by Mae Coyiuto
“Oh. So that’s him.”
“You know about him?”
“I’m not stupid, Cam. I know Gabby dates other people.”
“And that’s okay with you?”
“She’s Gabby. A constant surprise—remember?”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“I don’t think I can ever do that. Be with someone while that person is with someone else.”
“You and I, Cam—we are very different people. I’m the go-with-the-flow do-what-I-want type of guy. You worry too much about what will happen and what other people think. Like right now, why aren’t you at the party?”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Good point. I guess it’s my job to bring us back in there.”
He grabbed my hand and dragged me inside. He maneuvered us around so that we were surrounded by people dancing.
“Dance!” He shouted.
“I don’t know how!”
“You’re a ballerina!”
“I don’t know how to dance like everybody else!”
“Don’t dance like they do, dance like you do!”
He started dancing or whatever Ian did that he called dancing. He really was a terrible dancer.
I let myself go. Ian didn’t look sexy, and I was certain that I looked the complete opposite of sexy. But we didn’t care. We were unsexy together. I danced, and I forgot about everything else. I forgot about the people dancing around us; I forgot about my parents fighting; I forgot about Lea; I forgot about Gabby. For those few precious moments, it was just Ian and I. Those were the kind of moments you live for.
Ian stopped. I asked him what was wrong, and then I saw what he saw. Gabby was in the corner making out with Mario. When I saw his expression, I knew that he wasn’t okay with it.
“Sorry, Cam. I have to go.”
“Ian!”
He was gone. The room suddenly felt bigger; the crowd felt bigger; and I felt a lot smaller. I tried looking for him for what felt like hours. I was so happy when I saw a familiar face.
“Rica!”
“Hey, Camille!” she shouted.
“Have you seen Ian?”
“Why are the girls always looking for the guys?”
Then I remembered the huge bruise on his face.
“Did you go bungee jumping with Ian?”
“What?”
“Bungee jumping!”
“No way! After what happened to Gabby, I’m never doing that again!”
I went upstairs and saw one door that had a poster of the rock band we watched. I guessed that it was Gabby’s room. Ian was sitting on the bed. There were bottles on the floor—a lot of bottles.
“Ian?”
“This room always smelled funny,” he muttered.
I sat down beside him, and I could tell that he had been crying.
“Ian, I think you should stop…”
I tried to take the bottle away from him, but he just took another sip.
“Why is it so hard, Cam?” he asked.
“What is?”
“Why is it so hard…for people to tell me the truth? I can handle it… Don’t I look like I can handle it…?”
“Yes, you do…”
“She told me…she told me that it would be the last time…she promised that she would never do it again…”
“Gabby?”
“And I believed her…I keep on believing her… why do I keep on believing her?”
“I don’t know…”
“You’re worthless…huge disappointment…” he mumbled.
“Who said that to you?”
“Never amount to anything…weak like your father…Then she kept hitting me…she hit me and hit me…. And it was harder this time…I told her, ‘Stop Ma!’…and she kept hitting…Please stop, Ma…it hurts…but she kept hitting… Disgusted with me…telling me: be a man…why can’t I defend myself?…. She kept hitting…and hitting…I didn’t think it was going to stop…I thought…. I thought…”
Ian didn’t continue. He dropped the bottle and broke down on me. I didn’t know what to say or what to do, so I put my arms around him. He cried for a long time. I didn’t expect what came next. He kissed me. I had been wanting and wishing this would happen for so long. I thought that it would be the kind of kiss with fireworks—the kind that would make me float up to the sky. But this was not what I wanted.
I could feel his tears slide down my face. His breath smelled of alcohol, and we were in his girlfriend’s room. It all felt so wrong. I pulled away.
“Cam…I’m so sorry…” he said.
“I have to go. I’ll tell Gabby or Rica to take care of you.”
I bumped into Rica when I went down.
“Did you find him?” she asked.
“He’s in Gabby’s room. You should go up there.”
“What happened?”
I didn’t answer. I heard Rica yell out my name, but I kept walking. I had to get out of there. When I got home, Nikki was waiting for me.
“This is the hundredth time I had to cover for you. Where have you been going? I know it’s not ballet because I saw your shoes in your room.”
“I can’t do this right now, Nikki.” I said.
I walked to my room, and she followed me.
“I lie to Dad for you, and you don’t even want to answer me…I should be…What happened?”
She looked at me, and I knew that she knew. I cried. I don't think I had ever cried so much. Nikki put on her playlist of Taylor Swift, and she slept beside me that night.
Looking forward to meet you,
Camille
Dear Future Partner,
I stopped crying. Actually, I stopped crying during the day. Hey, that’s already a huge step for me. It’s harder at night because that’s when your mind starts to wander. It was an automatic impulse for my mind to think of Ian.
