" he brushed his shoulder. "Rolls right off, no problem. The stupid bullshit, that's my kryptonite."

Cameron wasn't sure what to say to that. It didn't sound like a lie, not that it mattered. If she'd been in his position....

I'd've fucking thrown that mug through the fucking door. Of course, I wouldn't have folded at the sight of my ex on the dancefloor, so I wouldn't have ended up crashing on some stranger's--

She bit her lip.

Fuck. Fine. I get it.

Now she felt like an asshole. She'd tried to get a rise out of him for no particular reason. He hadn't done that, not when the positions had been reversed. He'd--stop fucking thinking about it, can't you go a fucking hour without fucking thinking about that night? FUCK.

"Oh, thank God," he muttered, looking down at his phone and mercifully pulling her out of her spiral. "Paul's got my keys."

She gave him a sarcastic thumbs-up. Great.

"Umm... where are we? I'll have him just come and pick me up."

She felt her eyebrows scrunch, and she tried to set them back to their normal angle as quickly as she could. She dropped her leg instead.

"I'll... I'll just fucking take you," she said, rolling her eyes and scooping up her keys and wallet from the floor.

"No, really it's--"

"No, really, it's not," she said sharply, shutting him up. "Bad enough you know where I live, don't need some other fucking pervert stalking me here too."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him seeming to digest that, like he was swishing it around in his head.

"I don't think Paul's a pervert, exactly. I mean, I wouldn't loan him anything you absolutely need back in mint condition, but...." He shrugged and gave her the hint of a smile.

Is he just gonna do that no matter what I say?

"Are you good to go?" she snapped.

"Oh, umm, no, sorry." He made a show of not knowing where to put the mug, but she didn't give any suggestions. He settled on a steady-looking piece of carpet, then quickly pulled on his pants and shoes.

"Good to go," he said, patting his pockets.

"Text me his address." She gave him her number. It was the easiest way, she figured. "You can finish the coffee in the car. If you want," she added.

Cameron wasn't sure why she'd said it in the first place. What the fuck did she care?

Can't start his morning without it, she thought to herself dryly.

Opening the door, she half-expected Kendra to be there, diving out of the way. The door across the hall was closed, though, and she was nowhere in sight.

He didn't remark on the living room or the dozen or so slumbering idiots in it after they'd gotten to the Shitmobile. He was probably just being polite.

Definitely the type.

He tried to close the passenger door, but it didn't stay.

"Yeah, no, stop," she ordered. "Hold the handle while you close it, then let it go."

Gotta get that fucking thing fixed. Or just stop taking passengers. Yeah, that's easier.

She connected her phone to her janky setup and started up the Shitmobile while he drank from the mug again. A part of her felt pleased with herself that he'd brought it with him.

That part is a fucking idiot though, so shut the fuck up.

"Umm, so--"

"You don't have to fucking say 'umm' just to let me know you're uncomfortable. I get it. You're kind of a pussy. That's your thing. Just fucking say what you're gonna fucking say."

Cameron slapped the steering wheel with her palm as she finished her outburst, more annoyed with herself for saying anything at all than she was at him.

Jesus, why do you care, just drop him off and you'll never have to listen to any of it again. Now he'll probably cry or something.

He didn't, just sat there silently, occasionally sipping whatever was left in the cup.

Fuck. Why do you keep doing this.

She looked over at him again. All she could see was the night she wanted to forget ever happened. He was just a walking reminder.

And when he melted down, what did he say about you, huh? He told you he thought you were strong, and he thanked you, and he drank your shitty coffee just to be nice. Fuck.

Cameron sighed out loud. She didn't try to be an asshole, but it... it just always sorta happened. Kendra was the only one who seemed to not let it get to her. She just shrugged it off like nothing, saw right through it. Always had.

"So you're, umm... an English teacher?" she said as they got on the highway. From his sly look, she knew he'd caught her own "umm."

"Yes, I heard it, okay?" she retorted, annoyed. "It doesn't fucking count if it's in the middle of a fucking sentence!"

