A Perfect Mistake, page 12
“Your mom… interesting… dating Grandma’s…”
I squared my shoulders and looked Dad in the eye, an easy enough task as we were almost the same height. The fact that he brought this up meant Mom had gone on a rampage. I went on the defense. “As I’ve said before, I met Nica at a bar, we didn’t know who each other was.”
“But… didn’t stop…”
No, no it didn’t. “That’s my fault. My own parents delayed flying up. No one was visiting Grandma. Nica understood what I was going through. I convinced her to go out to dinner with me.” With a little help from Lexie.
“And…?” Dad raised his eyebrows.
“There’s something there between us. Grandma knew what she was talking about in regards to Nica and me.”
Dad’s eyes shone with the start of a fire, a fire ignited by Mom. I wondered what he would think, on his own, but had given up hoping for a miracle. “… professional that worked for Grandma.… conflict between the two of you…? Be careful not to fall…” He shook his head and walked away. As unusual as this situation was, this was the standard response I received from him. I would introduce a girlfriend to my parents, my mother would find a flaw, and my father would try to talk me out of it. And the family wondered why I was still single? Not only did they steer me away from whoever I held an interest in, but they were proof that the wrong match destroyed a person.
For the first time I wondered about the right match. What my grandparents had. What Dan and Ben had.
The pit of my stomach burned with a rage ready to rumble. Complications and all, I knew I cared deeply for Nica. My family would have to deal.
Chapter 13
Nica
“You finally stopped resisting Cam. Good. Except I owe Grant ten bucks. I thought for sure you’d hold out for another week,” Lexie said on Saturday as we sat at a local coffee shop. The interior was nothing special: off-white walls, off-white floors, wooden tables. But the coffee could not be beat. We each had pumpkin spice lattes and commandeered a table by the window.
I resisted the urge to throw my head on the table, especially with the few lingering crumbs. “You bet on my sex life?”
“Of course we did. When it’s obvious to anyone who sees you that you two are meant to be. Just pissed I lost to him.” A sly grin swept over Lexie’s face.
“Wait, what was that?” I asked, pointing at my friend. “I know that smile.”
Lexie sipped her latte. “I don’t know whatever you mean.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you and Grant hooking up?”
“Not yet. We’re toying with the idea. Waiting to see what happens between you two. We’re not commitment people. So if you two are good, we’ll need to be cordial. But if you two crash and burn, then hey, why not.”
I shook my head. “Don’t let my sex life mess with yours.”
She waved me off. “I’m good. The question is, are you?”
Thoughts of waking up to Cam in my bed that morning swept over me, along with the way he took me in the glow of the morning light. “I’m powerless to resist him.”
“You needed some action, why did you fall in love?”
I stared at my cup, but only saw Cam’s face and his infectious grin. “I didn’t mean to.” The full meaning of my words hit me, and I nearly spilled my drink. “Did I really say that?”
Lexie sipped her coffee, tipping it back further this time. “Yup.”
My heart hammered out a frantic SOS code. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Well, which one didn’t you mean?”
I studied the clock behind Lexie, trying to find the truth. After such a short amount of time I truly cared for Cam. And I had no clue what that all meant.
Lexie snorted before I summoned anything resembling words. “You’ve got it bad.”
I had the urge to pace. Damn Cassie for being right.
“So,” Lexie said, mischief in her voice, “I think pulling a Nica and messing up this relationship is out of the equation.”
“This situation is messed up enough on its own.”
“Exactly. Normally Nica would be running by now, not falling. Which has to be scaring the crap out of you.”
My head finally met the table, crumbly particles scratching at my cheek, but I didn’t care, not anymore.
“Head on table, yup, you’re scared. So that leaves ‘The Veronica.’ I think Cam’s got a few more weeks before you pull that, on account of the dead grandmother and all.”
I lifted my head and brushed the crumbs away. “Are you putting a time limit on my relationship?”
