The Edge of Always

“Of course,” she says, rising back up and letting her wet blonde hair fall behind her.

“Did you used to see a psychiatrist?”

The smile disappears from her face and is instantly replaced by a deadpanned expression. She walks over to the closet and opens it. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Natalie just called and suggested that I try to get you to go back.”

She shakes her head with her back to me and starts sifting through the clothes hanging in front of her. “Leave it to Natalie to make me out to be a crazy person.”

Still in my boxers, I get out of the bed, letting the sheet fall away from my body and I walk over to her, placing my hands on her hips from behind.

“Seeing a psychiatrist doesn’t make anyone crazy,” I say. “Maybe you should go. Just to talk to someone.”

It does bother me that I can’t be that someone, but that’s not the important issue.

“Andrew, I’ll be fine.” She turns around and smiles sweetly at me, placing her fingertips on the edge of my jawline. Then she kisses my lips. “I promise. I know you and Nat and my mom are really worried about me and I don’t fault you for that, but I’m not going to a psychiatrist. It’s ridiculous.” She turns back around and pulls a shirt from a hanger. “Besides, what those people really want to do is write a prescription and send me on my way. I’m not taking any mental drugs.”

“Well, you don’t have to take any ‘mental’ drugs, but I think if you had someone else to talk to it would help make what happened easier.”

She stops with her back still turned to me and lets her arm drop to her side, the shirt clenched in her hand. She sighs, and her shoulders finally relax amid the silence. Then she turns around and looks me dead in the eyes.

“The best way for me to cope with what happened is to forget it,” she says, and it tears a gash in my heart. “I’ll be OK as long as I’m not forced to be reminded of it every day. The more you all try to get me to ‘talk about it’”—she quotes with her fingers—“and the longer you all keep looking at me with those quiet, sad expressions every time I walk into the room, the longer it’s going to take me to forget.”

This isn’t something you can just forget, but I don’t have the heart to say this to her.

“OK, so …” I step away and move absently back toward the bed “… how long are we staying here? Not that I’m eager to get back.” It’s only one of several questions I want to ask her, but I’m equally leery about all of them. I’ve felt like I’ve been walking on eggshells around her with everything I’ve said in the past two weeks.

“I’m not going back to Texas,” she says casually and goes to slip on a pair of jeans.

Eggshells. They’re everydamnwhere.

I reach up and rub my palm over the back of my head.

“That’s fine,” I say. “I’ll go back by myself and pack and if you want to, while I’m gone you can go out with Natalie and look at apartments for us. Your pick. Whatever you want.” I smile carefully across the room at her. I want her to be happy, and I’ll do anything I can to make that happen.

Her face lights up, and I think I’m genuinely tricked by it. Either that or she’s genuinely smiling. At this point, I can’t tell much anymore.

She walks over to me and backs me up toward the foot of her bed, pressing her palms against my chest. Then she pushes me down against it. I look up at her. Normally I would be on her by now, but it feels wrong. I know she wants it. At least, I think she does … but I’m scared to touch her and have been since the miscarriage.

She sits on me, straddling my waist, and despite being afraid to touch her it’s instinct to press myself against her. She drapes her hands over my shoulders and gazes down into my eyes. I bite down on the inside of my mouth and shut my eyes when she leans in to kiss me. I kiss her back, tasting the sweetness of her lips and taking her breath deep into my lungs. But then I pull away and hold her by the waist to keep her from trying to force herself on me.

“Babe, I don’t think …”

She looks stunned, cocking her head to one side.

“You don’t think what?”

I’m not sure how to word this, but I just say the first version that comes to mind.

“It’s only been two weeks. Aren’t you still—”

“—bleeding?” she asks. “No. Sore? No. I told you, I’m fine.”

She’s anything but fine. But I have a feeling that if I try to convince her, it’ll backfire on me somehow.

Damn … maybe I do need to brave the wild and talk to Natalie, after all.

Camryn slides off my lap, but I stand up with her and wrap my arms around her back, pulling her into my bare chest. I press the side of my face against the top of her wet hair.

