25. I Miss You – Lauren
25
I MISS YOU
LAUREN
T he house feels impossibly quiet after Dakota leaves. Even Roman, usually a bundle of energy this early in the morning, seems subdued, as if he can sense the shift in the air.
"Mommy," Roman's small voice breaks the silence as I'm pouring his cereal. "Where'd Dakota go?"
I freeze, the milk carton hovering over his bowl. We'd explained it to him this morning, but of course, at three years old, he might not have fully understood. I set the carton down and kneel beside his chair, meeting his confused gaze.
"Remember, sweetie? We talked about this. Dakota had to go away for work for a little while."
Roman's lower lip trembles slightly. "But he'll come back?"
"Of course he will," I assure him, smoothing his unruly hair. "He's just going to be gone for... for a long time."
"How long?" Roman persists, his little brow furrowed.
I hesitate. How do you explain three months to a toddler? "Remember when we counted the sleeps until your birthday? It's like that, but more sleeps."
Roman considers this, absently stirring his cereal. "Lots of sleeps," he echoes softly.
"That's right, baby. But we'll talk to him on the phone, and maybe even see him on the computer sometimes."
Roman nods, seeming to accept this explanation for now. But as I watch him eat his breakfast, his usual chatter replaced by thoughtful silence, I feel a pang of guilt. It's not just me who'll be missing Dakota these next few months.
Later in the afternoon as we're getting ready to leave for daycare, Roman suddenly runs to his room. He returns, clutching the stuffed dinosaur Dakota gave him for his birthday.
"Can I take Rex to daycare?" he asks, his eyes wide and pleading.
I feel my throat tighten with emotion. "Of course you can, sweetheart," I manage, helping him tuck Rex securely into his backpack.
As we head out the door, Roman's small hand in mine, I realize that navigating this separation isn't just about managing my own emotions. It's about helping Roman through it, too. Somehow, that makes it both harder and easier at the same time.
It's not until I'm back home that night after work, the house silent, that the reality of Dakota's departure truly hits me. Three months. Ninety days of sleeping alone, of explaining to Roman why Dakota isn't here, of juggling everything on my own again.
Before I can spiral further, I reach for my phone. I need to talk to someone who gets it, who knows me. I need my best friend.
The phone rings three times before Shannon picks up, her voice bright despite the late hour. "Lauren! Hey, girl. How are you holding up?"
Just hearing her voice brings a rush of memories - giggling in the backseat of her mom's car on the way to high school, sneaking out to concerts, and crying on each other's shoulders over breakups. For a moment, I'm transported back to a time when Seattle was home, before LA, before Miles and Roman, before everything changed.
"He's gone," I say, my voice smaller than I'd like. "Dakota left for tour this morning."
"Oh, sweetie," Shannon's voice softens with sympathy. "I know that must be tough. How are you feeling?"
I close my eyes, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions in my chest. "Honestly? I don't know. Part of me is excited for him, you know? This tour is a big deal for the band. But another part..."
"Is terrified?" Shannon finishes for me.
"Yeah," I admit. "God, Shan, what if this is a mistake? What if he meets someone on the road, or decides this whole settled life isn't for him after all?"
"Lauren," Shannon's voice is firm now. "Stop. Dakota adores you and Roman. Anyone with eyes can see that."
I nod, even though she can't see me. "I know, I know. It's just... hard. And with school starting soon, and you being back in Seattle now..." I trail off, a familiar ache blooming in my chest at the thought of our hometown.
"Hey," Shannon says gently, seeming to sense where my mind has gone. "I know it's not easy for you to think about Seattle. Have you... have you talked to your parents at all?"
I feel my jaw clench involuntarily. "No," I say shortly. "And I don't plan to. They made their choices, and I made mine."
Shannon sighs, but doesn't push it. She knows better than anyone how deep that wound goes, how the disappointment of my parents when I told them I was keeping Roman still echoes in my nightmares.
"Well," she says after a moment, "I might be in Seattle, but I'm still here for you. Always. How about we set up a regular video chat? Maybe every Sunday?"
I feel a lump form in my throat, touched by her offer. "That would be amazing, Shan. Thank you."
The couch cushions envelop me as I sink down, the throw pillow I clutch to my chest still carrying a faint whiff of Dakota's scent. Outside, I can hear the familiar sounds of the neighborhood - cars driving by, and dogs barking. The world is moving on, oblivious to the ache in my chest.
"Of course,” Shannon says slyly. “Now, tell me more about this goodbye. Was it suitably romantic and steamy?"
I can't help but laugh, grateful for Shannon's ability to lighten the mood. As I launch into a slightly edited version of this morning's events, I feel some of the weight lift from my shoulders. Dakota may be gone, and Shannon may be in Seattle, but I'm not alone.
As I hang up with her, I feel a bit lighter. The ache of Dakota's absence is still there, but it's dulled somewhat by the promise of regular chats with my best friend.
I'm about to put my phone down when it buzzes in my hand. My heart skips a beat when I see Dakota's name on the screen.
DAKOTA: At the venue for the show. Soundcheck was a shitshow. Missing you already. Give Roman a hug for me. x
A smile tugs at my lips even as I feel tears prick at my eyes. I type out a quick reply.
ME: Miss you too. Roman took Rex to daycare to "remember you." Good luck with the show. Sorry about soundcheck. Can't wait to hear all about it later. xx
I set the phone down and take a deep breath. Three months suddenly feels both impossibly long and surprisingly manageable. One day at a time, I remind myself. One day at a time.