chapter 5
Supplement for the Wreckage
We stepped outside the house when we heard a car approach the drive. When the car came into sight, Audrey’s jaw dropped. “Oh my ...” She tried again. “Holy ...”
“Crap,” I finished for her.
“You didn’t mention this guy had money, Camille.” She nudged my arm. “I suddenly feel a tad underdressed. You?”
I glanced down at my timeworn Converse sneakers. “I didn’t know. And how are we gonna fit in that thing?” I stared at the black Maserati as it pulled into park in front of us, a car so flashy, I had a hard time picturing him in it.
And then he stepped out from the driver’s side wearing a black button-up dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and an expensive-looking pair of dark jeans. Not the Gavin with the old band t-shirt and combat boots, but wherever that Gavin was tonight, I wouldn’t complain about his absence.
“Hey you,” he said, then, hands in pockets, he walked toward us. The enthusiasm on his face lit me up.
“Hey,” I replied, sneaking a glance at Audrey to make sure she’d shut her mouth. “Nice car. Didn’t picture you driving a Maserati.”
“Thanks. I love it. Wait until you see the inside, it’s just as nice.” He looked back at the car, peering at the passenger door while he laughed his nervous laugh again. “Too flashy for me?”
“Flashy, but that’s not a bad thing,” I said with a shrug.
“What did you picture me driving?”
The passenger door swung open, and out stepped another tall, dark and handsome type. Except this guy had dark-black hair with piercing blue eyes that nearly blinded me. I stifled a laugh, knowing Audrey would probably leave me the hell alone for the rest of the evening.
Gavin turned to the guy. “What do you think, Gabe? Do you think a Maserati’s too flashy for me?”
“I don’t know man, I think it suits you,” Gabe replied, coming to join us.
“I was gonna say an old Mustang or something,” I chimed in.
“Yeah, I can see that, too,” Gabe said. “But he does have a thing for luxury cars. Big spender over here.” Gabe had a kind face: mature, yet boy-like. And he seemed really close with Gavin, like a brother.
Gabe bumped Gavin’s shoulder, hinting at him to introduce us. “Ah, sorry. Camille,” he said, and introduced Gabe to me. Then he moved forward to shake Audrey’s hand. “And you must be Audrey, right?”
“Yup, nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand.
“Hope you don’t mind he’s tagging along tonight,” Gavin said, and moved to stand next to me.
She quietly chuckled, a dark laugh I think she intended only me to hear. Gavin heard and glanced over at me, amused.
Gabe and Audrey began chatting. Gavin and I exchanged pleased looks and stepped away to give them privacy. He said, “You look ...”
“Underdressed?” I glanced again at his flashy car.
“Ha. No. I was going to say you look amazing.” He pointed toward my long-sleeved corset top. “Black looks great on you, I notice you wear a lot of it.”
“What do you know?” I joked. “You’ve only seen me what, twice?” I nodded at his shirt. “You’re one to talk. Black is all I’ve seen you wear, too.”
“I suppose you have a point.” He tugged at his shirt, grinning. “It’s all I wear. I don’t feel comfortable wearing any other color.”
I looked up, my eyes meeting his in understanding. “Me too. Everything else is too colorful. I like to blend in, not stand out.”
“Wow. We really are introverts.”
“That we are,” I agreed laughing, pulling at my sleeve. “But hey, I do have another reason. Johnny Cash. ‘Man in Black.’ It resonates with me. I feel convicted to wear it.” Embarrassed by my confession, I chuckled, playing with my sleeve as I spoke.
“That’s a great song. So, you’re an introvert with a conviction.”
He looked at me with the same intrigue that crossed his face that day in Paris. It made me uncomfortable, yet I didn’t want him to look away. I pried my eyes from his, feeling that annoying pink hue begin to spread across my face again. “I know, I’m a dork. Just deal with it.”
“You’re far from that, believe me.” He pulled his eyes from my face. “That’s a very respectable conviction, you know--”
“Okay guys, are we gonna head out? We’re starving.” Gabe and Audrey had returned from their little world. I was shocked to notice they were already hand-in-hand. That was quick. And strange.
“Uh, yeah let’s go,” I replied, giving Audrey a hard stare. She didn’t notice. She was too busy smiling at Gabe. It was nauseating. Already. “Where are we going exactly, by the way?”
“Well,” Gavin said. “We’re taking you to this place in Breaux Bridge. Cafe Des Amis. They have Cajun zydeco music. We hope you ladies like to dance, because--”
Audrey exploded with laughter, immediately clapping her hand over her mouth. Gavin shifted his eyes between Audrey and me, confused.
A penitent smile on her face, Audrey said, “It’s just that ... Camille doesn’t exactly dance. It’s not her thing.”
“Yeah, but it’s fine, really,” I said. “I can still hang out while you guys dance. Come on, let’s go.” I darted for the car, shooting her a warning look.
