What Happens Now

by Jennifer Castle

  We listened to each other breathe for a little while after I stopped talking.

  “So how did you get here from there?” he finally asked. “How did you get better?”

  “Therapy. Medication.” Bad decisions. Better decisions. Him. “I started believing in something I call the Possible.”

  “Is that what you were doing last summer, at the lake? Believing in the Possible?”

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t respond, and I started to worry that we’d been disconnected. At last he said, “Keep believing in that, Ari.”

  “I will.”

  “Keep believing in me, too.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes. It was all I wanted. That, and being able to reach through the phone and bite his ear.

  “Okay,” I said. “But first, you’re going to have to meet my mom.”

  “Arrowhead Mom?” he asked, sounding relieved, unburdened. “Uh, yes please.”

  “She’s not really that cool anymore. Or ever.”

  “Pshaw.”

  “I’m talking about dinner with the family and everything.”

  “A normal family dinner? That’s like a fantasy of mine.”

  “My family isn’t normal.”

  “Normal is relative.”

  I sighed. “I guess you’ll see where we fall on that spectrum.”

  “It’ll be fine, Ari,” he said, as if aware that he could make anything okay as long as he added my name at the end. I’m going to chomp the heads off baby ducklings, Ari. Do you mind if I date two other girls while I’m dating you, Ari?

  We said good-bye and I held the phone in my hand for a while, feeling its warmth as a substitute for the warmth of Camden’s skin.

  “Okay,” I said to myself, moving the seat back into position. I turned the ignition back on, felt the blast from the AC hit me square on the cheek. I wasn’t sure what the conversation had accomplished, what we’d just agreed to. We were still nervous and uncertain, directionless and green. Maybe we’d simply agreed to be all these things together, and that was enough for now.

  I pulled onto the road and drove toward the address Richard had given me, glad that at least in one respect, I knew exactly where I was going.

  15

  “Tonight, tonight, a boy is coming over tonight!” sang Dani to the tune of her favorite West Side Story song, squeezing in syllables where there should not have been syllables. This was cute the first three times. Coming up on the twentieth, not so much.

  Mom was at the stove, cooking moussaka. She was starting her new job the next day, which meant she had a lot of nervous energy. She’d vacuumed and dusted and brought out the linen place mats. It was all a little horrifying.

  What had Richard told her about Camden and his friends? And what had Dani told her about “the dude who Ari likes to swim with at the lake”? She wasn’t letting on. What Mom definitely knew about Camden: that his mom was an artist, that he went to Dashwood, that he lived in a converted barn, that we’d met at the lake.

  What Mom didn’t know: everything else.

  Since that morning at Kendall’s, Mom and I hadn’t spoken about the cosplay at all. I’d washed the Satina costume and hung it in my closet, the wig in a bag hidden on a shelf where Dani couldn’t get to it. I’d almost put the boots in there, too, but after half a day in sandals I slipped them on again.

  I brushed dirt off the left boot as I sat on the top step of our porch, waiting for Camden. Richard was mowing the lawn in the hazy early evening half-light. Crickets made a racket and I felt a very particular combination of anticipation and dread.

  When Camden’s car drove up, I met it in the driveway. He rolled down the window and there was his face, that face. I leaned in, wanting desperately to kiss him. But I didn’t know if that was okay, with Richard there. If it was okay, after what happened at the Barn.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey,” he said back, smiling like I’d said infinitely more than that. He looked way too excited, and way too handsome, to be here.

  “They don’t know about your mom being away this summer.”

  “Oh, I’m getting a debriefing?”

  “Be quiet, I only have a few seconds. They also don’t know I stayed over on fair night.”

  Danielle ran out of the house just then. “Camden!” she yelled, her face lit up. Camden got out of the car and Dani threw herself into his arms for a hug. Mom stepped onto the porch in time to see this. Richard, who had stopped mowing, finally turned off the mower and walked over to the car.

  “Camden, this is my mom, Kate,” I said.

