Page 77 of The Leaving Kind
“Do you enjoy it?” Probably a silly question. That relaxed and replete expression Cam had worn earlier? He always looked like that with a shovel in his hand. He obviously loved working outdoors and with tools. Victor had only seen the garden at the front of the house Cam lived in, but he’d noted how lush and well planted it was. Tidy too.
“I do. But ...” The frown returned. “I don’t know if I’m a business person. If I can be ... that person.”
“I think you are. Look how quickly you’ve put it together so far.”
“There is that.”
Connections sparked in Victor’s brain. “I might know someone who’s looking for part time hours. A young person. Thrown out by their parents because they’re transitioning. They’ve been in my summer program for three years and they love the outdoors. Always seemed like a conscientious worker too.”
Cam nodded quickly, almost distractedly. “Send them my way. Do they need somewhere to live? Only room I have left is Emma’s. I can ask if she’d mind.”
“No, they’re living with a friend for now, and last I heard, planning to switch to cyber school for their senior year so they can keep working part time hours and get a place of their own.”
“Cool.”
Cam adjusted his hands, drawing them out of the water and wrapping them around his knees. “I could stay here all night.”
Taking the change of subject for what it was, Victor replied, “I am numb from the waist down.”
Cue a mischievous grin.
“No,” Victor warned.
Cam coiled inward like a snake preparing to strike.
Even before he moved, Victor was pushing away, but Cam caught him and pushed him back into the water. Water rolled over his face, and Victor closed his eyes. His fingers leaped toward his nose, pinching it shut, and his legs kicked upward. A joyful laugh burst from his lungs. A laugh that gurgled once before he broke the surface, spitting out water and chuckles.
“Numb all the way yet?” Cam asked.
“No. Yes!”
Victor was plunged a second time, and it was only when his back failed to touch the rounded pebbles beneath the surface that he realized that Cam had tucked an arm around him first.
The care. Always the damn care. Did Cam even know he showed it?
Bracing himself, Victor pushed up faster than Cam’s rescue and rolled Cam backward for his turn. He failed totally in getting an arm around Cam’s shoulders in the same way but did succeed in dunking himself again. Face-first, this time.
Once he flailed back to the surface, he had to work hard at prioritizing breathing over laughing. Thankfully, Cam was fighting the same battle.
When he caught his breath, Victor said, “I think I am sufficiently refreshed.”
Cam chuckled and leaned back on his hands, whipping his head about like a dog’s at the same time.
“I just realized you don’t have Honey with you.”
“Jorge is babysitting.”
Victor wanted to know Jorge’s story, then. He’d only seen the man once, in the driveway when he’d dropped Cam off. He’d been large and stoic. But with the same cautious gentleness Cam exhibited so often.
Before he could ask, though, Cam turned the conversation back on him. “How’s your work?”
Victor shook his head. Shrugged. Shot Cam a rueful smile. “Let’s just say I’m glad I can make a reasonably comfortable living off the sale of prints.” His body of work was large enough that residuals continued to trickle in. The absence of a mortgage also helped.
Am I sliding into retirement before I make a plan? Felt that way sometimes.
“You’re not painting? I’ve been waiting for the abstract Cameron.”
“The abstract Cameron is a work in progress.” And only mentally.