Lupine Dreams Pt. 12 Ch. 37-40

Chapter 37

[vibe track: never be like you - flume]

Cameron was still crying. She didn't think she'd ever run out of tears. It'd been hours. Hours since she'd ruined the last good thing she hadn't ruined yet.

Shuddering in the corner, she was somehow cold in the stuffy apartment. Her room had never felt emptier. She didn't know where everyone went. No party. No shitty roommates. No -- no Kendra.

Alone.

The photo on her phone taunted her again, drawing her eyes down for the millionth time. They'd been sitting right here, practically in the very same spot -- not even two weeks ago. She scrolled from one to the other.

She still wasn't sure which one she liked more, which one brought on more tears. Was it the one where they hadn't known Kendra was there, just the two of them quietly being with one another? Or was it the joy in her eyes behind the middle finger she was flashing to the camera?

The tears were inconclusive. They just kept coming. Cameron wasn't sure she'd ever been happier than at that moment. Or at least, that she'd ever felt so at peace. And that was probably better than happiness, anyway. Wasn't it?

A soft knock at the door snapped her attention up.

Kendra.

Cameron felt another sob in her throat and tried to choke it down. She wanted to run to her friend, to fall into her arms like she always could, and tell her how badly she'd fucked up.

But she'd already fucked things up with Kendra so bad that she couldn't.

The sob escaped. It only made Cameron angrier and more ashamed.

She just had to fucking pick RIGHT FUCKING NOW to walk in.

"Are you okay?" Kendra said quietly. There was only concern in her eyes. Maybe a little bit of pity.

Cameron exploded. "THE FUCK DO YOU CARE!" she spat out, spraying tears and snot that she hadn't bothered to wipe away. "I GOTTA FUCKING LEARN HOW TO DO THIS WITHOUT YOU ANYWAY. BETTER TO JUST FUCKING START NOW."

A part of her was just relieved there was something else she could focus her frustration onto.

But Kendra didn't react how Cameron had expected. Instead, she took a step into the room, her eyes blazing just like Henry's had.

"You know what? Fuck you, Cam," she scolded.

Cameron was shocked... again. Kendra had never said something like that to her before -- not meaning it, anyway. She'd been mad at her plenty but... never like this.

I'm fucking 2-for-2 today. There's literally no one's patience I can't wear out. Fucking bring it on, bitch. Go ahead.

Kendra kept getting closer, and Cameron felt her lips narrowing, her adrenaline starting to charge through her.

"You just keep pushing and pushing and pushing and PUSHING, don't you," Kendra said, like she'd been saving this up for a while. "That's just what you do, ain't it? 'Til you finally fucking push everybody away from you."

She was almost to Cameron now, then quickly closed the distance in a lunge, grabbing Cameron's hands and yanking her to her feet.

"Well you know what? Go ahead, Cam! Fucking push me! Try it!" She jammed Cameron's hands to her chest. Her eyes were goading. "PUSH ME AWAY CAMERON!" Kendra screamed into her face. "I FUCKING DARE YOU TO FUCKING TRY! BECAUSE YOU JUST KEEP TRYIN' IT, DON'T YOU!"

Cameron couldn't take it anymore. She shoved Kendra with all her strength, grunting with the effort, and Kendra toppled over, falling to the carpet. Cameron seethed, but Kendra barely hit the floor before she sprang back up -- stepping right back where she'd been, an inch from Cameron's face, pressing her chest into Cameron's.

"Keep fuckin' doin' it, Cameron!" she taunted. "You just fuckin' love it, don't you? Go a-fucking-ahead, bitch. Fucking push me!"

Kendra kept moving forward, boxing Cameron into the corner. Tears were still running down her face as she tried to figure out what the fuck her friend was doing. Kendra just kept yelling at her, then gave Cameron a little nudge in the shoulder.

That was enough. Cameron heaved her body into another shove, screaming out in frustration while she rammed into her target.

Kendra staggered back, but she didn't fall this time. That meant she was back in Cameron's face even faster, even closer.

Cameron tried to fight her off, but Kendra grabbed her wrists, pulling them against her chest, daring her to continue the game.

She didn't want to. She just wanted to get away. Kendra wouldn't let her do that either, gripping her arms tightly.

All Cameron could do was cower, sobbing harder.

"Leave me alone!" She heard herself whimper out the words as she shrank into the corner, finally pulling free and collapsing to the floor. "Goddammit, Kendra, please! Just go!"

She felt Kendra fall to the floor in front of her, but Cameron didn't want to look, burying her head under her arms -- the only place left she could hide. Through the shuddering convulsions of her body, she could still hear her pitiful begging for Kendra to leave her alone, as if from a far-off place.

Gradually, the voice got closer, until she felt arms around her -- Kendra's arms -- pulling her in. Cameron tried to push back, only managing to put her hands between them, her limp fists trapped against Kendra's chest.

"When are you gonna fucking realize you can't fucking push me away Cameron," she said, giving Cameron's whole body a shake. "You hear me? You can't fuckin' do it. You push me as hard as you want. You can't fuckin' do it."

Finally, Cameron surrendered, pressing her face into her best friend's chest and unleashing another cascade from her eyes as she inhaled the familiar, comforting scent.

Kendra was dressed like she'd picked out her outfit the night before. Her hair was straight today, a long sheet behind her. She hadn't collapsed without Cameron. She always kept everything together.

Even me.

Kendra cradled her sobbing friend, and Cameron finally latched on, wrapping her arms around Kendra in turn.

"Don't matter what you say, don't matter what you do, you fuckin' idiot," Kendra said. "Can't do it."

As Kendra released her, Cameron snorted and sniffed back as much as she could. Kendra's eyes were glassy behind her own undropped tears.

"This?" Kendra thrust her wrist next to Cameron's, shifting to sit next to her against the wall. "This is un-fucking-breakable. You're my sister. You hear me, Cameron?"

She gently turned Cameron's head to face her. "Always. No matter how much you try to fuck it up. I promise you." She smiled, and a tear finally dropped from her eyes. "Even from Sacramento."

Cameron sniffed again, not even trying to stanch the torrent that hadn't stopped for hours. "Yeah. I hear you," she said weakly. "And y-you're right. I know you're right."

She clung to her friend and leaned on Kendra one more time, who held her by her side, Cameron's head tucked against her chin.

"That's what's so frustratin' about you, Cam," Kendra said quietly. "You know what you do wrong, and you say, 'Oh, I wanna be better.' And you are -- for a while." She took her head away from Cameron's so she could make eye contact. "But you ain't never come knockin' on my door, have you? Not even once. Never. Because that ain't what you do. That'd be too much for you, to actually just go ask your best fucking friend for help.

"You just leave your door open and hope somebody walks in."

Cameron felt a new shame added to everything else now as she stared up at her friend.

"And that's okay!" Kendra backtracked. "I want to! That's you, and I love you."

Cameron rested her head against Kendra again, letting fresh tears fall while Kendra stroked her hair. "I know," Cameron said quietly.

Kendra sighed. "So what'd you do this time, babygirl."

