Fate Interrupted

2. Back in California

Ren

"Lauren!"

At the sound of my name, my eyes scan the sea of people as I exit the terminal.

"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, so I 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. Let's get your luggage and drive to your mom's, but 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 baggage claim.

After we retrieve my bags, Sydney drives north up the 101 to the city of Oakmont. City. Pft. Oakmont is technically a city, yes, but it hardly counts when compared to New York or even San Francisco. I think downtown has a grand total of three buildings above five stories tall.

We arrive, the car easing to a stop in the driveway of my mother's house. I survey the large, white stucco suburban home I had lived in every Saturday and Sunday throughout my teen years. My shoulders sag inwardly. It never felt like home back then, and it sure doesn't feel like home just now. 

Each of my four bags hits the pavement with a thump as Sydney helps haul them out of her Volvo. Not two seconds later, my mom's voice rings out from the front door. I lay eyes on my mom, hurrying down the path.

"Lauren! I'm so happy you're home!" She catches me up in a big hug and squeezes me so tightly that little room is left for my arms to move to hug her back, but it sure feels good.

I laugh. "Hi, mom. Happy to see you, too." 

"Hi, Sydney. Come in, come in." She waves us toward the front door, and as soon as I take my first step into the house, she promptly launches into her vast vault of questions in rapid fire: "Tell me about your flight. Was there any turbulence? Did you read the book I sent you? Are you hungry? How was your night with Sydney? How is your mood lately?"

I love her, but I can already tell my adult sense of privacy is about to be tested. This is about to be the longest I'll have stayed consecutively with my mom since I was fourteen and my parents divorced.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

Two hours later, Sydney and I are sitting amongst a young crowd at a new, dimly lit Cuban bar. The night is still young, but jet lag is hitting me hard, and I stifle a yawn and slink a little deeper into the velvet bench seat.

The waiter finally returns, bringing us our mojitos and a big bowl of chips and guac. Hopefully, this will perk me back up. I take a long sip. Dang, that's good! Sydney is eagerly watching my reaction.