  They shook hands and I could see it on Mom’s face. That she thought he was attractive. She smiled.

  “It’s a pleasure,” said Camden. It’s a pleasure. It was such a grown-up thing to say. I got the sense Camden had been saying It’s a pleasure to adults since he was three years old.

  Mom smiled. “Same here,” she said. “So tell me, who are you?”

  “Pardon?”

  “In the Silver Arrow cosplay game.”

  “Good God, Mom. It’s not a game.”

  “It sort of is,” said Camden. “Well, I used to cosplay Atticus Marr. But now I’m Azor.”

  Something softened around my mother’s eyes. “Azor,” she whispered, nodding.

  “I hear you’re a fan, too,” said Camden.

  My mom twitched. I may have been the only one who saw it. Or maybe I imagined it.

  “Yes,” was all she said.

  Camden reached into his car and pulled out a brown paper bag. “I brought some raspberries. We grow them on our property.”

  Danielle grabbed the bag and opened it. “Yum!”

  “Come inside,” said Mom.

  She and Richard led the way, Dani following with her hand already full of berries.

  I turned to Camden. “You’re good.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been around more adults than kids in my life,” he said. “I know how to work the system.” Then he leaned in close and whispered warm in my ear. “Do I get to see your room?”

  I felt a chill go down my neck. Why was he able to make these innocuous questions sound so sexy?

  “Sure,” I whispered back, casually, even though I’d spent the day cleaning it up.

  We stepped inside the house and Camden took a deep breath. “Mmmm. Smells fantastic!” He said it loudly so my mom could hear from the kitchen.

  I motioned for him to follow me down the hall. On the way, he examined the photos on the wall. Baby pictures of Dani, a wedding photo of Mom and Richard with me standing between them in a lavender dress. Camden paused and touched the me in the photo briefly with his fingertip.

  When we moved into Richard’s house after their wedding, Mom had gone to work hanging photographs, like she needed these reminders that her life was full of people, that she had proof it had all happened.

  “Don’t look at that,” I said as Camden examined a frame designed to showcase every one of my school pictures since kindergarten. Only the last opening was blank now.

  Camden looked anyway. Hard. Grinning. “Why? Because it’s the most awesome thing ever?” He pointed to my picture from second grade. “Two front teeth missing. That’s a great look. I wish you’d kept it.”

  I swatted him playfully and scanned the photos, trying to see them through his eyes. But from any angle, they were undeniably ordinary.

  “We don’t have actual art on the walls like you guys do,” I said.

  “Who says this isn’t art?” he replied, pointing to the particularly mortifying picture from fifth grade, in which I looked like someone just off camera was poking me with a pencil.

  I tugged his hand. “Can we move on?”

  We went into the kitchen where Mom was putting the raspberries in a bowl and Dani was setting the table in the way I’d taught her, making the napkins into little beds for the silverware.

  “Anything I can do to help?” asked Camden.

  “Thank you,” said Mom, “but we’re almost done.”<
br />
  “We’ll be down here . . .” I pointed toward my room.

  Dani started to follow us, but Mom grabbed her shirt. “Nuh-uh,” she said.

  As I led the way, I kept trying to see my house as Camden might be seeing it. The low ceilings and the tiny windows. The beige carpeting that had so many stains, I’d come to think of them as a pattern. More pictures on the walls, including framed landscapes of places none of us had ever been: the Grand Canyon, the Pacific Ocean, the Florida Keys.

  When we stepped into my room, I turned to Camden. “We have to leave the door open.”

  He nodded like he already knew, and I wondered if he was thankful for it.

  I sat on the floor with my back against the bed and let him take a self-guided tour. My desk, piled high with college brochures. The big chair covered with stuffed animals I couldn’t bring myself to give to Dani no matter how hard she begged or how often she kidnapped them, because each of those animals had been a big deal to me, because I didn’t have a thousand of them like she did.