It didn’t help that my parents still fought every night. They didn’t even seem to care if Nikki and I heard them anymore. I’m really grateful that I have Nikki. I didn’t tell her the whole story, but it’s nice to have someone there.
It also didn’t help that Ian kept texting and calling.
“I’m so sorry, Cam.”
“Are you okay?”
“Please talk to me.”
“I need you.”
“I miss you.”
I wasn’t going to deny that I miss him. I miss him so much. I wish that I could just forget about what happened. But I can’t be his second choice. I can’t be his second choice when he is the only choice I ever considered.
I finally sent him back a message. It was pretty long. I hoped he received all of it.
“Hi, Ian. I really want to be there for you, trust me. I care about you, Ian… I care about you too much, and I think you know that. But being with you Ian—it’s like a dream. Do you ever get dreams? What am I saying…of course you do. Sorry, I’m trying my best to be eloquent in this. In some moments, it’s everything I’ve ever hoped for, and I can’t believe how happy you make me. The thing about dreams though is that you eventually wake up. You wake up, and you realize that all those wonderful things you thought you had were all in your head. What hurts the most, Ian, is that unlike other dreams, I don’t forget. Every time I wake up, the disappointment gets stronger and stronger. It hurts so much, Ian. I don’t think I can hurt anymore. I don’t think I can hold on to this dream when I know deep in my heart that it’s never going to come true.”
He stopped texting after that. I’m still not sure if I feel sad or relieved. I know it’s for the better, but why do I feel so bad about all of it?
Looking forward to meet you,
Camille
Dear Future Partner,
Why can’t we fall in love with the people who are perfect for us?
Looking at it objectively, Felix is perfect. He’s sweet, courteous, gentle, driven, and cute. It all makes so much sense.
I was in the mall having lunch with Nikki when I saw Felix. He was on the o
pposite side of the restaurant, and I really hoped that he wouldn’t see me. I had not seen him since my post-it break up.
“Camille!” he came up to me and kissed me on the cheek.
“Felix! Hi. I didn’t see you there.”
He introduced himself to Nikki. I thought seeing Felix again would be awkward, but he made it so…not awkward.
“Hey, Camille. Do you have time to like hang out?”
“Hang out?”
“Yeah. You know as friends. Are you doing anything tomorrow?”
“No. No, I don’t think so.”
“Great. I’ll text you.”
After he left, Nikki didn’t say anything. She had a weird smirk on her face.
“What?” I asked.
“You bounce back pretty quickly,” she said.
“He’s just a friend.”
“Can I have him then?”
Felix took me to the restaurant we went to on our first date. This time, he sat on the opposite side of the booth.
“Have you tried the onion rings here?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I laughed. “We used to always get the onion rings.”
“Oh. They’re really good onion rings.”
It felt different talking to Felix. He was more relaxed and I didn’t feel the whole pressure of dating anymore. He talked to me about his latest basketball games, and I told him about what happened in the ballet studio.
“That teacher Jessie sounds tougher than our coach,” he said.
“She is tough. I deserved it though.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I blurted out.
“Huh?”
“I treated you like crap, Felix, and you’re here being so nice, eating your onion rings, and pretending like I didn’t break up with you…”
“You did break up with me.”
“I know.”
“With a post-it.”
“I know.”
“On my birthday.”
“I know,” I sighed. I’m a horrible human being.
“It hurt me a lot, Camille. But I’m trying to move on… and I thought that seeing you again might help that.”
“Oh.”
“And the way you broke up with me…well, it wasn’t the best. But it’s like my game last week.”
“How so?”
“We were down a point, and I had the ball. I had a great chance…all I had to do was a simple layup. But I missed, and the buzzer rang. I wish I could make it up to my team, but the game is over.”
“So you’re extending the buzzer for me?”
“Yeah…something like that. It sounds like something Ian would say, right?”
“Yeah. I guess it does. How is he?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him lately. Not since all the drama from Gabby’s party.”
He knew? Did Ian tell everybody?
“I never thought that Ian would be the one to break up with Gabby.”
“Wait. They broke up?” I said.
“Yeah. I don’t know the exact details, but they’re over. I’m surprised Ian didn’t tell you.”
“Yeah, me, too…How’s Gabby doing?”
“She’s okay. She was pretty upset, but she’s dating some guy named Mario. I don’t know how Gabby does it, but I hope she’s careful.”
“You’re a really great guy, Felix.”
“Where is this coming from?” he laughed.
“It’s something I should have said a long time ago. You should make sure that the next girl you like understands that.”
He smiled and went on to talk more about basketball. I still didn’t understand a lot about what he was saying, but I listened.
When I got home, I received my first message from Ian in weeks.
“Do you want to go on an adventure?”
I decided to extend the buzzer.
Looking forward to meet you,
Camille
Dear Future Partner,
Considering the many days that go by, I have strikingly few memories. I feel like I only retain bits and pieces of what happens to me. However, I’ve found that when something so special and so wonderful happens to you, that memory sticks. Today is one of those memories.
