After Alex Died (14 page)

When he rejoined me in the bed, he positioned himself over me and our eyes locked for a moment. He kissed me as he slid into me and I felt a bit of pain as he began to thrust in and out of me. He must have sensed my discomfort because he looked concerned. “Am I hurting you?” 

“It’s just been a while,” I admitted. It had been a few years since I’d been with Mason. “Just keep going.”

He did as he was told and the pain quickly subsided as he found his rhythm and I became lost in the magic of his lovemaking. For the first time, in a long time, I was able to feel something other than darkness. I was so engaged in the deep connection Cameron and I shared that my mind was finally free of the desperate thoughts that had haunted me for so long.

When Cameron gasped, I knew he was ready to climax and I was soon there with him.
The release I felt was so intense and absolute, I was completely lost in the moment.

After we were both spent I lay my head on his chest, which felt damp with sweat. “You’re not working out enough,” I teased.

“Not that kind of workout anyway,” he offered.

We both held each other for a few moments, enjoying the post-coital bliss.

He began playing with my shoulder, circling it with his finger. “I want to tell you about the scar,” he announced.

It felt like it had come out of left field but it also seemed like something he needed to get off of his chest. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said almost grimly. I got the feeling that there were things he needed to say before our relationship could progress.

“Okay, tell me.”

“It happened when I was 12. I showed a lot of promise in basketball, so my parents sent me to a basketball camp the summer before I started junior high. It was supposed to be one of the best basketball camps in the country. They were known as star makers. A number of their graduates had gone on to become pro players. My parents thought I had the potential to someday go pro with the right coaching. They paid a small fortune for me to go for six weeks.”

He paused for a moment and played with the tattoo on my wrist, tracing it with his finger. “There was a coach there, Mr. Preston and he immediately picked me out of the crowd. He was really hard on me. He said it was because he could see I had potential that I wasn’t living up to. He yelled at all the kids, called us all kinds of names. His favorites were to call us
fairies
and
faggots
. Most of the kids were quickly demoralized. He completely tore us down. At one practice, he got so angry because I wasn’t doing a shot the way he wanted me to, he lifted up a plastic chair and threw it at me. The edge of the chair leg caught right above my eye and ripped a pretty bad gash. It bled everywhere. From the amount of blood, you would have thought he stabbed me. He actually yelled at me for messing up the floor with so much blood.

“One of the other coaches, a female coach who was working with the girls, took me to the hospital. They told my parents that one of the other kids hit me in the eye with a basketball. I never told them what actually happened and no one else ever said a word about it. We were all scared. Coach Preston had a lot of connections in the NBA and
with college recruiters. He was one of those guys who knew everyone. No one wanted to cross him and risk their basketball careers.

“When I came back after my trip to the hospital, Coach Pre
ston backed off of me for a while. But something else happened. Something even worse than the scar over my eye.”

Cameron averted my gaze and it made me nervous. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear anymore but he continued.

“The first time was in his office. Coach Preston told me he wanted to meet with me about my game. He said he had something he wanted to show me. What he wanted to show me was his dick.”

I could feel my stomach lurch and I suddenly felt as though I might vomit.

Cameron was still nervously tracing the lines of my wrist tattoo as he spoke. “Over the next few weeks I tried to stay as far away from him as I could, but he kept telling me he wanted me to meet him in his office. Finally, he caught me in the hallway and forced me to follow him into his office. I was scared to death because I knew what he wanted. He made me touch him. I was so disgusted after I left his office, I actually ran into the bathroom and threw up. Luckily, there were only a few days left of the camp and he never cornered me again.”

“I never told anyone, not even my parents
, until I was in counseling this past year.” He finally glanced up at me. “You’re the only other person, who knows.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. So many different thoughts and feelings were swirling through my head. I could see he was still hurting. The little boy inside of him was damaged by what
had happened. I wanted to support him and I was also completely outraged and angry that a coach entrusted to work with children could completely betray that trust.

He looked at me with so much pain and sadness, I could feel my chest clench.

“You’re disgusted by me, aren’t you? I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“No,” I said quickly. “That’s not it at all. If anything, I’m di
sgusted by anyone who would do that to a young boy. That coach was a sick man. It wasn’t your fault.”

H
e shook his head. “I should have told someone. I shouldn’t have been alone with him. Especially after I knew what he really wanted. I heard he retired a few years later but I don’t think he really retired. He was too young. Probably only fifty. I think someone found out and made him
leave. I wondered if he did to other boys what he had done to me. Could I have stopped it from happening if I had the courage to tell someone what he did to me? I didn’t think anyone would believe me. He made me out to be a complete and total fuck up. I thought if I told anyone, they would think I was just saying it to get him in trouble.”

“You were 12
years old. You were just a kid. You were scared and alone. He was a coach everyone looked up to. You did the best you could.”

He sighed. “When I talked to my counselor, she asked me to think about any connection there might be between what ha
ppened to me when I was 12 and what we did to Alex.”

Cameron looked into my eyes and he looked even
sadder and more vulnerable.

“Whenever I saw Alex and thought about him being gay,
all the memories about what the Coach made me do, and how disgusting and dirty it made me feel, all came flooding back to me. I think that’s why I said those things to Alex. Why I called him all those names. I know it was wrong and there are no excuses for my behavior. But there was a reason for it. A really twisted and messed up reason, but still a reason.”

I felt like I’d been slapped in the face with his confession. I was even more confused and shaken to the core.

