Pieces of Love

Chapter 8 - Apologies

Cameron sits at the bench seat at the park, letting the cool summer breeze blow through his shirt and hair as he watches some of the mothers with young kids play on the playground before him. As childish as it was, he had hoped that coming down in the middle of the day would mean the park was deserted... and the swing set was open.

There was nothing better than letting the wind blow through his hair and the stress melt away on the breeze as he the creaky swing set rings through the playground.

Despite the disappointment of allowing the little ones to wobble on the swings instead, Cam decided it was still nice to be out of the girl's apartment. Sometimes he needed to be alone. 

At home he was surrounded by his roommates, and if he were at the girls', there was always someone around. Out here though, he could sit on a bench and not have to share it with anyone else or squish up so that four other people could join him on the worn planks of green painted wood. It gave him time to think about what he was going to do, how he was going to afford rent, how he was going to pay Oliver back, how he was going to deal with everything.

It sucks. Having to think about every possible scenario and every outcome. Like his brain is overloading with thoughts of failure. It was like he failed at being independent. Failed at taking care of himself.  His failures made the people around him right; that he is the short one, the skinny kid who can't grow up. 

He gently raises a hand to rub at his chest as it twinges in pain, but before he can dwell on the feelings of embarrassment and failure for too long, his phone chirps in his pocket.

I need to talk to you.

Oliver. The phone begins to ring in his hand before Cameron can even think of an answer. He sighs, looking at the slightly grumpy photo of Oliver's face that now lights up his screen.

"Hello?"

There's rustling on his end of the phone before Oliver clears his throat. "I'm sorry."

Cameron blinks, eyes tracking the mothers on the playground, brain short circuiting. Since when did Oliver apologize?

"Why?"

Oliver sighs into the phone. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you last night if you wanted to go over to Lia's and I'm sorry that I didn't—" he sighs again, frustration seeping into his voice, "I didn't listen."

Cam sits on the bench, his chest tight. The apology was nice, sure, but he didn't think Oliver really understood.

"You spoke to Brandon." It's not a question.

"Yeah, I did."

He chews on his lip. "Do you see me as your equal?"

There's a pause, almost as if the question shocked Oliver from answering. "What? Why would you ask that?"

Anger that's been simmering deep in his stomach threatens to rise up into his chest, but that deep pain of hurt keeps it at bay, and Cameron frowns with his phone to his ear.

"You don't treat me like our other friends."

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

It's Cameron's turn to sigh. "If Brandon lost his job, what would you do?"

The pause is palpable. If it were Brandon, Oliver wouldn't have jumped to pay his rent. He wouldn't have told him to get in the car and drive him to someone else's house. Sure, he would have helped Brandon out, maybe lent him some cash or helped him to find another job elsewhere, but he wouldn't have treated him like he was a child in need of some firm parenting.