a Tail of Two Cities

Chapter seven- Cammie

So here it is! ive been listening to Enya, forcing myself to NOT go on facebook and get distracted. i hope you like it :)

--

CAMMIE SANDERS

I stood there for a few moments, just staring at the door where Ben had previously been standing. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I struggled to provide some sort of explanation to what had just taken place. “Sounds like a date!” he had said. Fragments of our quick conversation repeated like a broken record in my brain, too fast to comprehend. During times like these, I would always go swimming in the ocean. The clear water and the colorful marine life would surround me, washing away the previous mind-boggling issues with a new serenity. I missed the ocean; it was often my solace in my normally empty home.

My tongue grew dry and I was filled with a sudden longing to swim. My legs felt heavy as I walked in a daze through the café to the lake. A cold wind stung my bare shoulders and I was struck by how cold this state was in comparison to Florida. Even the sand felt different as I walked. It was rough, grainy and gravelly, unlike the soft and smooth sand that filled Floridian beaches. Everything was so different here, so foreign. Crouching down, I sifted through the sand to try and find a shell, a sand crab; anything to remind me of home. A muddy brown rock was all I could find, and I threw into the lake with strength that surprised me.

By now I had carried myself far away from Melrose Pier, far from the splashing children and boats. The water gently lapped at the scratchy sand, inviting me in. I wanted desperately to plunge into the water, but the fear of one of the many people at the lake seeing me outweighed that desire. I sat cross-legged on the ground, watching the waves rush softly at the shore, only to recede back and go forth once more. For awhile I sat there, soaking up the sun and listening to the near silence of the lake.

A cicada sang out loud, bursting through the hypnotizing sound of the waves. Closing my eyes, I tried to lose myself again in the sounds coming from the forest, but a buzz from my pocket interrupted my attempt at quieting my mind. I grabbed my ancient flip phone, grimacing when I saw the sand had managed to creep between each button. The green “answer” key crackled when I pressed it.

“Cammie?” My mother’s voice asked shakily.

“Mom!” I stood up with a hop and smiled. “How’s Florida?”

“You know, sunny.” She tried to chuckle but it sounded forced. “Cammie… I-” my phone lost signal, cutting out her voice. Only snippets of her rushed voice could be understood, but I heard distinctly one name repeatedly. Seth. Franticly, I dashed toward the café to get better reception. Her voice became clearer as I ran, and she finished in one breath, “…and he wanted to know where you were and I told him that you left to Wisconsin because of him and I don’t know what that kid did to you but I wish you would tell me because I’m worried, Cammie.”

“I-what? Mom, I don’t have a clue what you just said.” I stammered, carefully avoiding her question.

With a pained voice, my mother explained to me how Seth August had approached our trailer back in Florida looking for me. She had told him I left, though she herself didn’t fully understand why I left in the first place. At that part in the story she paused, hoping for me to explain myself, but I hummed an “mmhm,” to urge her to continue.

It all ended with her telling him to leave and slamming the door on him; a feat my under spoken and quiet mother seemed quite proud of. The entire time, I could practically picture her nervously twirling her diamond ring as she spoke. Her hair would still be in perfect glossy ringlets, and her red lips would still be perfectly lined though she had been speaking for awhile now. The trailer would be perfectly clean as usual, and she would have a small apron pinned around her zumba-toned waist to make herself seem like a proper homemaker. But anyone who knew her would know that the apron was just a front, and she had microwavable dinners for herself and my father in the sink, defrosting.