Cameron and the Girls (11 page)

I expect to hear the car as I start walking again, but it's quiet back there. After another ten yards, I turn and see my mom with her head on her hand clutching the window well. I think if she'd just give up, it would all be easier. I walk carefully the rest of the way home.

 

We have a family meeting after Dad gets home. Even he doesn't get to eat until we're done, and that makes him grumpy because we have our meeting at the kitchen table and he wrinkles his nose, sniffing for dinner.

Mom is very democratic. She even lets Beth speak her mind, and Beth says, “Why do I have to be involved in this stupid meeting?”

“Because we're a family,” Mom says. “Isn't that right, Dad?”

Dad nods and starts picking at a callus on his thumb.

“Well, I officially think it's stupid,” says Beth. “Cam should be able to do what he wants.”

“Okay,” says Mom. “Maybe I should state the problem first.” She folds her hands and rests them on top of the table. Her fingers look like a pile of bleached-out little wieners. “I think that we have a serious situation in the family, and I'd like to address it. Even though we all know what the situation is, I'll spell it out. One of us, Cameron, has a dangerous condition that he is making worse by not doing the responsible thing. In layman's terms, he needs to take medication, and he's probably not doing it. This makes his condition worse. Today, Cameron chose to run away from school and was nowhere to be found, and I personally think it's a result of his not taking the medication and ignoring his serious condition.”

“I didn't run away from school,” I said.

“Well, then, what—”

“I was checking to see if a friend was okay.”

“What friend?” Mom asks.

“That's none of your business.”

“Cam,” Dad warns.

Careful now. Play it smart.

I can tell Mom wants to say something really mean, such as spilling the secret of when she caught me talking to The Girl in the rain, but she bites her lip. “Cameron, are we talking about that imaginary girlfriend of yours?”

Is this respect?

I shake my head. “I'm not saying anything more.”

“Because if we are, then we're not going to get anywhere.”

“It looks like this is all about Cam,” Beth says. “Can I be excused?”

“Keep quiet,” Dad says, and he gives Beth his military look. He then turns to me. “Cam, from now on I want you to treat your mom with respect. And that goes for you, too, Beth. I've had enough of this sarcastic crap from the two of you.”

“It's Mom's fault,” Beth tries, but Dad holds up a hand.

“If you can give your friends respect, then you can give it to your own mother as well.”

It's quiet for a few seconds, but I can hear Beth's brain working. I can't stand this sort of quiet, so I say, “It was someone else.”

“You can't just take off from school,” Dad says.

Yes, you can. You did.

“And are you taking your meds or not?” he asks.

“I am,” I say softly. But even I can hear the little question mark at the end, and I can see that Mom doesn't believe me. She folds her arms at her chest. I hold my hands out in front of me. It's risky, but right now they're perfectly calm. “Do these look like the hands of a crazy person?”

“Please don't use that word,” she says.

My father stares at my hands, but it doesn't seem to matter to him. “Taking off like that just makes everybody worry about you,” he says.

You don't need to be worried about me. Everything's just fine.

“I don't need to be worried about,” I say.

“As long as you live here with us, we reserve the right to worry about you,” Dad says.

Beth mumbles something that I can't understand, but Dad has had enough. He stands up, towering over the rest of us. “I didn't want to have to go this far with it, but you've forced my hand.”

He looks sternly at me. “Starting tomorrow, Cam, you will go to the doctor and get a shot. And you'll get one every week until it's all cleared up.”

“Dad. No. It's the law.”

“If you think you're big enough to deal with the law, then go right ahead. You want to sue me for caring about you? I'd like to see that one.”

I'll do it.

“No,” I say. I'm talking to The Other Guy, but Dad thinks I'm on him.

He wags a big finger at both Beth and me. “Listen closely, you two. You've got a week to shape up. That's right, a week. I'm going to be watching you, and your mother is going to be reporting to me. If things haven't changed in your attitude, then I'm laying down some additional rules, and you probably won't like them, either.”

“But you can't—”

“Try me,” he shouts. “Just try me.” Then he turns to Beth. “And if you expect to ever see your friends again, you'd better shape up yourself.”

Beth's eyes glow like a werewolf's, but she quickly stares down at the table.

“Understood?” Dad asks.

“Understood,” Mom says. She smirks and I want to tell her off.

But I don't, and Beth whispers, “Understood,” while in my head I hear:

Oh yeah. Understood all right.

 

Up in my room, I'm making a decision. In or out? Am I in this family or am I out? I realize it is one of those decisions that can make your brain tip out of balance, but somehow, after Dad's ultimatum at the dinner table, it doesn't matter all that much. And I'm already out of balance anyway.

I'm in the middle of my plan when Beth knocks on my door.

“No,” I say, but she comes in anyway.

She takes one look at me and says, “I thought you were up to something.” On the bed, my coat and my watch cap are waiting for me to put them on.

“You should be too,” I say. I position the watch cap on my head.

“Where are you going?” Beth asks.

“Out,” I say. I busy myself putting underwear and socks in my coat pocket. Then I think it's stupid and pull them out.

“Uh, this might not be the best time to go out,” she says.

“You heard him,” I say, stopping in the middle of the floor. “I have one day. Then my life as I know it ends.”

Beth licks her lips and says, “She's right, isn't she? You're not taking your meds.”

“Who cares?” I say.

“Are you okay?”

“Course I'm okay.”

“Look, Cam,” she says. “I'm pissed off too, but I don't think it's a good idea to run away from home.”

“Who's running away?” I ask. “I'm just going down to the door and stepping out. I don't plan to run.”

She grabs at my chin and forces me to look in her eyes. “You're not okay, Cam. I can see it.”

“It's not your life,” I say.

