Camila's POV
Mono no aware (n.): the pathos of things; the bittersweet awareness that everything in existence is temporary.
I felt the ever-so-slight rumbling of the car wheels against the road through the soles of my feet, starting from my toes and slowly reaching my heels. My hands were clenched so tightly around the steering wheel that my fingers dug into its small bumps, a physical manifestation of my heightened senses.
Interstate 90 allowed a maximum speed of 65 mph, but with the car's speedometer needle never dipping below 85 mph since Sofia and I left Boston for the small town of Southampton nearly half an hour ago, I had a feeling I would be greeted by a stack of at least five speeding tickets on my office desk the following week.
"The way things are going, we'll get there in time for breakfast," Sofia said in a mocking tone, sliding her legs off the dashboard. "And as far as I know, we were invited to lunch, sis."
Once upon a time, I was falling in love,
But now I'm only falling apart
Music blared through the speakers, just the way my sister liked it.
Now I'm only falling apart, the piercing female voice echoed in my head as I stepped harder on the gas pedal, a sense of unease washing over me.
"Can we please listen to something else?" I asked Sofia, my voice betraying no hint of my inner turmoil.
My sister's eyes shifted from her phone to me, and she stopped recording without even glancing at the screen, her plans to share a video on social media forgotten.
There's nothing I can do,
A total eclipse of the heart
The woman's voice was still blasting through the speakers, her tone so full of emotion that it almost seemed to be channeling everything I was feeling but could never properly put into words.
"Hmm, I have a better idea," she said, lowering the volume of the music. "Why don't you stop stepping on that pedal as if your life depended on it and talk to me about what happened in the park? I'll let you listen to those old jazz songs you love."
My lips tugged into a rare, genuine smile that few people besides Sofia could bring out in me, as my sister expressed her concern about my feelings, which she perceived to have been rattled, even though I was always good at masking them.
I wondered what gave me away. My speed? The hurry to leave with Sofia for Southampton before the scheduled time? The look on my face? Or did the connection with my sister allow her to sense my discomfort?
"So?" Sofia quirked an eyebrow, her finger hovering over the radio button.
I gently eased off the pedal to maintain a moderate speed, and the tension in my arms dissipated as the car slowed down and my grip on the steering wheel loosened.
"Just so you know, jazz originated in New Orleans, in the twentieth century, and it was officially recognized as a major form of musical expression between 1910 and 1915 onwards. In 300 BC, mankind had just witnessed the fall of Alexander the Great, who had died 23 years earlier, and they would listen—"
"And why is that relevant, Camila!?" My sister huffed in frustration as she turned off the radio, letting the silence fill the car. "Sometimes I can't tell if you're serious or if you're just trying to evade the subject."
I'm serious, I stated inwardly, shrugging it off.
We drove past a small sign welcoming us to Worcester a few minutes after eleven, and only then did I realize how fast I had been driving earlier—I had made it there in half the usual time, around twenty-five minutes, give or take.
"You know, you never open up to me. But thankfully, while you excel in understanding complex topics that most people don't, I excel in understanding emotions thanks to my strong emotional intelligence," Sofia said, speaking of herself in a grave tone.
I stole a glance at her out of the corner of my eyes, my lips twitching into a smirk despite my best efforts to keep a frown in place.
"Strong emotional intelligence, huh?"
"Yup." She nodded, popping the letter 'p'.
"And what does your amazing ability to understand emotions tell you?" I asked, amused at my sister's naivety.
Sofia tucked her phone between her thighs before speaking.
"First of all, I'd like you to keep in mind that I don't like being kept in the dark, like I'm too immature to understand." She paused but then continued before I could voice my objection. "Second, I know Lauren Jauregui is the girl who's disturbed your sophrosyne and the one who contributed to the moans that I—accidentally, of course—heard that night," Sofia said. It was no surprise that she had figured out about Lauren; I had given her enough information for her to draw that conclusion. "This is nothing new, as we know. But you forgot to mention the fact that besides being incredibly good at disturbing your sophrosyne and undressing you like a present, she's also made you fall head-over-heels in love with her."
