A Missing Heart Page 11

  More foggy minutes pass as we move into the hospital. It’s the second time for me today. What are the damn odds? I’ve managed to stay out of this place since Gavin was born, which seems to be a miracle in my life with my history of clumsiness. Now, I’m following the stretcher down the hall, watching as the paramedics continue to work on Tori. I’m not sure what they’re doing or trying to do, and the description they give a nurse who steps in, sounds like gibberish.

  I’m sent to the waiting room while they tend to her, giving me time to debate whether or not I should call her parents, considering the conversation we had just an hour ago regarding them not being her actual parents. However, I have to assume if a man is important enough to walk Tori down the aisle, he’s important enough to know what’s going on with her at a time like this.

  “Sir, It’s AJ. I—ah, I have some bad news…” For a man who is supposedly not her father, he’s pretty bent out of shape when I tell him what’s going on. He tells me they are both on their way.

  I settle myself into the hard, uncomfortable chair, resting my head back against the stone wall and close my eyes, trying again to place all the pieces together. There is so little explanation for such a sudden decline in mental stability. Something had to have triggered this, something beyond seeing me with Gavin in the hospital this morning. My mind is so completely blank of possibilities that I’m blaming myself for not divulging our pasts to each other before we got married. Being ashamed of my past with Cammy and our daughter, and yet still having the ability to live through my pain tells me that whatever her past consisted of had to be worse. How much worse though? Was my past really worth hiding? The pain I still feel today when I think about my daughter has forced me to build a wall up around the thought of her—one that I didn’t feel was necessary to break down and share after all this time. In any case, it was never because I couldn’t talk about it. Whatever Tori’s hiding, though, it’s obviously something she can’t talk about.

  Tori’s parents arrive quickly, finding me with my head still flattened against the wall. I haven’t moved in the last thirty minutes. I give them the longer version of what happened, filling them in on everything that occurred today. They both listen intently but don’t have much to respond with. “Has this happened before?” I ask them.

  Tori’s mom closes her eyes tightly as her lips quiver against whatever words she’s having trouble saying.

  “She’s had a mental illness most of her life, but it has been under control for the past five years,” her dad explains.

  “Mental illness?” I question.

  “She has post-traumatic-stress-disorder from—”

  “From what?” I push, feeling the number of questions I have trigger the fears I’ve been trying hard to suppress these past few hours.

  “We don’t know,” he says.

  “You’re not her parents, are you?” I ask them.

  “Birth? No,” her mother finally answers with a sternness behind her words. “But we’ve raised her since she was thirteen. We legally adopted her.”

  How do I know absolutely nothing about my wife and the mother of our son? How did I let this happen? What the hell was I thinking? “Where was she before that?”

  “No one knows, AJ. She was picked up off the street when she was twelve and put into our foster care. We were fortunate enough to be able to adopt her a year later.”

  “How can no one know? Tori must know if she was that old, right?” I question.

  “People can only be pushed so far before they break, AJ,” her dad says. “I can’t tell you how many times our poor daughter has broken.”

  Then what the fuck broke her this time?

  CHAPTER TEN

  TWELVE YEARS AGO

  SIX MONTHS IN, two to go until…I have absolutely no plans. The idea of being home for the summer has created a pit in my stomach every time the thought has crossed my mind. Part of me is looking forward to the home-cooked meals and laundry service Mom is always kind enough to offer, but the other part of me is afraid to go home to nothing I used to know. It feels like everything has shifted, and I’m supposed to be here now. Maybe here is just a purgatory between what I’ve left behind and wherever I’m headed, but in any case, it brings me the most comfort.

  “Duuuude,” Brink says, jogging into our dorm room. “Do you have plans to do anything next week or are you just chillaxin’ here?” Spring break is for those who have money, an excessive amount of money. I definitely wasn’t about to ask Mom or Dad for extra after they’ve been killing themselves to help me pay the room and board fees that weren’t included in my scholarship, so broke is a constant state of reality for this poor schmuck.

