He scoffed. “I’m eighteen. I don’t need a babysitter.” I raised an eyebrow as I sliced the meatloaf. He answered that with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “I’m crashing with my uncle Joey,” he admitted. Cam’s uncle was Detective Joey Balafonte, Nick’s most recent partner. While Cam’s relationship with his uncle was contentious at times, Joey’s heart seemed to be in the right place. “But the guy’s a shitty cook.”
“Well, you’re always welcome here.” I handed Cam a heaping plate of meatloaf, macaroni, and green beans.
“Thanks, Mrs. D.” He sat down at my kitchen table and pulled Arnold Schwarzenegger onto his lap. Blowing the steam off a corner of his meatloaf, he offered the dog a taste. Then he tucked into his meal as if he hadn’t eaten in a week.
“Who’s that in the other room?” he asked, using his finger to scrape the last of the cheese sauce from his plate.
“My neighbor. Her heat’s not working and she needed a place to stay for a few days.” I figured the less Cam knew about Mrs. Haggerty’s situation, the better.
“What’s the matter with her? Not a fan of meatloaf?”
“I think she might be a little homesick.”
“Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “Do you mind?” he asked, reaching for the untouched plate of food I’d prepared for her.
“Help yourself.”
Cam stood and carried Mrs. Haggerty’s plate to the living room. He set it on the coffee table in front of her with a set of utensils, a napkin, and a Coke. Mrs. Haggerty blinked at him as he sat down beside her on the sofa and took the remote.
“You like video games?” he asked her as he changed the channel.
Two hours later, I had washed the dishes, tidied the playroom, taken a shower, and run a load of laundry, all to the sound of screeching wheels, sirens, and shouting from the living room. Cam and Mrs. Haggerty were still sitting in front of the television when I came back downstairs. Mrs. Haggerty’s hunched, frail shoulders were side by side with Cam’s taller ones. Arnold Schwarzenegger was curled at their feet, an empty dinner plate on the coffee table in front of them.
“That’s it! You’ve got him! Take the shot!” Cam said.
Mrs. Haggerty gripped the controller in her lap, her knobby fingers haphazardly pressing all the buttons at once. Gunfire erupted on the screen. Blood spattered on brick.
Cam whooped. “Get it, Mrs. H!” He perched on the edge of his seat as he watched Mrs. Haggerty’s avatar break through a window. She shimmied down a fire escape and dove into a car.
“Everything okay in here?” I asked.
“I taught Mrs. H how to playGTA. Look at her go. She’s a natural!”
A target appeared on the screen and the man’s head exploded, brains and gore spraying everywhere. “Take that, you hooligans!” Mrs. Haggerty cried.
I winced. “Wouldn’t she rather watch TV?”
“Studies have shown video games are very beneficial to seniors,” he said sagely. “Something about all that cognitive shit and hand-eye coordination and whatnot. I playCall of Dutywith my grandma all the time.”
“You couldn’t have taught herAnimal Crossing?”
“She wanted a first-person shooter. What can I say? The woman’s a badass.” Mrs. Haggerty’s character whipped a gun out of her car window, releasing a hellscape of bullets and taking down a few innocent bystanders along with the bad guy. Satisfied, she rose stiffly from the couch while holding her lower back.
“Thank you, young man. That was very exciting.” She passed Cam her controller and patted his shoulder.
“Remember the rules we talked about, Mrs. H.” He held up his index finger, preparing to count them off.
“Always use two-factor authentication,” she said dutifully.
“Number two?”
“Rich Nigerian princes don’t need any money.” He held up a third finger. “The IRS does not take payments over the phone.” He held up a fourth and fifth finger. “Don’t believe everything you see on the internet, and never post photos of yourself without clothes.”
“Good job.” He gave her a thumbs-up.
“I’m heading to bed,” she announced. “I have a long day tomorrow.”
“What’s happening tomorrow?” I asked.