"I... I said shit I can't repeat." Cameron shook her head slowly, her voice still quavering. "Wouldn't be fair to him. But... they're things I can't take back, and he... shouldn't forgive me for.

"I fucking ruined it, Kendra."

Another burst of shudders rattled through Cameron's body. Kendra nodded and sighed, resting her head back against the wall while she held Cameron close.

I didn't even have to say who. It's like she's not even surprised I fucked things up with Henry. And why should she be?

"Lemme run somethin' by you, Cam," Kendra said calmly, her fingers still raking gently through Cameron's hair. Cameron didn't look up. "Your mom put off seein' you her whole life. And by the time she decided to see you for real, it was too late. Couldn't be undone."

Cameron looked up now, not sure where this was going.

"She fucked up too bad," Kendra continued, "and she never got the chance to do shit about it, did she?" She looked down to Cameron now.

Cameron sputtered. "I... I waited too long to--"

"Girl, you know how I feel about that," Kendra interrupted dismissively. "Blame yourself if you want to, but your mama had your whole fuckin' life to make things right, didn't she? She fucking died alone because she never even tried to make things right with you, not really. She never came to you and said what you needed to hear -- not for herself, but for you. Instead, she waited 'til it was too late for both of you."

Kendra tapped Cameron on the chin, locking on her gaze. "You ever think your mom was just, ashamed as fuck? Didn't wanna see you because she was scared to see how you'd look at her?"

Cameron was about to respond... but stopped herself. No, she hadn't really considered that. But...

... if I had done what my mom did to me -- which, I never fucking would -- I'd... I'd probably just... cry in this room and... never do anything about it. Not until I was... in a hospital bed....

"You wanna keep doin' the same shit over and over? Fine," Kendra told her, making her sit up on her own. "You just stay in this room the rest of your life. But... you already had your hospital bed moment, didn't you."

Kendra reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, what looked like a receipt. Cameron recognized it instantly. It was a receipt. But on the back of it....

It was the list of regrets she'd written out that night before she'd taken too many pills with too much tequila.

A fresh round of shame brought a fresh round of tears. She looked away.

She hadn't meant for the list of things she wished she'd done differently -- the list of people she wished she'd treated better -- to be... what it must've looked like to Kendra when she'd found it.

"So... how's that goin' for you, huh?" Kendra said. She didn't even need to say anything about what was on the paper. Showing Cameron she had it was enough.

Cameron's cheeks burned. She couldn't make eye contact. Everything Kendra was saying was right.

She tried to wipe away some tears, but they were immediately replaced. "I'm... I'm fucking everything up, Kendra. Again and again. I don't... I don't want to." She knew her pleading was pathetic. It was all she could manage.

"I know you don't!" Kendra gave Cameron's shoulder a push, startling her into looking over. Her friend didn't look sympathetic, she looked... stern. "But you don't do nothin' about it! You just throw up your hands and go, 'Welp, I tried, and I fucked up, so that's just who I am I guess. Fuck it. Fuck everybody.' Well that ain't goin' so great, is it?"

"Goddammit, I know Kendra!" Cameron snapped. "You think I don't fucking hate myself enough right now already??"

"It ain't about that!"

"What the fuck do you want me to do then?" Cameron was earnestly begging now.

"Swallow your pride and face the fucking consequences!" Kendra seemed like she was begging, too. But for what, Cameron wasn't really sure. "You just say, 'Oh, I guess I fucked this up,' and then you add it to your little list of regrets, like there ain't nothin' you can do about it!"

Kendra wasn't done.

"You were gonna try to add me to the pile, too. You didn't even wanna try something like, you know, fucking talking to me on the goddamn phone when I move. Because that woulda meant you'd have to actually call me and say, 'Hey, Kendra, I need your help.' And we both know that wasn't gonna happen, was it?

"If I ain't here to see when you fallin' apart, then I guess we're just done, huh? That's what you were thinkin'?"

Cameron looked down in shame again. How much more of this was Kendra going to put her through? She knew she deserved every bit of it, but... right now she just was so....

"All because you can't just swallow your fucking pride to get what you want. And girl, if you can't do that once in a while, then you ain't never gonna get it from nobody but me."

Cameron nodded, covering her mess of a face with her hands. But she knew she couldn't hide from what Kendra was saying.

"Well? You gotta decide, Cam. You wanna keep comin' back here to this shitty little room and kickin' the shit outta yourself the rest of your life -- and then move on to the next thing that don't go perfect, and come right back here again?

"Or you wanna try somethin' different?"

Cameron let her hands slowly drop, wiping her nose, and looked up at Kendra. Of course she wanted something different.

It just... it just never fucking happens. Even when I really try.

"Huh? Do you?"

"He... he wouldn't even talk to me," Cameron said, her voice coming out as soft and weak as she felt. "He shouldn't even talk to me."

"Cam," Kendra sighed. "Ain't no promises in life. But I got three things to tell your thick ass, okay?" She knocked on Cameron's head to demonstrate her ass wasn't where she was thickest. Then she began ticking off the three things on her fingers. "First, not everything broken can be fixed, babygirl. But ain't nothin' ever got fixed without tryin' to fix it. You get me?"

Cameron nodded. She did. It was just--

"Number two, you really wanna 'be better' than how your mom treated you?"

Cameron nodded again. She really did. She just, wasn't sure she--

"Then maybe some things are worth doin' because they're worth doin' for somebody else, not because they're worth doin' for you."

Cameron lowered her head. Pretty much everything she did was about her. Even when she was determined to--

"Third," Kendra said, taking Cameron's face in her hands, forcing her to focus. Kendra's eyes were still tearing up, but they were kind -- imploring her friend to listen, to really listen. "Cameron, you underestimate how much people fucking love you. You think Sacramento's gonna stop me from being your best friend? You think that can stop us from being sisters?

"Fuck no. What's distance, huh? That ain't shit. Not when it comes to you and me."

She smiled at Cameron, but had more to say. "Now, I don't know teacher boy as good as I know you, but how 'bout you let him make the choice of how much he cares about you, instead of you doin' it for him, huh?"

Kendra pulled her into an embrace, hugging her tightly. Cameron closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around her friend. Her sister.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled between tears still slowly running down her face. "I'm so fucking sorry, Kendra. You're right. About everything. I'm gonna--" She stopped herself.

How many times am I gonna say I'm gonna be better? How many times until....

Kendra squeezed her tighter. "What'd I just say, huh? Ain't nobody ever got better without tryin' first," she whispered. "If you ain't there yet, don't mean you oughta stop. Gotta keep tryin', babygirl.

"As many times as it takes."

She'd wanted to believe that when Henry's sister had told her the same thing.

Cameron opened her eyes again, the unending stream of tears finally dried up.

