A/N: A long time coming. That is all.


June 22, 2013

Maya clings to the toilet bowl like it's a lifeline.

It smells putrid. But, that's her fault. That's her putridness that she's emptied into the bowl, and it smells like…she doesn't want to think about the smell because she's sure she'll hurl again. She even dry heaves thinking about it.

So, she settles into a curled up ball farther away from the bowl eventually. Her already short dress rides farther up her thighs. She peeks at his bracelet that she remembers throwing near the waste bin, then she looks away, shamefully.

She's about to fall into a deep sleep, her eyes are swimming through murky surroundings, eyelids almost sealed shut.

"I'm here when you want me here, too..." her mother's voice echoes against the tiled floor, the phone, the source of the voice, is wrapped loosely in her grasp. It's lulling her to sleep.

Then, of course, Zig starts rapping feverishly at the door her head's slumped next to.

"Fuuuuuck, stuuhp," she moans as loud as her rasped voice could muster, clamping her ears shut. "I told you never—want to—you—and—I hate you. Just. Fuuuu—right off."

"Maya!" Zig is panicked, and she can tell he's spitting tears from his mouth. Even in her vodka-induced haze she can hear the desperate whine in his voice. "Please—just—come on."

It's a miracle that she's still listening to him, that her mind's clearing some. And she even wonders if this means she forgives him, so she opens her mouth. A beat passes as she strains for a well-formed thought. Maybe to say that it's fine. But, she hesitates. Then there's the bile rising in her stomach that has nothing to do with the urge to throw up.

"You made him leave." Her dark voice surprises even herself.

"May, you and I both know that I was just jealous. I-I'm sorry..." He's trying so hard to manage his quaking voice, and she's trying so hard not to scream at him.

"You just almost killed him," comes her soft, but sure response.

"I'm s-so-sorry." He's spluttering now.

"I slept with Branaghan because he apparently feels sorry for me. But, that doesn't make anything right again, does it?" She pauses to actually take in what she had just said, what she did, but she continues, divulging her internal confessional as though she meant for it to be said aloud anyway, as if it would help. "It was like...isslike what Cam and I had...meant nothing. But, he's gone—he's-he's juss…gone. So…it's—there—it's like you really did kill him, issnut?" This wasn't a question. And as she realizes what she's confirming, she hears herself mimicking Zig's sniffling.

The bile doesn't go away. Then, she dry heaves again.

Finally, she awakes back in her bed, her bedroom is dark. Her pounding head still throbs to the annoying dub-step from what's-his-face's party. She feels her covers that have been pulled over her as if in an attempt to tuck her in, and, when she instinctively inspects herself, she feels that her dress' hem is pulled down to its original length at her knees. Her bracelet is clasped back around her wrist.

All seems well, except that she smells Zig's offending aftershave.

She crashes again, scoffing at the thought of Zig believing that this gesture must be a way to make amends. Or maybe he just plain pities her. Then, because she can't help but catch the hateful thoughts of her friends and the realization that she did not in fact wake from a terrifying nightmare, she screams into her pillow.

Screams, screams, screams until her lungs seem to scream against it.


May 20, 2020

His humming is warm against her skin. He's singing, though it's muffled because he's nuzzling his nose near the crook of her neck, and she can't believe her luck.

His hands move, combing through her long tresses so that it sits to one side. The way he seems to adore because he always stares after her as though he can't help it.

The moment plays like a matted, framed scene in her childhood bedroom, because they sit under a large oak tree that looks just like the fairytale watercolour her mother gave her for her fifth birthday.

She feels his fingers skim the hem of her dress, fingertips warming her.

"Maya," he's whispering. "Maya…"

"Maya!" Katie's yelling. "Breakfast is up."

Maya starts, head hazy and still full of sleep. The thought of Cam, she realizes, is as far as he actually is. 830 and some odd kilometers, she recites this like she's preparing herself on one of her many road trips to his hometown.

When she arrives at the kitchen table, she adjusts her glasses and focuses on the familiar blobs of Katie and Jake. And when they start watching her eat, she has to acknowledge it.

"Whuut?" She says through a half-eaten Wheatie.

"We, both Jake and I—" Katie starts, and Jake nudges his fiancé. Maya really hopes he sees her rolling her eyes at her older sister.

"What Katie probably wants to bring up oh-so-very-casually—"

"Of which you two are doing. Exceedingly well." Maya's sharp tongue frees itself of her dry cereal after an audible crunch.

"We heard you and Cam fighting last night," Katie finally lets out.

Maya clenches at her spoon in response, wordless.

"You okay, kiddo?"

