Wish You Were Mine

by Tara Sivec

  As soon as I push open the front door, I’m hit with a wave of nostalgia that makes me regret every day I spent away from this place. When Cameron’s parents remodeled the old plantation house that her mother grew up in, she littered the walls with hundreds of photos of campers and staff. I slowly make my way through the foyer, feeling a knot form in my chest when I see Cameron has hung up newer photos. Some with her in them, with kids I don’t recognize. Some with a few of the new employees I met when I wandered around the camp, introducing myself and making sure everyone understood what was going on with Stratford and the little lie we’d told him. No one even batted an eye when I told them about the ruse they’d all have to keep up when he was around. They were so in love with Cameron and her parents and proud to be part of this camp, they’d do just about anything for them.

  I pause in front of a candid photo of Cameron squatting down, speaking to a child around the age of five. She has her hands on the little girl’s hips and her head is dipped low so she can make eye contact with her. There’s a soft smile on Cameron’s face, and I’m sure she was probably reassuring the little girl that she didn’t need to be scared and she would have a ton of fun at camp. Cameron was always good at easing people’s fears. Making them feel special, and even though there were a hundred other children begging for her attention, when she focused on you, the whole world melted away. She always knew exactly what to say to make you feel like you were on top of the world.

  “We aren’t friends anymore, you made sure of that. Just because you know this camp and you know how much it means to me doesn’t mean you get a free pass for being an asshole.”

  I think about the words she said to me before she walked away this afternoon and realize she also knows exactly what to say to cut you to the quick, too. I fucked up thinking I could just show up out of the blue like this. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. She needs my help whether she wants to admit it or not. I know doing this isn’t going to fix our problems, but it will give me a chance to spend time with her and show her I can still be a good friend to her.

  “Mr. Everett, you’re home!”

  I turn when I hear my name, smiling when I see an older woman coming out of the kitchen with a huge covered pot in her hand, her full head of white hair pulled back in its usual bun at the nape of her neck, wearing the same blue and white checkered apron she’s worn since we were kids.

  Walking quickly over to her, I try to take the pot out of her hand to help her, but she moves out of my reach.

  “You’ve been gone too long. You seemed to have forgotten I don’t let anyone help me serve dinner.”

  I laugh, nodding my head at the woman who has been cooking for Camp Rylan since it opened.

  “Oh, I remember, Mrs. Michaels. I just thought you might have gotten softer in the last few years,” I joke.

  She glares at me, something that used to scare the shit out of Cameron, Aiden, and me when we were younger.

  “The day I become soft…the kids in this place would walk all over me,” she complains, even though everyone knows she actually does have a soft spot for the kids that come to this camp, even if she puts up a good front of being stern. “Now, go make yourself useful. That odd Stratford fellow is already in the dining hall and I’m just finishing up serving the food. Go find Cameron and tell her it’s time to eat. I think I saw her go into the office a little while ago.”

  Mrs. Michaels hustles away from me, down the main hall, and into the dining hall, while I follow behind her in search of Cameron. I find her right where Mrs. Michaels said she was, in the office right across the hall from the dining area. I pause in the doorway when I see her on the other side of the room, with her back to me, staring at the wall.

  She’s exchanged her jeans, boots, and tank top for a dark teal wrap dress, her bare legs on full display beneath the short skirt, with a pair of nude-colored heels making them look a mile long. Her hair has been pulled up into a ponytail and the long blond strands hang down between her shoulders, swaying when she shifts to the side as I watch her bring a hand up to her face and swipe her fingers against her cheek, hearing a soft sniffle from all the way over here.

  I saw her eyes fill with tears a few times today when she was confronting me, but she blinked them away and replaced them with anger. I can handle her anger. I can handle her yelling and cursing at me, but I can’t handle seeing her sad. I can’t handle knowing I’m the one who put those tears in her eyes.

  Clearing my throat so she knows I’m here, I move across the room, watching her swipe at her cheeks a few more times before she turns to face me. My feet come to a stuttering stop when I get a better look at her in that dress. The deep vee in the front where the dress wraps around her body shows off a mouthwatering amount of cleavage, and the dress ties together at her side, molding the material to all of her curves.

  My eyes move up to her face and I immediately feel like the asshole she thinks I am when I see her eyes are bloodshot from the tears she tried to hide from me.

  “Cam…” I whisper, taking another step in her direction, wanting to say something, anything, to make her forgive me.

  She holds up her hand and I stop moving. My eyes zero in on the ring on the third finger of her left hand, which she starts to fiddle with when she drops her hand. The huge emerald square-cut stone in the center, the same deep, brilliant color as her eyes, sparkling along with the diamonds that surround it as the light hits the jewels each time she spins it around on her finger.

  It looks like something Aiden would have bought her. Bright, flashy, and worth a shit ton of money. I wonder if it’s her engagement ring and I wonder why she still wears it at all now that he’s gone, and that thought makes me feel like the biggest dick in the world.

  “I can’t do this with you right now. We need to go in there and play nice with Stratford. That’s all I care about and all I have the energy to think about right now.”

