CHAPTER 23
C
ute gray kitten. Answers to “Cat.” Sweet disposition. Docile. So far, all he does is eat, pee, poop, crawl under furniture. Not destructive at all.
Perfect for an older person who just wants a companion.
214-555-8766
The first two calls she got were actually from guys who chatted briefly about Cat, then got to the point where they “wanted to get to know her.” She promptly declined their advances. By the third call, Camille had figured out how to cut to the chase. One real contender wanted a pet for her two-year-old.
Didn't she read my ad?
Cat wasn't for kids. He wasn't playful or outgoing. He'd be terrified of a two-year-old; back at the shelter in a hot minute for scratching the toddler's face in fear.
The second person claimed he didn't have other pets, but Camille could hear dogs barking in the background. When she viewed the person's profile, she noted he owned several rough-looking pit bulls. Cat would probably be ripped to shreds by the time his dogs finished practicing their aggression on him. A quick chat in a cat-lovers' room confirmed Camille's suspicions. 4Cats4Me commented, There are a lot of mean people out there. Be careful giving your kitten away. Why don't you just keep him?
Camille thought about writing the truthâshe didn't like cats. But the people in this forum would go coo-coo. Instead, she wrote part of the truth, Someone gave him thinking I wanted another cat, but I don't.
FelineFemale posted, Sounds like you care nuff 2 want a good home 4 him. I say he's yours ;0)
Not likely. Camille figured you were either born a cat person or not. She was a
not
. Furthermore, she learned via the Web that the pet deposit for her complex was two hundred fifty dollars.
Certainly
not going to happen. Even if she wanted to keep Cat, which she didn't, she couldn't afford to. According to the paperwork Sheryl gave her, he'd need shots soon, too. More money.
Still, the thought that she might turn Cat over to a torturer wasn't something Camille could live with. She immediately removed the ad for fear of coming in contact with a sadistic animal-killer.
After all,
she told herself,
they start with animals and graduate to people. I'm not gonna be somebody's first human victim on account of Cat.
Sheryl, of course, basked in her good deed. “How's the kitten?” she'd ask every morning.
“He's fine,” Camille would reply truthfully. For as much as she didn't appreciate Sheryl's unwelcome gift, she had to admit it was nice to talk to her boss without all the guilt for once.
“We'll have to get our cats together sometime for a playdate,” Sheryl suggested.
“I'm sorry. I can't. I'm very busy on the weekend with church and all.”
“Oh”âSheryl seemed shockedâ“you go to church? I didn't know you were ... I'm guessing ... like, a Christian, right?”
Camille cleared her throat. “Yes. It's a Christian church.”
“What do you do there?”
“I sing in several choirs,” Camille shared. “I'm always at rehearsal or mentoring young ladies. The church keeps me
very
busy.” She'd hoped to see Sheryl give up on her quest for cat fellowship. Yet, she wondered why Sheryl's eyes had suddenly taken on a new shine. She never got this excited about anything except animals.
“Oh my goodness! That's wonderful.” Then she dipped her head, stepped fully into Camille's cubicle. “Lately, my husband and I have been talking about going to church or something. Gotta figure out the whole life purpose, you know? I don't know if we need to start going to church or volunteering, but we've been so fortunate, we gotta do something.”
“You're such a sweet person. You'd be great.”
She smiled. “You think?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Here.” She pointed at the sticky notepad on Camille's desk. “Write down the address to your church. Maybe one of these Sundays, my husband and I will get to visit. No cats allowed, right?” She tilted her head, jeering.
“No cats allowed.” Camille hoped Sheryl was joking.
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Since the boy-on-the-porch incident, Camille found herself on the receiving end of dozens of questions from Ronald about what might be going on in Brittney's head. He seemed lost about how to handle his baby girl now that he realized she wasn't a baby anymore. In his mind, Brittney had morphed into a foreign creature capable of all manner of evil, never to be trusted again.
“I just don't see how she could do this,” Ronald anguished for the millionth time in a week. He glanced at Brittney, who was sitting alone at her own table in Panera while he and Camille occupied a different table in the restaurant. He didn't trust his daughter to stay home alone anymore, so she had to tag along like an ... irresponsible teenager who couldn't be trusted to stay home alone.
Camille, too, snuck a peek at her mini-me. Poor Brittney's clothing expressed a complete lack of interest in her appearance. Aside from the fact she was on punishment, Camille realized that Brittney was ashamed and embarrassed about the whole situation. She couldn't look her father in the eyes. She barely whispered when speaking to Camille.
“Ronald, stop taking this personally. It's not about you,” Camille tried to explain over baked-potato soup. “She didn't ask herself, âWhat can I do to break my father's heart?'”
He winced. “What
did
she say to herself? What
did
go down in her mind?”
Camille blinked once. “What went down in
your
mind when you were fifteen years old and falling in love, sneaking behind
your
parents' back to talk on the phone or spend unsupervised time alone with
your
girlfriend?”