  I lean back in my desk chair and fold my hands behind my neck. “Nothing in comparison to Cancun, man. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet, though.” Maybe that’s why I’m already feeling sick about this summer. I can’t even make up my mind about going home for spring break.

  “So, you know Chad, the guy who lives in 410?”

  “Yeah, I know him,” I say. “Or I know the back of him, since he’s usually on top of some chick when I walk into his room.”

  “I know right?” Brink laughs. “Well that lucky shit, isn’t getting lucky today. He’s in the hospital with pneumonia, and he was the only moron who didn’t buy trip insurance on his non-refundable ticket. He told me to find someone to take it off his hands and he’d sell it for half of what he paid.” Brink looks way more excited than I feel right now. I have no clue what Chad paid, but I’m guessing it’s more than the three hundred bucks I currently have in my savings account.

  “I appreciate the offer, but—”

  “It’s five hundred total and that includes all meals. It’s a pretty sick deal, bro; you sure?”

  I’m still two hundred short, and I had been saving up my money for a trek down to D.C. this summer so I can visit Cammy. There’s no way. “It’s a hard offer to pass up, man, but I can’t dish that out.” I release my hands from the back of my neck and lean forward against my desk, feeling a little embarrassed to admit I can’t afford jack shit right now. I continue working on the paper I have due tomorrow while Brink continues brainstorming. “Sorry, bro.”

  Brink twists my chair around, forcing me to face him and his cheesy-ass grin on his face. I’m not sure what’s so funny about this, but clearly it’s something I’m missing. “Okay, fine, you’ve twisted my arm. I’ll pay for your ass to go.” Brink throws money around like it’s hitting the stage at the stripper joint we frequent, on his dime. I’m pretty sure his parents are loaded, or he came into some serious cash at some point because he definitely doesn’t have a job here.

  “That’s really nice, man, but I can’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t be able to pay you back anytime soon.” I’m getting uncomfortable in the conversation. Brink and I get along great. He’s the funniest guy I’ve ever met, but he’s completely over the top, which is funny for me, of all people, to say, because that’s all anyone said about me in high school. Though, that was before my daughter was given up. I haven’t been too over the top since then. It’s like I lost a part of myself and I can’t get it back, no matter how hard I try.

  Brink steps in closer and rests his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it tightly as a wide grin stretches across his face. “I don’t want it back, man. You’re my brother here, and I want you to come with us. It wouldn’t be the same without you. And, it’s going to be the time of our fucking lives!”

  It doesn’t feel right. I don’t like handouts and I’m not one to take them. But…Cancun or sitting at home, staring out my goddamn window all week. Cancun, or staring out… “You sure about this?” I ask him.

  “Dude, I’m more than sure. You need this. You’ve only slept with like four chicks this year, and you need more experience.” Uh. Quite the reputation I earned for myself but that has not happened. There was one girl, one night. One really drunk night, and when I woke up in the morning, I realized she lives in the d
orm room next door. So, that’s fun. She hasn’t said a word to me since, and I don’t know why. Don’t want to know why.

  “Sounds like a killer time,” I tell him.

  “We’re leaving tomorrow night after classes. We have an airport shuttle coming here at eight.”

  “Awesome,” I say, pounding his fist. “I appreciate this, man. This is really, really great.” This is fucking awesome. Who am I kidding?

  I spend the rest of the day cramming for my last midterm tomorrow and throw all of the summer clothes I brought to school, which wasn’t a ton, into a bag. As I’m packing up, the memory of me telling Cammy I would be heading down to D.C. for spring break hits me hard. She shot the idea down and told me she was interning at one of the museums near her campus. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, and who can argue with that.

