Dust to Dust: A Broken Fairy Tale (28 page)

I flinch at his question, not at all expecting this was the road we were going to be taking tonight. My dad is always an
only get involved when absolutely necessary
kind of guy.

He continues, noticing my shock. “I have to tell you, hon, John is as messed up about all of this as I am. He is trying to get to the bottom of this as much as I am.”

I let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Dad, one thing I am certain of is that whether or not Jake is or was involved, there is no way John would ever turn in his own son. All he cares about is his image.”

My dad’s face grows sad. It is as if a magnetic pull has taken hold of his face, making it distorted and confused. My dad was above all always confident and happy. It is hard seeing him like this. “I’m sorry, Dad. Let’s just watch some TV and eat this gourmet meal you’ve prepared.” I smile, trying to change the subject to something less emotional. My dad has lost so much this year; I can’t force him to lose his best friend too.

“Cam. He
does
care. He cares more than you know. He’s always looked out for you, even though Mary—”

“Dad. New subject please.”

He sighs loudly. “Fine. Looks like you got some of that bossy pants attitude from your boyfriend.” He winks sweetly at me. “Tomorrow, after the lunch rush, I’ll be home. We can talk then, okay? I have to get this off my chest.”

“Sure, Dad. Anything for you.” I am too drowsy to argue.

We finally slip into our silent worlds, eating quietly, trying to forget the conversation from moments ago although it is clearly on both our minds. Holden sends me a text, bringing me back to earth.

Holden: Face time in ten. Be naked.

Me: Gross! I’m at my parent’s house.

Holden: Didn’t stop you when we were teenagers.

Me: Holden!

Holden: Fine. I just need to see you. Down to seven minutes.

Me: six. I’ll be waiting.

Holden: five…love you.

“Let me guess. Holden wants to talk to you,” my dad, says rolling his eyes like it hasn’t been a wish of his to have Holden and me together again. He loves Holden like a son, a son he never had.

I blush like a twelve-year-old. “Yeah, he just got back from the office. He’s had a busy week.”

“I’m real glad you have him, hon. Like I’ve always said, you two belong together. Like me and your mom. Nothing and no one could ever tear us apart,” he chokes up a little, “that is, other than the great Lord above. He’ll keep her safe for me, God rest her soul.”

Tears well in my eyes. “Thanks, Dad. I love him. I guess I always have.”

“I know, hon, I know,” he says still looking sad, flipping through the channels.

I leave him hesitantly, not sure if I should let him say what he wants to about John and the Waters family, but I just can’t tonight. I am too drunk, bordering on hung over by now, and just want to hear the sound of Holden’s voice before I fall asleep.

I slip into my cozy down comforter and wait for Holden. His face shoots on the screen the second I settle in, blasting “Safe and Sound.”
I really have to change that tomorrow.

“Hi,” I say lazily. I try not to look at my picture on the screen. My mascara is still on, but other than that, not another drop of make-up is left. I look ninety years old.

“You look beautiful right now,” Holden says, as if he is reading my mind.

I laugh. “Please only say that when I actually
do
look beautiful. I’m a hot mess right now.”

His eyes close slowly and open again, looking as if they are about to eat me alive. “You are more beautiful looking like this than any other way.”
Trembling down below.

“Shut up,” I say, never good at taking compliments. “How was work tonight?”

His mood switches instantly. “Ugh, crazy. I have to go in first thing in the morning…or wait, later this morning. Bridgette and Tomlin stayed back at the office, probably humping on the table as we speak…but they’re taking on the brunt of the load tonight for me. I have to be ready for opening statements by Wednesday.”

“Wow, that’s a lot to follow. Bridgette and Tomlin huh?” I yawn, not able to keep my eyes open. “At least she won’t be all over you.”

“Come on, Cam, you know you never have to worry about me. I’m yours. You’re mine. I’m just waiting for you to let me make it official.” He has a serious, sexy look on his perfectly scrumptious face.

“I’m yours, Holden. Dust to dust.” I yawn again.