"I'm bright-eyed and bushy-tailed." Maya smiles too wide.

Katie just provides her with another very wary glance, one that is accompanied with a slight head tilt, and it's enough to wipe Maya's smile away.

"Hey," her sister stubbornly continues. "Jake and I know exactly what you two are going through. We did the long distance thing, too, remember? For longer than you two now. You guys are going on, what, almost 3 years now? We did the whole college thing apart. And, see," she pauses to hug Jake's arm closer, her ring gleaming in their apartment's overhead lights. "We're here. Still. So, if you need anything…"

"Katie…" Maya softens her stalk still posture, and sighs. "Please."

She sees her sister nudge Jake, encouragingly, and she can tell he had nothing to do with this pity Maya party. His obliviousness almost makes her smirk.

"Listen, all you have to do is spice things up over Skype once in a while. You know," his eyebrows waggle.

Maya dry heaves dramatically. "Katie!" She implores her sister.

And Katie, thankfully, slaps him openly over his front.

"What? We did it too." The moment he admits this, both Matlin sister furiously avoid each other's eye contact.

It's humiliating enough that the two-week engaged couple heard Cam and herself fighting over nothing for the third time in two months, but now they're (Jake's) actively doling out cybering advice. She's seriously reconsidering her weekend visits here.

Later, Katie apologizes with another helping of french toast as soon as Jake clears their apartment for an abrupt, and completely unnecessary errand. And she only accepts when Katie promises never to let Jake in on any more heart-to-hearts.

"Are you two, okay?" Katie asks, without the head tilt this time.

"We said our 'sorries'."

Katie gives her a look. "That's not what I asked."

"We always do."

"That's important."

Maya is growing irritated again. Antsy, she bursts out, "So? Isn't that enough?"

She realizes she sounds on edge, because Katie adds with a knowing side glance, "Apparently not."

She sets her coffee at the corner of her study desk. Her other usual items are handy too; the router is blinking all three necessary lights, the laptop charger is nearby waiting to be plugged in, and her mic just started raring to life.

Then Cam's face appears, refocusing from the beiges and dark browns of a pixelated distortion.

"Hi," he greets, though his eyes are downward as though he's studying something over his keyboard.

Maya bites the inside of her cheek instinctively. They just had a conversation about this the night Katie had overhead them.

"So, how's the flower biz?" She knows this will bring his eyes up.

Finally, he shows face, and, if she weren't so mad, she'd appreciate that his new glasses make him look quite mature and handsome. She bites back a smile.

"It hasn't completely gone under since Grandpa Sam," he offers.

And there it is. She wouldn't dare take it out on him since he's been dealing with his grandfather's passing so well, considering the six month anniversary of his death was two days ago. Coincidentally, though not surprisingly, their relationship has been put under strain since then.

"I'm glad, you've been working so hard, he'd be so proud and-"

"Hold that thought," he interrupts, his eyes downcast again. "I knew it!"

"What's up?" She wonders automatically, her eyes averted on her own work she's sadly prepared next to her laptop.

"Last month's budgeting is off by 195 dollars. I knew this new accountant was messing up somehow."

"Every penny counts." She nods absently. "Get a new guy."

He hums in agreement.

Then, "Hey, May..." She hears his voice pique. So, she looks up at the sound, curious.

"Yeah?"

He takes the pencil from his mouth, and sets his glasses down. His smile sends a sudden warm ebb in her chest, she hasn't seen a genuine one like this one for a while.

"Do you know what today is?"

She realizes, smiling too now. "Yes."

Their anniversary hadn't crept up on them. There was talk weeks ago. The exact date of the 29th-a date they haven't missed a chance to meet for the past three years. They've had picnics and spent the end of their nights under the tree by her family's house. Somehow, just as any other routine that has been practiced and worn, carving out shortcuts and simplifications, they have agreed to stay put, apart. And that's why Cam promised he'd simply set aside some time to talk with her today. Granted, she can't shake her noticing his drifting in and out of this said talk.

"Happy anniversary, beautiful." He redeems himself with another flash of his wide smile and her favourite crinkles near his eyes.

"Happy anniversary, Cheesy." And the last fight they had about his inattention and his transferring stress onto her is slowly seeping out of her memory's stubborn grip. Slowly. "I wish I was there now, helping you prep for your grad speech. Musician of the Year, May. It's amazing."

"Thanks." But quickly adds, "Don't remind me of that. I'm going to hurl when it comes to the public speaking part."

"But, you perform at Woody's almost every month, in front of packed crowds."

She bites her lip. She forgot to mention. "The cello part is easy, the speaking...it's not the same...and I don't really do Woody's as much now."

