Page 58 of The Leaving Kind
“Victor—”
Holding up a hand, he shook his head. “I’m still working through it and trying not to turn your room into a wine cellar in the process. Can we talk about something else?”
“How are your summer classes coming along?”
He breathed out a sigh. “I’ve been wondering whether the kids are simply there out of habit. I need to change my lesson plans. Explore new territory. I have a student who is currently homeless, by the way. They have somewhere to stay for now, but as you know that could change quickly. Keep an ear out for a couple of good spots? One year left of high school. If we can get them past that, they’ll have a wider array of opportunities.”
“Of course. You’re not thinking of housing them, are you?”
“I’m keeping a room put aside, in case.”
“I’m not sure that’d be a good idea. You’ve got so much going on. Are you sure you’re okay? I worry about you. You’re drawing portraits, again, of a man you want. You’re still angry over Tholo, and reevaluating your career. It’s a lot, Vic. Do you think you should call your therapist?”
“Sage already asked. I’m fine. I spent a week feeling sorry for myself after I chose to throw Tholo out on his ass, but after hearing about the show, I didn’t fall back into the bottle. I’ve been doing my best to remain constructive.” He tapped his phone. “Hence all these sketches.”
“Just try not to get fixated.”
Only Tez could say that and not flinch. And not fear his reaction.
Victor sighed and then produced a smile that felt weak. “I asked Cam if we could be friends, and I honestly think that’s for the best. He’s right, you’re right. Everyone is right. I promise I’ll take it easy. Not leap before I look and all that.”
Tez had his hand again, and for a moment, he missed her. The life they’d built together for all those years. No, they hadn’t shared a bed. Not for sex, anyway. But they had slept to either side of their children on many occasions, and they’d often curled up together to talk. He missed having a constant. A companion for his soul.
No regrets. None.
She squeezed his fingers. “Keep sketching, then. What you showed me is amazing, Victor. Really strong work. Fresh and vibrant. So like you, but new too. Maybe that’s what Cam is here for. To inspire you artistically.”
Finding a better smile for her, Victor lifted Tez’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “Maybe.”
Cam was wrestling with the laptop Emma had gifted her penniless uncle when she’d started her second year of college. She’d bought herself a new and improved model, slightly larger, but oddly lighter. And the keyboard lit up like a rainbow. Pretty, but even glowing keys wouldn’t help him with the message currently blocking the screen of her cast-off piece of junk.
Input what software key? It’d been working last week. Why did he suddenly need a key?
Maybe the new and improved, rainbow-keyed laptop didn’t need keys.
“Fine.”
From under the table, Honey huffed. Probably a yawn, but Cam reached down to ruffle her ears. “I know. Stupid computer.”
Honey gave another huff and flopped her chin back over his socked feet. She had taken to following him from room to room so she could lie with some part of her extended over some part of him. At first Cam had found this odd. He was so used to being alone. Now he welcomed her company.
He canceled out of the program and searched for another. He just wanted to make a list. One he could rearrange and assign dates to. Maybe add a scheduling sort of affair. He and Jorge were taking on more garden maintenance and landscaping jobs each week, and Cam woke up every morning panicking that he’d forgotten something.
Maybe he could use the calendar? Plug all the details in there? Sync the contacts from his phone?
Hmm ...
The chime of his cell phone interrupted his musing. Absently, Cam scooped it off the table. “Hello.”
“Mr. Zimmermann?”
Uh-oh. Calls that began with Mr. Zimmermann rarely brought good news. “Speaking.” Cam pulled the phone from his ear to see if Verizon had matched the number to a contact yet. It had not.
“Hi, I’m calling from Milford Animal Hospital. We’ve had an inquiry about your dog. The dog you found. Someone who believes she might be their dog.”
A pit didn’t actually open up in Cam’s middle, but he felt hollow all the same. As though someone had scooped a big old hand through his midsection and taken out everything that had mattered.
“Are you there?” the now faraway voice asked.