Cant't help falling in love (CAMREN)

CHAPTER 22

Camila died on a Thursday

It was sunny.

October 22, 1970.

Late afternoon.

Beautiful California weather.

The time leading up was quiet. Her glassy eyes sat sunken in her head, half open, her body limp on the bed. She made sound sometimes, or raised a hand to rake at her gown, over her chest. At some point during that night Marie had come in to check her IV. Lauren had lifted her eyes long enough to watch Marie touch Camila's hand, and she knew when Marie turned away she was wiping her face.

"Can I lie with her?" Lauren said, breaking the rattling sound of Camila's breathing. Marie nodded, still pretending to read something. Lauren pushed the chair back and pulled the rail down. She eased herself into the bed, pulling Camila onto her shoulder.

"Mind her head," Marie started, but she had to cut herself off. Lauren pulled the blanket over Camila's lap, resting her cheek on Camila's dry, brittle, hair. Camila breathed, like waves crashing. Marie ducked her head, touching the end of the bed, her white hands blending into the sheets in the dark.

"It won't be too much longer," she said brokenly, and Lauren didn't say anything, but folded her hand over Camila's, rubbing the papery skin with her thumb. Marie stood at the end of the bed for a long time, and she wiped her eye with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry." Her voice was teetering, about to shatter. The professional edge had long since gone.

Lauren shook her head, listening to Marie's footsteps disappear down the hall.

In the emptiness that followed, Lauren found her mouth open but no words would come out. She stroked Camila's thin shoulder, all the way down to the sharp stab of her elbow. Her fingers shook where they rested on her skin.

"It's alright," she said to the stillness. Another wave broke when Camila breathed. "It's alright. You can let go, I know - I know you're holding on, because you're worried. You're too stubborn, Camila, and I know you're holding on for me, but I'm going to do the right thing this time. I'm not - I'm not going to make you wait on me."

Camila choked and Lauren shifted her, and it seemed like something fluttered in Camila, some recognition that had been lost for hours. She watched TV until morning, Camila still leaning against her, until, at last, she kicked her leg restlessly, her breathing increasing to an impossible rate with the fluid that had built up in her chest.

Lauren knew.

"It's okay," Lauren assured her. "You know. You know I love you. You know I do, so it's okay. It's okay to let you go now."

She shook her head again, trying to clear the tears away but they wouldn't stop. Marie had said that hearing was the last thing to go. Just keep talking to her. She could be anxious, or scared.

"Don't be scared," Lauren blurted, "You're doing so well, Camila. You're doing so well." She racked her brain for something, anything, and suddenly she remembered Camila's face looking up at her.

"So why is it your favorite song?"

Camila's hand padded over her chin. Lauren never lost track of her eyes, even when Camila looked at her own hand, shy. She nudged at Lauren's mouth with her index finger, moving so her palm was cupping her jaw. Lauren grinned against Camila's skin, unable to keep her smile contained. The brown eyed girl across from her was so beautiful, and she didn't know it. She practically shone; her soul glittered with something and Lauren wanted to wrap herself in it. Something like God's grace, something like the blue and green smudginess of sea shells or glass bottles.