His frown stays frozen for a moment. His face pixelates into blocks of indistinguishable colours, then he reanimates. "-hy?"

"Why? Busy with the symphony, remember?." She traces circles over the sheet music she had picked up earlier during the week. There's that deja vu again, reminding her that this was the same exact statement she's made in their other chats before.

"I know what you mean. I haven't coached pewees in forever..." And there goes his attention again, his eyes pouring over the supposed budget of the Saunders' family business.

He starts counting numbers out loud now. He's done this before, and he's caught her inattention too, but she's stopped that habit months ago, while he's…

Then, all of sudden, a brazen idea starts her. Jake's an idiot, but he does give her an idea to test-even if it's unfair to test Cam while he's not paying attention. And her tee comes off. The chill of her air conditioned room traces goosebumps over her skin.

She waits.

And waits.

And he hasn't noticed a thing.

And something just punctures, spurring on other punctures in her proverbial bubble. Katie's observations begin swirling loudly within the mix of his other annoying habits she has no idea why she's dredging up, too.

Then his double take finally comes, and she immediately covers her front with her stray shirt, feeling ten years younger in the worst of ways.

"May...sorry, I-"

Then, she mumbles, "This isn't working, Cam." There is now a churning sensation in her stomach when his eyes do not lift this time.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were trying-"

"Yeah, I didn't know you were either…"

He sighs. "That's not fair. You know that all this stuff with my Grandfather's shop...and the reputation he left behind that I'm supposed to follow. You get it, don't you?"

Her lips form what feels like a tight line.

"It's been six months since we really talked. You're not the only one that has expectations and huge career moves going on." She dares him to match her biting tone, as she harshly puts her shirt, inside out, back on. "I never ask you to take days off if I know it's important for you to stay. But, you haven't visited in months...not even for today. Justin couldn't cover for you for a day or two?" She stops for a moment, and it weakly adds, "Isn't this important, too?" She wants to remind herself that this can't be helped now, that she even agreed to this arrangement. But, her stomach is searing at the thought of him coming up with another excuse.

He just bows his head, rubbing his eyes vigorously. "Maya, look."

"Me too. I'm sorry, you're sorry. I get it." She says automatically. "But, that's the problem, isn't it? We don't even know what that means anymore. We think we do, but then, we just go back to this."

It's not like him to stay silent. His mouth tight-lipped, eyes determined to avoid her. He's always first to fold, almost always the first to find a solution, a compromise that suits them both. Though, he remains still now. And she let's him.


June 1, 2020

"We should go home," Jill says seriously, eyeing Maya's friend, Brian, who insists the bar they had arrived at an hour ago is 'the hottest thing to open in months' (in those exact words). Brian, second violinist in Maya's orchestra, also seems to think he's taking Maya home after all is said and done. Not happening, Jill keeps blatantly slipping into their conversations.

Maya knows she should listen, knows it would be for the best, and definitely considers her. If anything, the fact that Jill is the one trying to drag her out of the club at a decent hour of the night is a sign. Though, despite her friend's best efforts, Maya stays behind.

This plan, Maya reminds her now very sober and very irritated friend, is much better than the prospects that await her at the lonely apartment. The apartment, Maya points out with a accusatory tone (and a very pointed finger to Jill's chest) that she found "them" (she says this as though she's spitting out something vile) doing the nastiest deed she had ever laid eyes on.

"Zig and I-" Jill starts, the bass-heavy local act drowns out her voice.

"I actually want to keep the liquor in tonight, thanks." Maya tries to yell over the last encore song.

Jill looks guilty. Worst of all, she looks at Maya with pity.

"Come on. Zig's agreed not to show face for as long as you're not okay with us. We can just stay in tonight. Eat our way to the bottom of the fridge. Girl's night, like old time's-"

Maya reaches behind her shoulder for the new cold one the bartender brings her. Worst again, Jill is giving her that look.

"I hate that look."

"You mean the look that says I'm actually the sober one at a creepy dive bar, wondering why the hell my straight edge girlfriend is drinking her weight in crappy whiskey wells and pretentious craft beer?"

"I'm fine." Maya assures, and wonders if her friend had missed the way she had just spilled the contents of her new drink over her chucks.

Jill does notice. And her friend notices the way the third random group of pretentious beards drinks in Maya's curves in an uncharacteristically tight top and skirt.

"Don't you think Cam-"

Her head snaps at the mention, and Maya almost spits out, "That he'd care if I'm here. Looking like an idiot in an outfit too small and in a bar I wouldn't even be caught dead in unless you'd be the one to drag me in here?"

