They pretended the panic attack outside never happened. (At least, Lauren pretended the panic attack and the subsequent embrace never happened. Camila tried once or twice to get her to talk, but when it became clear that Lauren was resolute, she gave up.)
They pretended the panic attack outside never happened, and they were awkward around each other—even more so than normal.
"Are you two okay?" Sinu asked after breakfast the next morning, helping Lauren with the dishes.
"Oh yeah, yes."
"You sure?"
"If Camila and Lauren were a continent, they'd be the Antarctic," Carol interjected, grinning when Lauren merely scowled.
"You know you can always talk to us, right Lauren?" Sinu said, shifting so that she faced Lauren, totally ignoring Carol's comment. "I know your mom must be—"
"It's okay."
"I know. I'm just saying, we're here for you. Carol and me. Even Lizzie. All of us. You're a part of this family."
"I know."
"Yes, Sinu, the girl knows. Leave her be." Sinu nodded, not looking like she wanted to take Carol's advice.
"I just...I just don't want you to think you can't talk to us. Even if it's about Camila. Especially if it's about Camila."
"Camila and I are fine, promise."
"She's happier with you. More like she was before. It's good to see, that's all," Sinu said, shrugging helplessly, ignoring the look Carol sent her. She nodded awkwardly. "I haven't seen her happy in a while."
"Right," Lauren murmured, lowering her gaze. Carol stepped up and placed a comforting hand on Lauren's shoulder.
"Come on, Sinu. Don't you have better things to do?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. With a weak grin, Sinu put down the dishrag in her hand and took several steps back.
"Right. I just. I just wanted to say it, make sure you knew how grateful I am for you." She smiled, and Lauren felt guilt twisting in her belly, in her chest, the searing pain of it nearly taking her breath away (was there anything anymore that she didn't feel guilty for, she wondered. She honestly didn't think so).
"Dr. Cabello—"
"It's Sinu, Lauren. And I know, I know. I'll stop being sappy. I just." She grinned wider, stepping
forward and enveloping Lauren in a tight hug. "You're the best thing that happened to this family in a long time." She kissed Lauren's cheek and left the kitchen, making odd sniffling noises, as if she was holding back tears. After a moment, Carol punched Lauren lightly on the shoulder.
"She'll be heartbroken if she finds out."
"I know."
"Am I a terrible person for wanting to see it?" Lauren turned to the older woman, nodding immediately. Carol sighed. "Fine. Fine. Guess the game is still on."
//
"Where are you going?"
"I have things to do."
"It's Christmas break. What do you have to do?"
"Why are you so nosy, Camila?"
"Why are you being so secretive?"
"If I recall, the only reason I'm here is because you want to keep your secrets."
"That's not the same. I asked for your help. I let you in."
"I don't need your help. I'll only be gone for a few hours."
"You can't leave me alone with Aunt Liz and my mom."
"Ah, so your true motives come out."
"Lauren. I'm begging."
"Mrs. Cabello is here."
"Don't get me started on her. She won't let up on the whole—just please. Let me come too."
"Camila—"
"It'd be suspicious if you go out without me. Don't forget, the entire reason you're here is to convince my mom we're dating."
"Camila—"
"Please, please, don't leave me here with them. I just can't take the questions, the not-so-subtle comments my grandma keeps making, I just can't."
"Camila. Go get your bag."
"Really?"
"Yeah, and if you'd let me finish, we could've already been gone by now."
"You shouldn't be so snarky. No girlfriend of mine would be so snarky."
"I've always been snarky. Snarky is basically ninety percent of my personality."
"That's true."
"So? Are you coming or not?"
"What? Oh. Yeah. I got...distracted."
"What?"
"It's just, well, I haven't seen that in a while, that half grin thing you do. I've missed it."
"Oh."
"So are we going?"
"What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, let's go."
"Flustered, Lauren?"
"Never."
"You're blushing."
