Cameron just blew up, exploding over everything.
He ran into the bathroom with all his clothes on and turned on the shower. I had no idea what to do. I didn’t know anything. Couldn’t even think. He slammed the door in my face and somehow locked it on me.
I banged on the door and screamed for him.
I pulled out my phone, and I hesitated over Brooke’s number. I didn’t want this to be how I called her for the first time, but I didn’t have anyone else that would know what to do. She was the only face that came to my mind in the chaos.
“Hello?” She sounded like an angel.
“Brooke? Um. I’m really sorry. But I don’t know what the hell to do. Cameron. He’s going crazy. I don’t know what to do. He’s hurting himself. Hitting himself in the head. What do I do?”
“Where are you?” she asked, softly. Her voice so calm I wanted to lose myself in it.
“In my apartment. He’s in the bathroom. In the shower with all his clothes on. He…”
“Give me your address,” she said, quickly.
I gave her everything she needed. Through the phone, I heard her get in her car and the seat belt binging.
“You could shut all the lights.” Her voice drifted like a dream to me.
“What? Why?” I stammered.
“Because it might calm him down.”
“He was punching himself in the head, Brooke.” My voice sounded small and weak. I felt lost. I didn’t know how to help him. She just needed to tell me how to turn it off. “How do I turn him off?”
“I’ll be right over,” she said, calmly. But what was she going to do? What if he was burning himself with the hot water? What if he was using my razors to cut into his skin? What if he swallowed all the mouthwash?
Without another thought, I kicked through the door.
Cameron was soaked, the bathroom filled with steam, and he was under the stream of the shower.
He came out pacing like an animal. Wailing and clawing at his head.
I ran ahead of him and shut all the lights.
How was this supposed to work? Now, it’s just dark in here.
I heard the front door open, and the television shut off. Cameron’s sobs and curses filled in the silence of the room. I never heard him curse before. The words were garbled and awkward in his cries.
Brooke walked in swiftly and gracefully. I watched, dumbfounded, as she took control of the situation. I pressed myself up against the wall and tried to regulate my breathing as I watched her silently redirect him onto the couch, and wrap him in a dry towel she pulled from the bathroom closet.
Eventually, she got him to change into his pajamas.
She took one look at the mess in the kitchen and asked, “Did either of you eat?”
“Dinner is on the ceiling.” My throat was dry, and my voice cracked hoarsely.
She climbed over the mess carefully in the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She came back in and sat in front of Cameron. She held up two hands and asked, “Are you hungry? Yes or no?” The right hand she held out for yes, the left she held up for no.
Cameron tapped her right hand.
She took out her phone and pulled up an app. He watched her hands carefully, trying to grab for her phone when it suddenly said, “I would like to eat…”
Cameron looked at her phone carefully for a moment and pressed the screen. “A sandwich,” the electronic voice said.
Within five minutes, Brooke had him eating a ham sandwich as he sat calmly on my couch.
