The Blindside of Love (Camren) Altern Versión

Chapter Seven

Camila sat at her kitchen table, late the next day. She had spent the entire weekend avoiding the dreaded essay and now she had no other choice but to focus.

"Focus," she told herself, staring at the computer screen.

"There were fairies ... and a guy with a donkey on his head." She shook her head.

"Shakespeare must've been on something." She flipped through the play in her hands.

"Titania was cool. Maybe I can talk about her. Queen of the fairies and all. Heh. That sounds funny. Queen of the fairies." She paused to consider. "I need to stop talking to myself."

She got as far as writing, "Titania, Queen of the Fairies," when the phone rang, interrupting her productivity.

Secretly relieved for the interruption, she grabbed the receiver from its spot on the wall.

"Hello."

"Hi, beautiful."
Camila smiled slightly. "Hey, Nathan."

"I missed you this weekend," he said. "Do you want to do something tonight?"

Camila stared at her computer. "I wish I could, but I have this essay I've been putting off for two weeks. It's due tomorrow."

"Oh," he said, disappointment in his tone.

"How about I meet you after your class tomorrow? We can get something to eat."

Camila considered her Monday schedule.

"I suppose I can fit you in," she replied, smiling. "I want to talk to you about something, anyway."

Nathan paused. "Is it about us?"

"No, not at all," she answered quickly.

"Family stuff."

"Speaking of which," Nathan began, "I spoke to your father earlier today. We're having dinner at your parents' on Friday."

Camila was suddenly annoyed. Why did they always think they could plan her life?

What if she had something important to do on Friday? Did it ever occur to them to ask first?

"Okay," she said, not wishing to start an argument. "Oh, hey, I sold three works the other day."

"That's good, baby," Nathan replied.

"Anyway, I gotta go. I'm adding a killer stereo system to the 'stang. Dimitri's gonna die when he sees it."

Camila tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that shot through her. It wasn't the first time that Nathan had dismissed her accomplishments.

She knew that he thought painting was a waste of time.

"Like my brother doesn't worship you enough already," she joked.

Nathan laughed. "Yeah, well ... but I worship you."

Camila forced a smile she didn't feel.

"I should get back to my essay," she said, not stopping to wonder why it was that she suddenly preferred writing her essay to talking to her boyfriend. "I'll see you tomorrow, though."

"See you then, babe," Nathan answered. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied.

After hanging up the phone, she sighed. She was depressed and she wasn't sure why. She eyed the computer screen resignedly. Maybe she should just give up on school.

She didn't need to be a Visual Arts major in order to be an artist. The way things were going, she'd be married to Nathan soon enough anyway and then she wouldn't have to worry about money.

He was going to be a big-time lawyer, after all. With a big-time car. And a big-time life.

And a college-dropout for a wife.

She closed the essay window and clicked on her internet connection. Perhaps her father had written her back. He usually made her feel better.

She'd often considered moving out to California. But she couldn't just up and leave her mother and brother behind.

And Carlos. And Harry . And Dinah . Oh, and Nathan, of course.

Two new messages.

She smiled as she noticed her father had written back. Anxiously, she clicked on the letter.

How's my baby girl doing? I trust you finished your essay by now, but knowing you, it'll be Sunday night and you'll still not have a topic picked. LOL. Right? Well I'm sure you'll figure something out. Because you're brilliant (just like your father).

Work's been keeping me busy. Just got back from the construction site a short while ago. We're rebuilding an old chapel.

But you don't care about that.
I'll let you get back to your homework

I love you, Dad

Camila smiled, feeling slightly better.

She wrote him back a note asking how he knew her so well, and telling him to be careful at work.

Then she moved on to the next message in her inbox.

She didn't recognize the address.
The e-mailed opened on the screen and she scanned the contents, expecting it to be junk mail.

She was surprised to find it wasn't. So she read it again.

"Well this is a first," she said, stunned.

Whatever sadness she'd felt moments before was suddenly replaced by elation.

Somebody really liked her work! Nobody had ever written her before. They'd bought her stuff and said it was pretty, but to take the time to actually write to her? Wow.

Camila straightened up in her chair, pushing her hair behind her ears. She chewed on the inside of her lip, while debating what to reply.

Dear L. J.,

I'm delighted that you enjoyed my work. I'm pleased that it spoke to you. May I ask which it was? I could give you a better idea of what I was thinking when I created it, if you're interested. I'm afraid I don't have my work in a gallery, but thank you for asking. Maybe someday, if all my dreams come true.

Thank you for your letter. It was an unexpected yet welcome surprise. It not only allowed me ten extra minutes of procrastination, but it also cheered up my otherwise depressing day.

Sincerely,

Camila Cabello.

She read the email over a couple of times, hoping it didn't sound too dorky. She debated on whether or not to delete the second paragraph.

After much debating, she finally decided to leave it in. It was the truth, after all.

Email sent, she reopened the file to her pseudo-essay.

But she couldn't concentrate on Shakespeare now. She was too excited at the prospect of receiving her first fan mail.

She laughed to herself as the concept sank in. "Somewhere out there, I have a fan."