Now, she needed to believe it.

~~~

Chapter 38

"Are you sure you don't want any of these?" Brooke was carefully sifting through the trash bag full of broken glass, plastic, and wood.

Into his pillow, Henry groaned in the affirmative. All those shattered memories would bring him now was pain.

"All right," his sister responded skeptically before she left the room, trash in hand.

He wasn't sure how long she was gone, but he realized she was back when she spoke to him from next to his nightstand.

"Oh what's this song, I kinda like it," she said, picking up his phone. He heard her gently sigh. "Henry's Playlist?" Brooke's fingers gently raked through his hair. "Oh, little brother."

He knew it was juvenile. She'd made him a playlist, to "update your musical taste." It was 36 tracks -- all songs that came out before 2000 mashed up with electronic dance music. Or something. He wasn't really sure what it was all called. He liked it, though. Or maybe he didn't. But it reminded him of her, and that was good enough. Or maybe bad enough. That distinction didn't matter to him anymore, either.

The bed depressed as his sister sat down next to him. She'd been here most of the afternoon and through the evening. Made him eat something. Fed Da Vinci. Spent a half hour on her hands and knees with a Dustbuster, doing her best to suck up all the broken shards left in the carpet.

Those fucking photo frames held double the bad memories -- the photos they contained, and the damage they'd eventually done just by continuing to exist. Well, they had, anyway. He should've smashed them, or at least gotten rid of them, a long time ago. Even if he knew damn well it wasn't the photos' fault.

Last night kept replaying on a loop in his head. He wished he could pause it and jump in -- and say all the things he wished he'd said but had been too... afraid? Stupid? Confused? He really had been ready to move on, to finally start this new phase of his life.

But when the moment came -- one about as on-the-fucking-nose as you can get -- he'd frozen up. He wasn't sure why he hadn't just helped Cameron smash all the photos she wanted. He so desperately wanted to be the Henry she saw in him. And yet, he just... did what he always did.

Fucking nothing. Just stood there like a little fucking kid hoping someone would take care of it all for you.

"I know," Brooke told him as if he'd said something, accompanied by another sympathetic sigh. "You feel like talking about it yet?"

Henry turned to her. He was sure his eyes were still red. They still felt swollen, anyway, even if the tears had finally run out. She didn't look at him with pity, like he thought she might, or even with disgust, as he would've at the sight of himself.

His sister looked at him like he'd been hurt -- and needed help.

"I couldn't give her what she needed," he mumbled, monotone. "Again."

The hers were different, but there was one common denominator.

Me.

He knew she'd needed a distraction, needed some escape. That was how she was. She hadn't been trying to get off on his inner turmoil. It wasn't about him. Not this time. He knew that, in his mind.

But in his heart...

I was so afraid it was happening again. And that... that she'd....

Then he'd made it happen anyway.

And when she'd finally said... those words... to him on her way out the door...

Maybe she finally saw who I really am.

That thought just wouldn't budge from his brain. Unmovable since the moment she'd left.

He could almost feel that bottomless pit inside himself gloating, neglected for far too long.

Warm tears started up again.

Brooke leaned down and brushed his matted hair aside so she could kiss his forehead. "Are you sure it's over?" she said quietly. "You two--"

"Yeah," he muttered, wiping away the new streaks on his cheeks. "Even if she didn't want it to be, I'm...." He took a breath and met her eyes. "I can't do that again. I can't go through this again, Brooke." He tried to sound determined, but he couldn't even convince himself.

His scratchy eyes pleaded with his sister.

"Is that why you've got Henry's Playlist on a loop?" The corner of her mouth twitched up as she continued running her fingers through his hair.

Henry's cheeks flushed and he did as good of a shrug as he could manage, letting a faint smile tug at the corner of his own mouth. "I'm..." he searched for the word, but Brooke supplied it for him.

"Com-pli-ca-ted," she said, smiling a little wider.

He snorted, and felt another tear form where he thought the well had run dry.

Brooke patted him again, then motioned for him to scoot over. Reluctantly, he did, giving his sister room to pull her legs up and stretch out on the bed next to him. Resting against the wall, she commandeered a pillow for her back.

Another track started on the playlist.

"You know, little brother, things seem so simple in the abstract. Especially before you've gone through the ringer. There's a right and there's a wrong, and there's a smart and there's a stupid.

"And then... there's love."

She turned to him now with a wry, tired grin. He gave her a wan smile back and sat up next to her.

Brooke took a deep breath, looking up at nothing in particular.

"Doug cheated on me."

Henry's mouth dropped slowly, and he took his sister's hand. She turned to him, still with that faint smile on her face.

"Oh, it was a long, long time ago," she said, using her other hand to wave off Henry's concern. He'd never heard anything about this before -- he'd had no idea there'd ever been anything but smooth sailing in Brooke's marriage. In Brooke's life.

She continued. "It was before we even got married, when we were dating. You know, he... he made a... a massive, huge mistake and... and it hurt. Of course it did." The tone in his sister's voice said it still hurt.

Henry gave her half a hug, and she patted him on the back. "Why didn't you tell me?" he said quietly as they separated.

Brooke's smile seemed almost embarrassed. "I didn't want you to think your indestructible big sister did something... stupid." She shrugged, her cheeks a little bit blushed and her eyes a little bit moist.

Henry felt his own face melt a little, and he squeezed her hand. "You know that's stupid, right?" he said, a smirk pulling at his lips.

She smiled more broadly and squeezed his hand back. "I just... didn't do what I would've told you to do. And I was... ashamed of that."

He furrowed his brow. "But you didn't tell me to leave Mal. Not once. Not in so many words, anyway."

"Because by that point, I'd been through it," Brooke responded, nodding slowly. "Well, not what you went through. But...." She looked back up at the ceiling with another sigh. "I could've cut bait when he told me. And he did tell me. I could've spent the rest of my life feeling perfectly justified about that. Everybody would've told me I was perfectly right to do it."

She turned to her brother again.

"But I didn't. It came down to whether we still loved each other. And... we did." She shrugged, letting a smile show again. "We were still the same people. And maybe that made it even stupider. My friends thought so, for sure. And they had a point. The man who hurt me to my very core -- he was still the same man, too."

Henry was still trying to get over the shock. He'd never imagined goofy-dad Doug doing something like that to his sister -- and couldn't have imagined his sister would've ever forgiven it.

"Why did you forgive him?" Henry said softly, then followed up immediately. "How did you forgive him?"

"You know, people love to talk in absolutes," she said with a thoughtful look. "'Oh, I'd never do this or that. Oh, I'd never stay with someone who cheated on me. Don't you have any self-respect?'" She shrugged again. "I didn't forgive him.

"But I still loved him, and he still loved me. So, we worked through it. We wanted to make it work, even when there was every excuse not to -- for the both of us." She held up a hand. "Which makes it sound like we did something noble or something -- we didn't. We did something stupid."

Henry started to protest, but Brooke kept going.

