I get scholarships from almost all the schools I applied to. The University of Toronto offers the biggest. I feel so relieved I can hardly stand.
Ms. Beckett bursts into tears. "Oh!" she says, and kisses my cheek over and over again. "We're so proud of you, Sam!"
Hailey dances around the kitchen in her fluffy socks. "Yay!" she shrieks, grabbing Veronica's hand and doing a spin. "Yay, Sam!"
Tom gives me a huge hug, and then Cameron does, too. I breathe into his shoulder.
"You did it," Cameron says in my ear. "You get to start over."
Starting over. That sounds nice. I don't know if anyone really does get to start over, though - just start again. I kiss his cheek.
Cam takes me out to dinner to celebrate, at a new Thai restaurant that opened a few blocks away. He looks nice, in a simple sweater and khaki pants, his cologne fresh and clean - the March weather is chilly, but not cold, and the sky tonight is cloudless. We drive down familiar streets, and I rest my arm on the window and look up.
As we're being seated at the restaurant, two young women ask for Cameron's autograph. He smiles at me when he's done.
"So," he says.
"So," I say.
"Sam."
"Cam."
"You know, you'll love living in Toronto. It's the best city in the world."
"Yeah?"
"It'll be even better with you there."
"I can't wait. Really, I'm excited."
"Are you happy?"
I glance at the flickering candle on our table. "Right now, I am happy," I say.
"And in general?"
"I think so. Happier, at least. Happier than I was."
"That's good."
"That's all I want, right? To be happier than I was. And then I'll just keep getting happier and happier. That's what Elizabeth says, happiness is a process. And I am excited for the nursing program. And to live in Toronto. And to be so close to you. I really am."
"You can come see a bunch of home games," says Cam. "I'll get you season tickets."
"Really? That would be amazing."
The waiter slides a plate of spring rolls on the table, and we dig in hungrily. Cameron glances at me as he takes a bite, the roll crunching loudly. "Have you thought about the living situation?"
I roll the fork between my fingers. "I think I'll stay in the dorms, at least for my first year. If that's okay. I don't want to rush things."
"I get that. I don't want to rush things either. We can visit each other all the time."
But then he smiles, and of course I'm lying. Of course I would rush things. I love him so much it hurts. But Tom and Ms. Beckett would freak out if we moved in together - we're only eighteen, almost nineteen, but still - and I know it's for the best, that we don't live together right away.
"You should come up to the city this weekend," says Cam. "I leave Monday for an away game, but we can walk around Toronto and stuff. I'll show you my apartment."
"Sounds good."
"I'm proud of you."
That sounds ridiculous. Proud of me for what? But I say, "I'm proud of you too, Cam." And he is happy. And so am I.
~
I have an appointment with Elizabeth a couple days later. She thinks it's great I'll be going to school nearby, and said she'll reach out to some of her therapist friends in the city.
"I think you should continue sessions," she says. "I know you'll be busy with school, and it doesn't have to be as often, but it's still important you get help."
"Okay."
She writes something down on her notepad, the purple pen scribbling wildly, then looks up at me warmly. "So have you told your friends about Toronto?"
"You mean Eliza and Pierce?"
"Yes."
"Not yet. The past couple days have been really busy. Officially accepting and stuff, you know. But I'll talk to them soon."
"I think that would be good."
And so I call them that night, sitting on my bed, running my fingers over the NASA book Cameron got for me last year. The photos are glossy and calming to look at, millions of stars flung against the sky, crystal-sharp images of planets and moons.
I call Eliza first, who shrieks loudly when I tell her.
"Sam!" she says. "Way to go! I know someone that goes there and they really like it. I'll have to come visit you! You have to come visit me! Yes, Sam! You're killin it!"
Pierce is calmer about it, but equally enthusiastic.
"That's so great," he says. "I've been praying for you, man. Glad to hear things are looking up."
"Thanks, Pierce."
"I gotta run, I have a study session. But I'm so happy for you. Keep in touch, alright? My new roommate isn't as cool as you."