  Any time I’ve mentioned trying to meet up either here or there, Cammy has had some reason that prevented it. We’re not together; I get it. We made this decision months ago. Sometimes I still think there’s hope for us, even being so far apart, but it’s only because she seems impossible to let go of. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let go completely, but maybe this trip is exactly what I need.

  “Cancun!!!!!” Brink shouts, running down the hall with his bags thrown over his shoulder. I follow with a little less enthusiasm, but at the same time, I feel excitement stirring within me, a feeling I haven’t had in a long time. Every minute closer I get to Cancun, the better I feel this idea is. I seriously need this. I drop my bags in the lobby of our dorm, glancing outside to see if there’s a shuttle out there. While I don’t see one, I hear Brink focusing on something other than the shuttle. “Hello to you, Miss Hot Stuff. Haven’t seen you around campus before.” Brink doesn’t give up. Morning, noon, and night—if there’s a chance at getting a chick in his bed, he’s on it—her too for that matter. “Please tell me you’re heading to Cancun too.” I walk up behind him, seeing a chick with her hand on her hip. Even from behind, I can tell by her stance that she’s not charmed by Brink’s behavior. Of course, he finds this hard to believe and usually tries harder in these situations.

  “Is this the Beltmore dorm?” The girl asks in a soft, yet annoyed voice.

  “Why yes, it is. Are you by chance looking for room 505?” Yes, Brink, she’s looking for you in your dorm room.

  Does this shit actually work on girls? Maybe I should give it a shot. “Yeah, I hear there’s a couple of hot football players who live there looking for a good time,” I add in with laughter. “Our numbers are on the girls’ bathroom stalls if you need more information about us, though.”

  Brink turns around with his fist up for me to pound, “Hell yeah, bro!” He punches my fist just as the girl turns to face me.

  Oh, holy shit.

  “You’re looking for a good time, huh, AJ?”

  “Cammy?” I gasp and kind of choke at the same time.

  She looks disgusted with me. “I should have figured you’d turn into one of them,” she says.

  “You drove all the way up here to see me?” I ask softly. It’s been one year…of course she came to see me. It’s why I wanted to go see her. It’s our daughter’s birthday and we can’t celebrate it with her.

  “Whoa, holy shit, is this the Cammy? The one you jack off to every night while you think I’m sleeping?” Brink hoots.

  “Oh my God, this was a mistake,” she says.

  “No, no, Cam, it wasn’t a mistake. Ignore him. It’s just my roommate.”

  “Hey!” Brink shouts, grabbing at his heart. “That hurts, bro.”

  “Are you going to Cancun or something?” she asks, while adjusting the strap of her duffel bag over her shoulder.

  “Uh,” I stall because…what the hell am I supposed to say? “I was planning on it, yeah, but if you’re here—”

  “Seriously, bro? I bought your ticket from Chad.” Shit, I forgot about that. Fuck!

  “You didn’t mention Cancun,” Cammy mutters, seeming embarrassed.

  “You hadn’t had much time to talk this week, and it just came up yesterday.” I did try to make plans to come and see you, I think to myself, but now I know why she shot me down.

  “Brink, I’ll give you the cash I have and the rest when you get back. I’ll get it to you somehow, okay?” I can see I’m making everyone uncomfortable right now, but Cammy just drove seven hours to surprise me, and there’s no way I can leave with her here.

  “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t go on spring break with your…” she snarls at Brink a little, “adorable roommate.”

  “You think I’m cute, huh?” Brink has an obnoxious smirk displayed across his face, and I think I might just be okay skipping the trip after all.

  Cammy turns her back to Brink and places her small, soft hands on my face. The sensation of her touch against my skin is like the warmth of the sun after a thousand cloudy days. God, I’ve missed this girl like crazy. I know we aren’t technically still together, but this is exactly why I’ve kept my hope alive—the hope that this moment would exist again.