"I was just thinking that it's a long drive. Want to get coffee first?"
"Y-yeah. I'd like that."
//
They decided they could spare a half hour, and ended up finding seats in the small coffee shop, nursing their drinks while looking at everything but each other. Somehow, however, it wasn't awkward at all.
"Remember Normani's senior bash thing?"
"You mean the worst night any of us ever had?" Camila laughed and nodded, sipping at her drink before turning to face Lauren with a grin.
"It wasn't that bad," she commented lightly, her grin widening when Lauren scoffed.
"No one showed up. It was just the five of us, sitting around getting drunk."
"No, it was basically just me and you. Remember? Shawn got bored so he went out with Nick later on, and Ally and Normani went with him." Lauren chuckled, hanging her head.
"We were too drunk to go, yeah. Ended up watching Disney movies all night." Camila leaned forward, so close that Lauren could smell the coffee on her breath, could smell the faint scent of her perfume.
"It was a good night," Camila said.
"I don't remember most of it."
"You should've paced yourself. You're a lightweight."
"I'm not a lightweight," she protested. She honestly wasn't, but it was true that she hadn't paced herself that night. Being alone with Camila, being alone with a drunk Camila—being alone with a Camila that kept saying that she loved her, that there was no one for her but Lauren—had turned her into a ball of anxiety, unable to do anything but drink. Suddenly, they were both drunk, suddenly, dealing with Camila became easy.
"You are."
"You barely remember that night."
"On the contrary, I remember everything about that night."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yep." She smiled, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, giving Lauren a satisfied look. "You said some things, you know."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Want to elaborate?"
"You said my eyes were dark." Lauren blushed, but didn't break eye contact.
"Obviously."
"You said they were the most beautiful brown you'd ever seen." She swallowed, still refusing to look away.
"Still obvious." It was Camila's turn to blush, but she didn't turn away either.
"I told you I'd wanted to kiss you the first day we met. Outside the library." Lauren blinked, but didn't speak, not trusting her voice. "You said you'd wanted it too."
"You're making this up."
"You think so?"
"I know so. I make it a point not to talk about my feelings."
"I've noticed."
"What do you want from me, Camila?" It came out more tiredly than she intended. Came out with a harshness she didn't realize she felt. (A bitterness she'd all but stamped out, coming back with an unbelievable force.)
"An admission."
"About?"
"How you feel." It was Lauren's turn to lean forward, though it was with anger, it was with frustration, it was with pain.
"I think you're pushing it, Camila."
"You haven't talked to me since Matt. You think I can't tell you're hurting?"
"You didn't want to talk to me. In case you forgot, you blamed me."
"I never blamed you," she immediately denied, shaking her head vigorously.
"Camila—"
"I never blamed you. I never hated you. I just...couldn't trust you." This brought Lauren up short, rendered her incapable of speech.
"W-wh—"
"You said you'd take him home. You said you'd take care of it—"
"—because you asked me to. Because you said you couldn't deal with him—"
"—and then I heard about what happened, and it just hit me all at once, you didn't keep your promise. I trusted you, but you didn't keep your promise, and something terrible happened."
"I called him a cab!" The other patrons in the coffee shop looked over at them disdainfully, expressions of annoyance mirrored on all their faces. "I called him a cab," she whispered heatedly. But Camila was unmoved. But Camila didn't flinch. But Camila was unfazed.
"You called him a cab, Lauren. But you didn't make sure he got in it," she said, laying bare all of Lauren's sins, laying bare the truth, laying bare the guilt that she constantly struggled with.
(You didn't do anything, Dinah had said. And that was the problem. She didn't do anything. She should've done something.)
//
They rode in icy silence, Lauren pretending that the seat next to her wasn't occupied. They rode in icy silence, broken only when they pulled into a driveway next to a small and aging home. Paint peeled off on the back wall, the front door's white had turned gray from dirt, and the grass out front looked like it hadn't been cut in a while. Lauren swallowed as she looked around the home, thinking of the last time she'd been here, thinking of how it'd been far too long.