“You’re right,” she says, pulling away to see my eyes. “I should, ummm … get back on my birth control pills. We’d be stupid to risk this again.”

She walks away from me.

That’s not exactly what I was getting at. Sure, it’s probably for the better that we were more careful this time around because of what she just went through. But to be completely honest, I would lay her down right now with the sole intention of getting her pregnant again if that was what she wanted. If she asked me to. I don’t regret the first time at all and would do it all over again. But it would need to be what she wants, and I’m afraid if I was ever the one to bring it up that she might take it as my suggestion, that she might feel guilty about losing my Lily, and she’ll want to get pregnant again because she thinks it’s what I need to feel better.

Camryn takes the robe off and tosses it on the end of the bed and then starts to get dressed.

“If that’s what you want to do,” I say about the birth control pills, “then I’m with you on that.”

“Is that what you want?” she asks, pausing to look me in the eyes.

Feels like a trick question. Be careful, Andrew.

I nod slowly. “I want whatever you want. And right now I think for your sake, it’s the best thing to do.”

There’s absolutely no readable emotion in her eyes, and it’s making me nervous.

Finally she nods, too, and her gaze falls away from mine. She slips on her jeans and then rummages through her dresser drawer for a pair of socks.

“I’ll go to my doctor today if they can squeeze me in.”

“All right,” I say.

And as if we didn’t just have a somewhat depressing, serious conversation, Camryn comes over and smiles at me just before pecking me on the lips.

“And then you can be yourself again,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on,” she says, “you’ve not tried to have sex with me once since this happened.” She grins and then her eyes scan my naked chest slowly. “I have to say, I miss my sex-crazed Andrew Parrish. For the past three days, I’ve been taking care of myself a lot.” She leans in toward my lips and then moves toward my ear, tugging my earlobe carefully with her teeth, and whispers, “I did it in the shower just minutes ago. You should’ve been there.”

Shivers run down my back and all the way into my feet. Shit, why didn’t she just ask me to get her off? I’d happily do it for her. Surely she knows that by now.

I grab her face and kiss her hard while she grabs a handful of my cock. The next thing I know, I’m lying across her bed and she’s crawling on top of me. Her fingers linger around the elastic of my boxers while she looks across my body with devilishly hooded eyes.

Oh God, if she’s about to put me in her mouth …

I didn’t even realize my eyes had shut until I feel her fingers wedge between my boxers and my skin. Then she starts to slip them off, and all I see is the back of my eyelids.

My conscience rears its ugly head and I stop her, lifting halfway from the bed, my upper body held up by my elbows. “Baby, not right now.”

She pouts. She actually pouts, and it’s the perfect equivalent of puppy-dog eyes, and I sort of want to give in to her because it absolutely melts me.

“I want you to. Trust me … I really want you to.” I laugh a little with those words. “But let’s wait. Your mom will be back anytime, and I—”

She cocks her head to the side and beams at me. “It’s OK,” she says and kisses me one more time before hopping off the bed. “You’re right. The last thing I want is my mom to catch me giving you a blow job.”

Did I just refuse a blow job? This girl really has no idea how firmly she has my nuts in a sling. I better not tell her or she might abuse her power. Hell, what am I saying? I want her to abuse it. I fucking love her.

Camryn leaves with her mom later in the morning after they managed to get a last-minute appointment with her gynecologist. I had this urge to pull her mom off to the side at some point to ask about the things Natalie tried to tell me, but I never got the opportunity. They had to leave within the hour to make that appointment, and it would’ve been weird if I slipped into a room with her mom. She’d know right away that we were talking about her.

NINE

Camryn left me with her car. I briefly asked her why she didn’t just drive her car instead of taking the bus that day last July, and she responded with: “Why didn’t you take yours?” It took everything in me to put myself in the driver’s seat of a little red Toyota Prius, but I sucked it up and drove to Starbucks, where I agreed to meet Natalie.