"I mean, we basically failed at that point, right? Before we were even married. But we just did the exact same thing anyway -- we trusted each other and we loved each other, and we tried again. And now we've got three kids and the life we imagined when we were younger. The life we wanted to build together."

She squeezed Henry's hand and her encouraging smile radiated through the teardrops on her cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Brooke," he said quietly. "I had no idea...." He kissed her, intercepting a tear, and she smiled at him warmly in response, like he was still a little kid trying to make her feel better.

"My point is, anyway, love and forgiveness don't make everything magically okay -- even after more than 20 years of marriage." She waggled his hand in hers, getting him to make eye contact. "There's no chorus of angels to let you know when you're doing something that'll work out. Nothing magically works out. It takes work -- and it never stops taking work.

"You're both gonna get hurt, and you're both gonna hurt each other. Because it's fucking hard."

She squeezed his hand again and smiled weakly. "That's why you pick someone you love to do it with."

Henry understood what she was saying... but not quite why. It must've shown on his face.

"Look," she continued, "that doesn't mean I made the right or the wrong decision -- although it's hard to see my kids and think I made the wrong one. And that doesn't mean somebody else should make the same decision. There are no absolutes, and there are no rules."

"That's why you never told me to dump Mal and run for the hills?"

Brooke smirked knowingly. "Would you have, if I'd told you to?"

Henry smirked back, conceding the answer and eliciting a snort from Brooke.

"I don't hate Mallory because -- well, I mean, you're my brother. I'm gonna hate anyone who hurts you. But I understood how bad you wanted to make it work. That's the only way to make it work. Even after you told me what she did... I understood how you could still wanna make it work." Her face hardened into cold stone. "I hate Mallory because she didn't fucking try. She didn't fucking do anything about it."

His sister turned toward him in the bed, looking him in the eye.

"Love isn't what you say, it's what you do. And Mallory kept saying she was sorry, but even just a couple of weeks ago, she still hadn't figured out how to stop hurting you, had she."

It wasn't really a question, but Henry nodded in agreement -- with that part, anyway. "So... what did Doug do? To show you could trust him, I mean?"

She sighed, pressing her lips together. Had she been hoping he wasn't going to ask that?

Brooke shook her head slowly with a slight smile. "See, you're trying to make rules again. There aren't any. People are 'com-pli-ca-ted.'"

Henry snorted, groaning as he threw himself back across the bed.

"That doesn't really help me, sis." He shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. Henry's Playlist looped back to the beginning. "I can't keep doing this. I don't want this to keep fucking happening." He wasn't sure who he was talking to now.

His sister's face appeared over his, decidedly unsympathetic.

"Can't keep doing what, exactly?" she said, poking him in the chest and getting him to frown. "Trusting someone who cares about you? Caring about someone you trust? You gonna just sit in here with your sense of rightness to keep you company?"

He didn't want to say it out loud but... yes. That's exactly what I was planning on doing. I don't trust myself to do anything else.

"I just keep doing the same damn thing over and over and over," he said, letting the frustration with himself bleed into his voice.

Her face softened a little. "What makes you you is how deep you care, little brother. It's why people care so much about you," she said, beginning to stroke his cheek. "If you think there's some mythical you inside who only exists when you're alone... then what's the point?"

Brooke kissed his forehead tenderly. "I wish you didn't hurt so bad because of it. But that comes with the territory. I wish I could take that away and leave you with nothing but the good parts -- but it doesn't work like that, either."

Henry sighed. The ache inside had dulled slightly, but it was creeping through him again, threatening to swallow him back inside its void.

"I just don't think I can trust anything I feel anymore." Through the tears starting to cloud his vision, he could still see his sister's warm brown eyes trying to make it all better. "Really. How... how did you know sticking with Doug was the right thing?"

Brooke shrugged again and looked at him seriously. He was searching for a secret where there wasn't one.

"I didn't," she said. "I don't know, little brother. I just looked in his eyes and I took a chance on him being the man I saw in him, instead of the man he was at his worst." She stroked his cheek again, maybe hoping that would suffice for comfort.

It didn't.

He'd thought the same thing about Mallory, but... it hadn't worked out. Even though he'd tried, he'd worked at it. For far too long. A small, shameful part of himself wanted to complain that it wasn't fair. Why should it work out for Brooke and not for me? But he stuffed that part down as quickly as he could.

Another streak appeared on his sister's cheek. "It tears me up that Mallory wasn't the woman you needed her to be. And that things with Cameron didn't work out, right when you were getting on your feet again." Her face reset to one of her warm smiles. "But you know what I'm taking away from all this?"

"What?" he croaked out, not sure how she would spin it, but sure she was trying to be as optimistic as possible.

"Literally the first person you met when you put yourself out there -- you couldn't have been more different, right? But you can't tell me that girl didn't care about you. Everybody does. That's you, Henry." His tears matched hers now, propelled by her word choice. "You make connections so deeply, and so easily. I admire that so much about you."

Her eyes said she wasn't exaggerating, even if he still didn't think that was necessarily a positive trait.

She kissed him gently on the cheek and patted his chest. "Maybe... maybe not everything that doesn't end in forever is a bad thing. Maybe not everything that ends in pain is a bad thing. Maybe you two were just who you both needed at this specific moment." His sister smiled at him wider. "I know that doesn't really make you feel better now. But... even when you're hurting like this, I hope you don't run away from what makes you so great.

"Don't forget who you are, Henry."

The phrase made him wince in a way his sister hadn't intended.

She kissed him one more time, then lowered herself to the floor.

"Now, think you can get out of bed long enough to make us some dinner?" She smirked at him as he sat up, wiping his eyes through an embarrassed smile. He nodded sheepishly, feeling as childish as ever as he followed his sister into the hallway. They parted when she went into the bathroom; he made his way lazily toward the kitchen.

And froze.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Absurdly, his first thought was that it was Mal -- the last person who knocked at his door uninvited.

But no, there was no way it was her.

And it certainly wasn't Cameron.

She doesn't knock.

There was no reason for it to be either of them anyway, except that they were simultaneously the surprise visitors he least wanted to see and most wanted to see right now -- only driving home how little he could trust his own heart.

Most likely, though, it was Paul or Heather -- reinforcements called in by his sister when he wasn't looking.

Ugh, because that's what I need right now. More witnesses.

Whoever it was, Da Vinci seemed unusually unconcerned, unmoving on the couch.

He opened the door, attempting to stifle his annoyance and trying to come up with a line to disarm Paul or Heather.

But Henry stiffened and felt the color drain from his face when he saw who was standing on his front stoop.

