We end the call, eachpromising to speak again soon, though we both know the onus will beon me to make good on that promise.
I take a deep, settlingbreath, and turn to find my mother right behind me, watching mewarily.I blink back lingering tears as she wraps me in herembrace.We hold each other for long minutes, just remembering,grieving.
I'm conflicted when I stepback.I know she wants to ask me about our conversation, short asit was, though she must have heard enough to have gotten the gist.I'm sure we'd both intended on making some small talk and hangingup—not to talk about how much we love and miss Cam, though I'm gladshe didn't walk on eggshells because of my issues.
"You okay, honey?"my momasks.I don't answer, there's no point.
"You have something ofCam's?"My voice comes out accusatory, and maybe unconsciously I'dmeant for it to.How could she never have mentionedthis?
She nods slowly, stillwatching me carefully.
"And you were planning ontelling me this when, exactly?"
"When you decided it wastime you were able to talk about him," she retorts.
I deflate, my shoulderssagging with the loss of my confidence, and my mothersighs.
"Of course I wanted to tellyou, Rory," she says, her arm sliding around my shoulders."But Iwasn't about to risk triggering a panic attack, and then afterMiami… it didn't exactly seem like a good time."
"Yeah," I breathe.Fair enough.
My mother takes pause, asif considering her options."There's a box in the closet in theguest bedroom," she says."It's on the top shelf.When you'reready, it's there.I haven't gone through it.Michelle thought youwere the one who should have it, not me."
"Okay."
I take my dinner upstairsand spend some time reading.I go through my evening routine, andget ready for bed.Part of me wants to race to the closet in theguest bedroom, to dive into whatever are the last bits of Cam Ididn't even know I had left until a couple hours ago.But I have tobe cautious.
I'm not me anymore.I haveto consider the consequences, and I'm not sure what I can and can'thandle anymore.I half think I should ask my mother to go throughit before me after all.Maybe even ask Dr.Schall to look at thecontents and give his approval first.
It's ridiculous of course.Only I will know if and when I can handle going through Cam'sthings, and a month ago I might have felt close, but now… I justdon't know.
I'm so exhausted I find myeyes closing before ten, and I fall asleep with my reading lampon.
****
Iwake up screaming, still half trapped in that horrible dream.Robin had come after me.Sam was there.He wouldn't believe me thatthere was danger.Robin attacked me, and then went after Sam,driving head-on into his Escalade.
I gasp for air, stillstuck living the emotions of suffering events that haven't actuallyoccurred.
And yet they have.Perhapsnot exactly as my dream portrayed, but close enough, with aslightly different cast.
Cam.
My mind races, theguestroom closet beckoning me.Holyshit, I have a piece of Cam left.Justsitting there, waiting.I find myself suddenly unable to follow myown reasoning from earlier, and every second I don't open that box,it's like I'm just willingly giving him up.
I throw off my comforterand scurry across the hall.My mother's room is at the end of thehall, and though she used to sleep like the dead, she's learned tosleep lighter.She's always half listening for one of mynightmares, and though I always try to be quiet once I awaken, shestill gets woken up a few times a week.
The shelf is higher than Ican reach with the box pushed all the way back like it is.I haveto drag an ottoman over to get a good handle on it.
It isn't big, or especiallyheavy—maybe just big enough for a microwave or small appliance—andI set it on the full size guest bed that's never been used.I can'teven imagine who it would be for.
I stare at the lid a longtime.I'm not sure if I'm hesitating out of uncertainty, or if I'mtrying to make the moment last, to savor getting some small pieceof Cam back.
My name is written on thetop, but it isn't taped shut.The tabs are folded in like a foursided accordion so the box stays closed, though, and I sincerelybelieve it hasn't been opened since Michelle packed it.
I brush my thumb under theseam between two tabs, and pull out the first one.The rest followquickly, and my eyes land on the item neatly folded on top.Cam'svarsity tee shirt.Linton Tornadoes number twenty two.I run myfingers over the fabric, and pull the shirt out of the box, liftingthe material to my nose.
I breathe deeply, and Idon't know if the faint scent of Cam is really there or justimagined, but I smell it all the same.
