February 14th, 1971

    I had practically demanded Cameron to not get me a present for Valentine’s Day. Though, despite my insistence, I knew that he would. We had spent the first half of the day lounging around the house doing nothing in particular. I had given Cameron sweet kisses from the moment we woke, and he’d responded in the same fashion.
    We’d eaten a small lunch about one hour before he took my hand and gave me a sweet smile.
    “I have something for you,” Cameron spoke in a soft voice.
    I narrowed my eyes in mock anger and his smile grew.
    “It’s for us both,” he amended with a wink. “I figured it would be an acceptable compromise.”
    I couldn’t help but return the grin. “What is it?”
    Cameron pulled a small item from his breast pocket. “It’s just some paper,” he explained. “Very small paper.”
    The sly look on his face had me curious, so I raised an eyebrow. He handed me a small piece of plastic no wider than an inch. In the center was an even smaller square of paper.
    “You’re joking,” I pleaded, though excitement was creeping onto my face.
    “I bought it in Edinburgh, with Lee,” he told me. He had his own little square surrounded by plastic between his fingers.
    “I cannot believe you found acid,” I breathed. “I haven’t done any in years.”
    “It’s been a while for me as well,” Cameron chuckled. “I remembered you mentioned it once, that you’d like to do it again.”
    I laughed and gave him a peck on the lips. “Acid for Valentine’s Day. You know me so well.”
    He kissed me this time, his lips tender against mine, and smiled once more as he pulled away. “Ready?”


    After studiously chewing the little squares for fifteen minutes, we swallowed them. Within another thirty minutes, I began to feel the effects. I felt as though my head was moving slower than my body, with every movement I did, and that I could see more than usual.
    Cameron and I sat together on the couch for a long while without speaking. His hand was placed firmly on my thigh as I gently trailed my fingertips across his arm.
    “I never imagined I could feel as I do,” Cameron murmured.
    His quiet admission brought me back to reality and I turned to gaze at him. “Is that why you told me that you didn’t think you could be happy?” I asked, my voice also quiet. “The first night we spent together.”
    “You remember that?” he asked in surprise.
    “Of course,” I answered. “I didn’t know much about you, then. But it broke my heart to hear you say that.” I surprised myself with my words. It seemed that this trip, happening while I felt safe and secure with the man I loved, would be one of truth.
    “I didn’t mean to break your heart,” he told me shyly.
    I smiled and brought his hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles. “You’ve held my heart together,” I assured him. His eyes shined at my words and my heart grew at the sight. “I don’t know why you felt like that, though.”
    “It’s long and complicated,” Cameron replied. His eyes were far away and I knew he was thinking deeply.
    “Well,” I began as I glanced at the imaginary watch on my bare wrist, “I’m here all week. And for every week afterwards.” A grin tugged at my lips but disappeared when I saw the emotion on Cameron’s face. “Oh, my love. You don’t have to tell me,” I urged.
    “No, I do,” he resisted, his eyes meeting mine. “I want to. It’s just been a long time since I’ve opened that box of memories.”
    I put my head against his chest and he held me close for a long moment.
    “My father loved music. He would play guitar in the evenings, after work.” Cameron spoke slowly, but his voice was steady. “He taught me to play, but then he died, and it was too painful to even see a guitar.”
    I listened intently and kissed his arm.
    “It was more difficult for my mother,” he admitted. “Our home went from being filled with laughter and music, to being very quiet and… solemn.”
    “How did he die?” I whispered.
    “He just did. Tuesday he’d been well, feeling normal. He had a heart attack during the night and never saw Wednesday.”
    “I’m sorry, my love.”
    “I comfort myself knowing he didn’t suffer much,” Cameron told me. “It was nearly two years until I smiled when I heard music being played, and it was a teacher of mine playing a classical piece on a piano.”
    “That’s how you got into keyboards,” I realized.
    Cameron nodded and took a deep breath. “That man had an incredibly kind heart. He mentored us, me and Willie. He left to fight in Korea but never came back.”
    I remembered Cameron telling me about his teacher when I’d first heard Missing Persons.
    “That man didn’t deserve to die in a war.”
    “War is mankind’s perpetual killing joke,” I whispered.
    “It is.” Cameron paused before continuing. “It had been about two years by then, since he’d been encouraging us to develop musically. He died, and very suddenly we didn’t have instruments to practice with,” he informed me. “Willie stole his first guitar from a shop. My aunt found out and nearly dragged him by the ear to return it.”
    “Joan?”
    “Yes. The shop owner let Willie keep the guitar, if he’d work there until it was paid off. That shop was my first job, too.”
    “Did you enjoy working there?” I wondered aloud.
    “Immensely. That’s where my mother was going when…”
    His prolonged silence made me look at him. I saw his eyes welling up with tears and he looked incredibly pained.
    “Cameron,” I said softly as I put my hand on his cheek.
    His sad eyes met mine and he let out a short laugh before inhaling deeply. “I feel as though my chest is cut open and my heart’s been taken out.” His voice shook and his eyes brimmed with tears.
    “I’ll keep your heart safe, Cameron,” I told him, my gaze firmly fixed on his brown eyes. “I promise.”
    A grin tugged at his lips and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “When I found out, all I was told was that there had been a traffic accident and she’d passed instantly,” he whispered, his voice still shaky. “She’d been walking to the music shop to pick up a keyboard for me.”
    “She loved you,” I reminded him.
    Cameron nodded. “My aunt took me in and gave me the keyboard. I’d always thought it was from her, to console me. I played it night and day.” He paused for a long moment before continuing. “It was only a few years later that Joan told me the truth. My mother had been paying bit by bit for the keyboard for months before that day. She had wanted me to continue playing even without my teacher’s piano.”
    “Your mom seems like a sweet soul,” I told him. “And she raised one, too.”
    Cameron smiled then, a wide grin as he looked at me with wet cheeks. I returned his tender gaze with my own.
    “Keep my heart safe, and I’ll keep yours safe, too. Okay?” he proposed bashfully.
    I took his face in my hands and kissed him with purpose. “Always.”