Jill nods carefully.

Maya's almost breathless, and certainly dizzier than she'd admit when she answers, "Maybe. But, it beats feeling rejected at home."

Another spill makes Jill grab her drink and finally down it herself. Then, Jill makes a grab for Maya's arm.

"Don't." Maya wriggles free. "I don't need a babysitter."

Jill, clearly exasperated, relents. "Fine."

"Fine?" Maya is skeptical.

"Fine." Jill agrees, though she eyes another predator lurking behind Maya. "But, that doesn't mean you're making a shitty choice for a distraction. That doesn't mean I haven't been hating these nights with you, because I have been. A lot. "

"Yeah, that's because you're all shacked up with Zig now." Maya counters, crossing her arms, swaying and realizing she's swaying too far, bumping into a new passerby.

Jill sighs, "Maya, this isn't you...at least, it shouldn't be you anymore."

Maya tucks her pout in, hating the truth from this, hating that Jill is lecturing her. "What do you know," she manages, stubbornly. Then, she narrows her suddenly hazy vision as much as she can, and a sharpness pinches her in the middle of her chest as she realizes that Zig must have told Jill all sorts of sloppy versions of her junior and senior years at Degrassi.

"Maya, you want to go home, whether you realize it now or later. Just…" Jill pauses. "Be safe. Promise me you'll text or call if you think Brian will start taking the detour home to his home instead.."

Maya inhales heavily, and exhales even heavier, realizing how drunk she really is at this point. "Okay," she replies almost inaudibly.

"Okay." Jill takes some time before she does leave, lingering to shoot Brian warning looks.

Outside, the brisk night air nips at her skin, her eyes flutter open slighter wider. It's cooling her burning skin some, but nothing seems to dull the nagging, Jill's warnings and truths. And the truth of the matter is that she does hate it here, does hate that Brian is now joining her. Her headache pounds, reminding her that she's no longer sixteen and able to take these numbing nights the same way she did before.

"Hey, you wanna get out of here?" Brian asks.

She opens her mouth, the sudden onset of nausea makes her clamp a hand over her mouth. When she recovers, waving his helping hands away, she tries to answer, but someone beats her to it.

"I got her," he says, and she freezes immediately, the vomit doesn't come up and sits longer.

Cam looks weary, but determined. He drapes her arm around his shoulder, and Brian finally gets the hint to wisely leave the couple.

"Let's get you home." He says when they're finally alone, he's almost hoisting her towards his nearby car.

Maya, still startled by his presence, is quietly agreeing as she collapses in his passenger seat. His squeezing hand over hers, before he buckles her seat belt in, wakes her. "How-how was the ride here?"

He doesn't pause to answer right away, instead he closes her door shut, avoiding her gaze all the way back to the driver seat. "Fine," he finally answers, sighing.

All the way home, she starts and cuts herself off from talking, afraid all of a sudden. It's the way he still won't look at her, the way he still won't talk to her that's maddening.

Soon, she starts fuming within, her boiling thoughts brimming, wanting to erupt. He should be apologizing for not returning her calls and Facerange messages for weeks now. He should be saying all forms of all kinds of sorries about his incredibly shitty, passive aggressive way of essentially breaking up with her.

"You don't have to walk me in." She snaps when he opens her car side door, reaching in to help her.

His hands fall to his side, grasping the door instead. She stares at his grip, his knuckles white and taut. She's not scared of him this way, but then she hesitates to say another smart comment about his silence.

She's scared of his indifference, of his averting eyes. He's still not holding her gaze, and when he does he's staring right through her.

"Come on," he says quietly, and she's relieved that he's gentle when he ushers her up, guiding her to her apartment.

Jill's made herself scarce, the apartment is dead silent, and she wonders if her friend had arranged this whole thing. Then, her balance gives way, and he carries her to her bedroom, tucking her into her covers. The sheets are gloriously cool and cozy, engulfing her. For a moment, she's finally comfortable. He even whispers, "Sorry."

She opens a bleary eye, "Furrrwha-"

"Just sorry, "He repeats, and he moves her hair that's almost matted across her damp forehead.

She starts hearing a familiar song, his humming reminding her of her dream of a real memory, the one where she's warm and he's nuzzling her neck, singing to her. She might be dreaming up the singing, but she's sure she's still feeling a very real hand stroking her back now. She'd like to think he's humming to coax her to sleep.

There's pressure over her brow at one point, and it feels just like his lips. And she's suddenly warm through and through. He's here, she realizes. And though she knows she was dreaming of him singing, he's still here. He's mending the broken connection between them, and it feels right.

