Those Camsten One Shots (Stitchers)

Father's Day

Cameron was a man of science. There wasn't a god of any sort - not to him. He relied on chemical reactions, statistics, and mechanics. He had his entire life. He supposed that, in some way, he was like that because of his heart. Science (a very precise science) saved his life, his entire existence. He wouldn't be living today without the discoveries of the human body - he wouldn't be living without science.

Science didn't explain love, though, so Cameron never bothered looking into it.

Love was the wild card of the human existence. It was technically defined by science, but nobody really, truly believed that science could explain what love was. Nobody Cameron knew, anyways. The way a human could be so protective, so persistent, so head over heels for the person they loved - nothing really made sense about it. The chemicals didn't all match up, the science was so mixed up, and Cameron just. . . Cameron wanted it to go away.

The first time he felt love, he didn't know he was feeling it. His mother got him a dog - this was a couple years before the heart surgery - and he was immediately attached to him. Wherever there was a Ruth (named after Cameron's favorite baseball player at the time) there was a Cameron. In bed, outside, at the dinner table - Cameron and Ruth never let the other out of their sights.

Cameron didn't understand why his heart broke when his mother told him they were giving Ruth away. He didn't understand at all.

The second time he felt love, it was over his possessions. His scientific books, his numerous laptops, his Settlers of Catan special-edition set. He loved them all - and it wasn't until a long time after he stopped loving them that Cameron realized why; he was replacing the love he was supposed to feel for his parents.

It wasn't that Cameron's parents didn't care about him - on the contrary, Dr. Goodkin loved her son so much that she couldn't bear to lose him. She locked him away from the world like he was a damsel from a fairytale. It was all private tutors and numerous toys until the beginning of high school. However, the Goodkins were socialites - there wasn't time for a child, until he was forced to take the yearly family photos.

Oh, yes, the photos. Cameron could remember those quite clearly.

They always managed to be the worst day of the year, right up there with his birthday and Christmas. He was forced into a suit - one to contrast his father perfectly. His mother wore a long, strapless dress - along with white gloves and her shining pearls, of course. Cameron had to stand like a statue for anywhere from an hour to half the day, and was never able to let his fake smile fall.

All he ever wanted to do those days was cry.

The third time Cameron felt love, he knew what love was. He just didn't know that's what he was feeling. Although, from what I've heard, he figured it out soon enough. And apparently, so did Kirsten. But I think it did take her a while longer.

I won't give you the full story. Let's just say there was a scientist, and a robot. Let's say the scientist taught the robot how to be a person. Let's just say the scientist always loved the robot, from the beginning to the end of time, and let's say the robot began to love the scientist, too. Let's say one day, the robot became a girl. Let's say the scientist became a boy. Let's say they taught each other to love, again.

Let's say there was a fourth time Cameron Goodkin felt love. The kind of love you have at first sight. The kind of love that wraps around you, dives inside of you, and steals your breath away. Cameron Goodkin felt this love the first time he saw me.

I was born on the fourth of May, twenty-twenty-two. And if the due date wasn't enough, they also named me Clara - I was destined to become a nerd, you see.

But I can't deny that Clara Goodkin has a good ring to it.

***

I close my laptop, and sit back with a sigh. Writers block is being aggressive today - that's why I just went through the exercise writing about my parents. Specifically, my dad.

I hum a bit as I get up and go grab the OJ from the fridge. Humming - humming helps with writers block, too.

I'm just about to pour the juice when the doorbell interrupts me. Which was probably a god-sent - I was dancing to the tune in my head, meaning I likely would have spilled the rest of the orange juice. I walk - well, more like a shuffle, because it's cold in this apartment, and I shuffle when I'm cold.

I open the door to Cameron. He's dressed like a hipster (which I will definitely be criticizing in a moment) and wearing his nerd-frame glasses, making him look ten years younger than he is. When he sees me, he busts into an all-teeth smile. "Hey there," he says, in a voice that is trying way too hard to screech "cool dad."

I shake my head playfully. "Get inside, you baffoon. It's already freezing in here, and you're letting in a draft."

My father walks inside like he owns the place - and, technically, he does. This apartment was his before it was mine, and it's still in his name. I am paying though - Cameron's never let me be the silver spoon kid. I work, I pay, I buy my own food, and I live decently. I know though, to a certain extent, I am privileged.

My dad used to say there was never a better kid born into a well-to-do family. When I was little, my mom used to give me a few dollars and let me run inside the ice cream shop to buy a cone. The first few times, I ate it, until one day I realized there was a man at the end of the street who was homeless. After that, I would rush in and buy my ice cream cone. I'd drag my mom to the end of the street and give the man the cone. In return he'd sing for me.

"You never did stop thinking when you were little," Cameron says, and I start. He laughs at my shock, and I let out a few embarressed chuckles. "That far off look never left your chubby little face. Your mind was always a million miles away." He walks towards me with two glasses of orange juice, and I give a small smile.

"I was thinking about the times I used to give my ice cream cone away," I confess, and Cameron smiles fondly, his eyes looking somewhere outside the loft.

"I remember. The first day you did it, Kirsten was in shock. We knew we had raised you by that point to do the right thing, but you threw us for a loop that day. Anyone can choose to do the right thing. Barely anyone knows how to do the kind things."

We sit on the couch (my couch - it was going to be a cold day in hell before I used his old "bro" couch) and I snuggle up to Cameron. "I'm happy you could come over today. Happy Father's Day, Dad."

My dad presses a sweet kiss to the top of my head. "I couldn't have asked for a better daughter," he tells me. He picks up the tv remote from the end table, and gets started at pulling up a streaming service. "Now then, what episode were we on?"

I chuckle - this has always been our Father's Day tradition. OJ, reminiscing, and-

"Dad, come on. We watch the same episode every year. Just pull it up." I pretend to be exasperated with him, but my giggles give my true thoughts away.

Cameron laughs along with me. "Alright, alright. Day of the Doctor it is."

I cry, just like every year before. My dad hands me tissues. The episode ends, and then we watch it again, just for good measure. We go out to a Thai place close by. We pull out sleeping bags and sleep on the floor, complaining about the wood tiles. When we wake up, Cameron makes breakfast, and I pretend to help. We eat, I escort him out, and then I walk to class.

Just like every year before.