    I had no concept of how much time had passed between Cameron’s vulnerable admissions and the next time a word was uttered between us. We had moved into our bedroom and were laying beside each other when his question pierced the air.
    “What happened to your sister?”
    “Liliane?” I asked.
    Cameron smirked. “Do you have another sister I’m not aware of?”
    I laughed, but only briefly. “A lot has happened to her.”
    “Why is she afraid?” he elaborated.
    “Aren’t we all afraid of love?” I replied, turning to watch his expression.
    “I suppose so.”
    I shook my head and sighed. “They started dating when she was twenty-one. Greg was a couple years older, but he was nice and Gran liked him. So did I,” I confessed. “We’d been living with Gran for five years by then, and I’d been getting used to the relief of not being afraid of our dad anymore.”
    I didn’t continue speaking until Cameron urged me to continue.
    “Everything seemed fine to me for a long time, until this one day. I remember I drove to their house; they’d bought one together after a few years. I arrived just as Greg was leaving, but he didn’t acknowledge me when I got out of the car.”
    “Was he often like that?” Cameron asked.
    “No. I thought it was weird, but I went into the house anyway. I can still see it in my mind, even. The front door wasn’t shut, and when I found Liliane she was crying in the bathroom.”
    “He’d hit her,” Cameron spoke.
    “He might as well have,” I answered in a sad tone. “It took a while, but she eventually told me that he’d been growing angry for the past year.” I paused and shook my head at the memory. “Lil begged me not to tell Gran, or to confront Greg. He would yell and scream at her for things he didn’t understand. Things he refused to understand.”
    “About your father?”
    “Yes.” I let out a small huff of air and bit my lip. “Once we left that place, just the sound of a dish breaking would drive her to instant tears. I couldn’t handle yelling or loud voices, but for Liliane it was broken dishes,” I explained. “Other things, too, would make us freeze up. Greg couldn’t stand it and he berated her for it.”
    Cameron’s face was full of thought and newfound comprehension. “How long were they together?”
    “Almost eight years,” I answered. “Our grandmother got sick nearly three years ago and they split up. They sold the house, and Liliane bought a smaller one closer to Gran’s house. We were her caregivers for two years.” I took a deep breath to steady myself.
    “Your gran was sick,” he said softly.
    I nodded, feeling the tears gather on my cheeks. “I had to threaten the doctor before he admitted she wouldn’t survive.”
    Cameron laughed softly and I looked up at him as he spoke. “You threatened a doctor?”
    I couldn’t help but chuckle as well. “Yes, absolutely. I remember it clearly,” I added. “I told him that I would go to his house and beat his mother, and then lie about it to his face.”
    “So he told you,” Cameron whispered.
    I nodded once again. “I told Liliane she was going to die from the cancer, but neither of us could bear to tell Gran, She knew, though,” I said in a quiet voice. “She knew.”
    I began to cry. Cameron pulled me into his arms and held me tight to his chest. He cooed soft words of comfort until I had stopped weeping, before returning to the initial topic.
    “Your sister is afraid that Lee won’t understand the trauma she carries.”
    “Not just Lee,” I amended. “Anyone. Any man. While she was here, she told me that she can’t get pregnant. I’m sure she worried about that too.”
    “He loves Liliane. He’s told me as much,” Cameron replied.
    “She loves him too, Cameron. She just hasn’t admitted it yet.”
    Cameron’s soft laugh filled my ears. He softly kissed my forehead and looked at me cheekily. “You say it as though being in love is a bad thing.”
    “Not a bad thing,” I corrected. “Just terrifyingly comforting.”