He admitted, “My problem exactly. Wasn't but one thing on my mind when I thought about being alone with my fifteen-year-old girlfriend. Same thing that was on
that
boy's mind.”
“True, true,” Camille agreed, “but from what I can tell about Brittney, that's not what was on
her
mind. She didn't set out to disappoint you. She probably just ... really likes the kid. I'm sure he makes her laugh, he tells her she's pretty. He probably does things Brittney would never do, tells her about all his thuggish adventures. It's pretty enticing, actually.”
“I'm gonna be sick.” Ronald fake gagged. “You make it sound like a good thing.”
“It's not, but you have to understand where she's coming from. The boy talked her into doing something she knew she shouldn't have done. I'm sure he told her it wouldn't be that big a deal. He really wanted to see her, he can't stop thinking about herâ”
“Lies,” Ronald fumed.
“We know that, but Brittney doesn't.”
He defended himself, “But I've taught my daughter
better
.”
“Look, anybody can be tricked into doing the wrong thing. If it happened to Eve and her daddy was
God
, it could happen to Brittney, all right? This is not about you, Ronald. And the last thing Brittney needs is for you to make her feel like a complete idiot who can't do anything right. An
unloved
complete idiot, to make matters worse.”
Ronald inhaled deeply, covered his face with his hands. “You're right, but whose side are you on anyway?”
“I'm not on anybody's side,” she assured him, pulling down his physical barrier to expose his eyes again.
“What am I supposed to do? She can't
not
get punished.”
Camille nodded. “She should have consequences, of course, but you need to talk to her. She might have lost her phone, her computer, her freedom, and whatever else you want to take away from her, but she shouldn't have to lose you, too. Don't ever forget, you're the only parent she has left.”
He lowered his hands in submission. “Okay, okay. I'll talk to her. Will you talk to her, too? She really looks up to you. Sometimes I feel like what I tell her goes in one ear and out the other.”
“I'll talk to her,
after
you.”
“Thanks. Have I told you lately that I like the way you explain this mixed-up woman's world to me?”
They locked fingers. A brief flush emanated from his touch. “Yes, you have. I'm glad to help.”
“I could kiss you right now.”
Go 'head then!
Camille helped a brother out. She leaned across their tiny table, kicked off their first peck. Delicious little smack. And that's all it was, too, since Brittney's position at her table could change at any moment.
“You've done more than help, Camille. You've opened my eyes to reality. Sometimes, I think I'm so caught up in the church and all the ministries, I forget there's life outside of the sanctuary.”
“No arguments here,” she had to concur. Though their relationship hadn't been formalized, Camille had come to the conclusion that the real reason Ronald didn't have much of a social life was because he'd already married Grace Chapel. And now that he'd added babysitting Brittney every moment she wasn't in school to his list of obligations, he'd have even less free time.
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Back at home, she was reminded of their first planned date every time she walked by her unique painting. Sometimes, she found herself wishing she could do that date all over. Not to change anything, just to experience it again. She remembered how close they'd been when he tied her apron from behind. Remembered his gentle nudge when he'd tried to interfere with her drawing. Those thoughtful sandwiches and chips. Even the hug and second kiss tonight when he dropped her off would be memories worth holding on to. She wanted more times like these with Ronald, but it wasn't looking too good.
If this were a
real
relationship, she would voice her concerns. Unfortunately, the
real
truth presented itself every time Camille got an e-mail or a text from John David. He must have had a live one on the line, because all week he'd been questioning Camille, wanting to know when she'd have the demo available. Couldn't she get a DVD of the church's ceremony and lift the audio? Was there any way she could ask some people from the choir to back her up on a simple song? Did she really want this, or was she wasting his time?
Of course she wanted it! That was the whole reason she'd joined church and the choir. Not too many people would be willing to give up their good Sunday morning rest and several week nights to rehearsal unless they were serious about singing.
Stillâno demo, no deal.
Hanging out with Ronald, getting involved with the youth had gotten her off track. Messed up her priorities. Maybe his preoccupation with Brittney's love life would give her an opportunity to refocus. All she needed was one taping. After that, she could just go on with things as usual until John David got her a gig. Then, of course, she'd have to relinquish some of her commitments at Grace Chapel. Everyone would understand. Who in their right mind
wouldn't
hop on the next bus to LA for a recording contract and a tour?
She'd keep in touch with Mercedes and Ronald. Maybe come back and make a special appearance at Mentors and Models. Send Brittney souvenirs from the tour cities. And maybe, once Camille had stacked up some bills in the bank, added some zeroes to her checking account, she'd settle back at Grace Chapel. Check back in with Ronald, if he was still on the market. She hoped liked crazy he'd still be available, because she desperately desired to start over with him. No lies, no schemes. Just regular old boy meets girl. Or, girl comes back to boy after she gets rich.
This all sounded like a fine and dandy plan when she put it in those words. Easy in, easy out. No harm done to anyone, least of all her reputation.
Now, if only she could figure out a master plan to help her sleep through a full night without fidgety twists and turns.