“Thanks for playing with him,” Walker said.
“It was a lousy script anyway.” Cameron smoothed out Hobie’s hair. The kid didn’t flinch. If only they could stay like this forever. All of the complications of age and distance and custody didn’t exist on this couch.
He heard the lulling murmur of Cameron’s faint snore in sync with Hobie’s. Everything seemed to click into its proper place, and Walker hugged this moment tight to his chest. He embedded it deep in his memory.
“Don’t go,” Walker whispered into Cameron’s ear. He didn’t know if Cameron heard him, but he hoped some piece of the universe heard his wish.
CHAPTER twenty-seven
Cameron
There was one bright side to leaving Browerton early. Cameron got to skip graduation. He was never looking forward to all the pomp and circumstance. First off, there were two graduation ceremonies he would have had to attend: for the whole school, then his individual college. That meant two long ceremonies with two speakers giving two kinds ofChicken Soup for the Souladvice. Not to mention the senior socials, special events, and one awkward dinner with his extended family where he would try explaining for the umpteenth time what a Hollywood assistant does. He just wanted to get his diploma and move on.
He thought his new job had let him avoid graduation stuff, but Henry had other plans. Cameron read an email Henry had sent around for “A Very Cameron Graduation” that he planned to throw on the front lawn of their apartment building in a few days. Being a producer, Henry knew how to put on a production. Cameron was already dreading it. He looked at who was CC’d. Cameron couldn’t figure out how Henry knew everyone’s email addresses. He was observant, that one.
Cameron dialed up his mom. “Hey, you can ignore the email you just received from Henry.”
“What? Wait, I haven’t seen it yet. Let me check…oh, a graduation ceremony! That sounds wonderful!”
He rubbed his temples.
“It’s not a real ceremony. Henry’s going to make me wear a kimono, throw some confetti, and hand me a rolled-up takeout menu.”
“I’m still coming.” That was his mother. Stubborn as anything. Cameron should’ve reverse-psychologied her and told her that she had to come.
“Okay, then. That’s like six hours of driving for you round trip.”
“I was going to make the trek out there for your actual graduation anyway. At least now hotels will be cheaper.”
“You don’t have to get a…great!” It was no use.
“Will that guy and his son be there?”
Cameron tensed in his dining room chair. He had already sold off his desk and office chair.
“Walker and Hobie, Mom.”
“So you’re still seeing him?”
“It’s…I’m…we’re enjoying the time we have left together, then it’s over.”
“You don’t sound convinced,” she said.
Cameron rubbed his hand through his hair. He didn’t want to have this conversation and face his mom’s litany of questions. He didn’t have easy answers here.
“What is it, sweetie? Let’s talk.” That was what his mom always said when he was growing up. It was just the two of them, and they needed to communicate. Their little family would never suvive if they kept things from each other. Cameron wanted to honor the value of those two words, and in his growing confusion, he needed to talk to his mother.
“Mom, I don’t know if I should’ve accepted this job. That whole no writing thing is weird, don’t you think?”
“I understand where they’re coming from legally. It’s a CYA. And they want their employees to be loyal. You can always do this job for a while and see if you like it. Writing will always be there. Who knows? Development may suit you.”
The thought of not writing for “a while” made him itch. He remembered how he felt when his fingers pounded the keys. He hoped development would provide that same type of high.It’ll be an education, he told himself.
“You don’t think having to move next week is very abrupt?”
“Arthur’s not going to hold this job for you.”
“There will be other jobs.”
