August 12th, 1971
[Cameron’s Perspective]
I woke up in a near-sweat, my eyes snapping open as soon as I realized I was no longer dreaming. I didn’t often have nightmares, but each time I awoke from one I was left feeling unsettled.
Tonight was no different than usual, though the dream itself was peculiar rather than frightening. I tried to relax myself enough to drift back to sleep, but even with Emily’s steady breathing and comforting presence beside me, I struggled.
I slowly got out of the bed and gazed around the hotel room. The tour had only just begun a few days ago, but I strongly felt the clashing of my desires. I sat at the small table at the far end of the room, doing my best to remain as quiet as possible to not wake Emily.
Deep inside, I knew that my ambivalence towards this tour stemmed from her presence with me. Before we met, I had set off on tour without many worries. My time was usually divided between the stage, a pub crawl, and the occasional night with a woman I’d just met. I’d been on tour with men who shared a bed with any woman who winked at them, and I’d done it as well, though much less than they did.
There was no doubt to any of us that this tour of North America was a big step for Amoeba, and I was truly pleased and excited at the prospects it offered. At the same time I could feel all these positive emotions, I could also feel the tugging of unease.
I fell in love with Emily much sooner than I had come to know her, but when she told me of her past, I knew I had to protect her from the possibility of similar experiences. She had never been exposed to a touring band before, and though last year’s European tour was relatively tame from a band perspective it hadn’t been without its difficulties.
Emotionally, to both her and I, the tour had been ravaging. Situations I had exposed her to had resulted in reliving trauma of her past, and new traumas as well. Despite the reassurances I showered over Emily after the miscarriage, I still felt somehow responsible for the sadness it had caused. Perhaps if I’d been less reckless, less foolish…
“Sweetheart?”
I lifted my head to see Emily stirring in bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said quietly. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded fragile.
“What time is it?” she asked me, her voice groggy.
I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure.” I looked to the window, but the only light I could see at the curtain’s edge was the glow of street lamps. When I looked back to her, Emily was walking towards me.
“Have you been up for long?” Her voice was concerned and caring.
I shook my head as she reached me, her fingers softly brushing my hair. “I woke up feeling fidgety, that’s all,” I explained, moving her hand from my hair to my lips.
She sat down across from me, pulling the second chair closer. She wore only a nightshirt, her hair messy; I couldn’t help but smile.
“What’s on your mind, my love?” came her sweet voice.
I gazed down at my hands in embarrassment. “You should sleep, Emily.”
“No.”
I lifted my head and chuckled softly. “You’re stubborn.”
“So are you,” she replied. “What’s wrong, Cameron?”
“I can’t stop thinking,” I admitted in a whisper. “Even in my sleep.”
Emily reached out and put her hand on my arm. Her gentle touch reassured me that I wasn’t being foolish, but I still couldn’t bring myself to speak.
It was Emily who broke the silence, her voice quiet and pleading. “Talk to me.”
“I love you,” was the first thing I said. “But I feel I’ve done you wrong.”
A dry laugh escaped her lips. “How have you done me wrong?”
I sighed, in a way regretting having spoken. I’d never been as frightened to have someone think less of me than at this moment.
“Never be afraid to tell me how you feel,” she spoke. “You told me that, once. When we first met.”
“I remember.”
“I would need more fingers and toes than I’ve got to count the times I’ve been afraid to admit my feelings.” Emily’s admission compelled me to meet her gaze as she continued to speak. “But every time, I fight against the fear because I know you’ll be there to give me solace.”
She had said all she needed to with those words, and I nodded slightly. I tried to compose my feelings into coherence, but once I spoke I realized I hadn’t been entirely successful.
“I’m at fault,” I confessed, blurting out the words. “I should have done more to protect you.” I kept my eyes locked on my hands, not able to bear facing her.
“You do protect me,” she insisted. “What has ever happened that you didn’t protect me from?”
I put my head in my hands and felt a shameful burning rise from my chest to my face.
“Tell me.” Her voice was firm but laced with worry.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound escaped my lips. I lifted my head and met her imploring eyes with my regard. I must have looked how I felt, because her features softened immediately. The distress on her face was clear as the sun, and I looked down once more.