He laughs and has his true, bright eyes smile on that I love. “I want it all down, Cam. I know you haven’t given me it all yet,” he says, sounding melancholy.

You have it all. I want to give you every piece of me.
I smile knowingly. “You do…you will. That is, if I ever see you again. I have something I want to tell you…but it will have to wait until I get back to the city. For now, sweet dreams.” I blow him a kiss.

His full lips turn up. “I will…of you. Sweet dreams, babe.”

The screen goes blank, and I am immediately drifting off to sleep with visions of Holden floating in my consciousness.

W
hy, oh why, do people drink?
I lie in bed with my eyes closed, hoping the pounding in my head will subside. After waiting half the day for the aspirin, water, and pounds of food I piled in my mouth last night to work, I finally slipped out of bed and made it to the bathroom. The house is silent, my dad having left hours before. I keep all of the lights off when I drag myself over to the sink, placing my hands on the cool marble countertop.
Sweet relief.
I want to lay my whole body on the cold slab of stone, it feels so good. I lift my head that feels a thousand pounds at the thought, quickly grabbing the side of my head.
If Holden could see me now!

I catch sight of myself in the mirror across the room and cringe. My hair looks like I’ve just stuck my hand in a light socket, sticking out in a tangled mess all over the place. To say I have dark circles under my eyes is an understatement. It is more like the black hole of despair staring back at me saying “I told you so.” Why is it that after you hit your thirties, you lose all ability to handle a hangover? I remember being able to drink like a sailor, and then go for a seven-mile run the next day with little more than dehydration. By the look of me right now, I will need a week to recover.

I reach over and turn on the faucet to the bath, making it cooler than usual since my body feels like it is already on fire, and add some vanilla bubbles. Anything else will probably make me puke. I quickly send a text to Marcus, telling him to kiss the girls for me and that I’d call later. I lie and say I am busy with my dad, too embarrassed to tell him I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck after a bottle—
or is it two?
—with Jess last night. I send a text to Jess telling her we are no longer friends, that I am dying, and that I hope she feels as bad as I do.

I step into the cool water, hoping it will help to clear my head, but the second the water hits my feet I feel nauseous and have to get out. I glance back at myself in the mirror and decide to fight through it and sober up in the uncomfortably cold shower. My dad will be home later, and I know he still wants to have that talk I vaguely remember cutting off last night. Whatever he wants to say about John Waters and his family is best handled when I am of sound mind. I just need to freshen up and get my pep back in my step.
I. Feel. Like. Hell.

After mustering up the energy to wash my hair, I finally step out of the bathroom and throw on another pair of sweats and make my way to the kitchen. My dad had made coffee before he left that is sadly too old to drink. I pour it out and begin gagging at the smell of the burnt coffee. I place the pot in the sink, and grab a glass of cold water instead and a slice of bread, heading out to the deck for some much-needed fresh air. It is much colder today, and I am thanking the Lord above for that. I walk over to the side of the house and sit on the same bench that Holden and I frequented growing up.
Our bench
. For so long I’ve avoided this bench, not wanting to remember the many nights I’ve spent sitting here with Holden. Now, in this moment, I can honestly say I’ve never loved a place more. I lean back against the pillows on the bench, letting the cool breeze drape over my aching body.

After who knows how long, I get up and drag myself inside to the TV. The fresh air and rest is clearly working and I am confident that by the time my dad gets home, I’ll be able to actually act like a human being. I click mindlessly through the channels, pausing when I come to
Reservoir Dogs
. That was my first introduction to the twisted, amazing mind of Quentin Tarantino, and a movie Holden and I have watched together a thousand times. I am so glad that Holden isn’t here with me right now, because he would have been picking on me all day and surely made me watch this as punishment for my stupidity last night.
I’m not sure if my stomach can handle this right now.
I decide to turn on
Duck Dynasty
, and laugh at Si.