Not wanting to spoil the fun, after dinner, I let Gavin hurl me all over the dance floor. Every few minutes he would dip me and fling me into a stranger, although the flinging wasn’t his fault. He was actually quite coordinated, his rhythm impressive. I was the one who couldn’t keep up, unexpectedly launching myself into people as we moved. I watched Audrey and Gabe easily keep up with the fast Cajun beats. Their dance moves were just about as nauseating as their instant chemistry, though I couldn’t help but smile at their instant coupledom. The entire night felt safe. Lighter. So far, the new spell was working just fine.
I was having a great time too, but getting tired. Gavin caught my exhausted expression as another song ended and said, “Want to take a break? How about a walk?” I nodded, and watched him share a cautious look with Gabe before he led me out the door to the street.
“Everything okay?” I asked, puzzled by the exchange. We began to meander down the street.
“Oh ... yeah, everything’s fine. Gabe and I just watch out for each other. This guy inside has kind of been eyeing you all night, and he was helping me keep an eye on him, that’s all.”
“Well that’s creepy. But ... thanks.” I shivered. The familiar paranoia rushed over me, and like the gods suddenly sensed my fear, my cell phone rang. Saying, “Excuse me,” I stepped away from Gavin, but headed toward the end of the sidewalk when I saw the name on the caller ID. I hesitated, then silenced the ringer to ignore it. I was not about to let him ruin the night.
“Everything okay?” Gavin appeared from behind me, looking concerned in the streetlight. He glanced around at the empty sidewalk, as though looking for someone.
“Yeah,” I stammered, shoved the phone in my pocket. “My mom. I always get upset when she calls.” I tried to focus, gestured toward the sidewalk. “How about that walk?”
“Sure.” He took my hand in his, rubbed the side of my arm. “You sure you’re all right, though? We can head home if you want. . . .” He pointed to the parked Maserati.
“I appreciate it, but no,” I sent him a faint smile. “It’ll do me good to stay out. And I’m fine, really.” I resumed my stroll, waited for him. I rubbed my forearms and released my hands back to my sides, determined to get Andrew off my mind. “So ... where were we? Ah, yes. You never really told me where you live outside of Lafayette.”
“Oh, right.” He took a deep breath and followed my lead. “Well, I was born here. I live in New Iberia, in my grandfather’s old house. I sort of inherited it. I’ve traveled a lot, moved around a bit. I’ve always come back home, though.”
“You inherited a house? Really? You live there all by yourself?”
“Yeah. It’s a lot more space than I need, but I’d never sell the house. It’s part of me.” He’d placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked, leading me across another street. The smallest of gestures, but so much like our brief time in Paris, as if we’d been together for years. And my lungs forgot how to function.
I took a step back up onto the curb, forced a breath, said, “I can understand that. It’s a little different for me, I guess. I’ve only been here a little over a year. I left Seattle after I met you,” I smiled at him, “just as you suggested. But I came here instead of Paris. Moved out here and bought a house. My grandmother helped. Turned out, she’d been saving money for me for years.”
He nodded. “Family here?”
My mother flashed in my mind, her in her wheelchair in front of Oak Alley Plantation. This is where I wish I’d stayed, Camille, she’d said that day.
“No, no family,” I said. “I came to visit New Orleans once, back in high school. With my mom. She loves the South. So do I. Her whole family’s from here.” My heart grew heavy as I spoke, hoping that was enough of an answer.
“Wow, so did you move out here all by yourself? Or did your parents move back too? Your grandma?”
“By myself. Mom’s still in Seattle, but she and my dad aren’t together anymore.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that.” He replied sincerely, his face thoughtful in the streetlight.
We stopped to sit on the sidewalk in front of an antique shop. He held my arm to keep me stable while I lowered my body to sit on the concrete. A dark blue truck drove by, and my heartbeat ratcheted up. I followed it with my eyes, scanning the driver’s seat for a face.
“Your mom didn’t want to move back after her and your dad split up?” Gavin’s voice broke through my distraction.
“No. She’s not well. And now that she’s been in Seattle for years, she’s comfortable there. She didn’t want to make a big move at this point in her life.”
“Your dad? Still in Seattle, I presume.”
I pulled in a breath and pushed my hands over my hair, smoothing some strands that had loosened while we were dancing, pondering how much to delve into my complicated baggage on the first date.
“Yeah, still there,” I exhaled. “He thought I was crazy for coming out here, but I love it. And Louisiana’s new enough. It’s easy, because no one really knows me. I was never close to any of Mom’s family. Come to think of it, I doubt they even know I live here now.”
Gavin folded his arms, letting them rest on his knees. “It’s no Seattle.”
“Exactly.”
“I see. What about your grandma. The one who helped you buy the house. Your mom’s mom? She still live out here?”
I shifted my weight on the hard ground, thinking of how to politely change the subject.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to talk about your family anymore if you don’t want.” He leaned his head on his hand, shifted his eyes downward again. “I just want to know you.”
