Page 11

CHAPTER 11

Cami

I stretch out in my queen size bed and roll over, looking at the clock on my side table. My eyes widen at the numbers flashing back at me. I can’t remember the last time I slept in until eleven thirty in the morning. The margaritas from last night are giving me a mild headache, and the pounding is a reminder that I can’t drink like I used to in college. Back then I could down three drinks and a few shots without being too terribly hungover, and now I max out at two drinks.

I love Saturdays when I don’t have any plans because it feels like a blank slate. Nothing to do, no one counting on me, and no one needing my attention. Alana is about to leave on her business trip so she’s busy getting things together, and I just hung out with Charlie last night, so I’m solo for the day.

Most people would use the weekend to plan out their weeks. Meal plan, grocery shop, clean the baseboards, and such. I don’t really roll that way, I much prefer to just do those things when I’m forced to.

I run out of food? Time to grocery shop.

The fridge starts to smell funky? Could probably use a clean out.

Cobwebs on the baseboards? Wait three weeks, then clean them.

I do keep my space tidy, though. I don’t think I could function if the house wasn’t picked up and put together. I do not, however, complete a full top to bottom clean every weekend. Weekends are for relaxing and a deep clean is the farthest thing from relaxing, in my opinion.

Eventually I amble out of bed and brush my teeth, then make my way into the kitchen for a coffee. I pop an espresso pod into the machine, set a mug underneath it, and press the button. It roars to life and the constant stream of straight energy into the mug hypnotizes me. I’m sure if someone were to walk into the kitchen right now and saw the way I was staring at this inanimate object like it was the key to life, they might think I was unwell.

Once it’s finished, I go about steaming the milk, adding the vanilla syrup and putting my latte together. My apartment is your traditional NYC apartment, extremely small and outrageously expensive, but I love it. The size makes it charming and cozy, and my decorations make it feel like mine. Growing up with a family who wanted to be involved in everything made it hard to find space for something that was just for me. Back at home I shared a room with Colette, and in college I had a roommate, so I never got to decorate a space exactly like I wanted.

The large array of plants and colors strewn about could be seen as chaotic to some, like my mother, but to me it feels perfect. I climb up onto the small couch and face the window, tucking my knees up to my chest and covering up with a blanket.

I love spending my mornings watching the people walk around on the streets of New York City. There are all kinds of people in a hurry to get to their destination, or leisurely strolling despite the cold weather. Some in work clothes, others in more comfortable outfits, and some in workout gear. A few are pulling children by the hand, some have their dogs walking beside them on leashes, and many have headphones on to keep the noise out.

My parents have always said they think I was drawn to New York City because they think it’s a place where people stop on the way to where they settle for the rest of their lives. Neither of them actually know anything in relation to how many people stay in New York for their whole lives (which is many people, thank you very much) but they like to bring attention to my chaotic personality as often as they can.

There was more than one reason why I wanted to move here. Sure, my best friends were going to be here so I’d want to come, but there’s more to it than that. My mind has always felt like a hamster wheel, always running and always going, never stopping. However, when I sit here in my quiet apartment and stare down at the chaos below, something about it allows me to still my thoughts and focus on what’s in front of me. It’s like the chaos of the city around me quiets the chaos inside of me. Quite the opposite of what my parents believe, but I’d never tell them that.

I sip my coffee and giggle at the woman trying to get her mini dachshund to stop sniffing the grass and follow her, when my phone begins to ring. Glancing down, I see my sister’s name light up the screen and swipe to answer the video call.

“Hey, Coco.”

“Hi, Cami, how’s your morning?”

“Just starting, what about you?” She laughs and it makes me miss her. I just saw her the other weekend, but it’s hard being away from her when we grew up so close. While sharing a room with her was irritating, the late night conversations and uncontrollable giggles over the stupidest things made it worth it.

“I will never understand how you can sleep in so late,” she says. Her fiancé, Derrick, pops his head into the screen to say hello and asks her if she wants lunch. “My morning is going well, just getting a few wedding things crossed off the list.”

“Anything I can help with?” I ask, anticipating that was the reason for her call.

“Yes, actually. I just needed to bounce some ideas off of you, is now an okay time?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“So I’m trying to decide on a caterer. The venue has someone they work with, but it’s just your traditional chicken or beef with a salad to start, and that just feels boring to me. They’d serve everyone, so that’s fancy and a nice addition, but I sort of think people like to serve themselves these days.”

“I do feel like every wedding I’ve been to with plated service ends up with so many half eaten meals, there seems to be so much waste,” I reply. I like that she comes to me to talk through these things, it feels nice to be involved.

“Exactly. Derrick, did you hear that? Cam agrees with me.” I see Derrick approach her from behind and wrap his hands around her middle. He leans down and whispers something into Colette’s ear that causes her to giggle and a blush to creep up her cheeks. The picture of the two of them warms my heart and sends a pang of jealousy through me.

“Don’t start making out, it’ll burn my eyes,” I joke. She laughs and pushes him away from her. He plants a sweet kiss on her cheek before leaving and I smile at the way her eyes light up.

“Okay, thanks for helping me convince him. I think we’re going to have a Mexican buffet.”

“That sounds perfect, can’t wait.”

“Okay, well I’ll let you get back to your morning. Love you, Cam.”

“Love you, Coco.”

The screen goes black and I set it face down on the couch. For the first time maybe ever, these feelings of desire are swimming inside my gut. I hate to admit it, because then it might prove my parents right, but I think I may be getting to a point in life where it might be nice to settle down.

Maybe “settle down” isn’t the right way to word it, maybe I am just starting to feel like it would be nice to have someone that’s there for me like Derrick is there for my sister. The term “settling down” makes it sound like I would be dimming my light in order to find a future with someone, but I don’t think that’s how it has to be. Your partner should illuminate the best parts of you, even if those parts are a little chaotic and messy.

The longing in my chest grows each time I see people I love with the people they love, but the process of actually finding someone I want to keep around long term feels impossible. The only people I can tolerate for extended periods of time are my sister, Alana, and Charlie.

Thinking of Charlie brings me back to last night and the feeling of him pressed against me at the bar. I shake my head to clear it of the thought, because going anywhere with that is not something I can do. He’s my best friend’s brother, and my best friend. That isn’t what our relationship is.

Despite the fact that he is strictly off limits, I can’t help but think about what Rhonda said at knitting club, her suggestion to ask him to be my date to the wedding. I haven’t gathered the courage to bring it up to him, and I’m still not completely convinced he’s the best option, but it sits in the back of my mind like a heavy weight.

I take a deep breath and another drink of my latte, then do what I do every time I want to turn my brain off. I grab the remote and turn on The Vampire Diaries. It’s likely that I’ve rewatched this show at least twenty times over the years, but it never gets old. The predictability of multiple characters dying and coming back to life is easy to disassociate with. Grabbing my knitting needles and current project, I lose myself to the show and the motion of my hands. I’ll save all of these thoughts for some other day.