“Cameron,” she spoke, her tone strong.
I had used the same tone many times, and I knew what emotions were behind it. I couldn’t meet her eyes, but stared at the carpeted floor.
Emily slipped off the chair and sank to her knees at my feet, forcing me to look at her. She took my face in her hands and spoke in the same tone. “That was not your fault.”
“Why does it weigh on me so heavily?” My words were barely audible, but Emily heard them.
Her hands left my face. She rested her forehead against my knee and sighed. “It’s so heavy that it hurts,” she answered. “But it wasn’t your fault, Cameron.”
“It feels like it,” was all I could think to reply.
Emily lifted her head and looked at me once more. “And it feels like it’s my fault, too. But things happen, and emotions can easily fool us.”
“I suppose so.” I took her hands in mine and helped her off the floor and back into the chair across from mine.
“I’m still here, aren’t I? And so are you,” she reminded me. “We survived it.”
I nodded, but didn’t speak for a long moment.
“Something is still bothering you,” she noted.
My lip twitched upwards in a brief flash of amusement at her observation. It was usually me who could read her like a book, and not the other way around. “I’m worried for you,” I told her. “I want you to be safe, more than anything. Safe and happy.”
Her lips curved into a small grin. “Are you going to be here with me?”
“Of course.”
“And you love me?”
“Always,” I affirmed.
Emily slowly stood with her hand outstretched in invitation. “Then I’ll never be anything other than safe and happy.”
I accepted her hand and stood. She put her arms over my shoulders and kissed me softly. I could taste the salt of tears between our lips, but didn’t know whose tears they were. Both of ours, I supposed, as I wrapped her in my arms.
“As long as you hold me, Cameron, everything will be okay.”
A weak smile tugged at my lips. “How about I never let go?”
“Works just fine for me,” she replied.
I leaned down to kiss her, then rested my forehead against hers. “You might just kill me, Emily,” I told her with a chuckle. “But if you do, I’ll die a happy man.”
I woke up in a near-sweat, my eyes snapping open as soon as I realized I was no longer dreaming. I didn’t often have nightmares, but each time I awoke from one I was left feeling unsettled.
Tonight was no different than usual, though the dream itself was peculiar rather than frightening. I tried to relax myself enough to drift back to sleep, but even with Emily’s steady breathing and comforting presence beside me, I struggled.
I slowly got out of the bed and gazed around the hotel room. The tour had only just begun a few days ago, but I strongly felt the clashing of my desires. I sat at the small table at the far end of the room, doing my best to remain as quiet as possible to not wake Emily.
Deep inside, I knew that my ambivalence towards this tour stemmed from her presence with me. Before we met, I had set off on tour without many worries. My time was usually divided between the stage, a pub crawl, and the occasional night with a woman I’d just met. I’d been on tour with men who shared a bed with any woman who winked at them, and I’d done it as well, though much less than they did.
There was no doubt to any of us that this tour of North America was a big step for Amoeba, and I was truly pleased and excited at the prospects it offered. At the same time I could feel all these positive emotions, I could also feel the tugging of unease.
I fell in love with Emily much sooner than I had come to know her, but when she told me of her past, I knew I had to protect her from the possibility of similar experiences. She had never been exposed to a touring band before, and though last year’s European tour was relatively tame from a band perspective it hadn’t been without its difficulties.
Emotionally, to both her and I, the tour had been ravaging. Situations I had exposed her to had resulted in reliving trauma of her past, and new traumas as well. Despite the reassurances I showered over Emily after the miscarriage, I still felt somehow responsible for the sadness it had caused. Perhaps if I’d been less reckless, less foolish…
“Sweetheart?”
I lifted my head to see Emily stirring in bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said quietly. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded fragile.
“What time is it?” she asked me, her voice groggy.
I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure.” I looked to the window, but the only light I could see at the curtain’s edge was the glow of street lamps. When I looked back to her, Emily was walking towards me.
“Have you been up for long?” Her voice was concerned and caring.
