In Every Universe

4. Cameron

FOUR

CAMERON

The next day was a chores day, which Cameron and Zacky normally did together. Zacky was asleep again after breakfast, his door closed, and Cameron had just come home from morning skate. They had a game that night, and on game days, Zacky was usually too wired to sit still. He’d take an afternoon nap, but if he didn’t have something to do, he’d chew up the couch. Zacky’s mom had suggested doing unpleasant tasks while they had the energy for it—and trouble focusing on anything else—and it became a habit.

Cameron paid their rent and transferred money into the account they shared for utilities and other living expenses. He transferred enough to cover Zacky’s share that month, too.

Since the Chipotle order from the day before was correct, Cameron added Zacky’s mainstays to the grocery order. He added a twelve-pack of ginger ale, which Cameron was pretty sure Zacky thought was legitimately medicinal.

There wasn’t much of his own laundry to do, so he snuck into Zacky’s room to grab his laundry basket, picked up the strewn-about dirty laundry that covered his floor, and threw a load in for him. Both of their laundry habits had improved when they’d moved in to an apartment with in-unit laundry—a godsend— But nothing was going to improve the way Zacky thought every surface was his laundry bin, though.

Tomorrow was a travel day. Zacky had teased Cameron about getting him a babysitter, but it would make him feel better to know Zacky was being taken care of. He sent a text to Millsy, who had been out with a hip injury for nearly the entire season. He knew Andrew Mills missed being around the guys, and he and Zacky always had an easy relationship. Plus, he was older than the two of them, and to Cameron, that equated to maturity.

Millsy

Head’s bad enough for a babysitter? Has he gotten an MRI yet?

Cameron

He’s got an appointment, Dr. Mills. Maybe they’ll let you read the scan and give your best diagnosis.

Millsy

Hey, man, we all know about head injuries out here. Let me know what time you want me to show up and how long you want me to stay for, and I’m there. I’m always down to help the Vesper/Porter household.

Cameron had given Millsy way too many rides home after late nights at the bar. He would have done it regardless, but it was nice to have some favors in the bank.

He moved Zacky’s clothes from the washer to the dryer and flopped onto the couch, picking up the remote instead of grabbing a duster like he should. He and Zacky had been watching The Bachelor , and well, now that Zacky couldn’t remember the first part of the season, there was no reason to wait to watch the most recent episode with him.

Fifteen minutes into the episode, barely past the recap and the first round of commercials, Zacky ambled out of his bedroom. He had one hand gently holding his head, his eyes in a deep squint. His short brown hair stuck up wildly. Cameron got up and flipped the lights off in the apartment.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were about to wake up,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t sleeping. Just lying there trying to. What are you watching?” He sat on the couch in the same spot he always did, closer to Cameron than most friends would, and Cameron reclaimed his own spot.

“ The Bachelor .”

“Seriously?”

Cameron laughed. “Last season, the boys did a Fantasy Bachelor league, like fantasy football. We got attached to it. Spent the whole off-season catching up.”

“I like this?”

“You do. Well, you hate the actual bachelor because you said he was a ‘real piece of Ohio dog shit,’ which is probably true, but you think the spectacle of it is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Well then, by all means, press play.”

“Oh no, you’re not watching it.”

“Because my head?”

“Because you haven’t seen the first six episodes!” Cameron would normally level his shoulder into Zacky and topple him over on the couch, which occasionally would turn into a wrestling match, but he wasn’t dumb enough to do that now.

“Okay, start at episode one.”

“You can’t because of your head.”

“There’s always something.” Zacky pulled the hood of his hoodie up over his head and started to tighten the hoodie strings to cinch it around his face, but winced.

“Did you see that you have an MRI tomorrow?”

“Yeah. On the fridge calendar.”

“How are you getting there?”

“I’ll take an Uber.”

“I texted Millsy. He’s going to stay with you while I’m gone, since he’s out with that hip injury too. He’ll drive you. I’ll get you the appointment details.” Millsy had been up and down between Dallas and Allen when Zacky and Cameron had been down in the A before they quit hockey in Zacky’s universe, so Zacky knew him.

Zacky nodded and let his body sag against Cameron. The touching wasn’t new. Without consensus, the two of them had become so intertwined that they both got nearly all of their daily allotments of physical touch from each other. But not like this. Not the way Zacky kept pressing himself to Cameron like he was a wireless charger, and Zacky’s batteries were dead.

Well, if physical touch made Zacky feel better, Cameron would do pretty much anything. “You want a shoulder rub?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. A gentle one.” From the way he was seeking touch like a flower reached for the sun, Cameron figured it would be plenty.

Cameron pushed the coffee table out, and Zacky sat on the floor between his knees. Due to the obvious state of Zacky’s head, Cameron would leave his head and neck alone, but he gave Zacky’s shoulders a squeeze, and Zacky let out a quiet sigh. Cameron kept going.

“What other stupid fucking TV have we been watching?”

“You still make me watch way too much Friends .”

“Okay, that tracks.” Friends was Zacky’s comfort show, and Cameron thought of it as his only flaw.

“We found this YouTube channel recently that’s in the style of Formula 1, but the racers are someone’s group of pigs. I can never remember what a group of pigs is called. They make custom racetracks for them with obstacles.”

“Is it gross or cute?”

“It’s really cute,” Cameron admitted. They hadn’t told the boys about that one. It was usually something they put on in the morning after a late night at the bar. It was just for the two of them.

Cameron worked on the soft parts of Zacky’s shoulders and a bit of his upper back. He squeezed down his arms and kept himself from laughing when he felt Zacky flex. Slowly, Zacky relaxed under his hands, and Cameron was calm himself for the first time since watching Zacky’s head hit the ice.

“You should probably go take your pregame nap,” Zacky said, as Cameron’s hands slowed down.

“And you should try napping again.”

“I’m going to stare at the ceiling and think about my husband, but thanks.”

He said it offhanded, like his husband, this alternate-universe Cameron, was fully separate from the Cameron who had spent forty minutes gently massaging his shoulders, arms, and back. Cameron wasn’t sure how that was possible.

“Tell him hi from me,” Cameron joked. The corner of Zacky’s mouth barely turned up, but it still did.