I WISH THAT I COULD TELL YOU

Chapter 11 - in which Camila's heart opened like a blooming rose

Camila lay in her bed, numb. Was there nothing good in this world any more? Even the people she thought were good, who she thought had helped her, had turned out to be bad. And she hated that it had ruined her nice day. Her nice time with Shawn. She felt something deep in her chest and she sat up. No! She wasn't going to let this happen again. She had started this day with a new view on life and she hadn't made it one fucking day. Well, it wasn't going to happen. She got up and went into her bathroom, splashing her face with water, rebraiding her hair and sliding on some lip gloss. She straightened her clothes and lifted her chin, and walked out of the room.

Shawn stood in the middle of the living room, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"It's gotten so long, your hair. I kinda like it."

He turned around and stared at her, as if she was the last person in the world he expected to see, as if she had just announced she was going to run for president. She felt like he had stabbed her. Was this what it had come to? That he was shocked to see her standing in her own house? That she couldn't make a comment on his appearance?

"Thanks," he said uncertainly, starting to scroll through his phone.

"What's wrong?" She frowned at his expression.

"Max is asleep, and I need to pick up Lita and take her to dance class."

"Well, that's OK, I'm here."

He still didn't trust her not to flip back and his indecisiveness showed on his face. She walked to him and put her hand on his arm.

"It's OK, I promise. I'm fine. I just got a little upset about Rosa, but I'm alright now. I will be fine with Max."

She understood he was worried about leaving the baby with her, after all yesterday she had touched him on her own for the first time, but she felt like if she didn't do this now then she never would. He seemed to come to the same understanding.

"OK, but I'll be on my cell if you need me. And we'll be home at five pm."

She smiled and he turned away. "Wait!" she called, and he turned back.

"When is he supposed to wake up?"

"In about forty minutes or so."

"What do I need to do with him?"

Shawn was quiet and she saw him swallow. It was a big thing for her to ask that, but it was a big thing to hear it too.

"I mean, I know what I would have done with Lita, change her diaper, play with her, maybe take her for a walk, but all babies are different, and I don't know his routine."

He smiled. "Exactly what you said, change him, play with him. He'll be happy just to be with you."

And you Shawn? Will there ever be a time when you're happy just to be with me? She wondered if they would ever be what they were before. Whether she would ever feel that intensely and freely again. Whether he would ever trust her enough to love her back. She saw him to the door and then walked back inside. Forty minutes. What was she supposed to do until then?

She found a pile of unfolded laundry and took it into the living area, putting a daytime talk show on while she folded the mostly tiny clothes that had been taken off the clothesline and out of the clothes dryer. She divided them into a pile for each of them and then she put them away in each of their rooms. She walked into Shawn's room with trepidation, unsure of what she would see. She didn't remember when he stopped sleeping in their bed with her, but she couldn't remember him being there since they got back from Texas. The room held a spare king sized bed, a plain black comforter and some pillows. A bedside table held a plain black lamp and a few books, a digital clock. She felt something. Tears, threatening to fall. Her heart, swelling. She made a decision, and before she could think too much about it, she took action.