Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAMILA
Since Camila got home—about three hours ago now—she has been lying on her couch, staring at the ceiling, thinking and worrying over Valeria, playing out what could be going on between her and Brooke, and making plans on how to best be there for her, but it’s hard when she has no idea what’s going on.
Based on the little the girls told her, she knows she wants to make a little care package for her, nothing big, just a small basket with chocolates and face masks.
Things Camila liked having herself when she felt she was spiraling, during her hard moments with Eileen.
Camila’s in the middle of picking out items for a care package on her laptop when a ping from her phone echoes through the quiet house, startling her.
Valeria 11:07 p.m.:
I’m so sorry to have left.
Camila stares at the message, trying to figure out what to say, when a second one pops up.
Valeria 11:07 p.m.:
Can we meet up tomorrow? I really want to explain myself.
Camila 11:08 p.m.:
You don’t have to.
Valeria 11:08 p.m.:
No, I do.
Camila 11:08 p.m.:
Tomorrow after work?
Valeria 11:09 p.m.:
That works. What’s your address?
Camila 11:09 p.m.:
Started Sharing Location
Valeria 11:09 p.m.:
I’ll text you when I’m headed over. Good night, and I’m sorry again.
Camila runs a hand through her hair. She doesn’t want Valeria to feel bad.
Based on the little the girls shared during dinner, Valeria is in a complicated relationship.
She remembers doing the same thing whenever she and Eileen were going through an off period and she showed up in her life again.
Camila would abandon everything to be near her.
She understands the pull Valeria and Brooke have, but that doesn’t make falling asleep or worrying over what Valeria might say tomorrow any easier.
Camila’s work day comes and goes, and now she’s back home waiting for Valeria.
Camila glances around her house. It’s not spotless, but it’s far from chaos.
She spends most of her days at the studio, and her mornings at home are too short for clutter to gather.
By the time she drags herself home from work, she barely has the strength to kick off her shoes, let alone make a mess.
Still, she wanders through the house, tidying up wherever possible—more to keep herself busy than anything else.
Before she knows it, there’s a soft knock at her door and a message from Valeria letting her know she’s here.
Camila takes a deep breath, trying to steady her pulse, emotionally preparing herself for whatever state Valeria is in.
When her breath evens out, she quickly moves to the door and pulls it open.
Valeria’s on the other side, and she looks the same as always in her scrubs; her shoulder-length blond hair is up in a messy bun.
Nothing looks concerning, but Camila’s experience with Eileen triggers her to do a quick scan of Valeria.
On impulse, she glances down her frame, looking for any bruising.
There’s nothing, at least nothing she can see, and that eases the tension in her chest.
“Hey,” Camila says. “Come in.”
Valeria gives her a small smile and steps inside, taking her shoes off by the front door. “Thanks for letting me come over,” she says as Camila guides her toward the living room.
Camila’s brows furrow slightly, and she gives Valeria a confused smile. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Valeria gives her a small, brittle smile in return as both women sink onto the couch. “I thought maybe you’d be mad at me for last night. I’m so sorry I left without a word. That was”—she exhales shakily—“so rude of me.”
“All is forgiven,” Camila says with a soft grin.
Valeria smiles like she doesn’t totally believe her, before her eyes wander around the room.
“Your house is super cozy,” she murmurs.
“Thanks,” Camila replies, glancing around her living room along with Valeria.
Camila has always avoided neutrals—found them to be too cold, too empty.
Millennial gray is, in her opinion, the worst interior design trend ever invented.
Ever since she moved out of her parents’, she’s made sure her space is alive with color: deep reds, warm oranges, cool greens, soft blues, and dark walnuts with plants everywhere.
For a few minutes, the only sound is the quiet ticking of the clock above the bookshelf in Camila’s living room, along with Miso’s soft purr as she jumps onto Valeria’s lap.
After a few more minutes pass, Camila asks. “Do you want something to drink? Tea, water . . . maybe something stronger?” It’s not the question she wants to ask; Camila wants to know what brought Valeria over, why she felt the need to apologize, but she doesn’t want to rush her.
Valeria lets out a soft laugh, one that sounds more like an exhale. “Water is perfect. Thank you.”
Camila nods and heads to the kitchen before filling a glass. When she turns back, Valeria is sitting forward, elbows on her knees, picking at the nail polish on her fingers, Miso now curled up beside her.
She hands her the glass, and Valeria takes it with both hands, her chipped nail polish catching the light.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
“Can I get you anything else? Have you eaten?” Camila lowers herself onto the leather armchair across from Valeria.
Valeria shakes her head. “I haven’t, but I’m not hungry. You don’t have to make anything.”
“I can order us something. Are you craving anything? Even if you don’t eat it here, you can take it home and have it later,” Camila says, already pulling up her food delivery app.
“You’re sweet, but I’m okay.” Valeria rests her hand on Camila’s forearm.
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
Valeria nods. “Thank you.”
Silence takes them over again, but this time, Camila doesn’t let it linger.
“So,” Camila says.
“So,” Valeria echoes.
“You want to talk about what’s going on?” Camila asks, unable to keep the question to herself any longer.
Valeria bites her lip, staring into the glass as if the answer’s floating somewhere inside it.
“It’s . . . complicated,” she finally says.
“I’ve got time,” Camila replies, gently. “But you don’t need to share,” she adds after a few seconds of silence between them.
Valeria takes a shaky breath, sets the cup of water on the coffee table, and rubs her palms together before speaking.
“I’ve been in this . . . on-and-off relationship with my girlfriend, Brooke, for years now.
” Valeria’s voice catches on the word girlfriend and it breaks something in Camila’s soul.
“We got into a fight a few weeks ago, and I hadn’t heard from her since.
