Chapter 15
1667 Words
Camille woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon.
She brushed her teeth and ran a brush through her hair, trying to look somewhat less like the mess she saw in the mirror. Camille dragged herself to the scent in the kitchen and gasped at what she saw.
Food.
Everywhere.
Casserole dishes covered every counter, stacked two and three high.
She could hardly keep track of it all.
Her mom was frying bacon on the stove seemingly ignoring the avalanche of food in the kitchen .
"Mom," Camille called hesitantly. She was afraid that her mother had put herself in a bubble and she didn't exactly want to burst it.
Her mother, Emily, turned around with a huge smile on her face and Camille stiffened, almost frightened by her mother's expression.
It wasn't real, a blind man could see that.
"Yes dear?" Emily chirped as the bacon sizzled. "Are you hungry?"
Camille didn't know what to say.
Although the smell of food had lured her to the kitchen, the fact that a familiar male figure was missing made her appetite disappear. "I'm fine mom.”
Emily gave her daughter a concerned look. "Are you sure hunny? I mean you look like you haven't been eating properly lately," her mom scolded.
Camille gave her mom a puzzled look… She’d actually thought she had gained weight.
She bit her lip. "I've been eating just fine mom. I'm actually eating healthier...maybe that's why?"
Her mother didn’t seem satisfied with that answer but simply nodded before returning to flip pancakes cooking in another skillet.
"Where's Alice?" Camille asked.
"Oh, I sent her to buy some groceries. We are kind of runnin' low."
Camille blinked, then looked around once more at all the food that filled the kitchen.
"Mom, where did all this food come from?"
Emily looked around the kitchen as if seeing it for the first time.
"Oh, it's from all the people who wanted to pay their respects to your dad."
Camille’s heart warmed at the gesture. People had cared. People remembered. The town had loved him too.
If her father were here right now, he'd survey the mountain of food and make some terrible joke. He'd probably tell Camille, "Well, if I gain weight, it's all your fault for not stopping me." Then he'd immediately reach for a casserole, and her mom would smack his hand, but he'd try and steal a bite anyway.
A ghost of a smile graced her lips at the thought.
When she had heard that her father had been killed, Camille had gone into shock. She hadn’t been able to breathe and her heart had constricted so much that she thought it would burst. She’d later found out that she’d experienced a severe panic attack.
As she looked at her mom cooking, Camille remembered the times when her dad would enter the kitchen and kiss her mother on the cheek, then head to the table to drink his orange juice and read the morning news.
After, he would talk about the things that hadn't made the newspaper, like Mary-Ann delivering two healthy twin boys, and how he would have to watch out for them when they grew into their teens. It was bad enough for a teenage boy to wreak havoc on the town, but twin boys would cause anyone to have a stroke.
Her father was only doing his job, he didn't deserve to die. He was actually a good person in society, the person who helped to uphold the law and yet… he was taken away, while his killer lived on. The bitter irony of life laughed all too painfully in her face. It wasn't fair; she wanted to scream…Why was fate so cruel and twisted? Why did it allow the good ones to be taken away, while the menaces lived on, forever destroying the lives of those who they came in contact with?
Why?
Camille sighed and brushed away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be here right now trying out his new goofy joke. He was supposed to be here to celebrate his birthday, thanksgiving, Christmas…
He was supposed to be here.
As she glanced around the kitchen, her eyes took in his empty chair…and realized that this wasn't a nightmare she could run away from but reality she couldn't hide from.
A sound escaped her as more tears came.
Camille didn't realize that her mother had wrapped her arms around her and was whispering calming words.
"It's alright sweetie, I know you miss him. I miss him too," her mom’s voice cracked as she spoke. "But the tears you shed now won't be out of sadness but out of joy….you hear?"
Camille looked at her mother through her tears.
"From now on, we’re remembering the times we had with him, and not the time passed without him," her mother said.
Camille nodded and hugged her mom tightly.
