14
Ian
This isn’tmy first time visiting Cal and Lauren's house in the suburbs of Chicago, but each time I come, it doesn’t get any less impressive. “Door’s open.” Lauren’s voice comes to me through the speaker on the doorbell.
I step into the foyer, and I’m greeted by children’s laughter and sounds of playing coming from somewhere deep in the house. Shutting the door behind me, I notice the pile of shoes by the door, so I kick off my worn new balances and put them near the rest.
“Ian!” I look up to find Lauren coming toward me as I’m taking off my left shoe. There’s a tired smile on her face. “I’m glad you came.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say, rubbing the back of my head. “This is a much better alternative to sitting in my apartment all day.”
Her smile turns sympathetic. “A change of scenery is always nice. Come in.” She says, waving me towards her. “Can I get you anything? Have you eaten breakfast?”
I nod. “I grabbed something on the way here.”
“How about a drink then?” she asks, turning to lead me further into the house. “I have coke, lemonade, water, Gatorade, and sparkling water.”
“Water’s good.”
She turns in the opposite direction of where all the bumping around and laughter is coming from.
“I’m going to take you this way into the kitchen,” she says, leading me away from where the girls are playing. “If they see you, you’re not going to be able to escape being roped into their games, and I’m sure you’re not really in the mood to be sucked into being the protector of their fort right now.”
I chuckle. “I don’t mind it. I had fun fighting goblins and trolls last time.”
Lauren laughs. “We’ll hold off as long as we can. Snack time is soon. If I don’t go to them, they’ll come to me.”
In the kitchen, I post up on the island while she goes to the refrigerator. As she rifles around in there, I look around at their stainless steel appliance, the empty sink, the dishwasher silently running and the tea kettle on the stove steaming, their all granite countertops and marble flooring. Everything about this house looks straight out of a magazine. Picture perfect.
The refrigerator closes, and I direct my gaze back to Lauren walking toward me, holding out water in a glass bottle.
“You look like you haven’t slept much,” she says quietly, sitting on one of the high stools at the island in the center of the kitchen.
“I really haven’t been,” I tell her. “I can’t. I’m too anxious.”
She gives an understanding nod.
“It’s hard. If anyone understands how hard it is, it’s me, and what you’re going through is even more difficult considering everything. It’s so difficult when they aren’t with you, and in my case, I had no idea why.”
I hear the sympathy in her words. She thinks Megan ran off with Kameron, which isn’t a surprise. Given that she’s done it before, what’s stopping her from doing it again?
But Lauren doesn’t know the glaring differences between this time and the last time. For a brief second, I contemplate whether or not I should tell her my theory about Kameron karting her off somewhere against her will, but I decide against it. It took some convincing to get Blue to see it. Nothing in my reasoning makes sense on the first look because she could have just said fuck it and left. Still, I can’t justify my suspicions as to why I don’t think that’s the case with this baseless gut feeling I have.
I spare her my explanation and go along with her.
“Was it as frequently as this?” I ask her
Again she nods. “Yeah. It was. Probably more. Before he disappeared for two years, he’d be gone for days, sometimes weeks, and I’d have no idea where he was. He only ever told me he was going away to take care of whatever business Dexter Jr. had him doing.”
“And you had no clue about what was going on with him then.” It’s more of a statement than a question.
She smiles, but it’s sad. “He’d come home, and I’d flip out on him, threatening to leave him if he didn’t give me answers about where he’d been. But he never told me, and I’d lose it.”
That’s an odd mental image; picturing Lauren pissed off and angry to the point of yelling doesn’t seem right. I can’t see her like that. In the time I’ve known her, she’s been nothing but sweet, stern in her words, yes, but not like the yelling, angry woman of the past that she’s telling me about.
But then again, I get it. This shit is maddening. The one person in this entire world I’ve ever felt this deeply for is unavailable or gone. It tears me up inside that every time she’s here, she slips right beyond my fingertips to run to Kameron, that piece of shit. It’s like a dream that I can’t wake up from watching her come and go like this.
“I’m sorry to say this, but the waiting doesn’t get any easier.”