He put up a hand conciliatorily, shaking his head. "I didn't say anything." That fucking half a smile said he'd been thinking exactly the same thing, though. Before she knew it had happened, she felt a smile flicker across her own face. It was just a fraction of a second, but that was longer than she'd smiled at any other point over the past couple of days. Maybe a week. She shook her head slightly at herself.

"I am, though, yeah. High school English at Polk High," he said, letting her off the hook.

"And your buddy?"

"Paul? He's a gym teacher and football coach."

"So just a couple of teachers out on the town, huh," she said sardonically.

He snorted. "Yeah, a couple of old teachers out on the town. This is what happens I guess," he said, gesturing at himself.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "You keep saying that, but you're not that old, you know," she said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you're 36, Henry Andrew Mullins," she said, relishing the reveal.

He didn't seem put off, just surprised. "Well, that seems plenty old once you get there, trust me. Especially when you're...23." He'd practically said it with a gulp, like she was a teenager or something.

"That's not that young, either."

"Mhm." He obviously did not agree. "Hey, serious question."

She braced herself, giving him a warning glance to let him know that just because she'd thawed the ice, they weren't about to start braiding each other's hair. He continued anyway.

"You weren't... in one of my classes when you were in high school, were you?"

What the fuck? Is he into this kind of shit? Did he really have a mirror dungeon in his basement?

"What? No, Jesus fucking Christ."

He heaved a sigh of relief that sure seemed genuine. "Thank God. Now that would've made me super, super fucking uncomfortable."

"Yeah... you're not the only one." Still, she was reassured a little that he hadn't been hoping for a yes.

"Pretty sure I would've, umm, remembered you, anyway," he said. She expected him to be talking about her tattoos, but his eyes were lingering on her legs instead.

On second thought, Cameron wasn't that surprised. She didn't want to think about why she'd made sure to shave them this morning, and why she'd gone for these shorts.

Sometimes I just feel like doing things. There doesn't have to be a fucking conspiracy behind every fucking little thing.

They continued in a not-uncomfortable silence for a bit until she turned off the highway, following the Google Maps directions to Paul's house.

"So you're a DJ?" he said.

She nodded.

"What's your DJ name or whatever? Is that what it's called?"

She shrugged. "Yeah I guess." She paused for a second. She always felt dumb saying it out loud, which is why she rarely did. "Lupine Dreamer."

His eyes lit up and he pointed at the wolves showing on her arms and legs. "I get it. Highbrow, huh."

Cameron shrugged again, not really wanting to get into it. "Yeah, I guess. That's me."

"Hmm... dreamer of wolves? Or a wolf dreamer?" He sounded... like an English teacher. Ugh. He seemed to actually expect an answer, too.

"You're overthinking it."

She could feel another of his smiles daring her to look over. She did -- and turned back to the road before she was tempted to return it.

There was another question sticking in her mind, though, as long as they were getting this kinda shit out of the way.

"You and your ex-wife..." she started, not entirely sure how she wanted to finish it even as she spoke, "do you... have any kids?"

That was probably the least tactful way possible to ask, but whatever. If he was looking for tact, he shoulda passed out on somebody else's mattress last night.

He looked confused, but not offended. "No...."

Okay cool because I rooted through your wallet last night and found a bunch of pictures of kids and just was curious.

She knew she couldn't say that, so she hoped he'd just let it drop. He did, giving a little shrug instead.

Finally, in an even more upscale neighborhood than Henry's, they were to Paul's house. It was in a row of similar cookie-cutter houses, all a couple of stories with a neat, paved walk up to the front door and a two-car garage. The Shitmobile rattled to a stop in front of the one Henry confirmed was his friend's.

They both sat for a second, not saying anything, and not looking at anything in particular. Henry fingered the coffee cup in his lap.

She knew how her mind worked.

Every time I see that fucking mug, I'll think of this. Beating the shit out of the coffee machine... for his coffee.

She didn't want to see it again, didn't want a trail that would lead back to the night that didn't happen.

"You should finish it, take it with you," she said quietly, looking at the mug, not him. Oh Yes Wyoming! stared back at her.

"Are you sure? I really don't need to, I can just get coff--"

"Yes, just fucking take it. Don't make everything so fucking com-pli-ca-ted."

He gave her a quizzical, amused look. She rolled her eyes.

