Chapter One: The Graduate

"I thought you might show," she says, as she ushers me into the tiny living room.

"And yet you forgot to bolt the door." No Chase in sight. Hm.

"I would have if I'd thought it would keep you out. You might as well come in. Try not to be a nuisance while I finish getting ready." She's wearing a short dress. It's very short. I wonder what'll happen when she sits down. I hope I'm in a strategic position to find out.

"Aren't you going to offer me a drink?" I hobble over to her armchair and plop down with a certain insouciance that most would find grating but she's always seemed to enjoy.

"People who invite themselves over to other people's houses shouldn't complain about etiquette or lack thereof. There's beer in the fridge if you want one. Otherwise, wait until I'm ready."

She disappears through a door. I consider getting myself that beer, but the armchair is particularly soft and I can see it will take considerable effort to get up, so I pop a Vicodin instead. I would turn on the TV as well, but I can hear her talking to Chase through the door. It's muffled, but she is probably saying something along the lines of it's House, and he's probably saying something like I can't believe that asshole, you didn't invite him, did you and Cameron is saying something like, well, maybe he wants to come to dinner with all of us and Chase is going to go along with it because she'll want me to come and he can't say no to her. He's still pretending to be the perfect boyfriend. He's not sure of her yet.

When she comes out again she has added more stuff to herself. There's stuff on her wrist and her neck and her ears and her hair, and there's a lot of stuff on her face that wasn't there before. She looks beautiful, but doesn't look like Cameron. "I'm about to open a bottle of red wine. Want a glass?"

"I hate wine. I'll take a Scotch," I say, in what I am absolutely sure is English. She seems to have a problem with the language, since she just gives me a beer. Once beside me she reaches for a CD, conveniently located on the bottom shelf. I say conveniently, since her position affords me a perfectly captivating view of her anatomy. The dress helps in this endeavor by gracefully showcasing vast expanses of creamy skin. She pops the CD into the stereo and plays it softly before heading for the kitchen again. She sits on a stool by her kitchen counter and looks at me, expectantly. Her dress is indeed the shortest dress I have ever seen.

"For god's sake, Doctor Cameron. Here we are. You got me into your house. You give me a drink. You... put on music. Now you start opening up your personal life to me and tell me your husband won't be home for hours."

"My husband?"

"Doctor Cameron, you're trying to seduce me."

As Cameron finally catches the reference, she laughs.

"Aren't you?"

"Gregory, I am not trying to seduce you." A smile that says she'll play along. Then an almost imperceptible change. She reaches for her earring, gently stroking it between her forefinger and thumb. A perfectly innocent moment turning dangerously erotic.

She waits until my eyes meet hers, and then, quite suggestively, in a voice that isn't hers, she speaks. "Would you like me to seduce you?"

"What?"

"Is that what you're trying to tell me?" There's not a trace of innocence in the way her hand is resting on her thigh, her chin at an angle that throws light on her neck.

I have lost control of this situation. No, not lost it. She has hijacked control. She seems a little too poised to be the Cameron I've always known. She is now the unexpected, the unknown. I do not know what's next.

"Why don't we skip to the part where you say I am the most attractive of your doctor friends?"

"Sure. Does that happen before or after you say you are available to me any time?"

"I don't remember. But she does take off her dress, doesn't she?"

"She asks him to unzip her. And he does, which is the material point."

"Maybe, or maybe the material point is the way she turns and looks at him. As if telling him that it might not happen tonight, but it will happen some night. And she can wait."

"She doesn't have to wait long."

"Why did we start changing the pronouns?"

And there it is, a brief look of sadness before she dispels it with a smile. "Another drink?"

When Chase comes out, he asks what we have been talking about. "The Graduate," answers Cameron. "How Cameron is trying to seduce me," I say. "Well, here's to you, Mrs. Robinson." I swallow the last of my beer and get up. It is very difficult, and I hate the fact that they are both standing together, a young couple looking impossibly blond, young and glamorous, watching me struggle ungainly to my feet. His arm is around her waist as he watches me and my hand is on my cane as I head for the door.

"You could join us for dinner. Wilson and Cuddy are coming, you know." I can hear how sorry she feels for my lonely, crippled self, hobbling off to an empty house. She'll spend the rest of the night feeling guilty and worrying about me. I almost want to spare her the guilt and accept the invitation, but I don't because right now, I hate her. I hate her short dress and her strange, made-up face and her pity for an old man she doesn't love anymore.

"No thanks. I'm afraid that the level of repartee among such company would severely compromise my appetite. Besides, I still have people to harass before I sleep." The door closes behind me, as I look out across the dark suburban street. I am adrift in the suburbs. An image of Benjamin Braddock pounding on the church window and screaming for Elaine before he loses her irrevocably imprints itself in my mind. I drift towards my bike without looking back. I know she is not looking out the window for me.