Concealed

“Cameron, wait!” Kari breathed, following me to the door. I stopped and turned. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Maybe I should just come for dinner on another night,” I said, looking over her shoulder where I saw Amanda storm up the stairs.

“Oh, I’m so embarrassed,” she groaned.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said awkwardly and left.

I shook my head, sticking my hands in my pockets, as I walked home. I couldn’t imagine having such a horrible relationship with my family. I had one brother and he was overseas at the moment. We were close growing up and still are. For Jim, Jr. to talk like that to Amanda….

I found my sleeping bag and rolled it out on the floor in my new bedroom. From my window, I could see a light on the upper floor of the Peterson household. A closer look told me it was Amanda’s bedroom; I could see her typing on her computer.

I knew what it was like to be a struggling artist. Still feeling bad for her and wanting to help someone who I had been like, I got my phone out.

“You haven’t been eaten alive yet, have you?”

I laughed. “Nope; still in one piece. Hey, Tim, do we know any publishers?”

“For books?”

“Yeah.”

He groaned. “Don’t tell me you want to write a book now!”

I laughed again. “No, it’s not for me. Do we?”

I heard him move around and the sound of typing. He hummed one of my songs under his breath.

“We know three,” he said finally. “Want me to email them to you?”

“Please.”

“What’s it for?”

“One of my neighbors is trying to be an author but they’re having trouble finding a publisher,” I said.

“Aw, how sweet,” he said and I rolled my eyes.

“Shut up. I’m going to head off to bed. My parents will be here at eight and my mom’s going to go insane.”

He laughed. “She probably will. Talk to you later.”

-

I was snoring when someone pounded on my door. I sat up quickly, looking around bleary eyed. I found my phone and took it off the charger.

“Shit!”

I scrambled to get dressed and didn’t even bother with my hair. I ran down the stairs, nearly slipping on the wood, and took a few deep breaths before opening my door.

“Mom! Dad!”

I opened my arms and they both rolled their eyes before hugging me.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

“We’ve been sitting out there for an hour,” my dad lectured. “By the way, this was on the porch. We almost ate them.”

He handed me a box of brownies.

Hope this makes up for last night. – A

I looked over their shoulders. She made me brownies? Why would she do that?

“Come on in,” I said. “You’ll love it, Mom.”

“Let’s unload the truck,” my dad said and I laughed.

“Took care of that already,” I said.

“Come on! I’m not that old yet!”

I grinned and we watched as my mom geeked out around my house. I let her jabber away about where she was going to put things. While she went upstairs, I looked at the brownies again.

“Making friends already?” Dad asked.

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

I told him about last night and he sighed sadly.

“That poor girl,” he muttered. “Your mom was like that with your aunt Sharon.”

I stared. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “They reconciled, of course, but it was rough for Trish. Do you want her to talk to this young girl?”

“No,” I said quickly. “No, we’ll leave the family drama to the family.”

He laughed and leaned against the counter, looking around.

“I’m proud of you, son,” he said suddenly and I stared at him. He was smiling. “I never thought you’d leave California. Yeah, it’s a great place to start a career, but you’ve got one now. You can go anywhere you want! You finally have.”

I smiled, too. “Thanks for being so supportive, Dad.”

“Of course. You’re my son. Now, if you tried to move to Minnesota, we probably wouldn’t visit.”

I laughed again. My dad hated the cold almost as much as he hated our hair.

It was a nice day so I opened all the doors and windows, leaving the screen door shut. My mom insisted on playing some of my music on her phone while my dad and I did the heavy lifting. We followed her instructions on where to put the furniture. She fussed with my studio, insisting that my desk go in front of the window.

“You have such a lovely view,” she said and she was right; it was why I picked this house.

I went back downstairs, wiping sweat off my brow. I hung up the family pictures in the front hall and stepped back to admire the effect.

“Minnie, no!”

I looked over just in time to see a shot of black tear through my screen door and tackle me to the floor. I laughed as the dog from last night licked my face, her tag wagging so enthusiastically that it was going in a circle.

“Oh, my God! First my brother now your screen door!”

Amanda walked in and pulled on Minnie’s leash.

“It’s all right,” I said, scratching Minnie behind the ear as I stood up. “I was going to get rid of it anyway.”

Minnie was wearing a bright red vest with Service Dog on one side and Please Do Not Pet on the other. Amanda was dressed and had a laptop bag on her shoulder.

“She’s never like this,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard me. She looked petrified as if she thought I was going to sue her. “In the five years I’ve had her, she has never acted out!”

“Amanda,” I interrupted. She blushed. “Deep breath. It’s okay. I swear.”

She looked doubtful but didn’t get the chance to respond when my parents walked into the hallway to find out what happened.

“Oh how adorable!” my mom squealed, looking at Minnie. “May I?” she added to Amanda who nodded.

“What happened to the door?” Dad asked, seeing the torn screen.

“Just an accident,” I shrugged before Amanda could answer.

“These little boots are just precious!” my mom said and Amanda laughed for the first time.

“She hates them but the pavement gets too hot.” She cleared throat. “Well, sorry again. I really feel bad.”

I smiled. “If it’ll make you feel better, make me some more brownies.”

She turned red and muttered something about bills and pulled Minnie out of the house. I shut the door and tossed the remains of the screen door into the garage. When I turned, my parents were both smirking at me.

“Chill,” I said. “That was the girl from last night. I guess her service dog likes me.”

“That’s an understatement,” my mom laughed. “So, are you going to cook or are we going out?”

“We are definitely going out,” I said. “Tim got my new license plate for me and I took all my bumper stickers off. Jesus that took forever.”

“Cameron,” my mom snapped.

“Sorry.”

My mom was a devout Christian. Though she wasn’t an extremist, she still frowned on using Jesus or God in any way that didn’t have to do with the Bible or church. I respected her for it; especially in this day and age.

While they buckled in, I pulled up the list of restaurants nearby.

“Wow. They have a lot of steak restaurants.”

“You’re in the south now,” Dad said from the back seat as I pulled out. “It’s their staple.”

Dad used to be a truck driver before his eyesight started to fail on him. His routes took him all over the country and he brought me a souvenir from each state. I had license plates from all 50 states and some kind of rock or earth mineral. I still kept them in a shadow box in my living room.

“So what are you going to do while you’re not producing?” my mom asked as we were seated in a small restaurant.

“I’m not sure,” I answered, sipping the water. “Probably meet some people if I can.”

“You should write a book,” my dad said and I shook my head.

“I’ve tried writing. It’s just not for me.”

“Cameron?” a voice gasped and I looked up.

Kari was standing with a ticket book. She beamed.

“Hey,” I said. “These are my parents, Oliver and Trish,” I said. “Mom, Dad, this is one of my neighbors, Kari.”

“It’s great to meet you,” my mom said.

“I didn’t think you’d work at a restaurant,” I said.

“Oh, I own it,” she said, pointing to the tag on her outfit. “It’s a family run business.”

I wondered why Amanda wasn’t working here but didn’t ask as we placed our order. Some things were better left alone.

I thought about the brownies. I had a good idea I’d wake up with another box on my porch tomorrow.