"SOFIA!" I let out an exasperated cry, unable to believe the words that came out of her mouth.
"Oops, my bad. I meant to say, she also makes your heart pound in your chest whenever she's around, leaving you awestruck and overwhelmed, and inexplicably filled with a wild passion..." There was a dramatic pause, and the warning voices in my head screamed louder than ever, their message amplified by her deafening silence. "Which is basically the same. Camila, please, did you really think I wouldn't realize how down bad you are for her?"
"Is it that obvious?" I asked, gradually becoming more comfortable discussing the topic with my sister.
Whenever the thought of being in a romantic relationship with a woman crossed my mind, I never doubted Sofia would embrace it with open arms. My sister and I shared the same belief that feelings should be expressed freely and experienced in their natural form, not limited by gender, so the idea of love being exclusively directed toward someone of the opposite gender made no sense to me. But I was afraid that if I started dating someone, she would feel neglected and that my love and attention for her would wane. And I knew Sofia well enough to recognize that while she was understanding, sometimes she could also be overly possessive.
"I'm sorry for the overused expression, but it's written all over your face," she spoke matter-of-factly. "Your hurry to leave the park, your frantic driving, and the rage in your eyes when you saw her with that stiff-collared guy—you're obviously in love, and you're clearly jealous."
"I'm not jea—"
"Camila, please." Sophia sighed, cutting me off. "You can fool everyone else, but I'm your sister. I know that look. You looked like you'd grown horns like the devil and were ready to impale the poor guy with a pitchfork."
"Fine, maybe I felt a little bit of that feeling you describe as jealousy, but it was no big deal. After all, why would I be jealous at the sight of her with somebody else? Why would I hate him so much that I'd want to pour bleach into his eyes? Why would I want to drag her away from him so I could ask her why she'd gone on a date with him when we made love last night?" My grip on the steering wheel loosened for a fleeting moment before I scrambled to grab it again, this time only with one hand. I harshly ran my fingers through my hair with the other, desperately trying to silence the painful thoughts reverberating in my mind. "Fuck, I was dying of jealousy."
"Correction, you are," Sofia observed.
Yes, I am, I thought. My foot twitched, tempted to press down on the pedal again, but I quickly held myself back.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say you two had sex last night," my sister spoke, barely containing a giggle.
I shot her a wide-eyed glance.
"Good." I tried to keep my expression serious as I nodded, but I could see the corners of Sofia's mouth turn up in a playful smirk, revealing her amusement.
"But you do realize she didn't have a choice, don't you, back there in the park?" Sofia asked, and I rolled my eyes internally.
"All I know is that she was there with that guy," I said, my words coming out sharp as the memory resurfaced.
"You know, for someone who is incredibly smart, sometimes you can be incredibly dumb..." She sighed, shaking her head.
"Why am I being called dumb all of a sudden?" My forehead creased in confusion, feigning indignation at the word that had been used.
"Simple: you're good at picking up on the most obscure details, but you're terrible at seeing the obvious—especially in the emotional department. I know you were able to tell Lauren was worried and upset, but her mom probably didn't. You're good at seeing beyond the obvious, but you focus so hard on what's underneath that you overlook what's right in front of you."
"I mean, yes, I could tell she seemed restless," I said.
"I know, but I bet you thought it was because you caught her in a compromising situation that some might call cheating." My sister laid out her argument, pausing to gauge my reaction and see if I agreed. I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road. "We both noticed how uncomfortable Lauren was. You saw something no one else there besides me saw. But you misinterpreted the reason why, because you can't see the obvious."
"And your point is?" I asked, trying to understand Sofia's train of thought. My sister had suddenly shifted the focus of the conversation toward me. "To me, that is the obvious."
