by Rowe, Brian
He put his arms out and gave my mom a big hug, followed by an overdramatic kiss on the cheek.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Martin.”
She smacked him playfully on his head. “Mr. L.A., being all formal. You know better. Just call me Shari.”
“OK.”
“But really. Answer me. What are you doing here?”
“Oh… uhh… well… it’s Spring Break…”
“That’s what I figured, with Easter coming up. How’s USC?”
“It’s… uhh…”
My mom took Wesley by the arm. “Is everything OK?”
“Mom,” Kimber said, pointing toward the top of the driveway. “Mom, someone’s here to see you.”
“Who?” My mom looked up toward me, finally seeing me.
“Mom, please don’t freak out,” Kimber said.
“Why would I freak out?” she asked. “Who’s that? Is that one of your friends?”
“No,” she said. “It’s Cameron.”
My mom turned to Kimber with a smile. “Cam? Where?” She darted her head all around, almost as if she expected me to jump out from behind her.
“There.” Kimber said, pointing toward me. By this point I was about halfway down the long driveway.
Again, my mom didn’t get it. “Where? Him? That’s just a boy—”
When I reached the bottom of the driveway, she turned into a stone cold statue. Her mouth hung open, my mom in complete disbelief at the impossible sight in front of her.
Please don’t die of a heart attack, Mom. I need you right now.
First, my mom stretched her hand in the air, looking as if she was going to lose her balance. But then she took a few steps forward, a tear noticeably falling from her right eye.
“Cameron…” she said.
She got down on her knees as I stopped myself in front of her. I couldn’t tell if she was going to hug me, or punch me, or scream at me, or just start asking me questions. I was at a loss. I figured my dad would be the first to punch me, but I had no clue what my mom was going to do. She looked too sad to do much of anything besides cry.
“Cam, is it really you?” She brought her hand out and caressed it against my softer-than-ever cheeks. I took a deep breath and nodded.
“Mom… it’s me…”
“No…. No, Cameron… not again… I can’t take this again…”
“Mom, please. It’s going to be OK.”
“No… No… No, no, no, no!”
She stood up and stormed inside the garage and inside the house, leaving the back door of her car wide open, and the four of us, including the dog, outside in the cold.
---
Over the next few hours, I was able to calm my mom down through a series of talks. I wasn’t prepared to tell her about Liesel’s powers—that would be far down the road—so I told her that I was suffering a rare side effect of the condition I suffered last year. She didn’t seem to buy it, but as long as I kept insisting that it would go away before the disease would kill me, just like last time, she seemed to feel better.
“It’s just so weird,” she said as she watched me scarf down two grilled cheeses. “You’re still my boy. But now you look you did when I was… Oh, God, in my thirties…”
I finished my dinner and pushed the plate forward. I turned to Kimber and Wesley, who were also eating some grilled cheese sandwiches, and then turned back to my mom. “OK, Mom. I wanted to give you a few hours to come to terms with my condition, but now, I think it’s time we talk about you.”
“Me?” she asked, bewildered as to what I could be referring to. “What about me?”
“I know, Mom. Kimber told me.”
That did it. She half-smiled, and exhaled loud enough to wake Cinder in the back of the kitchen. “This is hardly the time or the place—”
“You want to separate from Dad? How long have you been unhappy?”
She clenched her hands together and leaned forward on the table. “Cam, just know this has nothing to do with you, or your sister. This is between me and your father. We’ve had some problems for… God… the last three or four years, at least.”
“Three or four years? Are you serious?”
“What you went through last year… that brought us together again… temporarily. But lately, your father’s become—” She stopped and took a sip of her water. “I really don’t think we should be discussing this right now. It’s absurd. I mean… you’re sick. We need to get you better. Do you want me to make an appointment with that Dr. Carol guy for tomorrow?”
“No,” I said. “No doctors. Mom, I want to talk about this. I want to know what Dad’s done to you—”
Everyone hushed as we heard the garage door opening. I looked at the clock to see that it was a few minutes past seven o’clock, which meant he had been in surgery for upwards of twelve hours. He was going to be cranky. And he was going to be irritable.
How’s he going to react?
There wasn’t much time to plan an escape route, as he quickly raced up the garage stairs and entered the house, loudly talking on the phone to someone from work. He sped into the kitchen, wearing his purple scrubs, of course. He didn’t take note of any of us sitting at the table. He simply set a couple of plastic bags on the kitchen island and continued talking on the phone.
“No, Robert, I don’t! You hear me? Hayley’s not gonna need the follow-up for that. It was standard procedure. If she needs the extra tummy tuck, so be it. But I think if she just gives the swelling a few more days to heal, she’s going to be OK. This is ridiculous. I have enough on my plate as it is—”
He poured himself a large glass of water and turned around, finally noticing us for the first time.
The first person he caught sight of was Wesley. “Uhh… Wesley?”
“Hi Mr. Martin,” Wesley said, sitting calmly at the back of the table.