"Just... something you said," she muttered. "When you were out of it."

He shrugged, still seeming annoyingly amused, then leaned back in after shutting the door on his first try. His head was sticking through the window, but he took a beat to say whatever it was he wanted to. Or maybe he'd just been waiting for her eyes to meet his.

"Really, thank you, Selena," he said once she did, earnestly, with a look in his eye echoing what she'd seen the night before -- the panic, the fear. At first glance, all of that was gone now... except it wasn't. It was lurking right underneath the surface. She could see it there, as she looked closely.

No wonder the brown in his eyes seemed to go so deep. How much else was buried down there? How much was he carrying around with him every day?

That was something, finally, she could understand. Something she could relate to.

"Wait, Henry," she heard herself say as he turned to leave, reaching toward the window as if she could grab him. He heard her, though, and stopped, leaning against the door, dangling the mug from his fingers.

"Cameron," she said. "My name's Cameron."

One corner of his mouth cocked up, starting the cascade that she knew would end in one of those wry half-grins. She looked away, putting the car back in drive before it spread to her.

~~~

Chapter 6

"You did not!" Heather struggled to keep her coffee from coming out her nose. She had a contagious cackle, a whole-body laugh that made it difficult for anyone around her to stop from joining in.

Paul made no such attempt anyway.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, nodding and slapping the tiny fourth-grade desk he was uncomfortably stuffed into. "I just thought, you know what, this is way too much of a coincidence! There's only one person in the entire world who would call him 'Melvin' -- the universe of pussy has spoken! Who am I to stand in the way??"

Heather guffawed again, and the both of them looked at Andrew as he took a well-timed sip from his Oh Yes Wyoming! mug.

"I can't believe," Heather said between recovering breaths, "you stole his keys. What if she woulda just, like, left him outside his front door??"

Paul shrugged, a smug grin on his face. "Just gotta trust the universe of pussy, Heather. She will provide."

He took a swig of his own coffee and leaned back as much as he could without breaking the tiny desk -- which wasn't much.

It was about 7:30, still a half hour before school would start. Andrew's students would frequently pop into his classroom in the mornings before class started, just to ask (mostly inane) questions, or, it seemed, just because they were bored.

While he liked to believe that meant he was one of the cool teachers, it also meant there was too much traffic for the three of them to chat like, well, people, instead of as teachers on a Monday morning.

And Paul's office was next to the boys' locker room, where there was zero chance they'd be uninterrupted with the steady stream of his players coming in and out.

So, Monday morning coffee in Heather's fourth-grade classroom was basically a tradition by this point, since elementary kids didn't have the same freedom to just wander in before class started. Sometimes there were even treats.... Okay, there were only treats when Heather made them. Either way, this wasn't one of those mornings, unfortunately.

"So? Did the universe of pussy provide?" Heather's eyes danced with way more energy than a Monday morning deserved, although Andrew couldn't pretend he didn't feel just as energized.

He grimaced. "Well, even if it had, I was way too drunk to remember."

"So what you're saying is, it might as well have!" Paul said, looking to Heather for approval. She held up her mug in a toast, agreeing. The motion carried -- Andrew got laid, even if he couldn't remember it.

"Better than my weekend," she said, inviting a change of topic.

"Uber guy didn't earn his 4-and-a-half stars?" Paul asked.

"Turns out he could only drive stick," Andrew said with a tsk, making Paul laugh. Heather didn't.

"Psh, if he could drive something, I coulda worked with that." Heather rolled her eyes. "It was like if one my students tried to drive a car. Even if this guy had a buddy to work the wheel while he was on the pedals, not sure he woulda gotten it outta the garage."

Paul and Andrew looked at each other, puzzling out what was what in that simile.

"That was... vivid," Andrew said.

"Or maybe... complete nonsense?" Paul offered, just throwing it out there.

"Either way, I think we know now that Heather would really like to have a threesome with a pair of midgets."

"That's what I got out of it, yeah," Paul agreed.

Heather put her hand up, as if taking an oath. "Hey, if they know what they're doing, what do I care? However many it takes!"

