Ghost Time

boyfriend, and I’ve never had anyone special to get stressed out about, and I want to get you something really excellent, just so unbelievably fucking cool you remember it for the rest of your life, that’s why! Duh , I said, really practically kicking my foot against the opposite side of the booth, pushing myself back into my seat, folding my arms.
    Cam looked at me for a moment, seeing I wasn’t kidding, and he goes, Okay. Listen, he said, you know those times when you say you don’t understand why I think you’re crazy and youwant me to name one time you were ever crazy? Well, this is one of those times, he said, leaning over the table, reaching for my hands—making a joke out of it, right? It’s not funny, I said, turning away. Good. Because I wasn’t joking, Thee, he said, sitting back, and I looked at him, totally unamused. Hey, how about this? How about we celebrate Christmas by not giving any gifts? How about our gift is no gift, meaning the gift of no stress? Because right now, I think that sounds like a perfect gift, he said. No, I said, shaking my head no, no, that’s not okay. And he goes, Then why don’t you draw something for me, give me one of your pictures—. Cam, I give you drawings and pictures all the time , that’s not special! I whined, and he looked at me. And the look in his eyes said so many things; there was no need to open his mouth.
    I mean, of course it’s special, I said, apologetically, and he goes, What about the picture you took last week? I hate that picture, I said, like no way, and he goes, I love that picture, and I go, Why? He goes, Because you aren’t posing, you aren’t self-conscious, you’re just you—it’s gorgeous. And I was so flattered, so touched he said that, but still. No way, I said. And he goes, Why is it always about you? He was joking, and then Sharon came over to our booth to check on us. Fill ’er up, honey? she said, seeing Cam’s empty glass. Sharon loves Cam, and he knows it, too. Thanks, Sharon, he said, pushing his empty extralarge brown plastic diner glass over. You betcha, hon, she said. Thea, you doing all right? I’m fine, thanks, I said, smiling. All right, then, she said, leaving us alone again.
    Cam leaned forward, grabbed both my hands, and he goes, You’re serious about this? Do I not look serious to you? I asked, and he goes, Well, then. If you really want to give me something special—. Then I totally cut him and his dirty mind off; I go, Oh, here we go, slouching in the booth, my arms still crossed, biting my tongue between my incisors. Because I’ll tell you exactly what I want, he said, and I was trying so hard not to laugh, not to smile, pulling away, like, get your dirty brain and your filthy hands off me.
    I go, Actually, you know what? No presents, I said. Brilliant idea: no presents, no gifts, no giving. Cam reached over and grabbed my hand, like it or not, pulling me forward, and then he turned my hand and bit the side, waiting to see what I’d do. Doesn’t hurt, I said, watching him, and then he bit harder. Nothing, I said, taunting him, and then he bit hard enough his teeth were showing. I just held still, watching his front teeth making a mark, feeling them reaching the bones in my hand. Still can’t feel it, I said, and I knew it should hurt, but I still didn’t feel a thing. Nope, I said, and watching his lips pull back, I knew he was about to bite as hard as he could—.
    Cameron, let me get you a menu, son, Sharon said, stepping forward, and Cam released my hand, wiping his mouth with the back side of his hand, and I pulled my sleeve down, over my wrist, so Sharon wouldn’t see how deep the teeth marks were. Have a sip of this, and cool yourself off, honey, Sharon said, setting down Cam’s second refill of lemonade. We didn’t take our eyes off each other the whole time, and I knew he knew what I was thinking: Didn’t feel a thing, bite as hard as you like. I wasn’t going to cry uncle. Ah, young love, Sharon said, sighing, and I had to look out the window, biting the inside of my lip to keep from laughing. It was almost dark, and I could see Cam’s reflection, his beautiful face grinning back at me in the diner window, and just above his head, the first star in the sky.

FRIDAY, MAY 27, 2011
    (EIGHT WEEKS LATER)
    7:12 PM
    I looked like a bag lady. Then, when Knox opened the door, seeing me, standing there with all these bags of clothes, Knox’s face looked like he had this terrifying thought that