"No, the obvious is that she let go of that guy's hand like he had the plague right when she saw you, and she didn't even care that it was rude or that her mother was there," my sister observed.
"She did that because she felt guilty, and if she felt guilty, it's because she did something wrong," I refuted, easing my foot off the gas as we approached a toll booth.
"Or maybe because we showed up at the wrong time, when everything appeared to be something it wasn't."
"Hand me my wallet, please," I asked, as we stopped behind a black sedan at one of the tool booth stations.
"The thing is," Sofia resumed her explanation and turned around on her seat, digging around in my purse. "It was so obvious Hayden's mother was trying to set him up with Lauren." She handed me the wallet where I kept my credit cards and turned back around. "And even more obvious Lauren didn't like it. You just need to stop and think for a second."
I let the car creep slowly forward until we stopped behind the gate. I drew out my credit card from my wallet and rolled down the window to place it into the machine.
"Look, I understand what you're saying, Sofia. Especially considering the things we talked about last night," I started, as I waited for the sign to turn green and the gate to open. "But I think you're romanticizing the situation."
With a smooth motion, I plucked the card from the machine and handed it to Sofia, who swiftly slipped it into my wallet as I drove past the gate and down the road toward Southampton.
"And I think you're reacting out of jealousy. If you put your brain to work, you wouldn't be suffering right now."
"I'm not, I'm fine." I shrugged.
"Sure, then why are your hands trying to choke the steering wheel?" Sofia quirked her eyebrows, staring at me as if she had just won the battle. And she had.
"When did you become so observant?" I asked, impressed by her analytical skills.
"Mila, please." Sofia rolled her eyes. "I'm your sister, and you're the queen of perception. We're two peas in a pod. The difference is, I perceive the world like any other person, while you... Well, you probably pay more attention to Lauren's body cells than everything else."
"You're growing up so much, it scares me," I said, half joking, my gaze fixed on the cars whizzing past us, silently wishing the conversation would end so I could let my thoughts drift away.
"Don't try to change the subject, sis," my sister admonished. "Are you two even dating?"
Something in my mind clicked at Sofia's question, uncovering a new perspective on my relationship with Lauren that I hadn't considered before.
What were we? I asked myself. Were we supposed to be something?
"I don't know," I said, more as a question than a statement.
"Do you want to?"
If there was one thing about Sofia that stood out to me, it was her uncanny ability to delve into the depths of my soul, to traverse between feelings, thoughts, and emotions even I couldn't manage with ease. And there it was, that million-dollar question, making me question myself for the second time that day. It was a fact that the green-eyed woman had stirred up my emotions and feelings, and our relationship ignited a passionate fire that drew us in and wrapped us up in an aura of total submission and surrender. But still, I had no urge to label what we were. I didn't want to claim her; I found satisfaction in simply belonging to her.
"You know, when we belong to someone, the label we give our connection doesn't matter," I said. "I think the most appropriate question would be, do you belong to each other? And to that, I'd definitely say yes."
The girl next to me remained still and silent, her gaze fixed on me as she carefully processed my words.
"It's times like these I understand why you're the oldest," Sofia finally spoke, her voice gentle and a smile on her lips. "I hope you two continue to belong to each other, then."
I gave a slight nod and a warm smile, a silent understanding passing between us. Sofia seemed to sense nothing more needed to be said, so she took out her phone and shifted back into her seat, her feet once again perched up on the dashboard.
"Maybe she's your happily ever after," Sofia added suddenly, quickly putting on her headphones before I had a chance to reply.
My smile broadened as I considered my sister's suggestion.
The road ahead of me seemed to stretch on forever, with no end in sight, as the endless path of concrete winded through the horizon, meandering its way to the edges of the universe before my eyes. The emerald green of the vegetation on both sides of the road offered a stark contrast to the dull grey and blue hues of the sky, perfectly complementing the chilly atmosphere of that time of year. And as the car sped along the highway, my emotions roared to the surface without warning, and my innermost thoughts were set free—once again, they had been given permission to scream.