“Robert, I’m gonna have to call you back.” He hung up the phone, set his glass of water down, and raced over to the table. He didn’t even acknowledge me. “Wesley? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“I… uhh…”
“Honey, sit down,” my mom said.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Is he here because of Cameron? Did something happen to Cameron?”
“He’s fine,” my mom said.
“I’m fine,” I said from the corner.
“Oh,” he said, bringing his hand to his heart and laughing for a moment. “Oh, thank God.” He took a few loud deep breaths, then turned toward me for the first time. “Who the hell is he?”
Nobody said anything, not even my mom. We just waited for the realization to hit him. My dad had spent a year with me when I was ten. He would know.
My dad continued to stare at me. “Jesus Christ.” He darted his eyes to Kimber. “Is this a friend of yours? He’s the spitting image of Cameron when he was a kid.”
“Dad,” Kimber said, “it is Cameron.”
“What?”
“That’s Cameron.” She pointed at me.
“Your friend’s name is Cameron?”
My mom took my dad’s arm and pulled him close. “Honey,” she said, “it’s happening again. Only this time he’s getting younger, if you can believe it.”
She let go of my dad’s arm, and then he brought his eyes back to me. He knew, I could tell. Now he could see me for what I really was.
A freak.
He nodded and sighed, nonchalantly, before turning around and exiting the kitchen. He didn’t utter a single word.
I expected Mom to follow him, but she didn’t. I think she knew, as well as I did, that it was best to just let him be. I’d known for the last few days just how tough it was going to be for my parents to see me going through this again. What were they supposed to do? Nothing. There was nothing they could do.
I have to find Liesel… she’s out there… somewhere…
---
It did feel nice—I have to admit—
going to sleep that night in my own bedroom, in my own bed, under a roof. Wesley took the guest room, while my dad took the family room couch—I only noticed this when I went to get a glass of water before bed.
“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” I asked my dad, my voice as high and screechy as ever.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. He was faking sleep—this I knew for sure—but I hoped that in the next day or two he would find the time, and the decency, to come talk to me, about my illness, about my future plans, and about the current status between him and Mom. There was a lot of shit going down in the Martin family household, and keeping tight-lipped right now was a road to nowhere.
I peed before heading to bed. When I finished, I looked down, and shook my head in frustration. “It’s the worst part about all of this,” I said to myself, looking out the window at the cloudy night sky. “My wiener’s the size of a goddamn toothpick.”
I didn’t laugh. I just flushed and headed straight for bed. Tomorrow was Monday. It was time to get to work… and find some answers.
10. Nine
When I opened my eyes, I was already in his arms. We were making our way down toward the kitchen and the garage.
“Dad…”
“Shh…”
“Dad… Dad!”
He shoved his hand over my mouth and kept me from screaming as he walked faster, holding me tightly in his arms as he whisked me out of the hallway and into the garage with a semi-loud slam of the door.
He raced down the stairs toward his Lexus on the far right of the garage and unlocked it, opening the passenger door. He finally let go of my mouth.
“Dad! What are you doing—”
He pushed me up against the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt.
“Dad—”
He pointed right at me. “Not one word, Cameron. For once in your life, shut the hell up, sit back, and just let me do what I need to do. If you scream, or try to get out of that seat, I’m gonna smack you in your ridiculous face, I swear to God.”
My dad had on occasion used not the best choice of words with me, but this little ditty took the goddamn birthday cake, so to speak. Not only was there both rage and cynicism in his outburst, but there was also the underlying message that he had been frustrated with me long before these last few hours.
He slammed my door and walked around to the other side of the car. He was dressed in a casual long-sleeved shirt and jeans, clearly not work attire.
Where is he taking me?
Back when I was growing older last year, I would always have visions of my dad driving me out to the middle of nowhere to shoot me and leave me for dead, given that his plastic surgery business flourished on appearances. My dad always looked amazing, no doubt about it. His dark brown hair was always cut at the perfect length, he worked out almost every day before work, keeping a toned, muscular body at all times. But his son looking anything less than perfect was something never to be tolerated. I made it through the craziness of last year, but here I was again, with a condition even more insane than the one before, and I assumed, as my dad turned on the ignition and started pulling the car out of the driveway, today was the day I was going to die.
I patted the sides of my pants. “My phone… Dad, can I just go back and get my phone?”
“No.”
“What if Liesel calls me? What if—”
“Cameron, quiet!” He turned onto McCarron Boulevard and started speeding toward the freeway. “We have a long drive ahead of us. I want you to keep quiet, you understand me?”
“Or what? You gonna push me out of the car into oncoming traffic? You gonna murder your only son, Dad?”
“Of course not,” he said, swallowing loudly and blinking erratically, like he was wearing a faulty contact lens. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind. I’ve got a lot to—”
“Where are you taking me? Just answer me that. And then I’ll shut up.”
“I’m taking you somewhere where you will get well, Cameron.”
“Where?”