"I'm sorry," he says once again, sadder than before. It would concern her, but she's drifting fast.

It's in the morning that she realizes that he really did mean his last sorry. The spot, the imprint he left on the sheets at the foot of her bed, where he spent the night watching over her, has gone cold.


"It's only been three days since you last saw him..." Tristan's eyes watch her warily.

"Three and a half weeks since the start of this break he started...weeks ago. No conversation. No warning." Maya bitterly describes. "And now, I'm sure he's back home, with no problems, forgetting about the other night."

"How do you know this is a break and isn't just a slump?" Tristan waves this off. "And, you haven't been calling him either."

"Does it matter at this point?"

"No forest of flowers this time?"

"No."

"Not one of his old school CD mixes?"

"No."

"Not even a phone call?"

Maya's had enough of the monosyllabic responses, and shakes her head instead. She even curls her knees tighter against her front, avoiding eye contact, feeling smaller by the minute.

"Cold." Her best friend winces, but stumbles to recover as he watches her eyes glaze over. "I mean, all couples reach a point in their relationship when they start to slip up a little, or start to ease into a slump…" He trails off, and she sighs audibly to signal him to just...stop.

"I'm sorry," and he is. "The only relationship that I cared enough about turned out to be with a creepy senior to my junior...in high school...and we're not going to relive that and try and say I'm an expert." He exhales gloomily.

"Tris…"

"Sorry." He reaches for her hand, forgetting his half-eaten panini. "It's just. It's you and Cam. Cam and you. There isn't a more epic, sweeping, meant-to-be story than yours. Like, actual tragedies and happenstance brought you two together. It's almost nauseating how romantic it is. So, it's got to mean that you two will make it…" Then, he trails, eyes trained beyond her as if he were lost in thought. "That's it!"

"What's what?" She checks her reflection in her cell's black screen, touching her face self-consciously. Then, she spies the Greyhound that Tristan is staring wildly at.

"Your grand, romantic gesture." Tristan dramatically announces, still eyeing past her. "It's perfect. A weekend alone with your guy. You'll have enough time to come back for grad and everything. Imagine Cam's surprise-"

"I'm not taking an 11 hour trip to Kapuskasing to may or may not get my heart trampled on. Again." She crosses her arms, dejected by the idea.

"All you need is to spice things-"

"Not you, too." She reminisces Jake's exact words, grimacing.

"Maya, all those years ago, he came back to Toronto and stayed, not for hockey, but for you. Once he sees you doing something spontaneous, something that'll remind of him how much you care, he'll come around."

Her chewing on her own half-eaten sandwich slows considerably, waiting expectantly.

The corners of his lips quirk up briefly before he continues, "Really, it'll work."

She chews her bottom lip now. "And if it doesn't work..."

"Well," Tristan searches. "Listen, my parents have been together since high school too. I mean, they have huge screaming matches at times, and sometimes I think they blame each other for a lot of things they held each other back from, kind of like a long, drawn out resentment, you know. But…" He looks as though he's lost his footing, and looking sheepish. "One time, I caught them having the time of their life, laughing like a couple of idiots, playing boggle."

"Boggle." She deadpans, mouth agape.

"It'll work. Trust me."

Maya starts believing in the idea. Her paranoid thoughts start to weigh lighter at the thought of Cam's surprised, welcome reaction to her visiting. And then she starts feeling guilty for her cold behaviour from his visit.

"I need to get a bus ticket. Now." She pulls harshly at Tristan's jacket as he huffs at her gruffness.

"Hey! I haven't even finished my lunch."

"Your idea, hun."


In hindsight, a phone call to his mother, or Justin, or even Cam himself, might have been a smarter route to take. But, as Tristan had reiterated several times, this route to Kapuskasing would give her time to think of all the grand things she could confess to him without any meddling, confusing (and certainly biased) advice. To make him see that they're worth getting over this slump, this huge divide made worse by silence and inaction.

Cam made the trek to her home, now it was her turn. The signal bell and the overhead announcer brought her to her feet, bringing her closer to his own home.

The flower shop is pristine. She smiles despite herself, feeling an overwhelming wave of pride in Cam. She's sure this is his work, and the envelopes she thumbs through of thick piles of invoices shows how much work he's been dealing with for the past several months. All on his own, she muses. A pinch goes through her chest, guilt and berating comments taunt her now. Though her stubborn selfish thoughts cling too, because this also means she's just as important as the tray she's spotted of lesser to-do lists he has piled up.