  “Did Aiden give you that ring?” I ask suddenly, my eyes still staring down at her hand as her fingers continue to worry the ring on her finger, twisting and twisting and twisting it around.

  I know there are a thousand more important things we should be talking about right now, but my curiosity is killing me.

  I want to hear the words, feel the sharp sting they’ll bring, even though I already know the answer.

  “Uh…yes,” she states in confusion, probably wondering why I’m asking about a ring when she assumes I’m going to pick a fight with her.

  Two words. That’s all it takes to confirm what I thought and for the pain in my chest to magnify tenfold. It’s one thing when Aiden was sending me e-mails from halfway around the world, bragging about the ring he bought. It’s another form of torture to be standing in the same room as Cameron, watching her fingers continue touching the piece of jewelry he gave to her when he stole her heart.

  “It’s the only good piece of jewelry I have. And since we’re supposed to be married, I figured…”

  She figured using the ring Aiden gave her as a symbol of their love would be a great way to symbolize our fake love. That thought pisses me off more than the fact that Aiden even gave her a ring in the first place.

  I nod as she walks around me, closing my eyes when I get a whiff of her soft magnolia-blossom-scented perfume. That smell is like home to me, reminding me of all the things I missed while I was gone. I wish I could just grab her and pull her into my arms, bury my face into the side of her neck, and breathe her in.

  When her heels clicking on the floor fade away and out of the room, I finally open my eyes and look up. Now that Cameron is no longer standing in front of me, I have a clear view of what she’d been staring at when I walked into the room, and the cause for her tears, and it’s like someone just shoved a knife through my heart.

  Hanging on the wall is a framed picture of Aiden and Cameron, taken within the last few years. They’re standing on the makeshift wooden stage out in the main area of camp where kids put on plays and volunteers host si
ng-alongs and other fun activities. They’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder, holding up one of the props used for the plays—a large empty picture frame. Cameron is looking right at the camera and Aiden is looking at her, both of them with huge smiles on their faces, like someone caught them mid-laugh.

  I feel his absence more strongly now than I ever have, and I hate myself for being jealous of him. For being here for Cameron when I wasn’t. For stepping in and loving her and making her happy. For being the cause for her tears. For giving her a piece of jewelry she won’t take off, and touches when she’s upset.

  With one last look at the picture, I turn and leave the room before I’m tempted to rip the frame from the wall and send it crashing across the room, behaving like the stupid, young punk Cameron’s parents always thought I was.

  * * *

  “So tell me how the two of you met and fell in love.”

  Cameron immediately starts choking on a piece of food in her seat next to me when Stratford speaks, and I quickly reach over and gently pat her on the back while she grabs her glass of water and drinks half of it.

  While Cameron spent the day avoiding me, I spent the day making sure everything still ran the same at camp, studying up and making sure I’d be able to answer any of Stratford’s questions at dinner without hesitation or pausing awkwardly so Cameron could answer for me. Unfortunately, it was a waste of time. As soon as the first course was served, Stratford did nothing but ask personal questions about Cameron and me. Luckily, the questions were fairly simple, Stratford wanting to know about our individual families and what kind of lives we had growing up. I should have known, with how obsessed he is with only giving money to happily married couples who run businesses that this would come up. When Seth said this guy was eccentric, he wasn’t kidding. What kind of a businessman cares more about the personal lives of people he’s thinking about investing in than about their actual business?

  Cameron hasn’t looked at me once during dinner, but at least she didn’t pull away from me when I moved my seat closer to her and rested my hand on the back of her chair in between courses. She turns her head in my direction now with a look of panic on her face. I give her a reassuring smile, rubbing small circles against her back to let her know I can handle this question.

  “As you know, Cameron and I have been friends almost all of our lives,” I begin, my eyes remaining locked on Cameron’s as I speak. “Around the time when I was ten and she was seven, we became best friends. She was my rock, the one person I told everything to, and the most important person in my life.”

  I watch Cameron’s throat bob as she swallows nervously, but her beautiful green eyes never leave mine, and Stratford suddenly disappears from the room. I speak from the heart, saying everything I wanted to say to her years ago, but never had the guts to. I know she thinks I’m putting on an act, and I guess I sort of am, considering the most I could ever hope for is her genuine friendship, but I don’t care. I’ve needed to say these things out loud since I was seventeen years old, and now is my chance to say them, let them have life for a few minutes, and then finally put them to rest once and for all so I can concentrate on being her friend without the past clouding everything in my mind.

  “I remember the exact day I knew I was falling in love with her. She was fourteen and I was working in the horse stables. She walked in and I forgot how to breathe. For the first time since we met, I saw her. Really saw how beautiful she was, inside and out, and I couldn’t breathe. But I was a few years older than her and I was too much of a chicken to say anything. Not for a long time. I was afraid she didn’t feel the same and I was scared to death to lose her as a friend.” I speak softly, still scared to death that she’s going to see the truth in the words I’m saying to her right now and I’ll lose her again before I’ve even gotten her back. “It wasn’t until the week before I started my residency that I realized I was so damn tired of hiding what I felt for her. I asked her if she could give me a reason why I shouldn’t go. I held my breath and prayed to God she’d tell me not to leave her and that she was in love with me, but she didn’t.”