Ian was driving, and he didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to be the first one to talk, so we both stayed silent. I didn’t want to make Ian think that I forgot and everything was suddenly okay. He looked cuter since I last saw him. Thoughts like that didn’t help.
I didn’t even know where we were going, and as usual, Ian didn’t tell me. We stopped in front of the Cultural Center.
“Ian, what are we doing here? It’s top security…”
“I called in a favor,” he said.
He parked at the back, and he got out. I followed him as he went through a secluded door to the building. I had never gone through that way before. After a lot of walking and turning, we arrived in the auditorium. It was completely empty.
“Where are the others?” I asked.
“It’s just you and me this time.”
“So what’s the big plan? Did we sneak in for a show? Are we going to steal stage equipment?”
“We’re going to re-create your best memory.”
“What?”
“This is where you had your first recital, right?”
“Right.” I didn’t know he was paying that much attention when I told the story.
“So go up there and dance.”
“I don’t remember the routine.”
“Who cares? Just go for it!”
“For what? There’s no audience.”
“I’ll be your audience. Now, stop making excuses.”
I was onstage in one of the biggest auditoriums in the state with only Ian sitting in the front row. What in the world was I doing?
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“This is pointless, Ian.”
Then noise from the horrid rock band played. It sounded like ten dentists drilling teeth all at the same time.
“Turn it off!” I shouted.
It stopped, and I could see Ian laughing. “I thought you said the band was okay!”
“If you’re going to make me do this, you should, at least, play decent music!”
Then I heard it. He played Clair de Lune—the song I danced to in my first recital. I don’t know if you’ve experienced the same sensation, but it was like the music transcended and reverberated all through my body when Clair de Lune played. It didn’t matter if I was performing in front of Ian or in front of a hundred people. I was lost in the music. So much adrenaline and joy was rushing in me.
If you love something, I don’t think you can love it 100% of the time. There are days when I’m so fixated on the small things—the pain, the soreness, the fatigue that I forget to appreciate the big picture. All the small things suddenly seemed so insignificant. I love dancing, and it was all worth it.
I didn’t even realize that the music stopped.
“Sorry, I got carried away…”
But Ian didn’t say anything. He got up from his seat and walked up the steps. He walked slowly toward me.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Before I could say anything, he grabbed my waist, and he kissed me. He kissed me, and I let him. Right there I knew—I wasn’t a second choice.
Looking forward to meet you,
Camille
Dear Future Partner,
I didn’t want to tell anyone about Ian yet. Did anything so wonderful ever happen to you that you start to doubt if it ever happened? That kiss felt like it was too good to be true. I was scared that if I told anyone about it, it would suddenly become untrue. I really hope it did happen because I really want to kiss him again.
When he texted me, it was like nothing changed.
“Hey, Cam. Rica wants to take some videos at the beach and invited a bunch of people. She told me that she wanted you there.”
Beach = water, water = swimming, swimming = bi
kinis, bikinis = girls like Gabby in bikinis. Oh, god. Was Gabby going to be there? If he said that Rica wanted me there, did that mean that he didn’t want me there?
“I can’t,” I replied.
“Why not?”
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
An hour later, my phone was buzzing.
“Hello?”
“Come out.”
“?”
“We’re going shopping,” Ian said.
I hated swimsuits. The ads were all false advertising. You saw a girl who looked amazing in a teeny bikini, and you thought that you can look as good if you had the bikini on. Reality was that it’s entirely because of the model. If you had a knockout body, chances were you’ll look good in anything.
“Anything that looks appealing to you?” he asked.
“Still browsing,” I said. I looked through the rack and saw bikinis with cups so large you could fill them with watermelons. How could any woman with breasts that huge get around?
“Are you actually looking for a suit?”
“Yes, I am. I told you I’m browsing.”
“It looks like you’re just playing around with them.”
“This was your idea,” I snapped.
“You said you didn’t have a swimsuit, so I gave you the solution. C’mon try this on,” he said as he handed me a red bikini.
“Fine.”
I grabbed the suit and went in the fitting room. Another thing that bothered me about swimsuits was that girls were always so proud about wearing them. If girls covered themselves when they’re wearing their underwear, why did they post pictures of themselves in bikinis? To me, wearing a two-piece was like being caught in your underwear. Everyone could see your flaws, and there was nowhere to hide.
I looked like the complete opposite of the models in the swimsuit ads. The swimsuit accentuated my non-existent breasts, my muffin top, my thunder thighs, and my flat ass. I thought about Gabby and how amazing she and her perfect model body would look in a teeny bikini. I thought about Ian seeing Gabby and me side by side. Why would he pick me when he already had the perfect model?
I heard a knock on the door.
“Are you all right, Cam?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said while choking back my tears.
“Do you need any help?”