  “This reminds me,” he said. “I have Rasta Penguin. He’s safe and sound at the Barn.”

  “You can keep custody until next time I’m there.”

  Camden moved over to the Silver Arrow posters and pictures, things I’d cut out of old fan magazines or printed from online. He spent a long time at my bookcase, examining the shelf that was a rainbow of Silver Arrow novels, each one a different color.

  “Oh, man,” he said.

  “Have you read any?”

  “No.”

  “You can borrow whichever one you want.”

  He turned his head so he could read the titles on the spines, then drew out two books and sank down on the floor next to me.

  Simply leaning against my bed made the memories of fair night tumble over me. If my parents weren’t in the house, if we were somewhere else, would we have picked up right where we left off? Or had we gone a certain number of steps backward?

  “Which do you recommend?” asked Camden, holding out the books, one flat on each palm like he was literally weighing them.

  “Well, Planet Jasmine has the most Satina action. But the story is a little silly.” I plucked the other book, Time Enough, from Camden’s hand. “In this one, they’re in 1940s Hollywood. Lots of old-time film references. You’d like it.”

  There was also less Azor in that one. I didn’t want Camden to think I was lending him a book laced with hidden meaning.

  “I love that you have these books,” he said, taking Time Enough from me and clutching it to his chest. “I love your room. I love your whole house.”

  “You haven’t seen my whole house.”

  “I’m extrapolating.”

  “But this is a cookie-cutter ranch house filled with stuff from chain stores. It’s everything the Barn is not.”

  Camden continued to examine every inch of my room from his spot on the floor. Then he dropped his head back against my bed and closed his eyes.

  “You know where I lived before the Barn?” he asked. “A yurt. You’ve heard of yurts?” I nodded. “Yeah, the yurt sucked. And the Airstream trailer. And the artists’ co-op. The Barn was the result of years of me begging my mom for us to live in something halfway normal. Then my grandmother passed away and for the first time there was money, and we could do it.”

  Ah, okay. So Maeve was not the rich and successful artist I’d assumed she was. Everything I knew about Camden’s life clicked into another fresh focus. Learning and unlearning.

  Camden paused as Dani peered around the corner of my doorway, thinking we couldn’t see her.

  “Hi,” he said. She popped out of sight. We smiled at each other, knowing she hadn’t gone anywhere.

  “I love the Barn, too,” continued Camden, softer now that Dani was eavesdropping. “But sometimes it feels really empty. My mom is either gone or in her studio most of the time. Why do you think my friends practically live there?”

  I wanted to say Because you shine. You’re the flame and they’re the moths.

  Camden didn’t wait for my answer. “Because I ask them to.”

  This sounded so strange to me, especially coming from him. When things got bad for me, when it felt like my life was all about my responsibilities to everyone else, the only thing I’d wanted was time alone. To press the Pause button on the world, to have a chance to catch my breath and then, actually listen to it. I couldn’t imagine being lonely.

  Camden ran his finger along my left side, then glanced furtively into the hallway.

  “What happens if I kiss you?” he whispered.

  “Don’t,” I said, so glad he wanted to. Almost happy to have a reason to deny him. “Dani,” I mouthed.

  “Hey, Dani,” called Camden to the empty doorway. “I want to ask you something.”

  Slowly, the blond hair appeared, followed by the little pale face and the big hungry eyes.

  “Yes?” she asked, gripping my doorframe.

  “What happens if I kiss your sister?”

  Dani looked at him, her eyes growing impossibly wider, then at me, then made her most grossed-out face ever.

  “Yuuuuuuck! Please don’t!”

  She disappeared and we heard her run off down the hall.

  “She’s going to tell my mom,” I said. “She has no filter.”

  “Who cares?” he said, then grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me quickly before drawing away. “I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about doing that since five minutes after I dropped you off the other morning.”

  “Shhhhhh.”

  Footsteps pounding down the hall again. Dani poked her head in. “Dinner’s ready!”