“The Kensmarck Clinic in Lone Pine. It’s a hidden gem in the middle of nowhere, a place that’s even higher rated than that Phoenix clinic we were gonna bring you to last year.”
“Where the hell is Lone Pine?”
“It’s down Route 395, about six hours south from here.”
“Six hours? Are you serious?”
“Get comfortable,” my dad said. “I’m not about to let you rot until the last possible second again, Cam. I’m gonna make sure you get well. And then we’ll talk about what brought this on. Again.”
“Dad. There’s nothing these doctors will be able to do for me.”
He didn’t say anything. He checked his phone for no apparent reason and then changed lanes, maneuvering from the I-80 freeway to US-395 South.
“Dad! You’re wasting gas, and time, and money! A doctor can’t save me!”
“I don’t care. You’re getting younger every day. That means we only have a few days left. Do you have a better suggestion?”
I really wanted to tell him about Liesel. But I knew he wouldn’t believe me. I also figured if I told him about her, if I did get better one of these days, he’d make us call off the wedding, and he’d never want to see her again.
Let’s keep Liesel out of the conversation. For now, at least.
“We can’t just go see some Reno doctor? At least for today?”
“No,” he said. “And don’t think you’re gonna talk me out of this. I’ve already made up my mind. We’re doing this. There’s no stopping me this time. Do you understand?”
I sighed and nodded my head. When my dad made his mind up about something, it was difficult to stop him. And I knew today, of all days, would be a time to just sit back and let Dad guide the way. I didn’t have any leads on where Liesel could be, anyway. It was time to give up. It was time to move on.
And pray.
I looked out the window to see the sun creeping over the horizon, promising a new day that was bound to end with disappointment. I looked at the clock on the front of the car. It was only 6:08 A.M.
I yawned and turned over on my right side. If my dad wanted me quiet, he’d get me quiet. I wasn’t about to make a peep, at least for the next few hours. I fell asleep a minute later, and I didn’t wake up for over four hours.
---
I awoke in a wet pool of slobber, as my dad slammed on the brakes of the car and opened his door.
“Come on, Cam. Let’s get some lunch.”
I looked at the clock. “Lunch? It’s only… it’s only 10:30.”
“I’m gonna get a sandwich. You get breakfast if you want. Come on.”
He slammed his door and raced over to my side, almost as if he suspected if I unbuckled myself I’d start running back home. But I knew that wasn’t an option anymore. We weren’t anywhere close to Reno now.
I stepped out of the car and stretched my little body. “Where are we?”
“Bishop,” he said.
I surveyed the drab surroundings. There looked to be only one main road, lined mostly with fast food joints and sketchy motels. Mountains hugged the town from almost every side. “Looks… pretty boring.”
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s make this quick.”
I followed him into the left side of the bakery, where there was a long line for specialty-made sandwiches. I was happy to learn that they were still selling breakfast sandwiches until 11 A.M.
“Can you get me the sausage and egg?” I asked, before breaking away from the line.
“Where are you going?”
“The bathroom.”
“No, Cam, I don’t want you out of my—”
“Can you let me go to the bathroom, Dad!”
A few people glared at my old man with confusion. He licked his lips and nodded at me.
“Thank you,” I said, and stepped toward the other side of the store.
As soon as my dad disappeared from my line of sight, I raced past the bathroom and stepped back
out into dismally dull Bishop, California. I knew I had two, three minutes max, to pull something crazy. I thought I could just start running, but where would that get me? I could try hitchhiking, but again, that would be a crapshoot. I had about a dozen ideas flow in and out of my brain when I caught sight, unbelievably, of a payphone sitting outside the Taco Bell across the street.
“Bingo!” I said out loud.
I ran across the street, almost getting swiped by a huge semi-truck, and grabbed the phone. I pulled out my wallet, which thankfully still had a few quarters inside of it, and entered enough of the coins to make the call.
Of course in this day and age I didn’t know any of my friends’ cell phone numbers off the top of my head. Wesley had been using the same phone number for over four years, and I still couldn’t think of that one. There was only one number I could think of. Home.
I called the house, and Wesley, of all people, picked up the phone. “Martin residence.”
“Wesley?”
“Cam?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Where the hell are you? Your mom and sister are driving around looking everywhere for you. They told me to stay back just in case you called or showed up.”
“I’m with my dad! He kidnapped me!”
“He what?”
“Look, listen, I don’t have much time. We’re heading down 395. He’s taking me to some town called Lone Pine, to some clinic. Mom will know what it is.”
“Lone Pine? That’s on my way to L.A. That’s like six hours from here!”
“He’s not thinking straight, Wes. This is only going to keep me further from finding Liesel. If he gets me into this clinic, I’m a dead man. You’ve gotta do something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know! Think of something!”
“Umm… OK…”
“Start by telling my mom what he’s doing. Maybe she’ll be able to call him and talk some sense into him.”
“They thought you ran away. I think they just assumed your dad went to work.”
“No. He’s with me. And he’s keeping a close eye on me. I have to get back, do you understand?”