Thinking of how she'd broken yet another promise.
"Where are we?" Camila asked, breaking their silence. Lauren didn't answer, instead went up the steps leading to the front porch, the wood creaking and protesting beneath her weight. She knocked on the door softly, and like clockwork, two seconds later she could hear yelling from inside the house.
"Art, I swear if you keep running! No! No! You don't open the door, Taylor!"
"But it's her! I can see her!" the young boys cried in unison, the door swinging open at that moment, revealing their faces. "Lauren!"
"Hi Arthur. Hi Taylor." They grinned, and rushed forward, hugging her around the waist. "I've missed you two, too," she said, placing a hand on their heads, laughing when the woman who'd been yelling stepped into view, her hands on her hips, a sigh on her lips. "I should've called," Lauren said when she met the woman's dark eyes, grinning when she just rolled them and pulled Taylor and Arthur out of her embrace.
"You never call, Lauren. That's not the problem." She groaned when the two boys fought to reach Lauren again. "The problem is that my nephews seem to love you more."
"I'm sure that's not true, Demi."
"You bring them gifts and candy. I make them do homework. I think we have a clear winner." She leaned down, whispered something to the two boys, and they immediately nodded, running off into the house and out of sight. "So, who's your friend?"
"Oh." Lauren turned to Camila in surprise, only just remembering she had come with her. "This is Camila."
"Camila? Camila?" Demi grinned, stepping forward and holding out a hand. "You're the ex-girlfriend," she said, and Lauren suddenly wondered if this was a terrible idea. "I've heard a lot about you."
"I'm so sorry. I don't know anything about you."
"I'm Demi Lovato, I—"
"Oh my god. You're his family, aren't you?"
"Adoptive sister."
"Oh my god." She turned to Lauren in shock, turned to her with tears in her eyes. "You come here? And you never told me?"
"It had nothing to do with you."
"Lauren—"
"How about the two of you come inside?" Demi interrupted, smiling slightly. "The boys want to show you their art projects anyway, Lauren. Arthur called you his muse." They followed her into the house and down the hall. Colorful rugs covered the floor, toys were scattered everywhere, and Demi shrugged, leading them towards the kitchen, where she poured them two glasses of iced tea. "Sorry for the mess. I'm still not used to picking up after two pre-teen boys."
"They seem happier."
"They ask about David less. I think your visits help." Camila, whose eyes were wide, unable to look away from the photos on the wall, now turned to look at Lauren in complete shock.
"How long—"
"Basically since it happened," Demi answered for Lauren, giving Camila an indecipherable look. "She came to the funeral. Met the boys. Told me that it was her fault, and that she wanted to make it up, even if that was impossible."
"Demi—"
"What? You've told me all about Camila, but nothing about us to her? I feel a tiny bit offended."
"You know why I couldn't tell her."
"I do." They both turned to Camila, but she was silent, hanging her head, not looking at either of them. "So how has school been?"
"Barely bearable. I'm sorry about the paint and the grass. I meant to take care of it. And I will."
"Lauren—"
"I just wanted to ask if you needed help with Christmas. And I know Taylor's birthday is only a few days after that. If you—"
"Lauren—"
"I know it can't be easy to—"
"You keep your money, child. Save it for your mom. Or for school."
"My mom won't take it. And I'm good with school. Please, let me help." Demi stared at her for a moment, then let out a sigh of defeat.
"I took care of the Christmas gifts already. But if you want—"
"Something for Taylor's birthday, then? Okay."
"Lauren, I don't expect anything from you." She smiled, her eyes flickering over to Camila for a moment before focusing once more on Lauren. "I know you feel duty bound or honor bound to help, but you have to know I expect nothing. Camila. Tell her. It wasn't her fault." Camila looked up then, her eyes red-rimmed, like she was only seconds away from crying.