~~~

Chapter 39

[Vibe Track: Holdin On - Flume]

Henry couldn't do anything but stare.

Cameron's slouched silhouette tried to blend in with the cool, dark night. The moon was having trouble peeking through the inky black clouds, matching the color of her limp hair. Dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, she was huddled into herself, maybe from the temperature, maybe... maybe from something else.

But... but she never knocks, Henry thought to himself, as if trying to argue with the fact she was really there, in front of him.

She hadn't spoken a word, but her eyes were already pleading with him not to slam the door shut in her face.

"Please, Henry, I just... need to get this out, okay?" she said unsteadily, letting her voice follow the lead of her eyes. "Then... I'll... I'll leave you alone if you want. I promise." He felt like he hadn't heard that voice in years, even though he'd heard it loud and clear just yesterday. It sounded different now. More like the one he missed.

Henry couldn't really react one way or the other. Thoughts of another night -- of Mal showing up unannounced on his doorstep -- flashed through his mind. This time, though, there was no part of him screaming inside to shut the door and lock it. Maybe there should've been, he admitted to himself, but... there wasn't. That part of his brain was only petrified of whatever Cameron had come here to say.

The larger, dumber part of his brain... it just wanted a little longer with her. She'd hurt him so much... but he couldn't help it. The person he wanted to tell about it, to be around -- the person who made him feel calm when the storm was roiling around him -- she was standing right in front of him.

It was her eyes that unfroze him. They were imploring, begging him to trust her, just for now.

So he did, slowly moving aside.

Cameron shuffled past him, her head down as he shut the door again. She seemed unsure of where she wanted to go, stopping at the couch and leaning against the armrest.

Da Vinci interrupted whatever she was about to say, hopping down from his perch on the couch and stretching dramatically at her feet. She bent down and gave the cat an affectionate scratch behind the ear while he rubbed against her gray sweatpants.

She was anxious -- Henry could tell that much -- wringing her hands and darting her eyes around the room. But she finally took a deep breath and started with whatever it was she came here to say.

"I'm... I'm sorry Henry," she began. Her eyes still hadn't met his. Maybe she couldn't bear to. "I've... I've never been good at... this." She gestured around generally, then gave more explanation after another deep breath. "Whenever shit even looks like it might get real, I... I immediately try to fuck it up. Like... unconsciously or whatever. And then... I just... walk away."

Her eyes made their way to his, searching. He wasn't sure what she saw, but from her reaction, he was pretty sure it wasn't what she'd been hoping for.

What are you hoping for?

He tried to remain as blank as he could, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his flannel pajama bottoms.

"I'm so fucking sorry," she repeated, a rawness to her voice. "I'm so fucking sorry for what I said, for what I did. And... and I'm so fucking sorry that I left. You... you trusted me with... with you. And all I did was hurt you with it."

Her hands flexed at her sides, fidgeting as if she didn't know what to do with them, and she started to take a hesitant step forward. Henry reflexively took a matching step back, his expression unchanged as he watched her warily.

I've heard this speech before.

She tried to hide how much his backpedal seemed to hurt, but she couldn't. It showed in her eyes -- the eyes that were straining to hold back tears.

"You need to know, Henry, please -- none of that shit was true. None of it. I... I knew it would hurt you. That's the only reason I said it." Shame dripped from her quavering voice as she went on. "I just kept... pushing. I'm so fucking sorry, Henry. I always fuck things up, and then I run away, and I don't care what happens after.

"I fucked this up."

The tears she'd been suppressing finally appeared in her soft, pale blue eyes, even as her voice sounded more determined in its conviction.

"But I'm not running away. Not this time. I said all that shit and I can't... I can't take it back. I fucking so badly wish I could. But I can't. I just need you to know that it's bullshit. That's not who you are.

"You... you make me want to fucking try, Henry."

When she spoke again, the conviction had overcome the quavering, even as both continued.

"Don't ever think you're... you're... you're anything less than... compassionate, and caring, and-and... and strong," she said, like she was trying to find words she didn't know. "Since the first night we met, Henry, you showed me... fuck... I don't...." Now it seemed like she really didn't know what words to say next, looking around as if the right ones were waiting to be found somewhere on the walls.

Henry tried to keep his own impulses in check. All he could see was this woman he cared about, crying in front of him.

It took all his willpower not to blabber out how sorry he was, how stupid he'd been -- to try and get out all at once how deeply he regretted that he'd made her doubt how much he cared about her, how much he wished he could be the man she'd thought he was.

But he hadn't been lying to his sister. He didn't want to go through this again. He didn't trust himself enough, not when he'd so disastrously misjudged Mal after an apology just like the one Cameron was giving. And not after... after last night.

More tears poured out of her as she threw out her hands, unable to come up with whatever it was she was trying to articulate.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, okay?" Cameron blurted, arms spread in surrender as she spat tears that dripped into her mouth. "You're... I mean... well, you're like, lame, obviously," she said, gesturing at his pajamas.

Henry snorted, unable to help himself, and that seemed to free something up inside Cameron, letting a crooked little smile break through her tears.

"But, like, you're funny -- sometimes -- and... and you like watching shitty sci-fi movies, and... and I like that you're a teacher, that you do something that matters and that you believe in so much, that people look up to you for. And... and I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking and it makes me feel... fucking uncomfortable in the fucking best way, okay?"

He felt tears start to well up in his own eyes as she kept going, taking a step closer to him as she went.

"And... and you don't ask me the shit you know I don't want you to ask me. But... for some reason, I... I fucking wanna tell you that shit anyway. And you've... you've never, ever, even once, brought up the... the thing we don't talk about or, or looked at me any differently."

Henry knew what she meant, and the memory of seeing her in the hospital bed made his tears fall. He wiped them away, shuffling his feet as if that would hide them from her, like he was just fidgeting naturally.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to keep his composure, he looked up again. When he saw her snub-nosed face, the familiar silver rings on her sharp, dark eyebrows, the square stud in her nostril, her face tear-streaked and contorted into an earnest plea -- he didn't even try to stop himself from crying outright, too.

She was close to him now, her voice trying to fight through the sob she was keeping inside -- and threatening to unleash. "I keep saying I'm gonna be better and I'm gonna be better and I'm gonna be better -- and...." She thrust her arms out again in an exasperated shrug at herself.

Cameron peered up into his eyes, the corner of her mouth an embattled quiver. "I... I know I'm... umm... a lot," she said, gesturing to herself. A laughing snort burst out of him and she let out her own, putting both their tears on pause for just a second.

Her eyes beckoned to him, the same steely blue that always looked so inviting, so warm despite the cold that iced them over when they were trained on the rest of the world.

"I can't... I can't promise I'd never hurt you again." Their eyes always seemed to be having a separate conversation, and hers told him she wished, more than anything, she could make that promise. She settled for a different one.

"But I promise you, Henry, I'm never running away from you again. And I promise, even if this is it for us..." she seemed to choke back another sob at the thought of this being the last time they ever spoke, "I'm never going to stop trying to be the person you make me feel like I am when you look at me."

He realized he must've drifted toward her, too, because they were close enough now that she could reach a hand to his heated cheek... and he didn't pull away.

But a small part of him finally spoke up in the corner of his mind.

How do I know this isn't just like Mal? How do I know I'm not just making the same fucking mistake again?

As if in answer, everything Brooke had told him finally started to make sense -- only now that he could stare into Cameron's wet, reddened eyes. There was no magic answer, no secret, no clue hidden in the steely blue telling him what the future would bring -- and whether he could really trust the woman he so badly wanted to. Or, more importantly, himself.

There was just someone he'd trusted, desperate for him to care -- and someone who cared about him, begging him to trust her one more time.

"I'm not walking away," she said, her voice as gentle as her palm on his face. "I wanna... I wanna try, Henry. You make me wanna keep trying as... as many times as it takes until I... until I get it right."

Their eyes made their own agreement, and Henry let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, leaning into her touch. He reached for Cameron, slowly and hesitantly wrapping his arms around her. She returned the hug tightly, crying into his shoulder and he let his tears darken her sweatshirt.

He felt his body convulsing quietly in her arms, all the stress and pain melting out of him. The relief of fitting into her embrace again calmed so much of the anxiety and self-loathing that had dominated him since they last saw each other. Even as tears continued to pour from her eyes onto his shirt, he could feel the same relief in her muscles, relaxing at his touch in turn.

