CAMILLE NEXT DOOR

CHAPTER TWO: DISTANT LOVER

Camille didn't want to get out of bed.

It just all felt like a task. Doing her laundry, getting up to take a shower, making herself something to eat, everything just seemed unnecessary. She knew that these were symptoms of depression, remembering an episode of Oprah where she talked about ways to get rid of it.

As the weeks dragged on, Camille went to work and back. She had finally gained the courage to walk alone with her bags of groceries again. Her inner shell was becoming hard like it used to be, cussing out cat callers and bad drivers as she strutted the streets to get home.

"...You know what? Whatever, Camille."

That echoed from time to time in her head but she shook it off before she got sad and angry. Why would he place her in the line of fire like that? That amount of drugs was a case alone, she couldn't imagine what would happen if the police got a tip and busted through there with Marvin gone.

Camille was not going to jail for nobody, not even her man.

Is that even what she should've been calling him? He fucked her on the regular, crashed at her crib, ate up her food, and offered to pay her rent. He moved like a boyfriend without the attachments of one, leaving Camille confused as to what his title in the relationship was.

Right now, though, they were nothing. It annoyed her, not just because she couldn't find a dick like that anywhere but also because she was beginning to get comfortable with him. That was something she noticed in their situationship, every time things were getting good and she was in the middle of melting away her defenses for him, Marvin would do something bad again.

Leaving her and never calling back after their first night together.

Hiding crack rock in her bathroom.

If he tried to come back into her life, she just didn't know if she could accept him. It seemed stupid to trust him and like every time she did, he was taking advantage of it to shoulder his own problems.

Haagen Daas in hand and a remote in the other, Camille flipped through the channels all bored.

News.

Soap Opera.

Jerry Springer.

Three girls had found out they all had kids by the same man (who also happened to be a Jehovah's Witness) and were in the middle of pulling each other's hair and fighting on stage when Camille's phone rang from the kitchen. Bored and too invested in her ice cream to get up, she let it ring. The three girls on the show were now stripping for the crowd, and Camille could do nothing but laugh at all the random items strewn on the ground including a purple wig.

The phone began to ring again, rattling off the hook from the call.

"Who is that?"

She shuffled to the kitchen, picking up the receiver and resting it in the crook of her neck as she scooped her spoon around in the creamy contents of the Haagen Daas carton.

"Hello?"

There was a silence that kept on from the other line for about a minute. Camille adjusted the receiver, eating a scoop of chocolate ice cream before she assumed that someone was prank calling her.

"Who is this?"

A voice came through, deep and distinct.

"It's Marvin."

Camille dropped her ice cream on the floor.

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"How can I change my number?"