“But where are you going?” Beth asks again.

I shrug, but I do know.

“To your girlfriend's?” she asks.

I can't tell if she's making fun of me or not, but I nod anyway. I expect her to say something that Mom would, but she doesn't.

“Be careful” is all she says.

I
t
is easy to leave home after a fight. Mom, Dad, and Beth are someplace else in the house licking their wounds and figuring out whether they won or not. I know Mom and Dad are sure they're the winners. It's time to prove them wrong. So, arming my hands through the sleeves of my jacket and carrying Mom's little flashlight, I turn the knob quietly and I'm out the back door.

It's dark, and the breeze is cool enough to make me shiver and strong enough to rattle the new leaves of the vine maples as I make my way down the driveway. It looks like the breeze might have blown the rain away. When I go down around the corner, I snap on the flashlight.

It doesn't take long to get to the highway, not as long as on the foot-dragging school mornings. Once I get there, I'm not sure what my next move will be. I stand by the mailbox while a couple of cars whiz by. Neither of them slows, but the last one throws up a spray of muddy water that coats my shoes.

Last chance to make the right decision. Slow and steady wins the race.

“Do you even know what you're talking about?” But what The Professor says does make me balk for a moment. A new life seems a long way off right about now.

Are you giving up on me?

“No.”

You're not paying attention the way you used to. It's The Girl, isn't it?

We can do it. The two of us together can. We can have whatever we want because we have love.

“Is that really all it takes?” I say.

Just look at your parents. Aren't they in love?

“Well yeah. They are in love.”

And they've been together all this time. What do you think has held them together?

And that's all it takes. Of course it's their love and having each other to rely on. That's what I want. Without people wondering whether I can handle it or not.

I cross the road and take off walking. It's a lot different from riding the school bus, more at ground level, like Dylan's car. Blinding headlights come toward me and from behind, where I am sure I make a silhouette. I walk into Lexington, which is about a mile through and through, and an hour after that, I'm under the railroad bridge.

To get to Nina's place, I would have to walk another four miles into town, cross on the Peter Crawford Bridge, and then backtrack to a point that I can almost see now just across the river. But there is a shorter way, and I'd thought about it a few times while on the bus. The local railroad crosses the river right where I am now standing. A car comes along, and its headlights flash higher on the bridge where I can just make out the familiar words in big red lettering:

 

DANGER! LOG TRAIN OVERHEAD!

 

It used to scare me when the train would go over just when the bus was going under, and I thought the logs might fall off and crush us all.

Strangely, I'm not scared now. But I don't want to be caught, so I jump down in the ditch when another car's headlights show in the distance. The tall wet grass soaks my pants. When the car goes by, it's another easy decision. I carefully remove my jacket and tie it around my neck. Now my arms have more freedom. I shine the light up the huge Lincoln Log timbers of the railroad bridge. It's as if the structure were made for me. I notice that the ends of the timbers might just jut out at the right proportions for me to climb all the way to the top. I reach up and feel a timber. It smells like creosote.

But before I start, I hear from The Professor:

The local log train does a night run. The chances of crossing the bridge on foot and making it out alive are 50 percent. You must think about this.

“But it's way shorter,” I say.

Yes; however, it's a long way down.

Before The Professor can say another word, a second voice roars in:

Do it anyway.

Hard and demanding. As if I must obey or else.

Do it now, chicken boy.

Anxiety courses through me. I grab on to a timber.

“Back off a little,” I say.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

I heft myself up, worrying as my jacket swings out. It is surprisingly easy to hoist myself to the next timber, and the next.

That's it, boy. That's it. Could've done it all along.

The Other Guy is right. What had been keeping me from doing something like this? Maybe I always should have listened to him. Now, instead of fear, I feel a pulse of courage and scramble even faster up toward the dark top. I can smell the mill up here, the trees, the dankness of the river below.

My heart goes out to you, Cameron, and I certainly understand your motives, but is this really the way to go?

“I like you better when you just give me the facts.”

Sweat breaks out on my face but is quickly lapped up by the breeze. I stop to jam the flashlight between my front teeth. Now I can look up and see the next timber more easily.

It takes me fifteen more minutes to get to the top. Meanwhile, the headlights below get dimmer and dimmer. The wind dies down as a light fog drifts around me. Above it, the moon momentarily wins a battle with the clouds. It shines on the slick silvery rails. I reach up and put all my weight onto one of those rails. As I lift myself up and around the last timber, I lose my grip and hold on by only one hand. I think the slipperiness will make my hand slide off, but it holds for an instant, long enough for me to wrap my entire arm around the timber and secure myself. From there, I slowly drag my body up onto the top.

I gently untie the arms of my jacket and lay it on my chest as I rest on my back. My breath comes quickly, but it feels good.

Hello, Cam.

“I hear you,” I say.

I never knew you were so strong.

“I don't care what The Other Guy says. I am a man.”

My man.

Lying there, I know I could listen to her voice forever.

You left home. You ran. That takes a lot of guts. You're really in charge of yourself now, aren't you? In charge of us both. It makes me want you even more.

I stand up then and put on my jacket. I feel I might be able to take care of the whole world. At this point on the bridge I'm still a few feet from the edge of the river. It runs slow and smelly way below me. I take off toward the other side. In a few steps, I start to see the moon's reflection off the surface between the timbers. I wonder how brave I must look from down below. I wonder what my mother would think if she happened to see me. The boy she so carefully protected is now in the worst possible place she could think of.

In fact, nobody would think I could do this. If kids in the regular classes saw me now, they would start talking about me differently. They might even step back when I come down the hall. I'd hear whispers all around me. “He's the one. He's the guy who walked the bridge at night.”

Damn straight.

I could go in through the regular school door.