What Dreams Are Made Of (Camren)

Chapter 11. Sorry for your loss

And in that moment I knew all my attempts at staying away from her drowned the second I saw the first tear stream down her raw pink skin.

It was a Monday night and we were sat on opposite ends of the sofa because of my stubbornness of getting these feelings out of me. This was hurting me more than helping me, and right now more than ever I wished this never happened and that we could go back to how things were when I first arrived, when we weren't afraid to cuddle on the couch or sleep together without a parting as wide as the red sea between us.

Just as the episode of Once Upon A Time had finished and the advertisements had begun, Lo's phone started violently vibrating on the table in front of us. She groaned tiredly and reached forward to get a firm grasp on it.

"Hello?" She answered the call.

"Mom? What's wrong?" Her expression changed from one of confusion to worry.

I could hear a strained voice on the other end of the line but couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Why? What happened to Abuelo?" Hearing her ask about her grandfather in spanish made me nostalgic because I could imagine us when we were younger sitting on either side of his armchair, as he told us stories about monsters and vampires or anything else to keep our hyperactive selves occupied.

I smiled at the memory but that faded as soon as I heard the pain in her tone.

"But I spoke to him on Wednesday, he was fine," her tears gave in as she managed to force the final word out in a cracked voice.

"Why didn't you tell me, I could have seen him first," she rambled on breathlessly and I couldn't see her do that to herself.

I got up and slowly walked towards her. Kneeling in front of her I whispered, "Ssshhh, It's okay. You'll be okay," as I wiped the salty water that stained her beautiful cheeks. She dropped to her knees so she was level with me and wasted no time in wrapping her arms around me. She needed me and I was going to stop being such a coward and help the one person who's been there for me the entire time.

I held her as she was shaking uncontrollably. And even tighter as her hot tears stained my shoulder. We stayed in this position, moulded as one shadow until her tears had stopped and then shuffled to lean our backs against the couch. Her Mom presumably cut the phone call off with a lack of response. Our knees were bent up and I hugged her from the side as her head rested on my collar bone.

I was nowhere near as close to my family as she was. When my grandfather died it was more like oh, okay, because we never really spoke and I didn't quite interact with my Mum's family. I couldn't comfort her in the way she needed me to but I had to be here for her, quite frankly I would do anything for her. When I heard her shallow breathing and peaceful complexion I lifted her onto the couch and ran to grab the duvet off our bed. There were faded white trails running from her eyes to her chin and it made my chest ache seeing her so vulnerable and exhausted. I got a damp tissue and wiped her visible pain away.

I could see myself losing this battle slowly and I was supposed to stay away and be the perfect, normal daughter and not like my best friend. For all I know she could like someone else and I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship or sanity for that matter. Nothing good would come of this, but I could't stop my feelings from screaming even more when I saw her jet black hair sprawled across the pillow or the rosy colour on her lips which looked like natural lip gloss or the green in her eyes which was the only cosmetic she would ever need.

The coffee table was piled with magazines some of which were falling onto the floor. A flash came from under one of them indicating that Lo had just got a message. I sat down to uncover it and the screen read 3 messages from Mom. All the messages were asking her to pick up and that she really needed to talk to her.