She is.
Southampton, Massachusetts, 12:45 p.m.
When I opened the car door at 86 Bluemer Road in Southampton, I was greeted by a gust of cold, crisp air. The wooden house, painted in a weathered light tobacco brown, gave me an all-too-familiar sense of comfort that few other places could give me.
As soon as I stepped out of the car and shut the door, the front door opened and old Buddy, a 14-year-old Labrador, came bounding out toward me. Despite his age, Buddy still remembered how to jump, and if it wasn't for the car behind me catching my fall, I would have gone tumbling backward like I did whenever I used to visit the Tomlinsons.
My best friend's parents had lived in the same house for thirty-two years since the day they got married. Louis had spent his entire life crammed into his room on the second floor, devouring books that helped him get into Harvard, where I ended up meeting him. I had often turned to Louis to get me through difficult times, so his house had been a haven for me on many occasions.
"Who's a big boy?" I cooed, scratching Buddy's head as his paws rested on my chest.
I leaned away from the car as the dog jumped off me. Now, his next victim was Sofia, who cried out in surprise when she fell down on the grass and Buddy landed on top of her, licking her face.
My sister and I had visited that house multiple times over the years, and Buddy always showed her as much love as he showed me.
"She still hasn't learned that she can't get out of the car until he says hello," Louis said as he walked up to me on the narrow sidewalk, the grass beginning to brown from the cold winter.
"It took me a while to figure it out too. I guess it runs in the family." I shrugged, looking back to see Buddy happily licking Sofia's face as she desperately tried to escape.
"And they say you're a genius..." Louis teased and pulled me into a hug.
In response, I pinched him on the waist, causing him to scream in my ear.
"That was for your little plot last night, you meddling jerk." I held back an amused laugh as I gave my friend a hard stare. Then, I pulled his face toward me with both hands and gave him a long kiss on the cheek. "And that was for being a meddling jerk," I added with a big smile.
"Ugh..." Sofia groaned as she walked past us, Buddy following closely behind her, tugging at her overcoat. "If I didn't know my sister is down on all fours for Lauren, I'd suggest you two get a room," she said, as she pulled the overcoat from the labrador's mouth and headed into the house.
Louis was so taken aback that he stared at me with wide eyes, almost popping out of his face. He pointed to Sofia with his thumb, silently asking me what that was about.
I smiled and shrugged.
"She already kind of knew about Lauren, and, uh..." I walked back toward the house, with a dumbfounded Louis following behind me. "Earlier today, Sofia and I went to Boston Common and met Lauren there. Things got a bit awkward, and we ended up discussing my relationship with Lauren in detail."
"Oh.My.God!" Louis exclaimed softly. "That's a lot of information to take in. Wait, what happened on Boston Common?" he asked, confusion evident in his tone.
"Oh... I'll explain it to you later. It's a long story." I said.
Louis opened the front door, gesturing me to enter.
"All right," he paused. "But what about Sofia, how did she react to your lesbianism?"
I rolled my eyes at the word.
"Pretty well," I said as I struggled to take off my coat in the confined space of the entrance hall.
Helping me pull the sleeves off my arms, he asked, "No negative reactions?"
"She just acted like it was the most natural thing." I shrugged, finally getting rid of that piece of clothing, which Louis hung on the hanger behind the door.
"I'm so proud of her." The brown-haired man sighed, his eyes filled with love and admiration for Sofia. "I wish I was your friend when she was born so I could be her godfather."
I chuckled, deciding to let the subject go.
"Where are your parents?" I asked, feeling the smell of fried chicken tickle my nostrils and make my stomach grumble with hunger.
I remembered how Louis' mother, Johannah, used to make it for me whenever I visited her while I was in college. She always served it with coleslaw, boiled corn, beans, and mashed potatoes, making the fried chicken even more delicious. I had never eaten so much at a meal before, but I couldn't help myself when it came to Johannah's cooking.