Everything about this feels dangerous and dirty. And I don’t mean dirty in a good way. I mean that I will want to shower with Lava soap once this is over with. Natalie walks in without Blake and moves her way through the room toward me, her long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail. I made sure to get a table farthest away from the tall glass windows for fear of someone seeing me with her. It doesn’t matter that no one around here knows me; that’s beside the point. I tried to get her to just tell me whatever it was she needed to tell me, over the phone, but she insisted we meet.

She sits down on the empty chair, and her purse hits the tabletop at the same time.

“I don’t bite,” she says, smirking.

Maybe not, but I bet your—

“You don’t have to pretend to like me,” she interrupts my thoughts. “Cam’s not here. And I’m not as dense as you think I am.”

I admit she surprised me. I really thought she had no clue about my dislike of her. She may be my fiancée’s best friend, but she really hurt Camryn when she shut Camryn out months ago and didn’t believe her when Natalie’s ex, Damon, confessed that he had fallen for her. That’s bullshit.

I lean away from the table and cross my arms over my chest. “Well, since we’re being honest, tell me, what the hell is your problem?”

That caught her off guard. Her eyes grow wide with surprise and then narrow. It looks like she’s chewing on the inside of her mouth out of frustration.

“What do you mean by that?” She crosses her arms now and cocks her head to one side, her ponytail falling to one side.

“I think you know what I mean,” I say. “And if not, then maybe you are as dense as I thought.”

I can’t help being such an asshole toward her. I could’ve gone on forever just tolerating her and never saying a negative word to her, but she was the one who put it all out on the table when she sat down. It’s her own damn fault.

A little lightbulb just flickered in her head and the glint in her brown eyes darken with comprehension. She knows exactly what I’m referring to.

“I know, I deserve that,” she says and looks away from me. “I’ll regret what I did to Camryn probably forever, but she forgave me, so I don’t know why you have to be such an ass about it. You didn’t even know me then. You still don’t know me.”

No, I don’t, I’ll give her that much, but I know enough and that’s all I need. At least I can confront Natalie. Damon, or whatever the hell his name is, is another story. I sure would like to have him sitting in front of me instead of her. I’d like nothing more than to bury his lip between his front teeth.

“But this isn’t about me,” she says, again with that smirk of hers, “so let me just get on with why I asked you to meet me here.”

I nod and leave it at that.

“Cam and I have been best friends for a really long time. I was there for her when her grandma died, when Ian died, when her brother Cole killed that man and went to prison. Not to mention when her dad cheated on her mom and they got divorced.” She leans over the small table. “All of that happened just within the last three years.” She shakes her head and presses her back against the seat and crosses her arms again. “And those were just the major things to turn her life upside down, Andrew. Honestly, I think that girl was dealt a really shitty hand.” She raises her hands up in front of her and says dramatically, “Oooh, but no way can I tell Cam that. She bit my head off the last time I tried to give her some credit. I’m tellin’ yah, she doesn’t like pity. She hates it. She has this screwed-up mind-set where no matter what bad falls in her lap that there are too many people out there who have it worse.” She rolls her eyes.

I know exactly what Natalie is referring to. Camryn tried to avoid her problems while on the road with me, so I know firsthand, but what Natalie doesn’t know is that I helped pull Camryn out of that shell somewhat. It makes me smile inside to know that I could succeed in under two weeks where Natalie, her so-called best friend, couldn’t in the years they’ve known each other.

“So, she just accepts it,” she goes on. “She always has. I’m telling you, she has a lot of pent-up hurt and anger and disappointment—you name it—that she’s never been able to properly deal with. And now with what happened with the baby …” she swallows and her brown eyes grow heavy with unease “… I’m really afraid for her, Andrew.”

I did not expect that my meeting with Natalie would result in the deep worry over Camryn’s health and state of mind that it has. I was worried about her before, but the more she talks, the worse it gets.

“Tell me about this psychiatrist thing,” I say. “I asked her about it earlier, but she wouldn’t really go into it with me.”

Natalie crosses one leg over the other and sighs heavily. “Well, her dad talked her into seeing one shortly after Ian died. Cam went every week, and she seemed to be getting something out of it, but I think she had us all fooled. You don’t leave without telling anyone and board a bus like she did, if you’re ‘getting better.’”