"There's definitely a lightbulb joke in there, right?" Paul said.

"'How many little people does it take to screw Heather's lightbulb?'" Heather said, getting them all to laugh.

"Well, I gotta go," Paul sighed, stretching after he maneuvered out from under the confining desk. "I know you classroom teachers can just sit around all day sipping coffee, but us gym teachers got some educating to prepare for!" He smirked and they said their goodbyes as he left.

Andrew still had some time, and so did Heather, so he stuck around. That wasn't unusual either. Each of them was fine hanging with just one of the others or with both. Andrew liked that. There wasn't an awkward side of their triangle.

"So," Heather said, her tone a little more serious now, "Paul said you... saw Mallory?"

Oh boy. Here we go.

He nodded. "Yeah."

She sighed and looked at him pityingly, like he was some kid who'd put his hand back on the stove immediately after getting burned by it the first time. "Andrew, why didn't you just leave?"

Now he sighed. He honestly wasn't sure himself.

"I guess... I guess I just figured that like, it's about time I... get used to it, you know? I'm gonna see her around. Should I just leave every time we happen to be in the same place?"

Heather was choosing her words carefully. He knew she was trying not to offend him, which he appreciated... but it also offended him a little bit.

"It's just... this happens to you, you know? You know that. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's something you're struggling with, Andrew. That's okay to admit." She looked at him warmly from across her desk. Stuffed into a fourth-grader-sized seat, it all only added to how much he already felt like he was being childish.

She hesitated, clearly wanting to ask him something, but again not sure how to phrase it.

"Andrew, can I ask you... why do you think she still has such an effect on you?" Her emerald eyes were kind, doing their best to let him know she wasn't trying to judge him for whatever the answer was.

He gave it some real thought -- more than he had in a while. Generally, he tried not to give it much thought if he could help it.

"I guess..." he started, searching a map of the United States on the wall for the answer, "it's just hard because every time I see her, I still see, like, my wife, you know?" He looked back at Heather now, a little surer of how to express what he was feeling. "I still see the woman who was happy with me, and all the moments we had over the years.

"I mean, things were good for a long time, you know? We dated basically through all of college, and then we got married. There were a lot of really great years there."

Heather nodded, though Andrew doubted she really knew the depth of what he was talking about. She'd never been married, never had that kind of connection before, as far as he knew anyway. But he continued, hoping that maybe saying it all out loud might help exorcise the feelings forever.

"You remember that, don't you? I mean, you knew her when things were still... still good," he said.

Heather had started at the school only a couple of years after Andrew and Paul, so she'd known him and Mal when they were still happy. But the look on Heather's face said she wasn't so sure.

"What?" Andrew asked, legitimately surprised she was already disagreeing. He knew she didn't like Mal, but they'd all been good friends first... hadn't they?

Heather pursed her lips tightly, moving them around as she tried to figure out how to respond.

"I... don't know that I ever really saw what you saw in Mallory," she finally said, diplomatically. "Don't get me wrong, I knew that you saw whatever it was, and that was good enough for me, but...." She put her palms upside down, letting that finish her thought.

That stung Andrew a little more than he thought it would.

Maybe she's just trying to tell me that for like, my own good or something?

He moved on. "I guess you just never really got to see her behind the scenes," he said, hoping that would suffice for a middle ground. Heather didn't push it... but Andrew still couldn't let it go. "I mean, I didn't fall in love with her because she was a shitty person, you know?" he said, a little too defensively.

Andrew took a deep breath, releasing it as he tried to see things more objectively -- or at least as objectively as he wanted to in this moment. "She was... I dunno, maybe you never really saw that side of her, but I fell in love with her because she was just so supportive -- so kind, caring." A wistful smile started spreading on his face. "Not just to me. She was just that kind of person."

Heather nodded, not lodging any protests this time, but her expression made it clear she was biting her tongue.