Lexie leaned back and flipped her hair off her shoulders. “Do you want a time limit?”
No, I didn’t want a time limit. I clutched my foam coffee cup until the sides dented. Talk about deep and scary thoughts for a Saturday. I didn’t want to stop seeing Cam, that much I knew. But could I open up my heart and allow him to demolish me when, years from now, we stopped working? That day would come, sooner or later. At least with sooner I could dust myself off with ease.
“Okay, deer in headlights look. I’ve officially freaked out Nica.”
I snapped back to attention. I focused on my surroundings again, the aroma of coffee, and Lexie’s concerned face.
Lexie leaned forward. “Stop overthinking it. Just enjoy. You obviously are dealing with the big stuff as far as emotions go.”
And wasn’t that the problem. I was dealing with emotions I’d never expected to experience.
A twinkle of amusement appeared on Lexie’s face. “So, I’m thinking of getting a tattoo.”
I let my tight shoulders sag in relief. “Thank you for shifting the conversation.” I recognized a life preserver had been tossed.
Lexie shrugged. “You needed it.”
“A tattoo? You hate needles.”
Lexie rolled up her sleeve and admired her arm. “I think I’d look good with a little ink on my skin.”
“You. Hate. Needles.” I poked Lexie’s arm with a pink fingernail.
Lexie jerked back and rubbed her arm at the minor poking. “It would be worth it.”
“You’ll get a tattoo when I willingly admit my feelings.”
“No fair, that’s when hell freezes over.”
“Exactly.”
Lexie’s grin turned mischievous. “Except you just admitted there was something to admit.”
Not willing to divulge anything, I pointed a finger at Lexie. “If I sterilize a needle will you let me near you?”
“No.”
“Then no tat.”
*****
Cam
My grandmother’s apartment used to feel cozy. Today it was downright suffocating. The small space held my parents, my aunts and uncles, and two of my cousins. There was no place to sit, no place to stand, and no place to escape. Mouths flapped in a place where ASL was the norm. No one here had been able to lend a hand in caring for Grandma, not even when Hospice first became involved. Now their hands were silently outstretched as they picked through her items as if it were a cheap yard sale. I was ready to punch someone.
I moved into my grandmother’s bedroom and rolled my tight shoulders in the open space. After a moment of solitude I found the little wooden box by her bed. The box was decorated by a child’s hand in markers and stickers. My hand. As an adult I begged her to retire the box, something I spent a few minutes scribbling on decades ago. She refused, telling me she remembered my face filled with pure joy upon giving it to her. I pushed aside the memories clenching my heart like a vise. Inside the box I seized the piece of paper we’d written up together years prior. She didn’t believe in a will, much to my chagrin, but she did have certain wishes on how her property was disbursed.
Back in the living room I banged the wall for attention. “Grandma had some wishes on how she wanted her belongings taken care of,” I voiced, my throat dry and stiff.
“She didn’t… will, Cameron.” My mother rolled her eyes.
I needed a moment to process her lip movements and decode her words. Between my eyebrows throbbed, a sure sign of a headache brewing. “But she did have wishes. We wrote this two years ago, when her health took that first big decline.”
“Let me…” My father held out his hand. Sucking in some air, I handed the paper over. Hands clasped behind my neck, I walked into the bedroom to get a little breathing space.
I studied the pictures on the wall, ranging from black and white to faded color to vibrant color. Black and white pictures of my grandmother’s family back when she was a little girl. They showed a different, simpler time. A black and white wedding picture of my grandparents hung in the center. They appeared young and scared in their formal clothing. Pictures of my father and aunts growing up, color slowly appearing in the photographs, then their weddings, the grandchildren, depicting the vibrant color of modern times. These were the pictures that represented a lifetime, her lifetime, a lifetime now gone.
The lights flickered on and off. I turned to see my cousin, Grace, standing in the doorway. She pointed to the living room. “Fighting.”
Vultures. “What’s new?” I said in both languages.