“Her dad was the one who talked her into it?”

Natalie nods. “Yep. She’s always been closer to her dad than her mom—Nancy’s great, but she’s kind of ditzy sometimes. When her dad packed up after the divorce and moved to New York with his new girlfriend, I think that messed her up even more. But of course, she would never admit it.”

I take a deep breath and run both hands over the top of my head. I feel guilty hearing all of this from Natalie of all people, but I’ll take it where I can get it, because apparently Camryn wasn’t ever going to tell me any of it herself.

“She mentioned something about pills,” I say. “Said she wasn’t going to go to any psychiatrist because they just—”

Natalie nods and interrupts, “Yeah, she was put on some antidepressants, took them for a while. Next thing I know, she’s admitting to being off of them for a few months. I had no idea.”

Finally, I just cut to the chase. “So what exactly did you bring me here for?” I ask. “Hopefully it wasn’t just to tell me all of her secrets.” I do appreciate knowing this information, but I have to wonder if Natalie is only telling me because she gets off on it. Probably not. I think she genuinely cares about Camryn, but Natalie is Natalie, after all, and that’s just not something I can overlook.

“I think you need to watch her,” she says and has my full attention again. “She really did fall into some depression after Ian died. I mean it was like I didn’t know her for a long time. She didn’t cry or act like I expect depressed people are supposed to act, no, Cam was …” She looks up in thought and then back at me again. “She was stoic, if that’s even the right word. She stopped going out with me. She stopped caring about school. Refused to go to college. We had our college plans all mapped out in our freshman year, but when she fell into that depression stuff, college was the last thing on her mind.”

“What was on her mind?”

Natalie shakes her head subtly. “Can’t really say, because she rarely talked about it. But she did talk sometimes about deep, weird shit: backpacking across the world, stuff like that. I don’t remember, exactly, but she definitely wasn’t on Cloud Reality, that’s for sure. Oh, and she did mention on occasion how she wished she could feel emotions again. Weird to me how anyone can not feel any emotions, but whatever.” She waves her hands in front of her dismissively. Then she smiles at me, and I’m not sure what to make of it until she speaks. “But then you came along and she was herself again. Except like a hundred times better. I could tell that night I talked to her while in New Orleans with you, that something had changed. Honestly, I’ve never seen her the way she is with you.” She pauses and says, “I think you’re the best thing ever to happen to Cam. Don’t shoot me for bringing it up, but if you would’ve died …”

I wait impatiently for her to go on, but she doesn’t. She looks away from my eyes and seems to be ready to retract everything she was about to say.

“If I would’ve died, what?”

“I don’t know,” she says, and I don’t believe her. “I just think you need to watch her. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that she needs you now more than ever.”

No, she didn’t need to tell me that, but with everything else she’s told me, I can’t help but feel like I need to be with Camryn right now and every minute of every day. I almost hate Natalie for telling me all of this stuff, but at the same time, I needed to know.

I stand up from the table and toss my arms inside my black jacket, then push my chair in.

“So, you’re leaving just like that?”

I stop and look down at her. “Yeah, I am,” I say, and she stands up. “I think I know enough.”

“Please don’t tell—”

I put up my hand. “Look, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you telling me all of this, but if Camryn asks, I will tell her that I met you here privately and that you told me everything that I know. So don’t expect me to keep any of it from her.”

Her cheeks deflate with air. “Fair enough,” she says and grabs her purse from the table. “But I was only saying that because I’m worried how she might feel if she knew I came to you, not because I’m worried she’ll be pissed at me for doing it.”

I nod. I admit, I believe her this time.

I’m hanging out in the den watching TV when Camryn and her mom come home from the birth control appointment. I find myself sitting up straighter, feeling awkward being in her mom’s house and all. I set the TV remote down on the oak coffee table and get up to meet Camryn halfway.

“So, how’d everything go?” Awkward posture. Awkward filler questions. Awkward everything. I hate awkward. We need to get our own place soon. Or a hotel room.

Camryn’s eyes soften as she comes up to me.

