Beyond Home

Camila

Emily is out cold before the game even starts. I've recorded it even though I watched. Maybe she and Lauren can watch it together later. I know she's been teaching her about the positions and the rules of the game. Her attention span is short, but that doesn't seem to deter her.

Once the game ends, I fold the loads of laundry I washed, dried, and then ignored as I didn't want to miss a glimpse of Lauren. I'm just finishing putting away the final load when I hear a soft knock at the door. With a glance at the couch to see Em is still sound asleep, I rush to the door to let her in.

I'm shocked at what I find. Lauren Jauregui, the Portland, Oregon soccer player is on my front porch. Sure, she's my Lauren too, but right now, she's in her dirty uniform, holding a grocery bag in each hand.

"Hey," I say, stepping back so she can come in. 

"How is she?"

"Sleeping. I need to wake her in just a few to give her some more medicine for the fever."

"Do we take her to the emergency room?" she asks. 

I fight back my smile at her concern. She's so ridiculously sweet. "No, I'll call to get her in with her pediatrician tomorrow. As long as the medicine keeps her fever down, we should be good. It will also help with the pain."

"I bought everything I thought she might want. If I forgot something, I can go back out."

"How about a shower? You could have done that at the stadium you know?"

"No time, I wanted to get here."

"Do you at least have a change of clothes with you?"

"Yeah, my bag is out in my truck."

I take a minute to look her over. She's sweaty, dirty, gorgeous mess. "You went into the store like that?" I ask. 

"Yeah, if I'd been thinking, I would have sent someone to do it during the game. Then I could have been here sooner."

"Lauren," I say, reaching out and resting my hand against her chest. "We're fine. She's fine. She's sick, but kids get sick."

"Not ours," she says adamantly.

My mouth drops open at her reply. I try to speak, but the words just will not come, I try again, but don't get the chance when Emily's croaking voice calls out for not me, but Lauren.

"Lo," she croaks softly. I can hear the anguish in her voice. 

Lauren kicks off her cleats and rushes past me to the couch. "Hey, princess," she whispers. Bags still in her hands, she leans forward and places them on the table. "I got ice cream and Popsicles, some sherbet, all kinds of things that might make your throat feel better."

  She opens her mouth to speak, and she hushes her. "Shh, Em, just point to what you want and I'll get it for you."

I watch as she points to a Popsicle and she makes quick work of pulling out the flavors and having her point to the one she wants. No one has ever cared for her besides me and my mom. There's a lump in my throat watching them together. She's gentle, and I can see the worry on her face. She's not used to kids. I know she has a sister who's a good bit younger than her and a brother also, but I can imagine as a kid she didn't pay much attention. Yet here she is, tending to my daughter as if it's second nature. As if she is really hers. 

"You eat your Popsicle while I run and take a shower. Then we can snuggle, okay?" She bobs her head up and down when she's finished speaking. Leaning in, she kisses her forehead. "I'll be right back."

Standing from the couch, she walks toward me. "Hey, baby." She kisses the corner of my mouth. "Let me grab a shower and you can take a break." She gives me another quick kiss before she rushes out the door to get her bag. 

I don't bother to correct her that I don't need a break. Emily has slept most of the day, but the fact she wants to means something. It means everything. When she's here with us, she's not Lauren Jauregui, the soccer player. She's our Lo. She's the women we both adore. 

While Lauren takes a shower, I grab a couple of paper towels. One I wet, the other I leave dry, and head back to the living room. "Use this for your hands." I hand Emily the wet paper towel. Her lips and tongue are red from the cherry Popsicle. Her hands too. 

I'm just taking a seat in the chair when Lauren come back into the room. Her hair is still wet from her shower, and she's wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt. She walks to the couch and sits down, pulling Emily's legs into her lap.

"Is it yummy?" she asks.

She nods. 

"Good game," I say, pulling her attention away from Emily. 

"Thanks. I was distracted and played like sh-crap, but thanks."

My lips twitch. "I didn't notice."

"I mean, it wasn't my worst game, but my mind was here, you know?"

"Sorry about that. I didn't want you to worry when we didn't show up, but it sounds like you worried regardless."

"Of course I did." She almost sounds offended. "You two are what matters, Camila."

"All done," Emily croaks.

I hop out of my seat, and help her clean up with the wet towel, then wipe her face and hands with the dry one. I feel her forehead and she's warm. "It's time for more medicine. I'll be right back."

"It's yucky," I hear her rasp out to Lauren as I leave the room.

When I make it back to the living room, Emily is curled up on Lauren's lap with a blanket thrown over both of them. "Open up," I say, holding the medicine spoon out for her. She takes it and makes her usual face, letting me know she's not happy about it. 

"Now, we watch a movie," Lauren says, wrapping her arms around her and snuggling her close.

"Can we watch Cinderella?"

"Sure we can, sweet girl. Whatever you want."

I want to scold her for spoiling her, but she's sick, and honestly, even if she wasn't, I'm sure I would bite my tongue. She's so good with her, so much so my heart aches. She's never had this, two people who love her, and she's soaking up time with her like a sponge. I still have the worry in the back of my mind, seeing both of them, no way can I deny them this.

I shift through the DVDs and find Cinderella, putting it in the DVD player and grabbing the remote.

"Come here, baby." Lauren pats the cushion next to her where she still sits with Emily on her lap. I go willingly and curl up into her side. I feel her lips press against the top of my head and bite back a smile. This, in this moment, I couldn't ask for more. Well, maybe for Emily to feel better, but the three of us like this... it's everything.