Remorse slithered through her as she thought of all the times she had tried hard to block out the memories of her dad. Camille hated herself for trying to forget him. But it was the only way she had known how to block out the pain. To survive it.
It was an impossibly flawed method, but it was all she could handle.
When Alice came back bearing bags of groceries and dropped them off in the kitchen, Camille pulled her sister into a fierce hug.
No matter what happened between them, Camille never wanted to lose her.
“I can’t breathe, Cam,” Alice joked lightly but hugged Camille back just as tightly.
"I think," her mom said slowly, "that we should make Dad's favorite cookies. You remember? The oatmeal chocolate raisin ones he always begged me to make for him?"
Camille's heart clenched. His favorite cookies. The ones where he'd eat half the dough before it even made it into the oven. The ones he'd claim helped him "think better" on tough cases, as if cookies had magical problem-solving properties.
How could she make those? And eat them without him?
It just seemed too painful..
But both her mom and sister were staring at her so expectedly…
And so she put on her best smile. Okay," Camille said. "Let's do it."
By the end, Camille had never had so much fun baking as she did that day.
Simply because, one, she was with her family and two, because they’d actually had a food fight.
Even though she had started it by smearing Alice with the cookie dough, she was glad her mother had ended it by pelting them both with chocolate until they had to dodge and run for cover.
Who knew her mom had such great aim?
After the kitchen was all cleaned up, they’d gathered in the living room with the freshly baked cookies and some photo albums.
Alice and Camille sat on the floor and their mom took the couch as they reminisced about all the times they had together.
"Oh my God," Alice laughed, pointing at a photo. "Camille, look at you!"
Camille laughed too as she saw a picture of herself at seven with cookie crumbles all over her mouth and a mischievous glint in her eyes, while her mother looked puzzled by the empty cookie jar.
“Me?” Camille laughed. “What about you?”
A five-year-old Alice also sat on the ground with a pot on her head, pointing accusingly at Camille. The next photo showed their father holding the camera at arm's length, his face split with laughter, shaking his head at his daughters' antics, his forest green eyes light.
Camille traced his face with her finger, memorizing his smile.
"He loved you girls so much," her mom whispered.
Camille smiled, beginning to feel like she was finally allowing herself to heal.
But there was one more thing she needed to do.
It was something she had to do alone without comforting words or hugs.
She needed to speak to her dad.
~aonstc~
Camille stared at the tombstone as her eyes filled with tears and the words began to blur.
'Here Lies James Patrick Livingston
Loving Husband, Father, Son, Brother
And friend to all those who knew him.
May God rest his soul and allow him`
Entrance into the gates of Heaven
She placed the white Lily on his tombstone and knelt down in front of it. Camille wiped the tears away furiously in the teal blouse she had chosen to wear. Teal was her father's favorite color and she felt horrible for tarnishing the blouse with her tears.
"Hey daddy," she whispered. "I'm sorry I haven't visited you in a while….but I couldn't handle it," she sobbed. "After the funeral, even though I saw your face and even though I watched them lower you into the ground…I guess I just didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to accept that you were gone, that you were taken from me." Camille hiccupped as the emotions filled her. The emotions she had been trying to block out for so long.
She sobbed harder as she continued. "I guess I figured if I came back and saw your tombstone then I could no longer deny it.."
“I still don’t want to believe it,” another sob, raw and painful tore from her throat.
Camille traced his name repeatedly with her fingers, before finally laying her head on the cool, hard marble where his name was etched.
"Goodbye Daddy," she whispered.
Camille stood up and brushed her tears away hoping her father would forgive her for staying away for so long.
With one last look at the white lily resting against his name, Camille turned and walked back toward the cemetery gates, toward home, toward whatever came next in a world without him in it.
Behind her, the wind picked up, rustling through the trees like a whisper.
Like someone saying,“I'm proud of you, sweetheart. I love you too.”
- Writer