“Your mom’s upset over a name on the list, they need you,” she said, her lips moving and using what signs she could.
I glanced to the window. The frame had a tendency to stick. But we were on the first floor. If I could pry it open I could—
Grace shuddered and closed her eyes. “Your mom screamed your name. Sorry.”
I made my way back into the living room, Grace close on my heels, using me as a shield no doubt. I caught Mom’s beady eyes moments before my aunt caught mine.
“Calm down, Rhonda, let the boy explain,” Aunt Kat signed and spoke, one of the few willing to go head to head with Mom when necessary. Also one of the few willing to sign and speak in front of her.
Mom said something before she turned and faced me, clutching the paper in her fisted hand. “… write this?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“And Veronica… here?”
I blinked. Did I read that correctly? I stared at her red lips, running the movements over again. “What?” I grabbed the paper and smoothed it back out, scanning the list until I found Nica’s name. Sure enough, Grandma wanted to leave her favorite brooch to her. I laughed. “I forgot about that.”
When I glanced up Mom still fumed. “Relax, Mom. This was written two years ago.”
“She’s trying to…”
I rubbed my eyes. I needed some pain meds and an interpreter. Or my own damn mother to sign. “What?”
She gave me a condescending glare. She hated any time I needed something repeated. I sent the glare back.
Mom pointed to the paper. “She’s. Trying. To. Get. Items. From. Frail. Elders.” Over enunciating. No one would ever know she had a Deaf son. Well, at least she gave me time to figure out what the fuck she said.
I fisted my hands. “I highly doubt that. Grandma did this because she wanted to.” I scanned the list. “She also has a few items for the woman that cleaned her house and the one that helped with the shower.” I scratched my head and wondered how I was going to get in touch with them. I hadn’t contemplated any of this when we wrote up the list, but that was years ago. I didn’t even know if the same women were still involved. I’d have to ask Nica.
The floor vibrated, and I caught Aunt Kat tapping her foot with a great deal of force and nodding towards my mother.
“… isn’t appropriate, Cam,” Mom seethed. I checked my family and no one made eye contact. A few of my relatives found their shoes particularly interesting. I guessed they were debating how quick of an exit they could make when Mom went into full blowout mode.
“It was Grandma’s wishes. That’s all.” I faced the rest of the room. “If anyone wants it grab it, I know Nica wouldn’t feel comfortable taking anything anyways.”
“Oh really… two weeks you know…?”
I stomped to my mother until I towered over her. “Yes.” By my sides I fingerspelled the word, out of her view. I knew Nica had a good soul, felt it in the depth of my being. Heck, I’d have known her stance on the brooch even before we met in person.
The fire in my mother’s eyes didn’t diminish. This is ridiculous. This is how we celebrate a life, by fighting over Grandma’s wishes?
I checked my own rage and reached into my pocket for my keys. I learned a long time ago that I shared Mom’s temper, and if we ever went head to head, an explosion of cosmic proportions would ensue. “I’m leaving. Anything on that list for me, put aside. I’ll be back next week to finish cleaning up. The leftover furniture can be donated to the building if no one wants them.”
With that I pushed past my family, slammed the door, and headed to my car.
*****
Nica
Lexie continued staring at her bare arm. “Perhaps you’re right. I don’t know what kind of tattoo I would get anyways.”
I tapped the side of my coffee cup. “Your dad has tattoos, ask him if you can handle the pain.”
Lexie tugged her sleeve down. “Larry wouldn’t know.”
My phone buzzed, vibrating along the table. I saw Cam’s name and snatched it up.
Cam: I left the vultures to their own devices.
My gut clenched.
Nica: Want some coffee?
He texted his order and I had it waiting for him, ignoring Lexie and her “good little housewife” teasing.