There are no pictures of his family here, nor of them, or of her. Not a trace. She wonders where Grandfather Sam's portrait that used to hang by the front doorway had gone. For a flower shop that has its shelves, walls, and every corner adorned with a beautiful, floral something, it held nothing meaningful, not in the way she expected Cam to maintain anyway. She knows she can't jump to anything inconclusive about his behaviour again, but she can certainly see why he can't seem to think of much else when he's here.

After everything they had been through, she wonders what this means. All at once, Tristan's back in her head, spouting about resentments and regrets. It's not until she reaches to rub her eyes that she realizes that she's been blinking back tears.

She dashes for the door, feeling suffocated by too many questions. Then, the wind is almost knocked out of her when she's stopped in her blinded wake.

"Maya?" Justin is confused. "What are you doing-what's wrong?"

She shakily wipes her face dry. "I shouldn't be here."

"Why are you here?"

The question almost wipes her out again. Because I deserve him saying it to my face, she cries without screaming aloud. Because it's cowardly to bow out without a word, because he's a coward, she screams wordlessly until the insides of her head are spinning.

"You know what he did, right?" Her eyes narrow, without wanting to get his older brother to feel the brunt of her anger.

"Uh, yeah. We all warned him not to do it without telling you. But, you know how stubborn he is."

"You all know," she wriggles out of Justin's reach, feeling incredibly small.

"Yeah, he told us. He's been a broken record about you all month, whining and-"

"He's been whining about me-" she starts fuming hotter by the minute. The tears have dried, but now a numbing sensation has started to take over, slowly rising from her toes. How could you he be whining about her behaviour?

"Sure, if I knew my girlfriend was thinking about breaking it off, I'd be worried too. I mean, avoiding you to stall your breaking up with him isn't his most brilliant idea. Neither was his impromptu, road trip without warning you."

"I'm not leaving until-wait. What?"

"Yeah, so I guess he dodged the break up bullet again."

"Justin. I don't follow."

"He's not here, Maya."

She slumps her back against the shop's door, and her sideways glance spies the notice informing customers of his absence that she completely missed. The simplest thing to do, regardless of how clouded her judgment has been since the beginning, was to call his family about him. They've practically been her family for some time now.

"He asked me to take over for the week, biggest week because of graduation and prom, too. Whatever he left for, because the dork didn't even tell me, must be real important. Oh, hey!" Justin, the ever-observant, exclaims. "Aren't you graduating this weekend?"

Justin brings her to the Saunders' home, and she piles her luggage on top of Cam's bed. It's when she takes a seat, taking a deep breath in, that she is suddenly aware. His grandfather's portrait is sitting atop his dresser. The Polaroid pictures that she had strung together with twine hangs by his trophy case. One of them, the picture he had insisted was his favourite because of the way her hair was worn down and pretty, is on his nightstand. Then there are the other pictures, memories of his closest friends and family, positioned for clear viewing on every surface that was suitable for them. They were all there.

She's lost in a wash of relief, her limbs slowly melting from their stiffness, until her bag starts vibrating and jingling.

"Hey," she says quietly into her phone's receiver end, and promptly starts nervously chewing at her bottom lip.

"I think we may have a problem with communication." Cam quips lightly.

Maya bursts out laughing with an unguarded loudness. She clamps her mouth shut, though she continues to shake uncontrollably. "We're idiots," she adds breathlessly.

"Where are you?" He asks, and grunts as though he's shifting.

"Where are you?" She answers with a question, and pushes her things aside so the expanse of his bed is all hers as she lies on her back.

"In your bed," he says.

She laughs again. "So am I. I mean, I'm in yours."

He laughs this time. "It's a good thing I cleaned up before I left...though I can't say the same for your place. I was a little worried there was a break in while you left."

"Hey, some of that junk is your stuff too, you know."

"Yeah, but I've at least cleaned up the mess that you left behind."

"Hey," she jokingly whines. "I was worried, I didn't want to wait anymore."

The line becomes silent. "I know," his serious reply sets the sudden shift in tone.

"Maya, I'm sorry-" "I'm sorry, Cam-"

"I can't believe how young we were in this one." She traces his face in the photobooth picture she finds nearby; she had tacked it to his bed post.

"First date? We were." He replies, knowingly. He sounds distracted, but it's because she knows he's playing with something jingling in his hands. She knows he found her bracelet by her own nightstand. "But, it doesn't feel that long ago, does it?"

"No," she realizes, then she is struck with a memory. "I'll never forget that night at the hospital."

"That night I literally begged you not to leave. Sometimes I want to forget that it ever happened."

"The night you told me about fate."

He's silent again.

