Another text from Cameron lit up my phone, glowing in the midnight darkness of my bedroom.
I knew something was off, which is why she suggested we rent the cottage in the first place.
I'm okay, I just need to get away. I promise, I'm okay. I just need to see you. I'll book it. We'll talk in the morning. Xo
So I agreed.
I met Cam a year ago. It was late August at a community hike. I was new to the West Coast and I didn't have many friends. I was instantly drawn to her energy, like everyone who had ever met her. An old soul, radiating joy, and she was devastatingly pretty. She was like no one else. A surfer's blonde messy braid fell across her shoulder, a colourful scarf wrapped around her head. She was a creature from another era, another universe. We laughed and walked, and then after the hike when a misty rain settled in, we talked in her car for another hour.
So many people adored her, a natural beauty who had appeared to have stepped off a California boardwalk in 1960. Everyone wanted to know her. We had so much to talk about. She loved to write, and to listen. We were long lost friends from another lifetime.
"Come over. Let me braid your hair", she had said a few weeks after we had met. I was sad and complaining about an unworthy boy who had just stood me up for a sushi date.
"Your soul knows he isn't good enough for you," she smiled from behind me, her gentle fingers brushing the hair off my face, carefully folding the pieces into a long braid. I took a sip of wine. With every thoughtful twist, I could feel her warm body behind me, breathing steadily. It was so... comforting. I leaned back into her as she finished the braid.
"You don't need to settle for him," she reassured me. I could feel her light exhale on my bare neck. "His energy is off." she patted the top of my head a few times.
"Besides, you're SO much hotter than him anyway." We both laughed in agreement and fell backward onto her bed, laughing so hard that I spilled my drink, which sent us into more hysterics.
A month after that, she invited me to a work event. She had co-written a play. Her last text read, Don't be silly, you better be there! I didn't know what to expect, but I went anyway.
I arrived at the venue to find her waiting outside for me. My jaw dropped as I pulled up in the cab, only to find her typical beach-fairy skirts and long flowing hair replaced with a suit jacket and fitted mini-dress. Her hair was so polished. Heels?! I felt so underdressed, I almost got back in the cab.
"No way, you look amazing!" she laughed, basically dragging me into the venue.
"Don't worry, it's dark inside anyway!" she teased. She grabbed my hand, giggling at her own joke, and she led us to our seats.
As the lights dimmed in the theatre, her excited eyes met mine in the dark, shining. She held my gaze and her painted lips turned into a slight smile, and in that moment, she looked right through me.
One bright afternoon a few months later, Cam was curled up in her wool socks and sweater on my couch looking out my apartment window, like she always did. I paused at the sight of her, a tea in each hand as I entered my living room. She was like a fluffy cat who had found the only sunbeam, peering down the 6 storeys to the snowy city sidewalk.
She looked up at me smiling, her hair glowing in the natural light of the window as I handed her the tea. Her favourite ceramic mug.
"Oooh yay! My favourite mug!"
I sat down beside her, and she turned to face me, sitting cross-legged.
"Well," she rolled her eyes. "He asked me."
"Hm? Asked you what?"
"Asked if I was his girlfriend." she grinned.
"Oh!" I remembered. "And you said..."
"I said of course." she said smugly. "I mean, yeah, he's so cute, and he is a producer... and he is... nice."
"Nice," I teased her. "Nice. And don't forget about that dick."
She rolled her eyes and we cackled, taking a sip of our too-hot tea at the same time, regretfully burning our tongues.
But the usual sunny gleam in her eyes had been dim the last time I'd seen her. We'd met for coffee in her neighbourhood, a drizzling grey summer day.
I remember her staring into her flat white with a certain flatness herself. The vulnerable depth of her soul I admired so much was shallow, hidden. She was dismissing me. She wouldn't look at me. To anyone else, she would be regular Cam. To anyone else who didn't know her. But I knew her too well.
"No, whatever, I'm doing great," she said, tucking a wild piece of hair behind a pierced ear. "So how was your week."
"Oh yeah, you're so 'great'!" I said, startling both of us. "What's going on with you, Cam? Did I do something? I'm really sorry if I did. Sometimes I..."
"No!" she interrupted, surprised, as her eyes, glazing over with tears, finally met mine. She grabbed my hand across the table. It was trembling.
"No... you didn't."
