A Slow Dance With Reality

I Love You So Much

Camila's car stopped outside of the Jauregui house, Lauren needing to have gone home eventually. She didn't want to, but Camila had insisted, and after all she'd done for her, how could Lauren refuse? How would the girl ever refuse Camila after today, after every day that she had been there for the green eyed girl without question or hesitation? The answer was she wouldn't. She would forever be Camila Cabello's slave and there was oddly comfort in that thought. Because it meant that Camila wasn't going anywhere. That they'd spend all their time together and they wouldn't part just because Lauren was no longer this emotional wreck.

Worried green eyes turned behind her, having taken her time to climb out of the car and make her way up the steps to her front door. It felt like the day she came home after being kicked out, Clara had walked ahead of her and stepped inside like nothing had changed; like she hadn't abandoned her daughter and let her husband throw her out like trash. Only now Lauren was older, and wiser, and she wasn't going to let her father push her around. She'd fight him every step of the way if she had to.

For a moment she found herself about to knock, forgetting she was no longer rejected and actually welcome here (at least last time she checked she was).

The door felt oddly heavy today, weighing with fear and torment. She was terrified of what she'd find inside and she hadn't a clue why. She knew herself, she knew she was going to fight. But what if she didn't? What if she wasn't strong enough to stand up this time? What role models did she have to show her how to be strong?

Camila. She had Camila. She would look back at all the times the girl had been shoved around and bullied and how the girl would only fight off the tears and come back with a vengeance, smiling as she walked down the halls as if nothing happened. Camila was strong, and Lauren could be too.

"Mom," Lauren called out, stepping into the living room and shutting the door behind her. The Cabello's car still sat idle in her driveway, creating comfort in her as she moved to search the house. It felt like no one had lived here in years, as if it was abandoned and forgotten. But when Lauren moved into the kitchen she saw her mother doing the dishes, and she could hear the older woman sniffling lightly as she worked. "Mom?" Lauren called again, stepping in closer to get a better look at her mother.

She regretted it.

Lauren Jauregui regretted ever leaving home, ever avoiding the house. She had never felt a fury boil inside her than she did right now, gazing up at her mother's black eye.

Instinct came over her, and she shut off the water before pulling her mother to a seat in the dining room. Neither spoke, Clara could barely look at her daughter as she raced to take care of her; it only made the fact that she failed so horribly taking care of Lauren all the more real. Not that that was anywhere near the Cuban's thoughts right now. Mostly she thought about killing Mike, finding him and beating him down with a shovel, or perhaps a gold bible. Or maybe a large cross. Something religious just for the hilarity. "I've already iced it," her mother finally said, still avoiding any eye­-contact with her youngest. Her only.

"You should keep it on," Lauren mumbled placing a cloth covered bag of ice over the purple eye. "Where is he?"

"Gone."

The word surprised Lauren, and Clara saw it. She saw how her daughter froze, as if time itself froze around her. "Gone where?"

"The neighbors called the cops."

"Oh."

An awkwardness came over the two, the emptiness of the house practically screaming at them. It was silent and loud all at once, everything that needed to be said but both refused to say aloud ringing throughout the house. They didn't know how to communicate anymore, this wasn't anything knew. It was a slow process that finally reached the point of no return. Lauren doubted she'd ever have a mother like others would, and Clara felt as if she had now lost both of her daughters.

The thought alone broke her.

A loud sob rang out with the silent screaming, and Lauren looked to her mother confused. "What? Did I hurt you? Is something broken?"

"I never meant to hurt you, Lolo," Clara whispered, holding the bag of ice herself, finally looking to her daughter; her gorgeous beautiful daughter that finally seemed to be growing into a real person. "I never...I never want to feel this way again. I can't lose anymore."

Slowly Lauren knelt before her mother, placing bother her palms on the woman's knees. She didn't know what to say. How could anyone find words at a time like this? Seeing her mother beaten and bruised and feeling like it herself? Tears threatened to fall as their gazes began to become too much for Lauren. Her eyes darted away as she sighed and thought long and hard for something to say. But all she could come up with was, "I know." And the silence fell over them once again. Each of them with so many questions and confessions to say but struggling to find the words. This wasn't a family that spoke well. They were wonderful at pretending, but when it came to real emotions, the Jauregui's simply didn't know how to manage them.

"I know I haven't been the best mom in the world, I know that...but Lolo, I'm trying. Maybe not hard enough but I'll try harder. I was trying when I asked about your game, I was trying to build our bridge again because I didn't want to lose all I had left."

"I kissed a girl," Lauren blurted before her mother could continue to give her the pleas of a relationship. "I don't want you to build your bridge only to burn it again after you find out," the younger Cuban further explained. "So, I kissed a girl. Well, I've been kissing a girl. A wonderful girl."

Clara watched her daughter smile for the first time in a month. She saw light in her daughter's eyes; she could practically feel the warmth that whoever Lauren spoke about gave her. And she could really use that kind of warmth now­a­days. But she couldn't speak. Not because she was angry or disappointed, but because she simply didn't have words. There wasn't a guidebook on how to handle your daughter coming out, if that was even what this was. "So, are you gay?"

Lauren took her lip between her teeth, the question far more loaded than she could have imagined. "How about we cross that bridge when we get to it?" She answered.

Clara nodded, still unsure of what to say, or how to act. She didn't want to do something wrong, but she didn't know what was considered 'right' in this situation. "Do I know the girl?"

A relieved almost manic chuckle escaped Lauren as she ran her fingers through her hair and turned to the side, unable to face the woman that gave birth to her. "She's...the girl that stole my boyfriend."

"And you like her?"

"Yes. Very much."

"And she likes you?"

"I...yes? I haven't directly asked, but she kisses me back. And she's been there when no one else was." The unintentional jab caused both women to flinch slightly, though their gazes met with an understanding. "She's good. She's...she's the best person I know." Lauren answered as honestly as she could, tears finally beginning to fall down her face. And not because she felt grief or guilt, but because the mere thought of Camila Cabello feeling for her the way Lauren felt was quite possibly the most pure emotion the green eyed girl had felt before. The most terrifying and the most fulfilling.

"Would she like to come over for dinner?"

Lauren's eyes found Clara's and she only saw a genuine question. It wasn't a trick or judgmental or anything that Lauren would have expected just a year ago. Clara Jauregui truly wanted to meet the girl that had made life so much more bearable for her daughter. She wanted to know Camila because she wanted to know her own daughter, and Camila had so easily and so quickly become a part of Lauren's life. "Yeah," Lauren's voice cracked with a scoff of a laugh as she nodded and averted her gaze to the floor. "Yeah, she'd like that very much."