He sighed for what felt like the thousandth time already this morning. "So I guess, I mean, I still see that person when I see her, you know?" He looked at Heather pleadingly, hoping she really could understand that. Reluctantly, it seemed like she did.

"But... I also... I also see... everything she... she got me to... to do." He couldn't look at Heather now, his words coming slowly. He wasn't revealing any new secrets. Heather and Paul -- and his sister, Brooke, for that matter -- were well aware of everything that had led to his breakup with his wife. Every embarrassing detail.

The words caught in his throat as he tried to say out loud not even the things she'd insisted he do to her, but just the ways she'd gotten him to do them.

"The... teasing, cajoling... belittling... taunting... all while she fucked other guys?" He looked back at Heather now, knowing his eyes were glistening.

He swallowed hard, keeping himself from really flipping through those memories in any more detail than he already was. "I mean, I...." His voice was a whisper now, as if he didn't want someone to overhear, and his eyes were desperate as he asked the question out loud that had plagued him inside for years. "Why? Why wasn't I enough anymore? Why couldn't I give her what she needed?"

Heather's eyes were moist, too, as she got up and came around to Andrew, kneeling to his level and putting a hand on his.

Does she do this for her fourth graders, too? He almost wanted to laugh at the thought of how ridiculous he must've seemed... but unfortunately he probably looked too ridiculous to even be funny anymore, tearing up over the wreckage of his broken marriage in an undersized elementary school desk.

She waited patiently for him to make eye contact with her -- again, putting him in mind of how she must deal with her students. That didn't mean it didn't work.

"It's not your fault, Andrew. You know that," she said quietly.

"I-I know she was going through her own shit, and just taking it out on me," he said, "but... but every time I see her, or even just think about her, I can't help but think that... that the person who knew me best in the world, who loved me more than anyone else ever did... she... she figured out I was too... I dunno... too... too boring, too uninteresting, too..." he swallowed, trying to finally get out the last word, the one that really loomed over him late at night -- but he couldn't, and settled for a synonym instead, "too weak, or something."

Heather pulled him into as much of an embrace as she could while kneeling next to the desk, and he buried his face in her shoulder, feeling his tears wet her blouse.

Now all her students are gonna think she spilled something on herself -- a ludicrous thought for the moment, but the first thing that popped into his head.

"You know that's not true," she told him, her voice low but firm. "Whatever she didn't see in you, it's because of whatever was missing inside her. I promise you, Andrew." Heather kissed him on the head softly and they separated.

She kept her hands on his cheeks, looking him in the eyes as he wiped them.

"Hey, I'm proud of you for trying, though. Really," she said with an encouraging smile. "It's good you're in the headspace where you want to move on. That's progress."

Andrew had three older sisters, and Heather was like a fourth. Still, he felt his cheeks flush a little from her being so overtly affectionate in an elementary classroom.

Am I flushing because I'm embarrassed she's treating me that way, or because it really does make me feel a little better?

He slid out from behind the desk, squeezing her hand and letting out a deep sigh.

"Thanks... Heath--you know, there really isn't like, a shortened nickname for 'Heather,' is there."

She pondered for a second as she got up, straightening out her skirt.

"Wait, you mean 'hey bitch' isn't short for 'Heather??'" She looked mock-mortified and they laughed, as if the awkwardly tender moment never happened.

"Hey wait." He felt her hand on his shoulder and he turned back. "Seriously, Andrew. You went out and did stuff, you had fun with another girl, you're getting out there -- don't go back in, okay? Paul's not wrong. Gotta get out there and see what the universe of pussy has to offer, yeah?" She gave him another heartening smile.

He nodded self-effacingly, but she wasn't done, giving him a sharper look now. It was the look his actual sisters always gave him when he had fooled Mom, but didn't fool them.

"And don't just get attached to the first one who gives you a second look, okay? You deserve better." She patted him on the cheek mockingly, but with real sentiment behind it.

As the bell rang, signaling that the thundering horde was about to swarm down on them, Andrew nodded again. Maybe Heather was right.

Baby steps.