I shook my head as she reached me, her fingers softly brushing my hair. “I woke up feeling fidgety, that’s all,” I explained, moving her hand from my hair to my lips.
She sat down across from me, pulling the second chair closer. She wore only a nightshirt, her hair messy; I couldn’t help but smile.
“What’s on your mind, my love?” came her sweet voice.
I gazed down at my hands in embarrassment. “You should sleep, Emily.”
“No.”
I lifted my head and chuckled softly. “You’re stubborn.”
“So are you,” she replied. “What’s wrong, Cameron?”
“I can’t stop thinking,” I admitted in a whisper. “Even in my sleep.”
Emily reached out and put her hand on my arm. Her gentle touch reassured me that I wasn’t being foolish, but I still couldn’t bring myself to speak.
It was Emily who broke the silence, her voice quiet and pleading. “Talk to me.”
“I love you,” was the first thing I said. “But I feel I’ve done you wrong.”
A dry laugh escaped her lips. “How have you done me wrong?”
I sighed, in a way regretting having spoken. I’d never been as frightened to have someone think less of me than at this moment.
“Never be afraid to tell me how you feel,” she spoke. “You told me that, once. When we first met.”
“I remember.”
“I would need more fingers and toes than I’ve got to count the times I’ve been afraid to admit my feelings.” Emily’s admission compelled me to meet her gaze as she continued to speak. “But every time, I fight against the fear because I know you’ll be there to give me solace.”
She had said all she needed to with those words, and I nodded slightly. I tried to compose my feelings into coherence, but once I spoke I realized I hadn’t been entirely successful.
“I’m at fault,” I confessed, blurting out the words. “I should have done more to protect you.” I kept my eyes locked on my hands, not able to bear facing her.
“You do protect me,” she insisted. “What has ever happened that you didn’t protect me from?”
I put my head in my hands and felt a shameful burning rise from my chest to my face.
“Tell me.” Her voice was firm but laced with worry.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound escaped my lips. I lifted my head and met her imploring eyes with my regard. I must have looked how I felt, because her features softened immediately. The distress on her face was clear as the sun, and I looked down once more.
“Cameron,” she spoke, her tone strong.
I had used the same tone many times, and I knew what emotions were behind it. I couldn’t meet her eyes, but stared at the carpeted floor.
Emily slipped off the chair and sank to her knees at my feet, forcing me to look at her. She took my face in her hands and spoke in the same tone. “That was not your fault.”
“Why does it weigh on me so heavily?” My words were barely audible, but Emily heard them.
Her hands left my face. She rested her forehead against my knee and sighed. “It’s so heavy that it hurts,” she answered. “But it wasn’t your fault, Cameron.”
“It feels like it,” was all I could think to reply.
Emily lifted her head and looked at me once more. “And it feels like it’s my fault, too. But things happen, and emotions can easily fool us.”
“I suppose so.” I took her hands in mine and helped her off the floor and back into the chair across from mine.
“I’m still here, aren’t I? And so are you,” she reminded me. “We survived it.”
I nodded, but didn’t speak for a long moment.
“Something is still bothering you,” she noted.
My lip twitched upwards in a brief flash of amusement at her observation. It was usually me who could read her like a book, and not the other way around. “I’m worried for you,” I told her. “I want you to be safe, more than anything. Safe and happy.”
Her lips curved into a small grin. “Are you going to be here with me?”
“Of course.”
“And you love me?”
“Always,” I affirmed.
Emily slowly stood with her hand outstretched in invitation. “Then I’ll never be anything other than safe and happy.”
I accepted her hand and stood. She put her arms over my shoulders and kissed me softly. I could taste the salt of tears between our lips, but didn’t know whose tears they were. Both of ours, I supposed, as I wrapped her in my arms.
“As long as you hold me, Cameron, everything will be okay.”
A weak smile tugged at my lips. “How about I never let go?”
“Works just fine for me,” she replied.
I leaned down to kiss her, then rested my forehead against hers. “You might just kill me, Emily,” I told her with a chuckle. “But if you do, I’ll die a happy man.”
Cameron is the sweetest!💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
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