  Camden stood, then offered his hand and pulled me up, too. Dani watched with a smirk. I wasn’t sure what she’d seen or heard. But then again, Who cares?

  Mom served dinner on the dining room table that we never used, because it was always piled high with papers. Camden answered my parents’ questions about his mom’s art—what inspired it and how she made it and who bought it. When they asked him to, he talked about Dashwood. How it wasn’t a place where kids ran around like Lord of the Flies as they’d heard, but rather an environment where you could study what you wanted and were encouraged to be responsible for your own education.

  “It’s not perfect and it’s not for everyone,” he said. “But I like it.”

  Camden sat straight with those square, confident shoulders, breezily brushing his hair out of his face, making pictures with his hands. His voice steady and musical, eyes reflecting the light. It was easy to see him the way my family was likely seeing him, the way I’d seen him at first. Knowing even a few of the truths behind all this made me feel powerful and privileged.

  My mother told him her real name was Katia, which was Greek, because she was Greek and yes, she’d heard all the goddess jokes. She told him about the kinds of crazy things that happened during the night shift, and what her new job was going to be like. Richard told his best “wacky art supply store customer” stories.

  Dani kept poking Camden with the trunk of her stuffed elephant, Ivory. Which meant she loved him, of course, but didn’t know it yet.

  After dinner, Camden and I did all the dishes. It was a strange kind of heaven, to be doing this boring task together. As if we were real people, simply living our lives. Mom and Richard were watching TV with Dani and I couldn’t remember the last time that had taken place, whether or not it was all an act for Camden. And if it was, was that because Mom knew he was special? They’d certainly never done that for Lukas.

  When the kitchen was clean—it still felt absurdly cool, knowing he and I had made it that way as a team—I walked Camden downstairs so he could say good-bye. More handshakes, more use of the word pleasure, along with lovely and delicious.

  “How was I?” he asked as he leaned against his car, once again clutching the copy of Time Enough he was borrowing.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You got freaked out when I stayed over, when I told you about
last summer. But you’re not freaked out about meeting my family.”

  He shrugged. “I never said it made sense.”

  “So. What happens now?”

  “Well, there’s the SuperCon. Eliza has plans for that. I hope your mom will let you go, since she’s met me and I’ve hopefully impressed the bejesus out of her.”

  “That’s what happens next week. What happens now?”

  Camden seemed stumped, then searched my face, maybe looking for an answer he could borrow. He glanced toward the house and reached out, pulled me close so we were pressed up against each other. His heart drumming against my chest. I still didn’t know what truly kept it beating. The secrets of him lay just under his skin but I could not reach them.

  “This,” was all he said. “This is what happens.”

  The front door creaked open and I jumped away.

  “Camden!” called Dani as she ran out. “Wait! I want to watch you leave!”

  “She likes to watch people leave,” I said, feeling the heat drain from my cheeks. “It’s her thing.”

  Camden smiled. “We all have a thing.”

  We watched him together, sitting on the porch, until his car was out of sight.

  Five minutes later, Mom stepped outside and put her hands on Dani’s shoulders.

  “Pajama time,” she said, and steered Dani toward the door like she was a puppet. “Daddy’s waiting to help you. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Dani resisted at first, planting her feet far apart, her hands on her hips. “Hmph.”

  “I’m serious, Danielle,” said Mom in a different voice now, a layer of softness stripped off. “We’ve had a nice day. Don’t ruin it.”

  Dani gave me an imploring glance, but I nodded at the door. “Go.” And she did.

  After the door closed behind her, Mom stared out at the street. The sun had finally set, the light scattering quickly. Our neighbors were visible in their living room window.

  “The Gustafsons are playing after-dinner poker again,” said Mom. “I often notice them when I leave for work.”

  She sat down on the top step next to me. It felt awkward, creaky. Had my mother and I forgotten how to quietly coexist in the same space?

  Please, I thought. Don’t talk about Camden. Then another thought: Please talk to me about Camden.