The Real

“Nice suit,” Cameron remarked.

“Armani,” Terry said.

“Of course,” Cameron said dryly. “Anyway, the rules are that you both have to leave your baggage at the door. No personal history, no ex talks whatsoever.”

“Okay,” Terry said.

“And let’s say this woman was so beautiful, so engaging that you couldn’t resist giving into her demands, that you would channel the patience of fucking Job for a chance to get to know her, because trust me, you’d need the patience of God’s forsaken to get to her.”

“Cameron,” I grit out.

“But maybe in this scenario,” he said taking a long pull of his drink, “you’re in a type of prison.”

“Prison?” Terry asked as I white-knuckled the edge of the table.

“Yes, a living hell, one you can’t see your way out of. And then this woman smiles at you, and you think to yourself, ‘maybe I’m not one of God’s forsaken’. Maybe, just maybe, life’s worth living.”

“That good?” Terry asked.

“Better than you can ever imagine,” Cameron said tossing back a piece of ice from his glass and crunching it obnoxiously. “Infinitely better.”

I pressed my lips together to keep my chin from wobbling.

“Okay,” Terry said. “But you can’t tell her that?”

“About the prison? Oh, no,” Cameron said as a cross smile graced his face and he shook his head at Terry with wide eyes. “Her rules.”

“Terry, we should go,” I said standing.

“I’m almost finished,” Cameron said his voice so raw I couldn’t look away. He continued to speak with our eyes locked.

“And maybe you fall in love with her, and she’s the closest goddamn thing to perfect you’ve ever known. Your secrets are killing you, but your happiness is finally there, it’s finally there to the point you can touch it, taste it, you can see life differently with her.”

“Is this woman happy too?” Terry asked looking pointedly at me. I pressed my lips together.

“Oh definitely. Things are so good, neither of you can imagine life without the other.” His voice cracked slightly with his words.

“Please,” I pleaded softly, and neither of them heard over the noise of the crowd. Cameron had sent a picture every day.

The first was a shot of us on the Skydeck and the ones that followed devastated me. The two of us after a run in the woods, in the limo before the dance, for some reason that one hurt the most. I was kissing his cheek, eyes closed as he smiled for the camera.

I’d saved them all but couldn’t bring myself to text back. He’d documented almost every one of our days together and was tearing me apart with the reminders of just how good things were.

“But the rules,” Terry said following Cameron’s lead, snapping us both out of our daze.

“Yes,” Cameron lifted his glass. “The goddamned rules. The thing is, you realize later that those rules were there for her, not you. But you followed them, because you knew she needed it, just as much as you needed her.”

Terry played along. “And this prison? Do you get out?”

Cameron tossed back the rest of his drink. “Let’s say she freed you the minute you touched her.”

Tears finally escaped as I tore my eyes away from Cameron to silently plead with Terry. He glanced my way before he spoke.

“She’s upset, Cameron. Have you made your point?”

“I’m not sure, but tell me, Terry, just look at her. When you found her on Match.com did you ever dream you’d find such a stunning woman?”

“Stop,” I said pleading with him. “Please stop.”