I headed to the kitchen, where I knew I would find her. As I made my way down the wooden hallway, my eyes scanned the walls lined with pictures of the family, pictures of Louis as a child, and pictures of Louis and me together. That house felt just like home, like the one I had grown up in in Boston.
When I reached the back of the house, which overlooked Pequot Pond, I looked into the large kitchen and was so overwhelmed with emotion I had to fight back the tears that welled in my eyes. Sunlight illuminated the room and I saw Johannah, as beautiful and young as ever, carefully placing the coleslaw on a bowl, while Troy, Louis' father, reached out to grab something from a cupboard and muttered something to his wife. Just outside the kitchen, Sofia washed her hands, with Buddy by her side.
"Camila?"
The moment Johannah saw me, a huge smile spread across my face. It had been too long since the last time we saw each other. My busy schedule made it impossible for me to visit her more often, even though she lived close by.
"Johannah, it's so good to see you!" I quickly walked up to her, waiting patiently for her to put down the bowl she was carrying.
"Oh my God, look at you!" Louis' mother pulled me into a tight hug.
"You're all grown up, Cabello," Troy said, his eyes filled with joy as he placed a large porcelain platter on the table.
Johannah and I released our hug and I approached the man, giving him a warm embrace.
"And you're still as handsome as ever," I remarked, after pulling away.
"You've become even more beautiful," Johannah chimed in, taking me by the shoulders. "I've seen your pictures in magazines and on the internet, but none of them do you justice. You look absolutely stunning."
"I hope I look as amazing as you when I'm your age," I spoke affectionately.
"No one said I looked good when I got here," Louis pouted, pretending to be jealous, and I laughed.
Johannah walked up to her son and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "You know you're handsome, honey, don't be jealous."
"Even I got a compliment, Louis," Sofia teased while taking a seat.
"All right, you're all beautiful, no need to fight." Johannah chuckled, bringing the conversation to a close. "Now, let's have lunch. Camila, will you help me set the table?"
"Sure!"
The following hours were filled with delicious food, lively conversation, and plenty of laughter. Being around Louis' family felt comfortable and it was a pleasant reminder of the family life I had been missing for some time. Recreating that sense of family with Sofia proved to be an uphill battle more than once ever since our parents passed away, but being there, somehow, felt so natural.
Once lunch was over, we all helped Johannah with the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Troy went off to the living room to watch a hockey game, while the rest of us stayed in the kitchen, talking. Sofia and Johannah engaged in a conversation about food, dishes, and spices, and Louis and I stepped outside so he could have a smoke.
We went down the back porch steps and walked along the pier that stretched a few yards into the pond.
"It feels so good to be here," I said, sitting next to Louis, who was dangling his legs off the edge.
"We experienced some amazing highs and lows here, didn't we?" he asked, pulling his marijuana cigarette out of his black sweatshirt pocket and putting it between his lips.
I peered into the still water of the pond, gazing at my reflection. "The most memorable so far."
"I get the same feeling when I'm here, but leaving this town was one of my biggest accomplishments," Louis said, lighting the cigarette with his S.T. Dupont gold lighter.
"You're right, Southampton is not big enough for you." I laughed through my nose, recalling how excited he was to be at Cambridge when we were freshmen in college.
Louis nodded as he exhaled the smoke slowly toward the sky and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"By the way, what happened at the park?" he asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.
"Oh, that..." I sighed, remembering everything that happened that morning.
"Yes... that. But first, I think you need to tell me exactly what happened in the teacher's lounge." Louis nudged me with his shoulder and gave me a knowing look, which made me smile.
And so, I shared every single detail with him, from my evening with Lauren and our awkward meeting on Boston Common, to my conversation with Sofia on the way to Southampton.
He put out his cigarette, pressing it against the wooden surface where we were sitting.