"Lauren doesn't listen to reason."
"So it's not just with me, then?" Demi joked, though they all could only manage weak chuckles. "So how are you, Camila? I hear you're in medical school."
"Yes. It's busy."
"I can imagine." She smiled awkwardly. "My other brother, Eric , he's a doctor. Terrible hours."
"I—"
"Do the two of you want to stay for dinner?" Demi interrupted, looking away from Camila and focusing on Lauren. "I made chicken."
"No. No, we're expected back home." Demi smiled, unsurprised by the immediate refusal (it was, after all, the same refusal Lauren gave every time she came by, unable to spend more than an hour in the woman's company, the guilt and pain quickly becoming unbearable). And after Taylor and Arthur gave her their artwork, both of them going on about how much they loved the paints and materials she got for them last time she came, after promising she'd be back soon, Lauren led Camila back out of the house and towards the car. They stopped when Demi tapped Lauren on the shoulder and pulled her into a hug.
"It's all right, you know," she said softly as she pulled away. Lauren managed a weak smile and got into the car, watching as Demi whispered something else to Camila.
"What did she whisper to you?" Lauren found herself asking as Camila slid into her seat, a vacant expression on her face. She turned slowly, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.
"She doesn't blame me, either."
//
"Are you okay?" Lauren looked up from her book, shocked to see Carol standing over her with a cup of tea in her hand. Without a word, she held it out to Lauren who took it gratefully.
"Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"Shouldn't you?"
"I don't think Camila wants me up there tonight."
"Don't want to sleep on the ground again?"
"Knew about that, did you?" she grimaced, taking a sip of the tea, smiling slightly when the older woman settled down next to her on the couch. Her pajamas hung loosely on her, as if she'd lost a lot of weight in a short time, and for the first time, Lauren wondered if the loss of her husband took a greater toll on her than she let anyone see. Camila was like her in that regard, Lauren realized. Dutifully shouldering and bearing all their pain without a wince, without an indication of just how much they buckled beneath the burden.
"You rubbed your neck all day. Reminded me of James, after I fought with him."
"Mrs. Cabello—"
"He'd make me tea after a fight. And next to the cup, he'd have a note, apologizing, telling me he didn't mean it, calling me an old coot that he loved anyway. And I'd drink the tea and forgive him."
"What did you do for him?"
"A glass of whiskey and the promise of leaving him alone for a few hours." Lauren laughed, taking another sip of the tea, feeling relaxed for the first time since the coffee shop. "What did the two of you fight about?"
"I visit the Lovatos. As often as I can. She was upset that I didn't tell her." Carol nodded, looking thoughtful. After a second, she sighed.
"The family of the man—"
"Right." A long silence followed, with Lauren occasionally sipping at her tea and Carol staring off into space. "Is it supposed to hurt?" Lauren asked, her voice coming out far softer and more vulnerable than she wanted. Carol gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
"It wouldn't be love if it didn't hurt."
"Right."
"You know. I've seen Camila angry, sad, jealous, frustrated, heartbroken—any emotion you can think of, I've seen it in Camila's eyes. But with you...it's the first time I've seen it all together. All those emotions, focused at a single thing."
"Is that a good thing?"
"It is. Because that's what love is, right?"
"You think love consists of anger, jealousy, frustration?"
"I do. Love is when you feel everything, but only focus on the good. And Camila, with all her anger and sadness and heartbreak, she still loves you. And you love her." Lauren nodded, but she was resolute in her decision (the decision she made on the silent ride back home, the decision she made as Camila shouted at her, demanding why she hadn't told her about the Lovatos).
"I do love her. But you were right before. I thought I could do this forever. But I can't. I can't Mrs. Cabello." And when Carol looked at her, there was no anger, there was no disappointment, there was only understanding, tinged with the slightest bit of sadness.
"I know, hon. I know."