When Cameron looked at me again, his eyes were wet. “Please say something. I don’t want to lose you. I
can’t
lose you. Not now.
Please
—”

Cameron sounded desperate
but I wasn’t sure what to say. I gulped. “It’s just a lot to absorb. You know I haven’t completely come to terms with Alex’s death. This adds a whole new side to it that I never even imaged. I have no idea what to say.”

“Can you at least say you won’t leave me?
I need you, Dee Dee. Please.” Cameron looked so raw and so vulnerable, it pierced my heart.

I wanted to tell
him everything he wanted to hear. I wanted to tell him that I wouldn’t leave him, especially not now, but the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth. They felt stuck in my dry throat.

“Please,” he begged.

I knew Cameron needed me, especially after he’d opened himself up to me and told me everything I had asked him to tell me. But it was too overwhelming. I felt like I was completely drowning in the wreckage and despair of both of our lives.

“I just need some time,” I managed to say.

Cameron looked stunned and confused. “What does that mean?”

“Please don’t read
more into it than there is.” That was easy for me to say but not to do. I was the queen of reading too much into everything and I had a suspicion that Cameron was the king. 

I placed my hand on
his cheek and he closed his eyes. It was like he was focusing on the warmth of my touch for a moment.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered. “I need you.”

I placed a soft kiss on his lips. “I’ve been completely alone ever since Alex died. No friends, no boyfriends. I haven’t even had any significant relationship with my mom and dad. I have to admit, I’m a little overwhelmed right now. You charged your way into my life, which threw me off balance, and this has completely put me into a tailspin. I’m not saying I don’t want to be with you. I’m not saying we won’t be together. I just need some time to sort all of this out.”

His lips became a tight line. “Fine,” he stated as he got up from the bed.

“Please don’t be mad.” I didn’t like seeing Cameron like this; he had completely shut down. I knew the look. I did it all the time myself.

“I’m not mad,” he said as he whipped his clothes on. “I’m just giving you what you want.
Time.”

He was dressed within seconds. He didn’t even look back at me as he headed out the door.

I wanted to say,
Cameron wait, don’t go
, but the words never made it out of my mouth.

***

That night, I had a horrible nightmare. I saw Alex the way I found him after he killed himself, hanging from a belt in the closet. Then I saw a sliced wrist, bleeding all over a bed. I gasped as I woke up.

Alex never slit his wrist. I never knew anyone who slit his wrists. Why had I dreamt about a slit wrist? The dream was so graphic and felt so real. I was overcome with a feeling of dread so sudden and so intense, it took my breath away.

Cameron. Somehow, I knew Cameron was in trouble. I glanced at the clock and it was 4 a.m. I threw on a pair of slippers, grabbed my room key and headed over to Cameron’s room.

I knocked on the door but there was no response. I knocked harder and still nothing. I didn’t want to pound on the door and risk waking the kids up.

To my surprise, when I twisted the knob, the door was unlocked.

“Cameron,” I said as I entered his room. “Are you okay?”

When I saw him lying on his bed in a pool of blood, I fell to my knees. Even my nightmare hadn’t prepared me for what I saw. I tried to pull myself together as quickly as I could. I grabbed his cell phone that was lying on his desk and called the police.
      When they asked me if he was still breathing, I panicked. I don’t know why I had assumed he was still alive—that he could still be saved. Was it just wishful thinking? I didn’t know if I could handle him being dead.

But he was still alive, barely breathing, but breathing. I didn’t know much about medical things but I knew enough to try and
stop the bleeding, if I could. I rifled through his dresser and found a clean T-shirt that I fashioned into a crude tourniquet.
      “Please don’t die,” I whispered even though I wasn’t sure he could even hear me. “I love you Cameron Connelly. Don’t leave me.”

Tears were streaming down my face as I phoned Sofia.

“I’m in Cameron’s room,” I said.

She didn’t even ask any questions. She could probably hear the fear and dread in my voice. The only thing she said was, “I’ll be right down.”

Within minutes, Sofia and Antonio, both in pajamas and with serious bedhead, were standing next to me, holding my hands.

I noticed there was a half empty bottle of whiskey on the floor next to the bed.
A knife. Lots of blood. The only thing I didn’t see was a note. That was the thing about suicide. Everyone always assumed there was a note. That the person would want to tell everyone why they did it. Alex didn’t leave a note. Apparently Cameron didn’t write one either. I had a feeling I knew why Cameron did it, though.

When the police and ambulance arrived, there was a whir
lwind of activity as they tried to save Cameron’s life. I asked if I could go in the ambulance to the hospital but they told me no. I would have to find a way myself. Antonio immediately volunteered to drive me.

“We’d better get dressed first,” Sofia said. “You kind of look like shit.”

“So do you,” I teased. I knew she was trying to make me feel less—everything but I couldn’t even muster a half smile. The only thing I could think about was Cameron and wanting to be with him.

“He’s going to be okay,”
she assured me. “You got here in time. You saved him.”

I wanted to believe her. I needed him to be okay. What I didn’t want to tell her was
that I was probably the reason he did it. 

***

We got to the hospital as quickly as we could. Sofia and Antonio stood by my side as I asked about Cameron and his condition. The nurse said she couldn’t release any information about him without his consent.

“But I’m the one who found him,” I protested. “I’m the one who stopped him from bleeding
to death and called the police. You have to tell me how he is.”