Camden Bright

“You know, you’re probably right, and it might be better if I just rang him to let him know about his wallet. His ID had a number on it.” And she wasn’t entirely confident it wouldn’t get lost in the hustle and bustle of the store, as it had evidently gotten lost the first time around. “Oh, uh, thank you,” she smiled, “I like yours as well.” Her own wasn’t an accent back home but she’d found that in America people tended to comment on it at some point, even though they themselves had accents to Emma’s ears.

       She smiled at the returned compliment, something really of no control she realized and something so probably foreign to well, someone foreign. They were in New York City as it was, it wasn’t as if she didn’t hear a slew of sounds and accents throughout any given day. “I sometimes try and fake one like it,” that was true, a lot of the time it came with some play-like antics and most of the time she got weird glances or maybe only what she perceived as weird glances. “I’m no good though.” Hopping down a step again and making the other woman even more giant, “I get well buggered with the slang of it all.” 

Noelle smiled awkwardly at the blonde woman’s question. “No”, she shook her head. “I just felt some sort of distress next to me and I was wandering if..there’s anything I can do to help”, she pressed her lips together. “If that’s okay. If not…still okay”, she nodded and turned to her book, still not really able to concentrate.

     Camden’s watch lingered on a couple seconds too long once the woman turned back to her book— how diplomatic of her. Finally dipping into her bag once again, this time purposefully quiet. Pulling out another container she knew held either more cash and mini lighters with old cartoon characters printed on the sides or a container of that one object she was looking for and then some. Or, none of the above. 

     Reaching out to place it on the table in front of the either annoyed or sincerely generous person next to her; “You can help. Tell me what you find.” 

“Oh, it’s fine…I don’t mind going back…someone else must’ve dropped it.” Emma shrugged but smiled slightly at the other woman, “you can walk back with me if you want to make sure I’ve done my part in full but I should return it. It’d be a pain to go back to the store and not have it be there. I’ve lost my wallet before. It’s such a nightmare.” So if she could help someone out of a similar mess, she would. 

    “I don’t need to check up on you.” she assured, the sentiment long gone, once there was do diligence. Besides she wasn’t the others police. She wasn’t her own most of the time. She also felt anxious at the prospect of being in a bookstore for longer than five minutes today, “Rob from Illinois will be singing your praise. Even if he’s been issued a new ID by the time this one reaches him.” She added, from one foot to the other Camden looked intently at the figure that looked like a giant in the steps before her, a little subject change never hurt those so pertinent in one direction, “I like your accent.” 

“I mean, I thought this was all hypothetical anyway. So you could already be down there waiting to catch me, right?” Camden was a bit out there but Amelia enjoyed the other woman’s company for that very reason. Too many people fell into line too easily whereas there was never a dull moment or conversation with Camden. “Like would a stranger just try to save me?” She laughed and looked over the crowd of people dancing below, “definitely not in the state their in. Maybe if you’d asked me earlier in the night I would’ve been more confident. What about you? Who do you think would save you?”

     “Sure. Hypothetical.” She gave a comically tinged shrug, a smirk on her lips before she said her peace. “I’ll be out there arms wide but, even then. We’re no hero’s, pavement is pavement. But yeah.” Would she really? Probably not, not at least in a realistic situation, but Amelia seemed to gravitate towards some kind of outlook Camden wasn’t prepared to give in to. Interesting she chose the less inebriated to take action when inebriation seemed to be key in a lot of scenarios, Camden took a breath, “That guy.” She pointed to the random man she’d been watching for the last ten minutes. Dark jeans. White shoes. Nothing fancy. A hoodie with a blazer on top. His movements, his laughter that seemed forced. Her own inebriation a pique that she felt she could register those others feeling exactly the same. “He’d be too late but he’d try.”

“Oh –– it’s not?” Emma frowned, brows pulling together. She hadn’t even bothered to look inside, properly convinced it had been the woman before hers. “I didn’t even think to–– well, I didn’t want to lose you if it was.” She laughed slightly and shook her head, “oh, no, never. I’d be the worst at it too and the guilt,” her eyes grew wide, “it’d eat me alive, I can barely hang onto extra change if they give me too much at a register or something.” She’d gone back to return a quarter before and despite not carrying much cash around London, she did the same with pence. “I should probably give this back to the front desk then. Who knows who might be looking for it.”

      “—or you can give it me. Trust that I’ll do the right thing.” Camden said, reaching out a hand now for the tiny pouch of valuables. It was watching the other struggle with the concept put in front of her that quite possibly made her feel charitable. The other too unaware of her own connection now to that very accessory. Maybe it was karma or something like that, talking it out wouldn’t quite cut it. (For now at least, who knew how long that wallet would end up sitting on her bedrooms closet floor for..or again, maybe not). “Pay it forward. Isn’t that what it’s called? You’ve already done your part.”