Page 74 of See You Again
Because she did. She remembered watching him sleep, the sun coming through the blinds, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. The desire to invite him into her bed to cuddle, and how he had only left her side that morning to bring her McDonald’s and ibuprofen.
Cami: At least I didn’t puke on you.
James: No, but you snore like a walrus.
Cami: *gasp* Slander!
James: Not if it’s true.
Cami: You can’t prove it. It was years ago. Your memory of one night can’t be trusted.
James: I remember everything about that night.
Cami’s stomach swooped.
What does that mean?
James: I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean it the way it came out. You’d think as a litigator I’d be better with my words.
Cami fiddled with the tips of her hair.
Cami: I know you didn’t.
The text bubbles appeared and then disappeared and then appeared again. Finally, a message came through.
James: What time am I picking you up Tuesday?
Cami: 7?
James: Looking forward to it.
The butterflies inside her were in full flight. Cami caught her giddy smile in the mirror and sobered.
My heart’s not going to make it through the week, much less a month!
Cami looked at her watch as she pulled into her mother’s driveway. She only planned on staying a couple hours before using work as an excuse as to why she needed to leave. Earlier she had received an email from Mark Barlow, letting her know her records request had gone through, and that he was sending over the first of the taped interviews from when Amy disappeared, as well as the forensic reports.
Cami rubbed her forehead as she stared at the house she grew up in and struggled to find her patience. Her mom was ill, but instead of wanting to get better, it seemed like Irene Messina was happy to slip away.
Even though Cami knew her mother had probably watched Cami’s approach through the curtained sidelights by the front door, she shifted the bags of groceries to her other hand and knocked three times before using her key to unlock the door.
The stale smell of a closed-up house combined with multiple litter boxes hit her like a wave. She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to halt the automatic gag reflex. She’d been here just last weekend, but nothing ever seemed to lessen the shock that this was the reality of how her mother lived.
On some level, Cami understood her mom couldn’t help it. Obsessive compulsive disorder combined with bipolar disorder meant her mother had an uncontrollable need to hold on to animals, as well as every other item that crossed her threshold.
In school, and after her professional certification, Cami had done endless hours of research hoping to find something to help her mother.
She understood that her mother’s anxieties and attachment issues directly led to the way she lived. However, it didn’t make it any easier for Cami to accept. In fact, her mother’s mental illness was the main motivation behind Cami's pursuit of a career in psychology.
She knew a large part of her wanting to help others and find the answers to mysteries was a direct result of her childhood. An adult Cami trying to make sense of the chaos young Cami had been forced to exist in.
Plenty of therapists had explained it to her. But that didn’t mean she didn’t still get angry for the little girl, abandoned first by her father who had to have known the parent he left her with, and then, in stages… her mother.
“Mama?” Cami called into the dimly lit space.
Her childhood home had once been full of light. Large bay windows in each of the front rooms. Now, her mother kept the curtains pulled tightly shut in order to hide the piles of boxes and debris from neighbors’ prying eyes.
Cami walked through the foyer, averting her eyes from the front rooms. The memories of a sunlit room with a sofa and throw pillows, where her parents started their day with coffee, called to her. Now, the crumbling cardboard boxes haphazardly stacked and piles of items that should have been thrown out long ago seemed the perfect metaphor for what their family had become.