The sun begins setting, making the room darker, perfect for napping. It’s seemed like the longest day even though I’ve only been out of bed for a few hours. I begin to feel overwhelmingly guilty for wasting the day away like I have. I decide to call Ellie and Sophie, reminding myself that I deserve to waste the day away every once in a while. Sophie is giggly and giddy telling me about the Halloween party they went to last night, and was excited that everyone loved her Cinderella costume. Ellie is busy filling me in on her state project that she and Marcus have been slaving over today. She had to research New Hampshire and write an essay all about the beautiful state. Problem is, Ellie did not recognize the beauty of New Hampshire; she would have much preferred some place like Florida or California
. Kids.
When Marcus gets on the phone, I thank him repeatedly for taking on this project with Ellie. He only laughs and tells me to wait until I read the directions for the project on the Revolutionary War that I have to do with her. Apparently he made it out easy with this one. It is nice that we can talk like friends some times, rather than enemies. At least there was an upside to my accident.

Talking to the girls pepped me up just enough to go into the kitchen and try to get something together for dinner for when Dad gets home. I open the jam-packed refrigerator and laugh out loud. You would think a family of five lived here with the amount of food my dad has squeezed into the fridge. His answer to everything is to eat and drink, a true host. I pull out a few chicken breasts, some cream of mushroom soup, and turned on the slow cooker. I can let these slow cook for an hour and go on a quick run along the beach. The cool sea air is just what I need to get me past this hangover and back to the real world. Running always seems to cure me of anything: stomachache, stress, headache, heartache. Holden keeps trying to encourage me to run the New York Marathon…maybe next year.

I throw on running pants and grab a zip-up to keep me protected from the wet air. I scoop up my headphones and cell, glancing down to see if Holden has called yet. Other than a quick text this morning, I haven’t heard a thing. While my heart is telling me to just pick up the phone and call him if I want to hear his voice, the thirty-four-year-old in me tells me to back off and give the man some space. I begrudgingly decide to listen to my adult side and shut the door behind me, leaving the porch light on for my dad. I pause at the stoop and glance over to Holden’s house, feeling a pull, as I have almost every day of my life. It is an odd feeling to love the same person in so many different ways. I realize now that I have always loved Holden. Even when I was married to Marcus, I still loved him. Holden and I have a bond that is so much more than anything I could ever imagine. He was my first best friend, my first love, and now I know my last. I zip up my jacket as if I am trying to keep these warm feelings inside me and start off jogging down the dimly lit street. As messed up as some parts of my life are right now, I have never felt more whole. I have always thought of myself as broken. I never thought I was good enough to feel the kind of love and safety in a relationship that I do now. I’ve told myself for too long that no one could love someone with the baggage that I have. But Holden seems to love me even more because of it. My imperfections are what he says makes me so perfect. Today, I’m going to believe it…even as I feel my belly bounce slightly over my sweats. I find myself sucking in my waist as if someone can actually see it flopping about. Flopping may have been an exaggeration, but let’s admit it ladies: anytime you feel things jiggle on your body that aren’t boobs, you subconsciously adjust.

“Roar” by Katy Perry begins playing, forcing me to a faster pace as I cross over Mantoloking Blvd. to the beach across the street. I want to feel the sprinkles of salt water buffeting against the sand while I run tonight. My hangover is washed away as the wind whips my ponytail behind me, filling me with the peace I crave. My thoughts are focused on the good in my life, making me feel like I am soaring along the firm, damp sand. I could run for days when I focus on my thoughts, the music a soundtrack for my life. Imagine Dragons turns on, and my heart melts. This song has Holden all over it. There is so much pain in both of us—so much that we didn’t want to let people in. First it was Holden, leaving me because he thought he was too broken, his life too damaged. He learned before me that our demons are what make us stronger, make us more perfect for each other. If it wasn’t for him, I’m not sure I would have ever totally let my walls down and exorcised my demons.

My phone chimes, interrupting my daydreams. I look down, instantly smiling when I see a message from Holden.

Holden: How’s my babe?

I stop and catch my breath before responding.

Me: Better. Went on a run on the beach. Wish you were with me