"I was never superstitious, hardly am now. I never believe anything happens by chance. But, I left you in that hospital, hoping I'd just stop hurting, and stop hurting you. And just when I thought I had forgotten about everything, there you were again. You were always there." She sighs before she starts again. "I remember seeing you, and seeing just you, in that crowded bar. I was singing a song I never meant to sing in front of strangers, and for the first time since forever ago, I felt it all over again. The worst feeling of losing it all over again, and the best feeling of all, knowing you were in my life again."

"Fate's not a stupid idea?"

"No," she relents. "It gave me hope all this time, believing in it gave me back you."

"Depression. The inability to construct a future." Cam states, and knows Maya is waiting for an explanation. "I read that somewhere, someplace, a long time ago. It kind of stuck with me since I was kid." He shifts again. "When I saw you...and how sad you were the other night, I was so scared of destroying everything I had worked so hard to get back again, with my future at home, with you. But, I'm never going to abandon you, Maya. You have to know that none of this matters if you're not a part of it."

"Hey," she whispers. "Lie down, worry wart."

She hears him shift in bed, she assumes that he was sitting upright, anxious.

"Lie on your side. You know, where you normally sleep next to me." She further instructs him.

"Wish you were here."

She shushes him. "I'm lying in your bed, on my side, where I normally sleep next to you. You know how you always put your arm around me before I go to bed. You can do that now."

"I-"

"Stay with me. Turn off the lights."

She hears a distinctive click of her bedside lamp.

"It's late. Let's go to bed." She yawns. "Just try to not kick me in your sleep. In fact, try that thing we wanted to do with the pillow between us." She hears him snicker.

"And you can put your hand where you usually hold mine down, under your pillow because it keeps you warm." He tells her, sleep quieting his voice.

"You're back home with me, aren't you?" She says quieter, her clenched hand under his pillow.

"I'm home with you." He answers just as quiet.


July 10, 2020

"Good Morning, babe. I know, I know, I know. You're hating life and me right now. Well, now that's out in the open, guess what-I'm still going to keep you on this line for a couple more minutes. In fact, I'm going to stick around for a very. Long. Time. I'm still going to be here, always reminding you that I'm going to be here, even if you don't want me to be. I'll still be telling you that you are not supposed to be acting this way, especially every single time I see you acting this way. Your father is giving me an earful about you too, so there's that annoying thing. So, this is kind of obligatory. But, please don't tell Katie that. She'll most likely have another fit if she hears me giving you fair warning when she hardly got any….apparently. But, most of all, babe, Maya, my pretty bird….remember that I'll always be here when you want me to be here too…" Her phone fades to black moments after the speakerphone silences.

Maya turns to Cam, watching his reaction, curious. He looks at her carefully, taking his time to say anything. They lay side by side, under a patch of shade. Below them, Cam has made a makeshift bed with old, forgotten bed sheets they found in his car's trunk. It's not unlike their picturesque, matted scenery from Maya's parent's home all those years ago or in her dreams, because she's just as warm and sated from the very same treats from their first picnic. It will be hard to get up, she realizes as she rests, pressed closely against his body.

Though his habitual humming that she remembers from before is absent and replaced with crashing waves of the Elora quarry waters splashing underneath the nearby cliff side. She sits up, and looks beyond the foot of their blankets, where the cliff they had landed ends.

He sits up too, and almost forgets her imploring gaze. "Your mom always had a way of cheering people up. She always knew what to say." He holds her hands that clasp a firm grip on her phone.

Then she releases herself from him to press a few numbers, the faint, recorded voice prompts her to pick an option. She presses a final number, erasing the voicemail, and the dial tone signals her to sigh. "I don't need her voice to remember that she's still helping me along."

Cam frees her hand, folding his fingers with hers, and pulls her in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're going to be okay, Maya."

She tilts her head up, and bites her bottom lip before admitting, "We're going to be okay. Anything that comes our way, it's going to be okay."

His worried lines above his brows soften, and he grins, looking down at her. And when the sun wanes behind him, clouds scattering the light, making his silhouette a starker contrast to the sky, darkening his skin, his features, she has to keep herself in this moment. This isn't a dream, it's a not fleeting memory of how they used to be. This is now and all their promises for the future.

"Kids!" Zig jars them from their silent exchange. He runs up to them, kicking dirt into their blanket. "It's go time! Jill's got her camera ready, she's already waiting at the other side!"

"Ready?" Cam asks her. He's emptying out his pockets as he stands, ushering her up at the same time.

"25 feet, Cam." She feels the need to repeat, slower. "It's a 25 foot drop." She inhales sharply. "Did you know?"