~~~

Chapter 7

[vibe track: lean on - major lazer & dj snake, feat. mø]

Cameron heard the front door creak open and close, even over Invasion of the Xurgons, some shitty black-and-white sci-fi movie from the '60s she had playing on her laptop. It was just background noise. Not a lot of action in their apartment on a Monday evening.

She was sitting on her mattress, rereading the email, trying to figure out what exactly it meant.

How much money do I have to make to not qualify? Do I fill this application out to find out, or only if I know I do qualify?

Her frustration was mounting, and the opening door meant that she was about to get even more frustrated.

Sure enough, Kendra poked her head around the doorframe, her hair one neat, long braid today.

But if I didn't want her to come in, I coulda just kept the door closed, couldn't I.

Kendra had been gone all day yesterday and most of today in Sacramento. She was pretty sure it'd been Sacramento, anyway.

To check out some cosmetology school? She wasn't certain that was right, but it rang a bell. Cameron had had other things on her mind.

She called up all of her patience now, though. Kendra always deserved better than Cameron gave her, so the least she could do was try... sometimes.

"Hey," she said. "How was Sacramento?" She lowered the volume on the movie.

Kendra took it as an invitation to come in and chat, which, Cameron supposed, it was.

"Eh, still mostly there, but I didn't bring my 'A' game." She smirked, eliciting a snort from Cameron, which was about as much as anyone could really hope for.

"Sooooooooo," Kendra said in the most annoying voice possible.

Fucking... why does everything have to always be a thing with her?

"You knowwww," Kendra said, trying to get into Cameron's eyeline, "you got it backwards. A sugar daddy's supposed to give you sugar, not stay at your shitty apartment and throw a fit about you not gettin' him milk and sugar."

"He didn't throw a fit." Cameron glared at her, and immediately regretted engaging.

Ugh, you always do. You always engage and then swear to yourself, "never again."

"Come on, I ain't never seen you make coffee for nobody," Kendra said, crossing her arms and smiling. "I'm your best friend! Can't you gimme a little somethin'? What's his name, how 'bout that, Selena?"

Cameron rolled her eyes. "Henry."

Kendra snorted. "Yeah, he looked like a Henry. Like he's an accountant or some shit."

"Teacher," Cameron corrected without thinking, eyes back down on her phone.

"Teacher?" Kendra smirked. "How'd he end up in your pussy? He get lost or somethin'?"

"Jesus, it was just a fucking thing that happened, okay?" Cameron snapped at her, looking up to drive home her point. "Is it really breaking fucking news if I do something a little bit nice for somebody once?!"

Kendra was unfazed by the outburst, as usual. "You really want me to answer that?"

That hurt. Only because they both knew no answer was necessary.

I'm such an asshole that when I fucking make coffee for someone else one fucking time, my best friend acts like I was having a fucking seizure or some shit. Fuck... and I'm being an asshole to her right now, too.

Tearing her gaze away from the arrival of the aluminum-foil-wrapped Xurgons on Earth, Cameron took a deep breath, put down her phone, and gave Kendra her full attention and her best effort.

"Look, please just -- please don't make a big deal out of it, okay?" she pleaded, exasperated that Kendra was pressing on something she didn't want to analyze too much. More than that, though, she just was dealing with more important shit right now. "I did a nice thing because he did a nice thing for me, okay? And fine, maybe I don't do that very often, but can you please, please not make me never wanna do something like that ever again? Just let it go."

Cameron was being earnest, and she hoped that was coming through. She wasn't sure because it wasn't something that came naturally. But she was... trying something new, even if it made her uncomfortable.

Kendra definitely noticed that Cameron was trying, and her expression softened, sitting down on the carpet across from her.

"... what did he do for you?"

She just can't help herself.

Cameron didn't answer, just picked her phone back up and rested her eyes on the cardboard cutouts that did double duty as massive planetary shields -- no match for the Xurgon onslaught.

The two friends mostly had similar tastes, especially in music, but Kendra had never understood Cameron's weird preoccupation with shitty old sci-fi. Cameron didn't really either, but sometimes she just wanted to relax with something that was goofy and stupid. Or maybe it was because they were the only videotapes that had worked in Gram's ancient VCR when she was a kid.

Kendra seemed to be doing some kind of math problem in her head or something, which took her only a few seconds of muttering to solve.

"Wait, was it Pussy Eater?? Gotta be. He's the only guy you've been around without me, I think."

Out of the corner of her eye, Cameron watched as Kendra appeared to remember what night she would've met Pussy Eater and what Cameron had found out that night.

"What did he do for you?" This time she said it quietly, softly.

Cameron wanted to explode, to yell at her to shut the fuck up.