Their short, intense relationship replayed over and over in his head. He didn't want it to end. And he could feel it -- he'd seen it in her eyes -- neither did she.

"I wanna try, too," he whispered into her ear, hoping that would suffice for all the things he wished he'd had the courage to say and do -- but hadn't. He grasped her body to him through the thick, gray sweatshirt dotted with both of their tears. "Until... until we get it right."

They held each other in front of the door for what felt like minutes, the two of them crying into each other's arms until finally they were both still -- but held together just as closely.

Henry was so wrapped up in her that he almost didn't hear the soft click of the bathroom door opening, at first only catching the movement out of the corner of his eye. He let Cameron go, and she whipped around to see his sister wearing an embarrassed, apologetic look, quickly closing the distance from the bathroom to the living room in an exaggerated tiptoe.

"Heeyyyyy Cameron, nice to see you," Brooke said in a tone reserved for the awkwardest of moments. She patted Cameron on the shoulder as she walked past them both. "Hey good speech, by the way. Just gonna... graaab my jacket there--" she reached between them to take her jacket from the coat tree next to the door, then quickly pecked Henry on the cheek "--you two have a good night."

Brooke winked at them both and shut the door on her way out.

Henry felt the corner of his mouth tug upward in a smile while they stared at each other in bemusement -- and they laughed, bursting through the messes on their faces.

Cameron beamed back at him through the remains of snot, and guilt, and relief. Her eyes -- more blue than steel -- glowed, threatening to burn away all the remnants of her tears, showing no hurry to leave his gaze. They had nowhere else to be. Nowhere else they wanted to be. Just like his own.

There wasn't really a need for words, not anymore.

She pulled him back into her, reaching up to cradle his neck, clutching at him tightly.

Nothing about them was a perfect fit. No, there was no telling what the future would hold -- he knew his sister had been right about that. But in this moment, in Cameron's arms, Henry also knew she'd been right about taking a chance, and trying. He was ready to do both. This time, for the right reasons -- and with the right person.

He could feel it in her body, in the way she allowed herself to lean into him and in the way she held him now -- not just comfortable at his touch, but welcoming him into the safety of her embrace. They'd been through so much in such a short time. The woman who held him now with such care and longing was almost nothing like the woman who had first stood on his doorstep just six weeks ago -- with no one but a stranger to hold her when she'd needed it most.

They'd both practically been different people then. People who hadn't been ready to face what they'd had to face alone -- Selena and Andrew. Or was that Marvin?

He raised his head from her shoulder, gazing again into her still-swollen eyes. He knew his must have been the same.

And Cameron kissed him -- gently, deeply, her tongue running along his lips, tasting the salt of his tears as it said everything that needed to be said.

Yes, they were still those people, too, the fragile people they'd both been trying so hard to escape -- somewhere inside. But, together, like one of her mashups, they were also, finally, something more.