Her ideas to stall him sink fast as she realizes it's time for what she's been dreading since they arrived at the quarry.

Then, he moves them towards the cliff to meet Zig, who is psyching himself out by slapping his bare chest and adjusting his swimming trunks. Without so much as a wave or look, Zig howls and catapults himself off the cliff.

Maya can't help but squeal from this. "OHMYGOD!"

Cam chuckles, and leans closer to the edge to see Zig splashing, still howling, and waving them down. Jill joins in, calling them, her camera at the ready.

"Maya, c'mon." Cam is stripping down to his swimming trunks now. "You were the one trying to convince me to do this, remember?"

"I say a lot of shit." Though she's following suit, slowly peeling off her tank top and shorts. "Oh God, I think I'm going to puke."

She takes his hand, clenching it until her knuckles blanch. Her eyes are clamped shut, hurting from the pressure.

"Maya, you have to see when it's happening. You gotta see this view."

"There is nothing that will make me do that. Really, this is the best I can do."

"Nothing?"

She feels him shift from where he stands, but she refuses to open her eyes.

"Maya," he says, and she's wondering why he's positioning her to move away from the cliff's end. "Maya, I can't imagine where I'd be now, if I hadn't come back to you. And, honestly, I never want to imagine my life without you. You saved me."

"Cam…" Her eyes are still stubbornly shut. "What-"

"Maya Matlin...will you marry me?"

Her eyes jolt open, widening and searching him. "What-"

"Got you to open your eyes," he grins.


Graduation Day - June 14, 2020

"I really couldn't have done this without my close-knit, incredibly ridiculous, completely irreplaceable group of family and friends. And, Cam, my inspiration for half of my music's lifetime, you gave me my heart back, and you helped me put it back in my passion, my music. Thank you." Maya pauses after grinning Cam's way in the crowd. Then, she grips the podium as if it's helping her balance.

"My mom always wanted me to push forward no matter what, to believe in myself no matter how many times I tried to give up. She died almost a decade ago, and all her words, her ways of touching me throughout my life, still reverberate as loudly as they did when she was alive. But, for now, the one thing that I know she's prepared me for is that today Margaret Matlin is survived by Katie Matlin, Xander Matlin, and my father, Douglas Matlin." She feels rather than sees her family respond with teary smiles, and she finds herself following their lead. "She's survived by my will to keep my dreams alive, to find happiness with the ones I love, and to speed, jump, and outlast anything life throws my way."

Maya tries to close her speech with a congratulations, a thank you, but her fellow, graduating class all stand to applaud her. Their clapping and cheering drown out her closing remarks. So, with a shaky hand, she bows awkwardly and joins her cohorts for their Dean's closing speech.


Cam rises from his kneeling position to find her completely mute. For moment, he thinks to repeat his proposal in case she didn't hear right.

Then, she splutters, finally mustering, "Y-Ye-yesyesyes!"

Cam nervously tries to explain that since they're headed for a steep jump into murky waters, she's better off getting her ring afterwards. But, her heart thumping through her ears and her absolute concentration in interrupting his explanation with feverish kisses stops him.

"Let's jump!" She exclaims, edging them extremely close to the edge, their feet crumbling and pushing tumbling gravel over the cliff.

It's Cam's turn to look apprehensive, looking below them as though he's just been notified of something terribly last minute and thrust upon him without warning.

Maya rolls her eyes, laughing, still jittery and excited. "Close your eyes."

She takes a deep breath in, heart pounding wildly still, her hands feeling the pulsing as she grips his hand tighter. When she looks to him, he's finally gazing down, looking as though he's bracing himself. She feels him tug suddenly, and all at once her stomach rolls as she feels the rush of their fall together.

Peeling through the air, she closes her eyes again, waiting for the waters to engulf them.

When they hit water, and she bobs to hear intermittent whooping and hollering from Cam, from Zig and Jill, she swears there is something between the moment of falling and sinking that reminds her of her mother's generous, warm laughter. When she fully emerges, breaking through the muted waters, it's gone.

Maya meets Cam swimming closer to her, his own laughter bringing her back from her search. Then, it occurs to her, with Cam smiling as though he can't stop himself, Zig and Jill dancing by the shore to nothing at all, there is nothing weighing her down as she floats in the quarry's waters. It occurs to her that she wishes she could show her mother what this moment means to her, a momentary pang strikes through her chest. It's a sneaking kind of sadness that doesn't linger too long. As she looks up, Cam following her intent gaze toward the clear day sky, she allows herself to mouth a thank you, and an I love you.

She's weightless for what seems like hours later on, floating with Cam and all the reasons she knows that have kept her here.

End.