I tried to be nice, I tried to explain my FUCKING feelings, and she just keeps fucking PUSHING. I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING TALK ABOUT IT, SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT IT GODDAMMIT!

But she didn't scream, didn't yell. That wasn't what she was really feeling, either, she knew. She was gonna be more honest with Kendra. Which scared the shit out of her.

"Kendra, just -- please, okay? Please don't push." She looked into Kendra's dark brown eyes, knowing her own were struggling to retain their shape. "I don't -- I don't want to think about it right now. That's it. Please drop it."

That only made Kendra look more concerned.

Yeah, not only am I handing out free coffee on Sunday mornings, I'm being like, open and shit with my feelings. Who the fuck am I, right?

Kendra didn't say anything more, though, just got up and put a hand on her friend's shoulder, giving it a squeeze, then turned to leave.

"Wait," Cameron said meekly. "Can you... help me? Please?" She couldn't remember ever saying "please" this many times in a whole week, much less one conversation. This one was the hardest.

Now Kendra looked even more alarmed. Not often was she left speechless, but she didn't say a word. As Cameron got to her feet, she handed over the phone and Kendra took it carefully, like a Xurgon death ray was liable to shoot out of it any second.

It showed the email from the county coroner's office. They'd gotten Cameron's email address somehow, maybe the same way her mom had, she didn't know. They wanted to know what to do with her mom's body.

The email was full of shit that hadn't ever occurred to Cameron. She'd never really thought about burial arrangements, things like that. Why should she have?

But it was apparently fucking expensive. It hadn't taken much Googling to figure out she sure as shit didn't have enough money to pay to bury her mom, not on her own. The email said that if she qualified, then the county might foot the bill for burying her in an unmarked grave. Or they'd hand her over to some science lab if she had the right... I dunno, the right kinda organs I guess?

Kendra looked up at her when she finished reading, sympathy in her eyes.

"I don't know, babygirl," she said, looking overwhelmed. Guess she never thought about it either. "You probably qualify, right? What you make at the call center probably ain't enough, is it?"

Cameron shrugged. "I don't know. It didn't say exactly, did it?" She wasn't totally sure. She knew she was poor, but was she poor enough?

Kendra shook her head.

"I looked around a little and there's no way I can pay for a burial," Cameron said. "It's like a couple thousand, at least. But... maybe I could swing cremation? I-I think maybe that could be like, under a thousand."

Cameron shrugged again, this time helplessly. She felt like a kid counting pennies, trying to figure out if she had enough to buy a house.

Kendra clearly didn't know any more than Cameron did. "Maybe ask Gram...?" She said it like she knew that was an obvious suggestion, so there must be a reason Cameron hadn't done it already.

And there was.

"She was my mom," Cameron said, slowly shaking her head, her gaze locked on the floor. "I wanna do this on my own. I just..." she gave another shrug, this one of surrender, and looked back up at her friend. "I don't know how."

Kendra reached out and hugged her, and Cameron didn't stop her.

"Cam, you don't wanna hear this, but I want you to know it, okay?" she said, not letting go. It was easier for Cameron to hear it without having to look in her eyes, whatever it was. "Don't you dare feel bad about whatever you do, cuz there ain't no way your mom would be sittin' here beatin' herself up over you the same way, you hear me?"

She pulled back, hands on Cameron's shoulders, maneuvering them into eye contact.

Kendra was braced like she expected her friend to get mad. Cameron supposed she deserved that.

Instead, she just nodded. Her mom hadn't even tried to see her in over a decade. She coulda done it anytime. But she didn't. Not until she was on her deathbed -- when it mattered to her. Not when Cameron needed her most.

Kendra embraced her again, and this time Cameron returned the hug, wrapping her arms tightly around the only person in the world she trusted to see her like this.

"But... I don't wanna be that way." She felt the tears drop out of her eyes, leaving fresh splotches on the carpet.

"I'm gonna be better than that."

~~~

Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying getting to know the characters as much as I have. I always love hearing what readers connect with (or don't!), but it's especially rewarding to hear when something really speaks to you personally. I hope that as we go along, there will be plenty that does (:

Arcadia