Imaginary Lover // Camren Fanfiction

Chapter 6

She squinted in the bright room and her head throbbed. She needed coffee, fast. Outside the window, the bird's song echoed loudly in the quiet of the countryside. Somewhere far away, a cow answered its call. But de- spite the idyllic morning, there was nothing about this Monday that Lauren was looking forward to. She had to try to reschedule a meeting with the hotel developers, which was going to prove difficult because after the lit- tle stunt in the press about the new love nest at the top of the mountain, they had design companies flying in from all parts of the world and looking for the job she knew should be hers. This annoyed Lauren; this was her territory. But that wasn't her only problem.

                   

Luke had been invited to spend the day with his grandfather on the farm. That bit, Lauren was happy with. It was the part about him expecting another six-year-old by the name of Camila that worried her. She would have to have a discussion with Luke this morning about it because she dreaded to think of what would happen if there was a mention of an imaginary friend to her father.

                   

Mike was sixty-five years old, big, broad, silent, and brooding. Age had not managed to mellow him; instead it had brought bitterness, resent- ment, and even more confusion. He was small-minded and unwilling to open up or change. Lauren could at least try to understand his difficult nature if being that way made him happy, but as far as she could see, his views frustrated him and only made his life more miserable. He was stern, rarely spoke except to the cows or vegetables, never laughed, and whenever he did decide someone was worthy of his words, he lectured. There was no need to respond to him. He didn't speak for conversation. He spoke to make statements. He rarely spent time with Luke, as he didn't have time for the airy- fairy ways of children, for their silly games and nonsense. The only thing that Lauren could see that her father liked about Luke was that he was an empty book, ready to be filled with information and not enough knowledge to question or criticize. Fairy tales and fantasy stories had no place with her father. She supposed that was the only belief they actually shared.

She yawned and stretched and, still unable to open her eyes against the bright light, she instead felt around her bedside locker for her alarm clock. Although she woke up every morning at the same time, she never forgot to set her alarm. Her arm knocked against something cold and hard and it fell with a loud bang to the floor. Her sleepy heart jumped with fright.

                   

Hanging her head over the side of the bed, she caught sight of the iron poker lying on her white carpet. Her "weapon" also reminded her that she had to call Rentokil to get rid of the mice. She could sense them scurrying around her in the house all weekend and she had felt so paranoid that they were in her bedroom the past few nights that she could hardly sleep, al- though that wasn't particularly unusual for her.

                   

She washed and dressed and after waking Luke, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Minutes later, with espresso in hand, she dialed the number to Rentokil. Luke wandered into the kitchen sleepily, blond hair tossed, dressed in an orange T-shirt half tucked into red shorts. The outfit was completed with odd socks and a pair of runners that lit up with every step he took.

                   

"Where's Camila?" he asked groggily, looking around the kitchen as though he'd never been in the room before in his life. He was like that every morning, it took him at least an hour to wake up even once he was dressed and walking around. During the dark winter mornings it took him even longer; Lauren supposed that somewhere into his morning classes at school he finally realized what he was doing.