The Henry and Cameron they wanted to be -- chose to be -- secure in each other's arms.

~~~

Chapter 40: Epilogue

[vibe track: diamond veins feat. sarah rebecca - french 79]

Cameron ran her fingers over the moon tattoo on the left side of her chest, half of it covered by her V-neck. It had long since healed, but the sight was still new to her, like a change in a landscape she'd been so familiar with for so long. That wasn't what had drawn her fingers to it, though.

All the other tattoos on her body represented things she never wanted to be able to forget, promises made to her that she considered unbreakable -- even the ones that had been broken.

But the moon over her heart, that was a promise she'd made to someone else -- the only one inked into her story. And she was determined to never, ever break it.

She needed that reminder now more than ever. Cameron was used to living in a cramped apartment that was constantly filled to the brim with obnoxious strangers -- but somehow, none of that chaos had prepared her for Thanksgiving with Henry's family.

Dinner had been... an adventure. Unlike Brooke, Henry's other two sisters were decidedly unimpressed with Cameron -- and hadn't tried especially hard to hide it. She wasn't sure which had made Henry more livid: when Natalie had pointedly asked Cameron if she'd graduated from college yet, or just having to listen to his nieces and nephews chewing.

Cameron herself hadn't handled it poorly, she thought. Though on the inside she wanted to explode, on the outside she managed to stay calm and collected.

This isn't about you, it's about Henry. You're gonna be better. You're gonna be better.

Still, it hurt that Henry had been so easily accepted by the two people in Cameron's life whose opinions mattered to her. After Brooke had reminded her so much of Henry, she'd let herself imagine that maybe she could...

What, be a part of his family? A few months after you met the guy?

They were only staying one night here, which Cameron was now even more thankful for. She'd been, of course, her usual ball of anxiousness in the week leading up to her first visit with Henry's family. He'd tried to both soothe her fears and also prepare her a little, warning her that his mom was Italian. As if that were supposed to be some sort of explanation on its own.

But Cameron was finding out now that being around a lot of loud people wasn't the same as being around a family of loud people.

There was no way for her to blend in and take a breath. If it wasn't one of his sisters, it was a niece or a nephew -- all of them constantly encroaching on one or the other of them, either wanting to hang with Uncle Henry or to get a closer look at the weird girl he'd brought home with him who was closer in age to a few of them than to their uncle.

She knew where his sisters stood, that was for sure. His mom, though... Cameron had no idea. Diana was probably around the same age as Gram, and seemed to be made of the same sort of stuff. There was something about her that made it clear she wasn't to be fucked with.

Is that something I just like, get when I get old? Or do I have to do something special to get that for myself?

Henry's mother's short hair was darker than her children's, even at her age, though there was a stately white starting to spread from her temples. She wasn't as thin as Gram, but had a wiriness to her that Cameron had felt a little too clearly when Diana had greeted her with a full-body hug. Henry had warned her about that, too.

But her eyes always looked even kinder than Henry's -- warmer, but wearier. Cameron would've looked at them longer if she hadn't been sure it would've led to a conversation. She was trying to avoid that kind of thing as much as possible.

Other than that, though, the older woman's expression had stayed unreadable the entire night, just kind of taking everything in. Or maybe more like quietly basking in the family chaos.

Cameron sighed. She needed a cigarette, but she'd been good about not lighting one up. Now wasn't the time to break. Instead, she was standing in the little hallway outside the bathroom and next to the kitchen -- one of the only places in Henry's mom's house where there weren't people underfoot -- trying to reset herself as best she could.

Her reverie was interrupted by some clattering of dishes in the kitchen. She didn't have to strain to hear Henry's sisters, Natalie and Eleanor, chatting while they cleaned up.

Shit, I probably should have offered to help.

She was about to walk into the kitchen and do just that when she realized their conversation was about Henry.

"--weird to call him 'Henry' again," Natalie said.

"Yeah." That was Eleanor, Henry's youngest sister who was only a couple of years older than him. Eleanor was shorter than Brooke, but had similar sharp features. On Brooke they looked bony. On Eleanor, they seemed more like... weapons -- ones that had been mostly trained on Cameron all night, it felt like.

She and Henry had apparently been very close, but then... weren't anymore. Henry hadn't gone into detail, but Cameron had a feeling it had something to do with Mal.

As usual.

"Do you think it's because... you know...." Natalie asked, without actually saying the most important part.

"Of course," Eleanor responded after a beat. She let out an exasperated sigh. "I thought we were finally gonna get him back -- I haven't even been to one of these in like, what, almost 10 years? And then he shows up with... with another one." A dish slammed to the counter.

While Natalie had been passive-aggressive at dinner, Eleanor had been about as silent as Cameron -- but her eyes had rarely left Cameron or Henry.

"Come on, we don't even--"

"He's going by Henry again, and she's... I mean, did you see her, Nat?!" Eleanor wasn't even trying to keep her voice down now. "He's too much of a fucking pussy to make any decisions for himself. I thought it was Mallory, but you know what? I was wrong. It's him. Now he's got some punk bitch running his life for him. Whatever. I knew I shouldn't have come."

Cameron couldn't stand by any longer. She wasn't going to let herself get trapped in the bushes this time.

"Don't call him that," she said in an even tone, striding into the kitchen. The two sisters were there, but Cameron was surprised to see Henry's mom there, too. Still, she meant what she said, no matter who was there to hear it.

She turned to Eleanor, keeping her eyes steady. Henry's youngest sister didn't seem like she cared Cameron had overheard -- not even a little bit.

"Call me whatever you want, I don't... care," Cameron said, a controlled edge to her voice as she made a conscious effort not to swear -- just in case that sort of thing was as frowned upon by Henry's mom as it was by Gram. "But if you think your brother is some kinda pussy, you don't know him."

Eleanor's eyes didn't look as warm as Henry's -- they were hard and honed. She took a step toward Cameron. "And you do?" she challenged.

Cameron didn't hesitate. "Yeah."

Eleanor snorted. "You're a fucking child," she said, rolling her eyes tauntingly. "You don't know shit, and you definitely don't know shit about my brother."

She brushed past Cameron on her way out of the kitchen, making sure to catch part of Cameron's shoulder as she did.

Cameron's blood was boiling, but she tried to keep a lid on it.

It's not about you. You're gonna be better. It's not about you. You're gonna be better.

Natalie's mouth was hanging open in apologetic shock as she watched the scene unfold. Henry's mom sported a pained, ever-so-slight frown, but otherwise hadn't reacted whatsoever. She seemed more like she was interested in what would happen next.

Seething inside, Cameron knew she couldn't go back out the same way Eleanor had, so she slid open the sliding glass door on the far side of the kitchen and closed it again behind her, shivering at the cold night air.

She wanted to scream, but knew everyone inside would still be able to hear her, so she made do with walking around the corner where no one could see. Bending over to pummel the dead grass a few times with her fist didn't do much to make her feel better. But at least it hadn't hurt her fists.

Closing her eyes, Cameron tried to make the frustration melt away. She was tired of the people close to Henry talking about him that way. Tired of being the only one who saw how much strength he had inside to deal with the shit he carried with him every day -- and how much stronger he made her feel.

They all say how fucking much they love Henry, but then they always talk about him like he's a fucking child who can't be trusted to make his own decisions.

Reflexively, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the flattened cigarette she kept there. She didn't even carry a lighter with her anymore, but just holding the cigarette helped. It didn't really help warm her up, though.

The squeak of the sliding door signaled she was about to have company, making her groan inside. She wasn't looking for an audience.

Around the corner came Henry's mother, walking at the deliberate pace of someone her age and carrying a knitted cardigan that was the same style as one she'd put on herself. Cameron quickly hid the cigarette behind her back as Diana handed her the sweater with a little smile. It was pastel peach... not exactly her color.

"Umm... thanks," Cameron mumbled. She put it on, trying to conceal the cigarette in her palm while she did. It did feel warmer, at least.

To her surprise, Henry's mother produced a cigarette of her own and lit it, then offered her lighter to Cameron.

"Umm... no, I'm... I'm quitting. I just hold it." She demonstrated with a look she hoped conveyed that she knew it was stupid.

The older woman shrugged and tucked the lighter away.

The two of them went through the motions -- Cameron just pretending, and Henry's mom for real -- while they gazed up at the gleaming full moon above them. It was a clear, crisp night.

"Quitting, that is good." The old woman nodded. She had come over from Italy as a young woman and still had the accent. "Why are you quitting?" She turned to Cameron with another unreadable expression. The question sounded as casual as if it were about the weather.

Cameron took a beat before responding. "Henry."

His mother nodded slowly, as if she'd already known the answer, and took another drag. "My two younger daughters," she gestured back toward the kitchen, "they... they live their lives in the sunshine. They don't know what it's like to live any other way."

Diana inhaled from her cigarette again, giving Cameron a sidelong glance, then pointed her cigarette at her. "You, though, Cameron," the few times she'd said Cameron's name, it was always Cam-er-on with three distinct syllables, "you are what my grandmother would call, 'tette di ferro.'"

A smile crept onto Diana's lined face from the corners of her lips. "Iron tits."