He straightened his back and watched a young couple jabbering away, walking from one of the shops across the street to their car. I ran my hand over my still-tender forearm, staring at it, wondering when to tell Gavin what was going on with that.
He reached up, pulled a few strands of my hair away from my face, tucked it behind my ear. “So, my introverted Seattleite, tell me something else I don’t know. Like why you work in a bookstore. Just a job?”
“Pretty much.” I grinned at his touch. “Working around books is a sort of heaven for me. I want to write. Which I don’t think I’ve ever told to anyone before. Not even Audrey.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell someone that?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a dream that’s mine, I guess. No one can take it from me if I keep it tucked away.” I peered into his dark eyes, reached out to touch his face for the first time, to feel the porcelain skin that had so easily hypnotized me the first time I met him in Paris. Such a bold move for me, yet I became bolder still, placing my palm on the side of his face, holding it in place so he couldn’t look away. “And who are you, my Louisiana native?” I rubbed my thumb across his cheek. “You haven’t told me a thing about yourself, other than you live in New Iberia.”
He leaned his face into my palm, staring back at me. There went his eyes again, trying to communicate something, only his mouth wouldn’t let him and I couldn’t break through to find what was behind them. “I’m not that interesting,” he said. “I’m more interested in you.”
“And I just want to know you.” Grinning, I shrugged.
Chuckling at his words backfiring on him, he straightened up again and tilted his head back to look up at the dark sky. He moved his hands to the sidewalk, leaned his weight on it. “Let’s see. I love art, I’m a Hitchcock film geek, and I play piano. But most important, you,” he took my hand in his, “are by far the most beautiful person I have ever encountered in all of my existence. And that’s about all there is to know.”
“Well, thank you,” I said, taken by his compliment. “But, that’s not all there is to know.” He didn’t volunteer anything else so I continued. “What do you do for work? Do you go to school? Give me something.”
He rolled his eyes at me and looked out past the street, shaking his head. “Unlike you, I have virtually no bills. Because of my inheritance. So I take jobs here and there wherever I travel, and then I give the money away.” He shrugged. “My calling, helping people. It makes me happy.” He interlocked his fingers with mine, squeezed. “Is that sufficient detail for you?”
I crossed my legs Indian style, ready to fire more questions, but he swiveled his entire body toward me, taking my wrists in his hands. The moonlight highlighted the little scar above his eyebrow, and once again, I felt I must have known him in a past life. It was the only thing that explained why he felt so familiar to me.
“Before you ask anything else,” he ran his fingers through his hair, cleared his throat, “I have to say something, or I might never get the guts to say it again.”
“Okay, just say it.” I turned toward him, too.
“A little warning. This is going to come off strong for a first date.” He chuckled, adjusted his shirt collar. Unnerved by the urgency in his voice, I nodded to encourage him. I sensed what this was like for him, the fear that opening up to me, someone he barely knew, would give me power over him. I also knew that every once in a while, that was so undeniably worth the risk. Maybe his confession, whatever it was, would make me feel better about breaking the news to him about Andrew.
“I’m completely crazy about you, Camille.” He moved in closer, his eyes assessed my reaction. “I know there are details you didn’t want to mention before ... things about the guy you left back in Seattle, and your mom. But I want you to know whatever it is you’re still running from, you don’t have to run from it anymore. You can talk to me. And I would never, ever, hurt you.”
He spoke frantically now, and I began to sweat, anxious from his anxiety. Desperate to ease his discomfort, I turned my eyes toward the sidewalk.
“I mean, I feel like I’ve known you forever, even that day I met you in Paris. Something happened then. I love how you bear your thoughts in your eyes, how you’re transparent. Yet you’re so elusive, hard to catch--” He finally exhaled. “And I want to be the one to catch you.” Loosening his grip on my hands, he slowly lifted my arm, slid the shirtsleeve up. “Whoever he is . . . I know he hurt you.”
I pulled away, loosened the sleeve to cover the bruised skin, ashamed. I looked away, but he pulled my face closer to his. “He’s scum of the earth. The one back in Seattle, too. Neither one of them deserve you.”
“How did you know?” I asked softly, wondering how obvious it was.
“Lucky guess.” He wiped a tear that formed in the corner of my eye. “Was that him on the phone? The one who did this to you?”
I nodded my head, looked down.
“I just want you to know that I’ll wait for you. However long you need. And that I’m here when you’re ready to talk about it.”
I hesitated, then peered up at him and reached out to pull his arms around me. I’d tell him about Andrew later. For now, I focused on the gift being offered to me. He held me tight, placed his head over mine and ran his fingers through my hair. “I guess this means we’re good?” He laughed, uncertain.
“Yeah.” I buried my head into his neck, wrapped my arms around his waist. “We’re good.” I breathed in his scent and exhaled. His depth only seemed to draw me farther into the recesses of his being, and I was more than ready to dive into its very core.