Through Her Eyes (Camren)

Chapter 22: Switch

Lauren though it was enough.

It wasn’t enough.

It should have been. Being with Camila, being Camila’s friend, it should have been enough. Lauren wanted it to be enough.

No amount of Camila that was not everything would ever be enough.

Having Camila in her life made Lauren greedy. Camila was more than Lauren had ever asked for, more than she deserved, more than anything she’d ever had, and still, not enough.

She shouldn’t have wanted more. She didn’t need Camila in her arms, Camila in her bed, Camila in her heart. Those things were frivolous, fake. Lauren had Camila in her life.

It should have been enough.

‘Should’ was a word that had a grudge against Lauren.

There were too many ‘should’s. Should go to work. Should be polite to neighbors. Should keep volume of music down. Should not be in love with Camila. Should not let Camila be in love with her.

Should not murder mother in her sleep.

Lauren was having a hard time with the last one, lately.

“You have a responsibility to be a good neighbor, Lauren. You inherited more than just that house.” The sound of her voice echoed unpleasantly from the phone pressed against Lauren’s ear.

It was the third time Lauren had spoken to Clara in the last week – or, more accurately, been spoken to – and those were only the times Lauren had picked up the phone instead of simply unplugging it. Her mother hadn’t called for months before Mrs. Smith had apparently gone complaining to her about Lauren and her ‘homeless guest.’

Lauren didn’t see why she should call now only to complain about… whatever she was complaining about. Something.

“Uh huh,” she mumbled in vague agreement when the rhythm of her voice slowed, expecting a response.

Camila was neither homeless nor a guest. She belonged in the house, their home, more than Lauren ever had.

Maybe she didn’t flip the lights on when it got dark and maybe she preferred the floor to a chair. Maybe she sang lyrics that didn’t match the ones on the CDs and maybe she was disturbed by the phone, but she did belong. The paintings had names and the toaster was a friend.

“—boy,” Clara was saying. “If you’re going to be neighbors you might as well—”

“Yeah,” Lauren said. “Cool.”

The house felt emptier with Clara’s voice in her ear. Lauren wandered down the hall, checking rooms until she found Camila sitting on the counter in the bathroom. She was putting on her bow with careful precision.

Camila had not finished yet, her bow looking funny, leaving her with a silly, lopsided appearance. Lauren spied on her from the doorway, wondering where her camera was. It would be worth it, she thought, to see the look on Camila’s face if Lauren got a picture of her like this.

“Lauren, are you listening to me right now?”

Lauren shifted the phone against her ear, meeting Camila’s gaze in the mirror. Camila made a soft noise, either of disapproval or greeting, and quickly went to work on her unfinished bow. It was too bad, Lauren thought. She’d looked cute that way.

“Yeah, okay,” Lauren agreed into the phone. “Sounds good. Talk to you later.”

“Lauren–!”