far she’s been there every night, but each day it eats at her a little more and
it’s killing me. I don’t know what to do or how to help her.
We finally wrap with filming around eight at night and Tyson and I head back to the
house. I hold my breath until we come around the corner and I can see the car in the
front. I let out a rushed breath, and finally Tyson understands my own mood and how
I’ve been different when I leave and when we come home.
The weather here in Montana has grown chillier; it is creeping into September and
Labor Day weekend, which I will be working, unfortunately.
Tyson and I step into the house, and dinner smells great. We both head to the kitchen,
only it is Jolene and not Cami standing over the stove. “Where’s Cams?”
She smiles at me. “In your bedroom.”
“Thanks.” I step out of the room as Tyson embraces Jolene. It’s sickly sweet the way
he treats her, but then again, I do the same thing to Cami.
I walk down the hall to the double doors to the master bedroom, our bedroom. I can
see the light coming from under the door, but I don’t hear anything as I approach.
My heart starts to pound a little harder and I’m instantly freaked out. I reach for
the doorknob, and it’s locked. I knock loudly. “Cams, open up.” No response. Damn
it. “Cami.” I pound harder.
“What going on?” Tyson says behind me.
“It’s locked.” I turn and pound on it again. “Cami, come on, open the door.”
Tyson is at my side and we’re both trying to get her attention, and nothing. “Jo,
how long has she been in there?” Tyson shouts.
“Maybe an hour, I don’t know. She said she wasn’t feeling good and was gonna go lay
down.”
“Fuck!” I throw my shoulder into the door; it ricochets back at me and doesn’t budge.
I go at it again, and finally on the third try it gives way and I storm into the room.
Cami is lying across the bed. She looks like she is sound asleep, except for one thing:
She’s holding a bottle of Crown in her hands.
“I got this, Ty,” I say, and he understands and leaves the room.
“Holler if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
I close the door behind him; luckily it is a French door, so I didn’t actually break
anything, but it rubs a little when I close it back up. Probably knocked a hinge loose.
I take a deep breath, go to the bed and sit down.
“Cami,” I say, but she doesn’t move.
I reach over and use my knuckles on her breast plate, and she jumps awake. “Ouch,
what the hell was that for?”
“Welcome back.” I take the bottle out of her hands.
“Hey, give that back,” she protests.
“Not a chance in hell. What the hell is going on with you?” My voice is harsher than
I mean it to be.
“What the fuck do you care?”
That’s it. I stand up and walk around to the foot of the bed so that I am in her direct
line of sight. “If this is your way of pushing me away, it’s fucking working, Cameron.
We promised to talk about everything and you’re shutting me out, just like you’ve
shut everyone else out of your life. Stop it.”
“The son of a bitch is alive. He’s put me through hell my entire life, then he goes
and dies on me just when we’re finally getting somewhere. I can’t love anyone because
I don’t know how. So yes, Tristan, pushing you away is all I know how to do.”
I’m going to let the ‘I can’t love anyone’ comment go. She’s drunk and I don’t believe
her. “If you have so much resentment toward your father, go, talk to him, tell him,
yell at him. Do not take his choices out on me. Damn it, Cami, I am not him.” I take a deep breath, trying to control the anger I am feeling toward her.
“I am your boyfriend, your friend and your lover. I am not your father. Go, talk to
him, find the answers you need to find in order to get back to the woman I fell in
love with.”
“Oh,
it’s killing me. I don’t know what to do or how to help her.
We finally wrap with filming around eight at night and Tyson and I head back to the
house. I hold my breath until we come around the corner and I can see the car in the
front. I let out a rushed breath, and finally Tyson understands my own mood and how
I’ve been different when I leave and when we come home.
The weather here in Montana has grown chillier; it is creeping into September and
Labor Day weekend, which I will be working, unfortunately.
Tyson and I step into the house, and dinner smells great. We both head to the kitchen,
only it is Jolene and not Cami standing over the stove. “Where’s Cams?”
She smiles at me. “In your bedroom.”
“Thanks.” I step out of the room as Tyson embraces Jolene. It’s sickly sweet the way
he treats her, but then again, I do the same thing to Cami.
I walk down the hall to the double doors to the master bedroom, our bedroom. I can
see the light coming from under the door, but I don’t hear anything as I approach.
My heart starts to pound a little harder and I’m instantly freaked out. I reach for
the doorknob, and it’s locked. I knock loudly. “Cams, open up.” No response. Damn
it. “Cami.” I pound harder.
“What going on?” Tyson says behind me.
“It’s locked.” I turn and pound on it again. “Cami, come on, open the door.”
Tyson is at my side and we’re both trying to get her attention, and nothing. “Jo,
how long has she been in there?” Tyson shouts.
“Maybe an hour, I don’t know. She said she wasn’t feeling good and was gonna go lay
down.”
“Fuck!” I throw my shoulder into the door; it ricochets back at me and doesn’t budge.
I go at it again, and finally on the third try it gives way and I storm into the room.
Cami is lying across the bed. She looks like she is sound asleep, except for one thing:
She’s holding a bottle of Crown in her hands.
“I got this, Ty,” I say, and he understands and leaves the room.
“Holler if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
I close the door behind him; luckily it is a French door, so I didn’t actually break
anything, but it rubs a little when I close it back up. Probably knocked a hinge loose.
I take a deep breath, go to the bed and sit down.
“Cami,” I say, but she doesn’t move.
I reach over and use my knuckles on her breast plate, and she jumps awake. “Ouch,
what the hell was that for?”
“Welcome back.” I take the bottle out of her hands.
“Hey, give that back,” she protests.
“Not a chance in hell. What the hell is going on with you?” My voice is harsher than
I mean it to be.
“What the fuck do you care?”
That’s it. I stand up and walk around to the foot of the bed so that I am in her direct
line of sight. “If this is your way of pushing me away, it’s fucking working, Cameron.
We promised to talk about everything and you’re shutting me out, just like you’ve
shut everyone else out of your life. Stop it.”
“The son of a bitch is alive. He’s put me through hell my entire life, then he goes
and dies on me just when we’re finally getting somewhere. I can’t love anyone because
I don’t know how. So yes, Tristan, pushing you away is all I know how to do.”
I’m going to let the ‘I can’t love anyone’ comment go. She’s drunk and I don’t believe
her. “If you have so much resentment toward your father, go, talk to him, tell him,
yell at him. Do not take his choices out on me. Damn it, Cami, I am not him.” I take a deep breath, trying to control the anger I am feeling toward her.
“I am your boyfriend, your friend and your lover. I am not your father. Go, talk to
him, find the answers you need to find in order to get back to the woman I fell in
love with.”
“Oh,
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