It's in the middle of my psychology class that I get a text from Camila. I hadn't talked to her since we left Ivy's and I don't plan on it anytime soon. That is until I read the text.
Camila: "Dad is getting worse."
Why does she insist on calling him that?
Last time I heard about him, Camila told me he'd been really sick and that he was waiting on some results for something. I didn't pay much attention to it. If he doesn't care enough to call me, why would I?
I simply ignore the message but the thought of him is still on my mind.
In the middle of my night shift at the diner, Mike, one of the guys that's working with me tonight, peeks his head through the entrance to the kitchen and snaps a finger in my direction. I turn my attention from washing dishes to him.
"Shawn, there's a girl out here asking for you," he says before exiting.
Camila. Of course.
I draw the latex gloves from off my hands before making my way out of the kitchen. Camila in standing behind the paying counter and her eyes light up when she sees me. Then, her brows furrow angrily and she crosses both arms over her chest. Here we go.
Mike watches me carefully as he stands behind the register.
"Your break was an hour ago, Shawn."
Who ever put Mike down as the manager
for tonight can choke.
"Five minutes" I plead. Whatever Camila is here for can't be that important.
"I just need to talk to him for a quick second. It won't take long at all, promise" Camila chimes in with both hands pressed on the counter. Her breast nearly spill out the front of her shirt and Mike looks extremely pleased. I swear she does these things on purpose.
"Take all the time you need," he grants while continuing to glare at her breast.
As soon as the words leave his mouth, I strip myself of my apron and I exit through the side door out into the seating area of the nearly vacant diner. Camila follows me to one of the table near the back of the diner we're we can't be heard.
She takes a seat across from me then shifts in her seat until she finds a comfortable spot. I wait patiently for her to start the conversation.
"So-"
"We'll talk once you button up your shirt," I state. Why does she continue to wear these raunchy clothes?
She rolls her eyes and slowly works on the top buttons of her tight, black flannel.
"Happy?" She places both elbows on the table and arches an eyebrow at me.
"Very. Now, why are you here?"
"Because you've been dodging my texts and calls left and right. I could've just popped up at your little frat house, but I decided to spare you the embarrassment."
I can't get over how much she's changed. Look at her talking like a smart ass.
"Oh, how considerate of you. Get to the point."
Camila dramatically sighs and looks off into the distance.
"Dad isn't doing so good." Her mood drastically changes. I'm not surprised that she's so torn up over this. He was more like a father to her than me.
"You've told me this."
"It's worse. The doctor said it's lung cancer."
Within seconds, she has my full attention. Lung cancer? How the hell could that have happened? When she said he was sick, I was thinking something along the lines of the stomach flu.
Camila quickly wipes the tear beneath her eye.
"Oh," I say as calmly as possible. Even though I claim not to care for him, he's still my father. I keep a passive face while my mind runs wild.
"They released him from the hospital not too long ago. Mom said they gave him three weeks until....you know." Her voice is shaky. I watch as her nimble fingers play with one another. Camila's vulnerable and she hates being vulnerable.
Three weeks is such a short amount of time. How have I mastered the art of becoming so numb when it comes to situations like this?
"Anyway," she dramatically whips her hair behind her shoulder. "We need to see him."
"When should we go?" I lean back in my seat waiting for her suggestion.
"Soon. Very soon." Camila traces the design on the table while chewing her
bottom lip.
"We'll leave this weekend. I should be caught up on my class work by then."
Camila nodded. "Ok."
The two of us sit in an odd silence. Camila surprises me by reaching across the table and taking one of my hands in hers. I look around to make sure no one is near. Doing this in public is foreign to me.
"Have you talked to Ivy?" She asks in a quiet, innocent voice. I know she's dying to know.
Reluctantly I tell her the truth.
"Not since we left, no."
There's a little twinkle in her eye. She's happy. I bet she thinks I haven't put the pieces together yet. As much as she denied not telling Ivy the truth about us, I know she's lying. If anything I'm the one that taught her how to lie.
"I really hope she's ok. That night was-"
"Horrible. It was horrible." I steal the words right out of her mouth while snatching my hand out of hers.
Before she can move on to another subject, I stand from the table. Camila stays seated and stares at me abruptly.
"I should be getting back to work. Is that all you wanted to tell me?"
"Actually, I wanted to ask you something. Can I please?" She pleads with her brows drawn together and her eyelids fluttering.
"Ask," I encourage her.
"Can you sit?" She points towards the seat I was just occupying.
After pondering for a few seconds, I decide to sit. She knows I can't resist that face.Lea
"What is it?" I lightly scrape the fabric of my jeans in secret anticipation. Camila looks down and shrugs a shoulder as she tries to find the words.
"When you left was it...easy for you?"
I felt that coming. How am I supposed to respond to that? I could be a cold hearted asshole and tell her it was easy being without her. But what good would that do?
"Are you trying to ask me was it easy getting over you? Being without you?" I lean forward, gauging her reaction.
She fiddles with the sleeves of her shirt and finally locks eyes with me. I missed those eyes. I'm making my way past her bitchy front. The old Camila is staring to resurface. There's a feeling of joy in the pit of my stomach.
"Yeah...getting over me," she nearly whispers.
Is this all it takes to soften her up?
My hands find hers and we lock finger at the center of the table. To answer, I lean out of my seat and I press my lips against hers. I let the kiss linger long enough for her to realize I was never and will never be over her. My first love.