  Cameron’s eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t blink them away. I just watch them pool in her eyes as I continue speaking, unable to stop telling the story the way I wished to God it would have gone, but never did.

  “She knew I needed to go. She knew it was my dream to be a doctor and be able to help people around the world and she was the type of friend who would never do anything to stop me from achieving my dreams. She told me I had to go, that it was everything I’d ever wanted, and I needed to go.”

  Cameron’s body leans toward mine, until we’re so close that I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, and it takes everything in me not to close the distance and kiss her. Make her really believe the words I’m saying, and how I wished things would have turned out the way I’m explaining it.

  Being around her again is messing with my head a lot more than I thought it would. And talking about the past, remembering the feelings I used to have for her, is just making things more confusing instead of clearer, but I’m too far into this walk down memory lane to stop now.

  “But before my heart could break in half, she told me she’d wait for me. For however long it took for me to come home. She stuck it out with me for my residency and for the three years I spent away from her working for Doctors Without Borders. She forgave me for leaving her, she forgave me for not being there for her when she needed me most. She forgave me for hurting her, and making mistakes, and she knew I would do anything to take them back,” I whisper, lifting my hand off the table in front of us and brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Anything.”

  I rest my palm against the side of her cheek, rubbing my thumb back and forth under her eyes, leaning my head forward until our foreheads are pressed together, keeping my voice low and just for her.

  “I never deserved to have her in my life. I still don’t. But there’s nothing I won’t do for her. Nothing I won’t do to show her that I have always loved her, and always will.”

  Jesus, where the hell did that come from? I could have just said I’ll always be her friend and that would have been good enough for her and the man hanging on my every word across the table.

  I close my eyes, my heart beating so fast in my chest, I’m sure she can hear it. I hear her let out a small sigh and I pull back so I can see her face, Stratford’s voice interrupting the little bubble I’d created where it was just the two of us in this room.

  “How long have you been home?”

  “Nine months.”

  I’m so busy staring into Cameron’s eyes that I speak without thinking. It just comes out before I realize what I’ve said. I didn’t even realize Cameron still held a fork in her hand during my speech until it slips from her grasp and clatters to the plate in front of her. She jerks her face out of my hand, turning away from me and giving a nervous smile to Stratford as she picks up the fork and places it next to her plate.

  “Sorry. Talking about him being away in such dangerous places always makes me a little jittery,” Cameron tells Stratford, her voice coming out forced.

  Shit. Son of a bitch.

  I didn’t mean to blurt that out. I knew she’d be pissed when she found out how long I’d been home without coming to see her. I just wanted more time with her. Time for her to forgive me for being gone before I got into the messiness of how I fucked up my life was when I got home and was too ashamed to go to her. I hate that it had to come out like this, but I’m glad I don’t have to hide it from her now.

  I’m so busy staring at Cameron’s profile, wishing she’d turn and look at me again, that I barely pay attention to Stratford when he speaks.

  “What a beautiful story. It’s nice to see a young couple like yourselves who are so clearly meant to be together, and refusing to let anything get in the way of that,” he says, wiping his mouth with his napkin as he pushes back his chair and gets up from the table. “Thank you for the lovely meal and conversation. It’s bee
n a long day, so I’m going to retire upstairs to my room. I’ll meet you both tomorrow morning around nine by the stables so you can show me more about how you two handle being married and working together.”

  Stratford gives us a nod and a smile, whistling to himself as he leaves the dining hall and heads upstairs to his room to turn in for the night. As soon as he’s gone and we hear his footsteps disappear upstairs, Cameron pushes her chair back from the table so quickly, the scraping of the chair legs echoes around the huge room.

  “Cameron, wait!” I yell after her, yanking my napkin off my lap and smacking it down on the table, jumping up out of my chair, and racing after her as she runs from the room.

  I don’t catch up to her until we get outside the front door and down the porch stairs, my hand wrapping around her arm and pulling her to a stop.

  She yanks her arm out of my hold and whirls around to face me, the tears that were shining in her eyes just moments ago making trails down her cheeks.

  “Cam, please. I’m sorry…” I beg, not even sure what I’m pleading for at this point. I just want her to stop and listen to me, let me explain.

  “No, don’t even try to apologize,” she fires back. “Your apologies mean nothing to me anymore. God, I’m such an idiot. Nice work in there, by the way, with that whole falling in love bullshit story. It was actually pretty believable that you give a shit about me.”

  I grab on to both of her arms this time and pull her closer, but she wiggles and jerks herself away from me until I have nothing to do with my hands but drop them down to my sides.

  “Goddammit, I do care about you! Just let me explain—”

  “I DON’T CARE!” she shouts, her body shaking with anger. “Nine months? Nine fucking months you’ve been right down the road?”

  Her voice cracks with emotion and it makes me want to drop down on my knees, it hurts so much. It kills me that I’ve hurt her like this.

  “I know, God, I know. Please, Cameron. Let me explain.”