I’ve Got You

Because, if she heard his voice for a second, saw him in the flesh, maybe even begging on his knees, or the confused hurt on his face, she would cave, and let him come stumbling back. She would open herself up to the risk of pain and betrayal. Unlike what she just did with Peter, she didn’t plan to erase Cameron out. She wanted him to still be her friend on a level, though she also expected him to erase her out of frustration from the lack of response.

One week passed. Twice, Cameron came directly to her door, knocking frantically. She turned off the lights, and hid in her bedroom when that happened, or made excuses to be out of the house more often – visiting Vaneese almost every day.

Although Cameron kept his texts careful, less saturated in the poisonous feelings Peter dipped his in, she caught the notes of wounded confusion. Why are you doing this? What happened? Why won’t you talk?

Dread filled her for a second, when she imagined him giving her a message like: You know what, I don’t think it’s Peter’s fault. It was yours all along. Look at what you’re doing to me.

Although she waited for those words in icy fear, Cameron never once stooped that low. He tried coaxing her back, tried phoning, doing everything possible to get her to communicate to him just once. Aleshia, like a coward, opted for the fade-out tactic, stonewalling every message, in the hope he would eventually give up. Underhanded and snide, it did have the desired result in the end, that Cameron faded away, along with the intensity of the memories she shared with him.

Vaneese supported her, though let it be known, paired with Dijon, that they thought Aleshia could handle things better.

“He’s a mess,” Dijon had said, directing an accusing stare to Aleshia, on one of the days she visited. “He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and frankly, I don’t, either.” Vaneese, obviously not wanting to risk having her sister never come over again, held a hurried conference to Dijon, who did his best to lighten down the disdain.

“He’s Cameron’s friend. It’s his job to be concerned, as far as friends go.” Vaneese soothed her husband.

“He has a right,” Aleshia said dully. She avoided looking into Dijon’s eyes. “It’s difficult. I like Cameron, but I don’t want to talk to him, because I don’t want to be persuaded… off my choice. I’ve just come out of a bad relationship. In four months, I’m going to give birth. I can’t hop from one relationship to another. No matter what kind of rushed confessions we make to each other. This will be better for Cameron in the long run, as well. He can get himself a girlfriend who doesn’t come pre-packaged.”

“Aleshia… don’t talk about yourself like that.” Vaneese lightly dusted off her sister, before fetching a glass of water. She fussed like a mother hen, making sure Aleshia sat comfortably, that she showed no signs of stress or impulses to dash off.

“I can’t say I like it. I’m the one who has to listen to my friend’s confusion. I mean, I see where you’re coming from…” Dijon crinkled his thick black brows together. The words dug at Aleshia, reminding her of the other reason why she avoided the calls. “But if you’re doing this because you believe it will be better for both of you, then… whatever. Can I at least mention why you’re doing this to him? It will be good for him to hear, you know, something.”

“You can explain,” Aleshia agreed. “I just don’t want to explain to him.”

“Hmm.” Dijon said nothing more on the matter, but let it be known through his non-verbal attitude that he considered Aleshia a bi*ch.

Aleshia already knew Vaneese openly considered her a bi*ch, but supported the decision anyway.

“On the other hand, I do look forward to seeing that frogspawn of yours make it into daylight.” Vaneese ran her palm over Aleshia’s stomach.

“I’m not calling him that. Might look peculiar on a birth certificate.”

They joked and laughed, deliberately ignoring the tension in the room which associated itself with Cameron.

After the visit, Dijon had obviously communicated with Cameron shortly afterward. Cameron ceased contact entirely. She only felt a pathetic grimace of relief that he didn’t erase her from the platforms he added her on.

Now, with Cameron informed, since Dijon had done the dirty work for her, she found herself able to concentrate on her work once more, becoming more productive than the dismal efforts of the past week. She spent more time reflecting on Miami Beach itself, and the beautiful climate of her new home, and less worrying about relationships, and other people.

If she wanted to take her second chance of life to the max, she didn’t need burdens. She didn’t want the albatross hanging around her neck.

Sitting on the balcony one hot evening, with the light drizzle of rain touching the edges, and the sea dark and undulating upon the shores, she ate her Mexican take-out.

Aleshia had come a long way since Minnesota. She now had her own house to pay the mortgage on, and a home in the tropical climate of Florida. She should feel on top of the world, flushed with success and the hope of the future. She no longer thought such dark, deadly thoughts about the son who developed inside her, no longer worried about his denied opportunity to know his father. Peace settled at last on that rocky ship.

He would be far better off, like Aleshia was, without Peter in their lives. She did feel a twinge of regret at having frozen Cameron out.

It’s for the best, she told herself, for the thousandth time.

So, why then, did it hurt so much?