“It went fine,” she answers and pecks me on the cheek. “I got what I needed. What did you do today? I bet you looked all sexy driving around in that New Age chick car all day, huh?” The left side of her mouth lifts into a grin.

My face feels a little flush.

Her mom smiles faintly at me behind Camryn’s back as she passes and heads into the kitchen area. It’s the same kind of “quiet smile” Camryn was talking about this morning, the one that screams She’s so fragile and I feel so bad for both of you. I’m starting to understand why Camryn hates it so much.

“Well, I didn’t do much, but I did endure a fifteen-minute face-to-face conversation with Shenzi at Starbucks.”

“Shenzi?”

I shake my head, smiling and say, “Never mind. Natalie. She wanted to meet me to talk about you. She’s just really worried.”

Camryn, annoyed, starts to walk toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. I follow.

“I can only imagine what she told you,” she says as she rounds the corner into her room. She sets her purse and a shopping bag on her bed. “And it pisses me off she’d call you behind my back.”

“I probably shouldn’t have met up with her,” I say, standing near the doorway. “But she was persistent and, honestly, I wanted to hear what she had to say.”

She turns to face me. “And what did you get out of it?”

The faint trace of discontent lacing her tone stings me a little.

“Just that you’ve been through a lot and—”

Camryn puts up her hand and shakes her head at me. “Andrew, seriously. Listen to me, OK?” She steps right up and takes my hands into hers. “Right now, the only thing that’s causing me any added misery is everybody worrying about me all the time. Think about it—we basically had this conversation just this morning. Now look at me.”

I look at her, not that I wasn’t already.

“Am I moping around?” No, you’re not. “How many times have you seen me smile in the past week?” Many times, actually. “Have you once heard me say anything to indicate I’m hurting more than I’m letting on?” No, not really, I guess.

She tilts her beautiful blonde head gently to the side and reaches up, brushing the side of my face with her soft fingertips. “I want you to promise me something.”

Normally I’d say “anything” without hesitation, but this time I hesitate.

She tilts her head to the other side, and her hand falls away from my face.

Finally, I say with reluctance, “It depends on what it is.”

She doesn’t fight it, but I see the disappointment in her expression.

“Promise me we’ll get back to normal. That’s all I ask, Andrew. I miss the way we were before. I miss our crazy times together and our crazy sex and your crazy dimples and your crazy, vibrant, life-loving attitude.”

“Do you miss the road?” I ask, and the light snaps out of her face as if I’ve said something horribly wrong.

Her eyes stray from mine and she seems lost in some deep, dark moment.

“Camryn … do you miss the road?” I need the answer to this question now more than I did seconds ago, because of her unexpected reaction to it.

After a long, silent moment she looks at me again and I feel lost in her eyes, though in an uncomfortable way.

She doesn’t answer. It’s like … she can’t.

Not knowing what’s going on inside of her head and eager to find out, I finally say, “We can do it now.” I place my hands on her upper arms. “Maybe that’s exactly what you … I mean, we need.” As the idea comes together on my tongue, I get more excited by the second just thinking about it. Camryn and me. On the open road. Living free and in the moment like we had planned to do. I realize I’m smiling hugely, my face lit up with excitement. Holy shit! Yes, this is what we need to do. Why didn’t I think of this before?

“No,” she says flatly, and her answer snaps me right out of that blissful, dreamlike state.

“No?” I can hardly believe it, or understand it.

“No.”

“But … why not?” I ask and she walks away from me casually. “There’s no reason we have to wait anymore.”

I understand in this very second the reason behind her answer. But I don’t have to be the one to bring it up because she does it for me.

“Andrew,” she says, her expression soft with regret, “if we did that it would always linger in the back of my mind that it was something we were putting off because of the baby. It wouldn’t feel right to do it now. Not for a while. A long while.”

“OK,” I say and step up to her. I nod and smile warmly, hoping to make her understand that no matter what she wants to do, or not do, I’m behind her all the way.

“So, what level of bipolar did Natalie make me out to be today?” She laughs under her breath and goes over to the shopping bag she brought with her and reaches inside.