An uneasy feeling gnaws in my gut, even though I know Ellie is joking.
“I’m never getting married. Not after what happened to my parents.”
Ellie’s smile fades. Her brow furrows gently in concern. “Oh, right. I remember how they fought all the time.”
I glance down at my shoes and nod, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal.
But even now, I still remember how bad it was. How I don’t have a single memory of them happy together. How my only memories of them were constant fighting or cold silence.
How I hated being in the house with them, so I tried to spend as much time away as possible. That’s why I was involved in so many activities as a kid—hockey, figure skating, piano lessons, swimming, soccer. I just wanted to get away. I wanted to do something that made me happy because whenever I was home and around my parents, I was anxious and sad.
“Thanks for letting me come over so much.” I look at Ellie and hope that the smile I’m giving her isn’t as forced as it feels. “Your parents were really nice for letting me do that all the time.”
“Of course. You were my best friend, Camden. I always wanted you around.”
“Things really sucked when you moved away,” I say softly. “I missed you a lot.”
Her smile turns sad. “Things got kind of crazy when we moved in with my grandpa.”
I think about how we hugged in her driveway the day she moved away. Her grandpa, who lived in Arizona, had a stroke and needed care around the clock, so Ellie’s parents sold their house and moved from Denver to be with him.
“What happened?” I asked.
“He never fully recovered from his stroke. My mom took care of him for two years before he died.”
“Shit, Ellie. I’m sorry.”
“It was really hard on my mom, losing him. And looking after him twenty-four seven for that long. People don’t really talkabout just how draining it is to be the caretaker for your loved one.”
She glances off to the side, a faraway look in her eyes. A moment later, she turns back to me.
“I wish eleven-year-old me had done a better job of staying in touch with you,” she says.
“We were kids. We did the best we could.”
For a while, we’d stay in touch online and through texting, but the gaps between our messages got longer and longer, until we stopped talking altogether. Then I got busy with hockey, and most of my friendships outside of the sport fell to the wayside.
“Not like you missed much. I was a pretty boring kid. And teenager,” Ellie says. “All I did was work and go to school. That’s actually all I do as an adult, minus the school part.” She lets out a flustered chuckle, like she’s embarrassed. “Still so boring.”
“No way you’re boring,” I say. “You do cool stuff like dress up like a princess and hang out with cute dogs.”
I lean down to pet Gus again, who’s snoring softly.
She smiles at me. “If you say so.”
“If anyone’s boring, it’s me,” I say.
Ellie tilts her head at me. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe it. I don’t do much other than practice and play and train.”
“And have wild hookups in your kitchen. That sounds like the opposite of boring.” Ellie quirks an eyebrow.
I chuckle. “Oh, come on. Everyone gets a little wild sometimes.”
She shakes her head, fighting a smile.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never fooled around in the kitchen.”
