Page 71 of The Backup Plan
He stumbled on a broken section of sidewalk and kept his eyes turned down as he walked, looking for more potholes. Spotting a loose triangle of concrete, he broke his stride to jump over it, then skidded to a stop when a bright color caught his eye.
At the edge of the pavement, next to a shrub well into losing its leaves for the fall, wriggled a bumble bee.
Cam crouched down and glared at it. “You’re out too late,” he said. “Go home, stabby guy. It’s October. Too cold for you.”
The bee curled on its side and lay still on a brown leaf.
“I didn’t mean die. I said, go home.” He picked up a rock and poked it. “Come on. I support the pollinators. Where’s your nest? Go home, so we can have flowers next year.”
The bee batted a wing at him.
“Go home!” he shouted, the whisky still hot on his breath. “You don’t belong here, you fuzzy little shit. Go away where it’s warm. It’s still warm in Tennessee. You’ll die if you stay here.”
Cam shook from the effort it took not to mash the rock into the helpless bee, and threw it across the road so he wouldn’t be tempted.
“Why don’t you leave?” His eyes welled. “Turn left at the tree or the pylon or the lilac bush or the whatever, the end zone, I don’t know. Then y’all end up half-dead or mostly dead and plain lost. Why are you even here, you chunky fluff? There’s nothing here for you. You couldn’t even sting me if you tried right now. You’re so damn tired. I bet I could pet you.”
Uncapping his water bottle, he flopped next to the shrub to catch his breath. He scooped some damp, dead leaves and clumps of mulch from the base of the shrub and built a wall around the bee. It squirmed a little on its leaf.
“Bet I could do it,” he mumbled. “You’re just a freaking pom pom. You’re a fluff face. Bet I could pet you.”
Scanning the area, Cam saw a honeysuckle bush the bee might have visited in the summer, and he collected the wilted blossoms gathered at its base.
“Didn’t get the memo that the buffet closed for the season, huh?” he asked, crumbling the driest petals to dust and sifting them around the little wall of leaves and mulch.
“Hey, pom pom.” The bee’s wing fluttered. “Is that your name? Watch this.”
He touched the end of his left pinky finger to the bee, then laid the softest honeysuckle petal across it like a quilt.
“And my epi-pen’s in the truck,” he said, pumping his fist in the air. “Porter takes the long shot and comes in clutch with the game on the line, right, buddy?”
He placed a leaf over the bee like a roof. “Kidding. You only get to be clutch if you screw up, you know? You’ve got to be down to rally for a comeback, and I am so sick of losing before I can even hope to squeak out a win. Where’s my first-quarter lead? When am I ever going to put the first points on the board? Look at us, Pom Pom. You’re the dumbass who went to a dead honeysuckle vine. I’m the loser who can’t keep my grades up, because I’m too busy trying to fix the fact that I don’t talk right or dress right or look right. Did you know I was on a podcast? I didn’t.”
Chest heaving, Cameron slouched forward, elbows on his knees, and raised his voice with every word. “Why does it even matter if she gets back with him? I can’t even take care of myself. I’m not sleeping, I’m not eating right, I barely have the energy to throw the ball right, and you know what? Aside from the one person who I wish was interested, I am tired of people looking at my dick!”
“You okay, kid?”
He glanced up and followed the voice to the street, where a police officer gestured from the open window of a patrol car.
“Yes, sir,” he called.
“Where are you headed?”
“Back to campus.”
“You been drinking?”
“I’m just really tired, sir.” He took a drink from his water to emphasize his commitment to healthy fluid intake and wondered if he could make a puddle for Pom Pom to drink from without drowning it. He scraped his finger into the dirt and made a little hollow next to the wall of his makeshift nest.
“Who were you talking to just now?”
“A bee.” He bit his tongue. “Nobody, sir. Just thinking out loud, I guess. Rough day.”
The officer squinted at him. “Well, yeah. I guess for Cameron Porter, it’s been a rough day.”
“Excuse me?”
“Heck of a fight today, kid. You boys almost pulled it off.”