Fate Interrupted

2. Back in California

Ren

"Lauren!"

At the sound of my name, my head searches over the sea of people.

"Ren! Rennie! Over here!" Sydney's voice calls out. Her light red hair catches my eye as it glistens gold in the sun of the enormous windows near the exit doors. She is waving her hand spastically above the crowd, a big smile spreading under her freckled cheeks.

I skip over to her and hug her tightly. We've only seen each other once or twice a year for the past eleven years, and knowing she'll now only be living a forty-five-minute drive away is bliss. I'm shocked at how tall she is in my arms and take a step back to view her.

She is totally put together in a very Sydney way. A fun mix of boho city chic with an athletic tomboy twist. She has a lace-trimmed tight top, boot-cut jeans cuffed up, a thrift shop paisley fitted coat, and tall-ass boots. Ah, that's why.

"Hey, tell me about your show. Are you performing this weekend?" I ask.

"No, we just started rehearsals. God, the director is a dick! Just wait till you see it, though. I have the best part in the whole production. I can tell you all about the drama later. Anyways, how was your flight?"

My shoulders drop. "Long." 

"Yeah, I bet. But come on, let's get your luggage, and then I'm taking you out for a drink! It's Friday night, and my Rennie's back in California!" she laughs and hugs me again.

She laces her arm through mine, and we set off to find the baggage claim.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

Two hours later, we are sitting amongst a trendy crowd in a dimly lit Cuban bar in San Francisco's Mission District.

Just prior, we had stopped off at Sydney and her husband Everett's apartment to drop off my bags and freshen up. Which meant changing my top to something Sydney thought was more "girls' night out" appropriate.

The night in SF is still young, but jet lag is hitting me hard, and I slink a little into the velvet bench seat. The waiter comes at last and brings us our mojitos and a big bowl of chips and guac.

Hopefully, this will perk me back up. I take a long sip. Dang, is that good! Sydney is watching me, eager to see if I like it.

"Good, right?!" she exclaims, wide-eyed. "No one makes better mojitos in the city. They muddle the granulated sugar and hierba buena spearmint fresh each time."

"You should try The Havana Bowl," she continues, reaching across the table to tap it with her short, yellow-painted fingernail on my menu. "The sauce is absolutely amazing! I'm getting it without the pork, of course."

Sydney is vegan—sort of.

She hates the texture of meat and is lactose intolerant, putting her in that category, but she does eat fish. I, however, eat almost anything. Well, except for anything pickled. Everyone has at least one thing they don't like, right?

"So," Sydney begins, now that we have our drinks. "Tell me, is it finally over with Alex, like, officially? You're divorced now?"

"No," I sigh. "We're just legally separated right now. It's not like in California, where you can divorce someone because you feel like it. In New York, it has to be bad - like adultery or abuse bad." I stir my drink pensively. "After being legally separated for a year, we can officially divorce. If he still wants to."