"Sofia is right," Louis said, as he let the last bit of smoke wheeze out from his lungs. "Even I can tell how much Lauren is into you, and I'm usually pretty clueless in that department. I think there's something there you didn't pick up on, but what are you gonna do?" He leaned against the wooden column, his gaze fixed on me.
I shrugged and glanced over at the dark green forest on the other side of the pond.
"I don't know if there's anything I can do," I answered honestly. "I don't think I have the right to confront her."
"You're probably right..." Louis nodded. "But you have the right to ask. The only thing you can't do is just walk away without an explanation, especially after the 'nevermore' thing you two got going on—which, by the way, sounded like a commitment, you know that, right?"
"Yeah, I mean, now I do. And you're right, I need to think this through. Things are different now," I said.
"So, what now?"
"I don't know." I sighed. "I'll talk to her when the semester starts."
"WHAT, YOU WON'T EVEN CALL?" A look of indignation crossed Louis' face, and I gulped.
"I don't know... You know talking over the phone isn't really my thing." I threw him a nervous smile.
"But you can't just not call someone after sleeping with them," he countered.
After thinking about it for a while, I mentally thanked Louis for his sharp thinking.
I nibbled on my lower lip. "Should I call her?"
"OF COURSE! Why don't you ask her out this week?" he suggested.
"I can't, I'm leaving for New York tomorrow to lecture at a congress and will only be back in three days," I explained.
Louis rolled his eyes and gave me a look, as if I was missing something obvious, but I didn't understand what he was getting at.
"New York, Lauren..." he said, and I frowned. "Lauren, New York... Lauren and you in New York..." He snapped his fingers.
And just like that, an idea popped into my head.
Lauren's POV
It was about four in the afternoon on January 1, 2016, and this was officially the worst first day of the year in history.
Lunch with the Christensens at Deuxave, Camila's restaurant, couldn't have been more boring and uncomfortable, and after a while, I realized that Hayden was just as annoyed with the situation as I was.
His mother had completely given up on subtlety when trying to push me toward the guy who, aside from unexpectedly behaving like a hopeless romantic at an extremely inopportune moment, was actually quite nice. All in all, he had good manners and knew how to maintain a good conversation.
After lunch, I thought I would be able to head back to Cambridge so I could call Camila and explain what happened that morning, but my mother and Christine decided to extend our meeting further and we all went over to the Christensens' luxurious apartment in downtown Boston. And it was only when Hayden excused himself to go shower that I sought refuge in their library, finally hoping to spend some time alone and think about what I would do next.
I was lounging in the big armchair, facing the enormous window with a sweeping view of the city, debating whether I should call Camila or not, when suddenly my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down with uninterest, expecting it to be a text from Normani, asking me where I was. But when I saw Camila's name flashing on the screen, my lips parted and my hands started to shake, as if my body had an automatic reaction to seeing or hearing her name.
I dropped the phone onto my lap, staring at it for a few seconds before picking it back up to make sure it was really her.
My heart racing, I slowly brought the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hi, Lauren," Camila said on the other end of the line.
My spine tingled as her sweet but mysterious voice echoed in my ear, my trembling fingers barely able to hold the phone, which felt like a branding iron in my hand. I tried to think of something to say, but the lump in my throat prevented me from speaking.
"Are you and Hayden still on a date, or can I take a few minutes of your time?" Camila asked with a hint of sarcasm, and I felt a wave of dread wash over me.
"Camila, please, I can explain," I begged, my words full of urgency, as I stood up and made my way to the floor-to-ceiling window that towered before me. "I didn't know who Hayden was until this morning, I swear. My mother and her friend planned the whole thing! Please, don't leave me..." My voice cracked and wavered on the last part, and I started losing all sense of composure. I couldn't help but fear the worst—that she was calling to end things between us. "Last night meant the world to me... I just want you to—"
I was about to say something more when Camila cut me off, speaking so quietly that I couldn't make out what she said.
My heart thumped and I gulped. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"
"I said, do you wanna come with me to New York tomorrow, baby?"