Page 36 of Bring You Back

“I know you two have some issues right now—”

My laugh cuts her off.Some issues.She doesn’t get it. She knows, but she’s not the one I opened up to when I lost Camille. Dad is. I almost want him here too so we can continue living the lie my parents birthed.

On that thought. . .

“Let’s bring Dad back, too,” I fire back. “I mean, I know we have some issues right now. . .”

The look that darkens her face makes me regret the words. But just for a second. My dad cheated on her and knocked up another woman, but the fact still remains; she was the first to tip and the first to fall.

At the same time, we’re talking. I want this—to maybe get back to some place normal, some place good. If not good, at least civil, and I’m fucking it up by mocking the things I love about her. I open my mouth to apologize when she shakes her head and turns away.

“You’re being unreasonable.”

Now I shake my head, apologies forgotten. “So I have to be around the person who hurt me, but you don’t?”

We lock eyes, and I realize this is the first time I’ve said that aloud.

Camille hurt me.

She doesn’t get to do it again.

And just when I think my mom is starting to get this, she says, “Camille’s one of your oldest friends. She needs you.”

I look away, bitter thoughts taking over. Where was she when I needed her? In fucking Ohio. Getting a new phone number, blowing us off, then coming back onherterms.

Now she has to work withmyterms.

If Camille needs me so bad, she can tell me that herself.

Not that it would matter.

It’s nice to be needed, I admit it. I’ve made a gradual shift into someone who likes to be needed, into someone whoneeds. I’ve felt it in flickers since Camille left, since Camille completely cut me from her life, since my parents sat me down in this kitchen, together for the last time, since my mom locked herself behind a closed door, since I kissed Reyna that first time, and every time after.

I don’t like it.

In a way, this need is what brought me even closer to Reyna. It’s what guided my ill decisions. She understands need, more than the rest of us, and that’s why the selfish part of me still clings to this hope that she’ll understand mine.

I used to think she was the neediest person I know. But we’re all needy. Reyna just doesn’t hide it. She doesn’t hide anything. I’m the one who’s hiding.

“And you need her,” Mom claims.

I’ve told myself the same thing, but about a different girl.

I pull cups from the rack and transfer them to the cupboard. We’re not even going to talk about the fact that the first night after I saw Camille was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while. I’m claiming it’s the result of good sex.

Camille needs my mom. Tommy. Reyna. She needs normalcy as much as I do. I know that’s why she’s back. She wouldn’t admit it when I asked her, but she wouldn’t be here if Caleb was still alive. The thought doesn’t sit right with me. The stubborn part of me who still cares still wants to help carry the weight, but I can’t just forgive and forget. I can’t give her normalcy because she’s not part of what’s normal for me anymore.

But knowing she has somebody helps lessen the guilt for putting distance between us. Distanceshestarted, I’ll add. It should be easy to let her in, to comfort her, but because of who I am now and what she did, it’s not.

My mom needs Camille, too. I can’t deny the effect of her presence. Mom is living again. Of course Camille is staying here. It’s her giving my mother life, not me. So while seeing her up and about more, being a mom, should make me happy to see, should bring us closer to maybe getting past this, there’s a churning in my stomach, stirring up my residual anger, and she’s caught in the fumes.

I put away the last cup and close the cupboard. “I’m tired of being lied to.”

“So your solution is to make the same mistakes your father and I have? To hurt the people who love you?”

I’m defensive when I say, “I’m not trying to hurt anyone.”

“Neither was I. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t. And it doesn’t mean you won’t.” Mom pins me with an unwavering stare, knowing full well what I’m doing and what I’m not doing. She might’ve stopped using her mouth for a while, but she still has eyes and ears. “The Julian that I know—”

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