Camila gripped the metal bar with both hands as she pushed the trolley across the even pavement. The wheels rattled under the weight of the girls' rucksacks, the afternoon sun shining through the white clouds and reflecting off the yellow cabs that lined the arrivals at JFK. It was just like she remembered it. The smells, the sounds, everything was how she left it over a week ago. It was what she'd pictured when she'd closed her eyes on the boat just two nights earlier, and what she wasn't ready to come back to.
She took in a deep breath, light nerves churning her stomach. Camila didn't know exactly when they started, but there they were, gripping her hands tighter as they neared the closest rank. She pulled the trolley to the side and removed both their bags with a tiny huff. Lauren looked over at her as she did, the girl smiling brightly. As she returned it, Camila tried to breath through her nerves, push them away while they waited for the next available cab. But it was no use. They'd spent the whole flight talking about everything but landing in New York, which wasn't anything new. They were both thinking it. They both knew it was coming. Yet they said nothing. Camila guessed that's why she was feeling so nervous. Everything was still so uncertain between them.
How hard is it to just ask, 'are we going to be okay?'
It's just a simple question.
But each time Camila thought to voice it, she would hear Lauren's words from Hoi An like a skipping track, telling her over and over again that she didn't know. It was that unwavering self-doubt that had become like an old friend. So, Camila put it to the back of her mind and continued playing gently with the girl's fingertips as they lay on the armrest between them. She let the simple gesture consume her until it was all she saw. That's all she wanted to see. She didn't want to think about the elderly woman next to her, or the fact that with each passing minute it brought them closer to home. It was just her and Lauren, for a few more hours.
As she brushed her fingers over Lauren's, the brunette would look over at her with a coy smile, her eyes shifting up to her parted lips and then back down to their hands. She was lost in it with her, the up turn of her mouth telling Camila she didn't want to land either. And looking over at her now, Lauren seemed just as calm as she did on the plane, though her eyes said different.
Camila could still see the real Lauren behind them, the one she saw as they slow danced two nights ago, and the one she lay awake watching in their final hours together. They just appeared somewhat apprehensive, like she was bracing herself for something. Camila tried not to dwell on the reasons why, though she could hazard a guess at most of them.
Lauren nudged her gently, breaking her out of her reverie just as a car horn went off in front of them. They shuffled forward, the heavyset driver opening his car door and rounding the back to pop the trunk. The balding man gestured for them to put their bags in as he returned to the front seat. Camila heaved her pack into the large space with a little effort. She turned to find Lauren by her side, clutching her own bag to her chest with both hands.
"Here, I'll get it," Camila offered with grin, lifting it from her grasp.
"Lauren."
Both girls turned at the familiar voice, Camila's heart sinking. She let the heavy pack drop to the bitumen as its owner came jogging over to them with a wide smile. Camila did her best to act indifferent, but it felt as though the anvil was once again pressing down on her chest.
She glanced at Lauren briefly as Michael got closer, the girl's eyes searching her face timidly. It surprised Camila to find that it wasn't shock that coloured perfect emerald, but recognition. It was as if she knew Michael was going to be there. And it really shouldn't have hurt Camila as much as it did. He had every right to be there, and Camila shouldn't have expected anything different.