Cameron had to wait a second to make sure she'd heard correctly -- and felt a grin break out on her face that quickly grew into a laugh. Henry's mom started to chuckle too, only encouraging Cameron further as the two women laughed together in the moonlight.

The Italian woman took another puff as her clever grin subsided, blowing smoke out over her backyard.

"Does Henry know you smoke?" Cameron asked her.

She turned to Cameron with puckered lips and scrunched-up eyebrows, shaking her head. "No." She winked. "I don't smoke."

With a snort, Cameron held her unlit cigarette to her mouth.

After another drag, Henry's mother sighed, turning a curious look to the dour, tattooed young woman next to her. "Are you and Henry happy?"

Cameron could feel her face give away how confused she was by the question. She wasn't sure how to answer it.

Did Henry tell her something? He wouldn't talk to his mom about our... no, no way.

She and Henry certainly had plenty of happy moments together, and she was sure they'd have more. But not every moment was happy. And they already were facing their share of challenges together, too. He was still married, for one. And for another... well, she didn't want to dwell on it here. Not now.

Even more importantly, though, when she thought of Henry, she felt warm inside, comfortable, secure. That wasn't happy, exactly, but... Cameron couldn't remember another time in her life when she felt...

Like I don't hate the reflection in the mirror. Like I'm not... fragile.

On balance, what did that mean? She wasn't sure she'd ever really asked herself that question, not in terms of happy.

So she just shrugged, trying to be honest. "I guess," she said, but his mother was already nodding before Cameron had even gotten any words out.

"This is good, this is good. Happy is good." The older woman gestured inside again. "My daughters' father -- he and I were like this. We were... happy." The end of her cigarette lit her face in a soft glow when she inhaled again.

Cameron asked what she felt like was the question she'd been led to. "What about Henry's dad?"

"Henry's father, Andrew," the woman paused for a moment, looking far away, then returned to Cameron with a wistful smile. "We both had been married before. We knew life was not all sunshine. Were we happy?" She shrugged now just as Cameron had. "Sometimes. But it is easy to be happy in the sunshine, no?

"When it is dark, when you can't see in front of your face... well... there are more important things than happiness, yes?"

Her keen eyes lingered on the wolf's jaws on Cameron's neck and the moon peeking out from beneath the unbuttoned cardigan.

Diana's gaze drifted back to the real moon over them, gesturing at it with her cigarette as she exhaled.

"I asked my grandmother once, 'Nonna, why do wolves howl at the moon?'" She gave a half-smile to Cameron. "She said to me, 'Can you see in the dark? No? Well, neither can the moon, and neither can the wolf. So how would you like to not be able to see anyone else, or even yourself, hmm?'"

Cameron assumed this was supposed to mean something to her -- yeah, we get it, lady, I'm the wolf, right? -- but she had no idea where it was going.

"One night," Henry's mom continued, "one animal grew frustrated from not even knowing what it was. It wasn't like the others, you see. It tried to sleep during the day, when the sun was out. And when it did, it dreamt. It dreamt of a shining light so it could see at night, when everything else was always asleep or in hiding -- waiting for the sun to return.

"But when the animal awoke, there was no light, and it couldn't see. It couldn't even see the others of its kind to know if it was a rabbit, or a dog, or a bird. And so, it howled. And the moon heard its howls, because the moon was always listening -- listening for the howl from its dreams."

The heavy accent only made the story somehow seem more vivid.

"And so the moon began to shine, for she finally had a reason," Diana said, letting her smile spread across her features. "The animal, he saw the moon shining there in the sky, and he howled louder so the moon would shine down on him.

"And every time the sun disappeared, the wolf sang to the moon, and the moon shone on the wolf, and they reminded each other of who they were -- especially in the coldest, darkest night."

Henry's mother let the quiet of the cool evening around them speak for a moment. There were muffled sounds from inside, but out at this house, everything was even quieter than in Henry's neighborhood -- the stars, and the moon, even brighter.

Cameron mimed taking a drag from her own prop, not caring how ridiculous it felt. No one had ever told her that story before, but she felt like she knew it all the same -- like the older woman had somehow read it aloud from writing on Cameron's soul.

Or inked on my body.

Even though she'd never been told the story, Cameron had always been sure about the part in it she played. Now, though... she realized she'd been someone else all along.

She slipped her fingers under the cardigan that covered the permanent reminder tattooed over her heart. It was the promise of a moon, she knew now, made during that dark night in her apartment weeks ago, to a howling wolf who didn't know who he was -- but who made her want to shine so bright he'd never forget.

The woman with the wolf tattoos blinked back a tear and felt herself stand just a little bit straighter as Diana stepped closer to her, both gazing up at the full moon.

"Did your grandma really tell you that story?" Cameron asked quietly of the woman next to her.

With a glimmer in one of her brown eyes, she shrugged. "Why not?"

The corner of Cameron's mouth twitched upward.

They watched the moon above together until the lit cigarette was almost gone, and Diana broke the silence in a voice that reminded Cameron of Henry's low, calming tone late in a dark night.

"It makes me... happy --" Henry's mother stressed the irony of using the word -- "my son has someone to remind him who he is when he can't see for himself." She turned to the siding of the house behind them and put out the remains of her cigarette on a dark spot that said it wasn't the first time.

When Diana's gaze returned, her eyes seemed to see into Cameron in a way that surprised her. Not even Henry looked at her like that. "Every mother just wants to know her child is safe and loved. The rest is..." she took a deep breath of the crisp night air and gave Cameron a warm smile, "sunshine."

Cameron sputtered as if she had really been smoking and had inhaled down the wrong pipe. "I... I didn't say I... you know." She didn't even want to repeat the word. She was doing her best to be more open with her emotions, but there were some things she still wasn't ready for -- even to herself.

Henry's mom just smirked at her. "Right. And I don't smoke." Then a twinkle returned to her eye. "But... what makes you think I was talking about him, hm?" She patted Cameron on the cheek with a hand of bony leather while the meaning sunk in.

The hairs on the back of Cameron's neck stood on end and she swallowed dryly, stuffing her own cigarette back into her pocket.

Is that... really all she would've wanted? To... to know that I was... okay?

A tear rolled down Cameron's cheek while Diana's face formed a familiar half-smile from one corner of her mouth. It was so much like Henry's, but with so many more smiles behind it, so many more years -- and not all of them could have been worth smiling about. Cameron felt the older woman take her hand and squeeze it gently. She didn't take it away.

But when they heard the sliding door open again, Diana held Cameron's gaze for just one more beat before dropping her hand and walking toward the visitor -- meeting Henry at the corner.

"Well, well, well," he said, grinning at them both. He seemed oblivious, then, to what had driven Cameron outside in the first place. "What are you two up to out here?"

His mom turned to Cameron and winked before responding. "Just... admiring the moon." She kissed her son on the cheek and headed back inside.

Cameron knew her eyes would probably betray her, but maybe she could just pretend it was the cold making them water again. Or that one of Henry's sisters had made her cry. She wanted to laugh at the thought, but kept that inside, too.

Henry smiled at her -- that secret little half-smile that was just for her -- and all the other bullshit melted away as he took her hand, kissing her on the cheek. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she said.

He tilted his head so he could see her. "You okay? You don't look too happy."

She looked up into his deep brown eyes. They were even more familiar landscape by this point, safe and welcoming. At the moment, they seemed to be wondering which of the many landmines at this family holiday had blown up in his girlfriend's face, rather than if.

But she smiled back, unreservedly. She didn't try to stop the tear that fell from the corner of her eye, either, letting the grin settle onto her features at the same time. There was nowhere she would rather have been -- no matter what it took to get here.

She kissed Henry gently, letting her lips and tongue tell him she was ready for the days to come -- the sunny ones and the dark ones -- as long as they were with him.

Did that mean she was happy?

"No," she eventually responded as their lips separated, Henry's face lit by the shining moon.

"I'm better than that."

And Cameron was sure, at last, that she was.

~~~

Thank you so much for reading (:

I'll write more stories in the future, but none will be as special to me as this one. Writing and sharing Lupine Dreams has been such an intensely personal experience with so much of my soul poured onto the page. I hope many more readers find their way here over the years and discover something that speaks to them, but all of you who have been reading along as I've been posting -- as dumb as it sounds -- you'll always be an indelible part of the memory of this special experience for me (: Thank you.

Lupine Dreams was inspired by people, perhaps like me (: P), who have trouble even fantasizing about truly happy endings, and instead dream only of the love that helps make the daily struggle against all of life's obstacles -- inside and out -- a little bit easier. I hope someone, somewhere found a cold, dark night just a little bit warmer and just a little bit brighter because of Cameron and Henry. I know I did.

If you found something in Lupine Dreams that spoke to you, it would mean the world to me if you'd let me know in a comment or message. The world can be a lonely place -- especially if you can't see how many others out there are just like you (hey that sounds familiar! : P).

Finally, will we hear more from Cameron and Henry in the future? Maybe! I hope so (: I know in broad strokes where their story goes, but until I know exactly what they have to say next, I wouldn't want to disturb them. Maybe in a few years (;

Thanks again for trusting me to take you on this roller coaster of a journey together (:

Arcadia