Ten minutes later a prickle of awareness hit the hairs on my neck, and I turned to Cam making his way over. The long, easy strides were in contrast to the stiffness in his shoulders. Those bitable lips were squashed into a thin, grim line. His hair more messed up than the first time we met. I knew the instant he found me as his shoulders relaxed and his lips quirked upwards. My heart skipped a beat. To have that effect on him turned my insides into a gooey marshmallow.
“Hi Lexie,” Cam signed as he spoke, his voice scratchier than usual as he came close before all but falling into the chair next to me, head in his hands. I rubbed up and down his back, hoping to smooth out the tension.
Lexie grabbed a napkin, dug a pen out of her bag, and scribbled a note. She slid it across the table, in-between Cam’s elbows. Through his bent arms I read: Sorry about your grandma.
He raised his head and leaned back. “Thanks. And thanks for writing. My brain’s a bit fried on lip-reading from my family.”
Lexie sipped her coffee. “Nica can interpret then.”
I moved my hand to Cam’s shoulder and signed with the other. “I’m guessing it was pretty bad?”
Cam nodded. “Turns out Grandma wanted to give you something. Mom’s pissed.”
“So I don’t take it, what’s the big deal?”
He let out a laugh and kissed my cheek. “That’s what I said. Mom still wasn’t happy.”
“What was it?” Lexie asked.
I glared even as I made sure Cam understood Lexie. “That’s hardly the point here, is it?”
Cam sipped his coffee. He started signing then stopped and waited until he could speak and sign. “It was a brooch she always wore.”
The color drained from my face. I turned to Cam, the room tilting off its axis. “What?”
Lexie leaned forward. “He said—”
“I heard him. She wanted me to have that?” I clutched a hand to my chest and willed my eyes not to tear up.
“What’s so important about this brooch?” Lexie asked.
I caught a half smile on Cam’s face as he awaited my explanation.
I sipped my coffee before answering, letting the memory wash over me. “Cassie always wore her brooch. It was something that was a part of her, like the shape of her nose. One day I was visiting her, years ago. She was having a tough time. Her health was declining, she was feeling old and defeated. So I asked her about the brooch. My own grandmother always wore one and it reminded me of her.” I shrugged. “But when my grandmother died my cousin swooped in and grabbed the brooch. I suspect she thought the diamonds were real and wanted to sell it. Whereas I wanted it for sentimental reasons.”
I turned and faced Cam. “I never expected her to leave it to me. You have a large family, it should go to someone else.”
“But she wanted you for family,” Lexie said.
“Shut up, Lexie.” I never left Cam’s eyes and didn’t bother interpreting.
“I suspect you’ll appreciate it more than anyone else. I’m sure that’s why Grandma wanted it this way.”
I broke eye contact. “Well, I will always treasure the thought. The rest isn’t worth causing problems.”
“We’ll see.” Cam groaned and grabbed his phone out of his pocket.
I glanced at the display, an incoming text from “Dad.” I nudged his arm. “Answer it.”
Cam scraped his chair back and headed outside as he tapped his phone. Lexie leaned forward.
“You two are cute together. I haven’t seen you this enraptured with a guy since senior year.”
“Shut up.” I peered through the window and watched Cam pacing outside. The breeze ruffled his short hair. His jaw set stiff. I knew his hand would be clenching. He turned, and I received confirmation as the white knuckles relaxed, only to scrunch up again. Less than forty-eight hours after giving this thing a try and I was in too deep.
*****
Cam
Cars passed by on the busy street, bumper-to-bumper as they inched along. The minute my phone vibrated I knew it would be my father and knew it would be about the battle I’d walked out on. It never mattered the size of the battle; Dad always took Mom’s side. I’d spent too much of my childhood praying he’d stick up for me, gave up years ago. Only my brothers would stand up for me, or act as buffers. In this case we were arguing over a brooch that my factory-working grandfather had given to my grandmother upwards of fifty years ago. I doubted the brooch cost more than twenty-five dollars. Hardly worth this fight.
Dad: You know it’s not appropriate.
Cam: It was written before Nica and I started dating.