And then, because I feel such a pull towards Boston that I can't shake, I write a letter to Max and his family. The first part is for Max, and I draw little doodles in the margins and say how much I miss him. The second part is for the parents, and I tell them everything I wasn't able to earlier - how great of a kid Willem was, how he made me realize I wanted to go into nursing, how strong and brave and curious he was, and how I still think about him every day. I tell them that my uncle has cancer and how I was going through a tough time but Willem made me want to be a better person, and he did make me a better person. And I thank them for the picture they left me. Maybe I overshared, but I felt it was important - and when I put the envelope in the mailbox, something invisible snaps, and Boston really is behind me.
~
I go to Toronto with Cameron for the weekend. I meet his roommate, a twenty year-old goalie from Sweden named Emil, who has hair so blond it's almost white. When Cam's not at practice, we explore the city, and he brings me to a little bookstore that he thought I'd like (I do) and new restaurants and cafes and a little park.
On Sunday evening, while he's at practice, and I decide to try cooking something. I pull up a pasta recipe on my phone and dig around through the apartment for pots and pans. For two hockey players living here, the apartment isn't so bad - there are some dirty dishes in the sink and clothes on Cameron's bedroom floor, but it's pretty tidy. I'm sure it's Emil that cleans.
I let the pasta sauce simmer in the pan, making the whole apartment smell like basil and tomatoes, sweet and savory and fresh. City lights blink through the window, and a siren goes off on the street below.
I turn down the heat on the stove and chop vegetables for a salad. I feel like a cook, with a handcloth flung over my shoulder, even though I'm sure the meal will probably turn to shit soon. I hum a little song under my breath, something I forgot the words to, but I'm sure Cameron introduced it to me.
The door slams, and I glance over my shoulder. "Hello?"
Cameron storms in the kitchen, throwing his bag on the couch. His eyes are bright with anger.
I turn off the stove and shake water off my fingertips. "What's wrong?"
He cracks his knuckles and paces the living room. He looks like he's going to punch something. "Got called a fucking fag on the street. Fucking -" he curls his hand into a fist. "I will fucking kill them -"
I put down the handcloth. "Cam -"
"People can't keep getting away with this shit - I want to kill them -" His jaw clenches and a single tear streaks down his face. "I hate them."
I grab his arm gently. I don't want him to hurt himself. "I'm sorry," I say. "They don't matter."
"They do."
"No, they don't."
"They do. And I hate them. I hate those people. I should've waited for Emil. He's with the trainer. Would have taken the subway together, but I wanted to walk. And too many of them to fight alone. I hate them."
I take his face in my hands and wipe away the tear. "I'm sorry, Cam. I'm sorry. They don't matter. Do you hear me? They don't matter. I'm glad you didn't get into a fight."
He shakes his head and blinks away. "Did you make something?"
"Yeah, pasta." I gesture towards the stove awkwardly. "For dinner. I don't think it'll be very good, but I followed the recipe. And we can watch an old movie, if you want -"
He hugs me tightly, and I can hear his heart pounding underneath his sweatshirt.
~
Cameron takes a shower, and I can hear him crying, but he looks calmer when he's done. Emil gets home and we eat pasta in front of the TV, an old movie playing, one that Cam and I have seen at least five times.
Since I cooked, Emil and Cameron do the dishes, and then Emil heads to his room. Cameron and I stay up, legs crossed on top of each other, and he rests his head on my shoulder as the movies goes on. Fluctuating voices and grainy, softened faces.
"Hey Cam?" I whisper.
"Yeah?"
"Have you thought about going to therapy?"
He thinks about it. "Sometimes."
"I think it'd be good for you."
"Maybe." His hair smells like soap. Minutes pass by, and I think Cameron's fallen asleep, but then out of nowhere he whispers, "Thanks."
"I thought you were asleep."
"I mean it. Thanks."
"For what?"
"Dinner. And everything."
"We help each other," I say.
And then he really does fall asleep, and I do too.
A/N ahhh officially one chapter left!! i'm planning on posting it july 3rd, probably around 9 pm EST, so keep an eye out for it! much love