  “I miss you, AJ,” she says, pressing up on her toes and lightly touching her lips to mine. Friends don’t kiss each other. Maybe she changed her mind. The softness of her lips warms me at the touch, and the taste of her lip gloss zings all of the nerves in my mouth. I wrap my arms around her and hold her against me as tightly as I can, not giving a shit about who’s watching this reunion.

  After a minute of mindlessly kissing the lips I still love, she pulls away, smiling at me with an undefined expression. “I want you to go to Cancun. We’ll make plans for the summer,” she says. “The last thing I want to do is hold you back. It’s the reason why I gave everything up in the first place.” She laughs a little at her statement, but it’s not funny at all.

  They say your heart grows attached to the first person you sleep with, which I can understand, and if so many people think that general idea is true, what does it say for those who have a child together and then lose the child? It’s like I gave half of my heart to Cammy and the other to our daughter, leaving me with a big empty hole in my chest. I can’t let go of her. Literally. I have her hands locked in mine, and my head is nodding before I can even get the words out. “I’m not leaving you after you came all this way.”

  “Yes, you are. You are going to experience Cancun and everything you’re supposed to experience during spring break.”

  “Cam,” I laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “This...is the least I can do for you,” she says, definitively.

  “Ugh!” Brink groans from five feet away. “You two are killing me!”

  “Isn’t my roommate awesome?” I joke with Cam.

  Brink sighs again. “Give me your phone,” he says to me. I give him a questioning look and toss him my cell. “Give me a minute, lover boy.”

  “What’s he doing?” Cammy asks under her breath.

  “With Brink, there is absolutely no way of ever knowing what he is doing. I’ve learned to sort of just roll with the punches when he’s around.”

  Brink left the common area with my phone about ten minutes ago. He’s been pacing behind the glass doors in front of the main elevators for the last ten minutes, and now he’s now pushing back through the doors. “Hey, I think your shuttle is here,” I mouth to him. He’s still talking to someone on my phone, though, and he shoos me away. Brink steps up to Cammy and removes her bag from her shoulder and throws it over his own, still continuing his conversation to whoever the hell he’s talking to.

  Brink walks outside to the shuttle bus with Cammy’s bag and steps inside of the vehicle. “What the hell?”

  “What is he doing?” Cammy asks, as we follow him out the front door.

  Both of us step onto the shuttle so I can retrieve our stuff, and at the same time, Brink ends the call before sitting down in one of the blue cushioned seats. With his hands folded over his lap, he looks over at me casually and asks, “What’s u
p?”

  “What are you doing?” I ask him.

  “Going to Cancun,” he says with an outlandish expression, as if I were nuts for asking.

  “Can I have my phone and Cammy’s bag please?” Why is he such a tool sometimes?

  “Sure, but you can find it in Cancun,” he says with a quick wink.

  “Dude, look, I’m really sorry about all of this. I can’t just leave Cammy behind, though.”

  “Look, guys. Brink, can I have my bag? I’ll leave you AJ in return. He can use the trip, but I’m going to head back to D.C.”

  “You’re coming with us,” Brink says with a smug grin.

  “Thank you, but I could hardly afford to drive here,” she says politely. This breaks my heart a little, since I hate that she had to spend whatever money she had to drive here, and I greeted her the way I did. Then just to make matters worse, she was selfless enough to tell me to go on this stupid trip anyway. I’m a jackass who never deserved this girl in the first place.

  “I bought you a ticket. Don’t worry about it, chica—oh, that’s Spanish for girl, you should know that because we’re going to Mexico, and they don’t speak English. Oh crap, do you have a passport? I didn’t even think to ask!”

  Brink also didn’t think to ask if she wanted to go to Cancun. Yet, Cammy is smiling. “I do, I always have it in my purse. I considered running away once, and I figured if I was going to do that, I might need a passport. Haven’t separated from it since.” She took that whole running away business seriously, and I didn’t. We never got too deep into the conversation on where we’d run away to, but she mentioned Canada. I loved the idea at that moment. I’ve always loved any idea Cammy has had.