Calamity

Chapter 24

"You're a hard woman to find,"

Camila immediately froze upon realizing where the voice came from. "Have you ever considered it's because I don't want to be found?"

"Don't be stupid, Camila," Clara lit another cigarette and looked around to make sure nobody was nearby. "You have my daughter in shambles back home while you're trotting around England as if nothing happened."

"Is that why you're here?"

Clara pushed herself off the brick wall she was leaning against and strode over to the dark-haired woman. "I could never get her to stay away from you. No matter how hard I tried or what I threatened to do—she stuck by your side through thick and thin. I still don't understand why."

"I figured you'd be ecstatic to know I left then,"

"If my daughter isn't happy, why would I be?" Clara pointed at the restaurant that had a steady stream of people flowing in and out. "How about I treat you to some food?"

Camila contemplated her decision for a few moments before saying, "Sure,"

-

"Goodness, there's no air conditioning over here," Clara continued fanning herself as the restaurant began to empty out, leaving the two women alone as per Clara's request. "What do you recommend from here?"

"Uh," Camila looked down at the small menu, shrugging. "My friends usually get the fish and chips,"

"Fish, it is then,"

"So—"

"It's not easy getting into Oxford. It's even more interesting to see they don't accept transfers at all."

Camila was slightly taken aback by how brash Clara had been. "What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing," Clara said. "I'm just wondering how much Mrs. Marie-Mahone paid for you to get in,"

"I forget how nosey the Jauregui women are,"

"Not nosey... More like, mmm, curious. I'm sure you like it over here at least?"

"None of my professors have ended up dead yet, so I guess it's going pretty well."

"What can I get you ladies?" A man dressed in a white T-Shirt and jeans came over with a small notepad in his hands.

"Two orders of fish and chips along with your finest beer," Clara handed him the menus back and gestured for him to leave them alone. "Well?" She waited for Camila to speak up.

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to ask me?"

Camila narrowed her eyes at Clara and scowled. "Lauren told me enough already,"

"At least you're reading her letters," Clara thanked the waiter as he placed down two pints of beer in between them. "That's all she can talk about these days. 'Mom, do you think she's even opening them?' or 'am I wasting my time writing her?'. I swear I was going to rip my hair out at some point."

"She used to have the worst handwriting," Camila said, chuckling quietly. "Nice to see it's gotten better over the years,"

"You laugh just like her," Clara traced the rim of the glass with her pointer finger. "Always so soft yet contagious. It was a sound I loved waking up to every morning."

Unsure of where the conversation was heading, Camila sat there silently and enjoyed her beer.

"I wish I had done more as her mother. As her protector. Maybe I wouldn't be sitting here across from you if I did."