It’s her thing. When we argue, or I do something she doesn’t agree with, she’ll disappear, and I never know when or if she’s coming back. ”
An uncomfortable lump forms in Camila’s throat. “That’s so shitty, I’m so sorry,” she says, not wanting to overthink what she should or shouldn’t say.
Valeria looks away. “I honestly thought maybe that was it—that this time would be the one to stick.” She laughs quietly, the sound fragile.
“So when I saw her last night, I was so damn relieved it wasn’t, but then I saw the way she was looking at you, and I realized she thought you and I were .
. . on a date or something, so I panicked and followed her, like always.
” She swallows, gaze fixed to the floor.
“That’s understandable,” Camila says, knowing her commentary isn’t necessary but wanting to ease Valeria’s mind.
“It isn’t,” Valeria says, “And I’m so embarrassed.
I haven’t been before, maybe because the girls are so used to me bolting after her, but when I realized I’d done it in front of you while we were in the middle of a conversation, I don’t know, I felt so shitty.
I don’t want you to think poorly of me or that I’m a bad friend.
All things considered, you probably already do, because I left you all to run after someone who disregards me so easily. ”
Camila lets out a slow breath. “Hey,” she says softly, leaning forward and reaching for Valeria’s hand. “I don’t think that. You followed your heart. You clearly love her and want to see things through. I can’t fault you for that.”
“You’re not upset with me then?”
Camila chuckles. “No, I’m not, that would be very silly of me.” She gives Valeria’s hand a reassuring squeeze and lets go before she can focus too much on the tingling feeling moving along her fingers.
Valeria shakes her head, almost defeated. “You are easily the most understanding person I’ve ever met. Anyone else would probably be pretty mad at me right now.”
“Maybe,” Camila admits. “I can pretend if you want me to.”
Valeria lets out a weak laugh, then sighs. “No. I am sorry, though.”
“Stop it, you don’t need to keep apologizing,” Camila says sweetly.
“It feels like I do. I’m so used to fighting for forgiveness with Brooke that I don’t know how to accept it without a little back and forth,” Valeria says with such defeat, Camila can’t help but study her face—the exhaustion there is so clear.
Camila wants to fix the mess Brooke has caused somehow, but she knows she can’t; that’s something Valeria needs to figure out for herself.
Over-apologizing, the way Valeria is, is her trauma trying to keep her safe.
“Well, that will never be the case with me,” Camila says, trying to untangle even a single strand of what Brooke has ingrained so deeply into Valeria.
“Are you and Brooke okay now?” Camila asks, already knowing the answer. Valeria’s slightly swollen lips gave her away the second she walked through the door.
“I hope so,” Valeria admits. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Camila doesn’t have to know Valeria super well to see that the hope is fragile. She wants to dig deeper, but she doesn’t know how to ask or where to start, so she asks directly.
“Is this on-and-off a common thing between you and Brooke?”
Valeria watches her, the corner of her eyes filling with tears.
“Lately, yeah, but we talked, and I think we’re good now.
It’s tough to trust it, though. The first few days after we get back together are always the easiest, and just as I let myself believe the worst is behind us, something happens, and we’re right back where we always are.
Arguing on a loop.” Valeria looks up, her eyes meeting Camila’s.
“You probably think I’m so naive for sticking through this. The girls sure do.”
Something in Camila’s gut twists at her words, a deep, familiar ache. She exhales slowly and shakes her head. “Not at all. I’ve been exactly where you are.”
“You have?” Valeria asks, eyes wide.
“Oh, yeah. I had a four-year on-and-off relationship with a woman named Eileen. We were as toxic as toxic can be. Broke up more times than I care to remember, but always found our way back to destroy each other. Not that I’m saying that’s what’s going on with you and your girlfriend,” Camila adds quickly, worried Valeria will take it the wrong way.
“I’m just saying that I get that sometimes you want something so badly you’ll give it everything you can, regardless of how much it costs you.
People don’t always understand that walking away doesn’t feel like an option when a part of you is still hoping the good moments will come back .
. . that this time things will finally work out the way you desperately want them to. ”
Valeria’s eyes soften as she nods. “Brooke’s not all bad, you know. But the girls only notice the pain she causes. They don’t see that the pain exists because she does have those great moments, moments that if we could hold on to, would make all the pain worth it.”
“I know,” Camila says quietly.
Hearing Valeria say that triggers something in her brain, and all the excuses she used to make for Eileen rush back—how she tried to make her look better in front of her friends, how she hid things from the people who cared about her to keep Eileen’s reputation from getting any worse, how she dealt with all that hurt by herself.
She remembers how exhausting that was, how easy it was to convince herself it wasn’t as bad as it felt.
For a second, she thinks about telling Valeria everything—warning her about how messy it can get, how fast things can go downhill, but honestly?
She already knows. She doesn’t need another warning or a speech.
She just needs someone to be there for her.
Not that Camila thinks the girls aren’t—they don’t strike her as the type to let their friend suffer alone—but sometimes it’s hard for people who haven’t gone through something similar to understand.
To empathize with how gut-wrenching it is to think of letting go, even when the person is so clearly wrong for you.
Valeria looks up and catches Camila’s eyes, offering a faint, tired smile. “Thank you,” she says.
Camila nods, returning the smile. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Camila is grateful she gets it now—that what Valeria needs isn’t someone swooping in to fix everything with care packages and a five-step plan for dealing with pain. She simply needs a friend who won’t leave her alone in it.
And as much as she hates that Valeria only came over because she felt she needed to apologize, Camila is thankful that she felt safe enough to open up. When she was going through it with Eileen, she shut everyone out until there was no one.
Camila knows this kind of pain, the way it owns you. She still struggles with it, even years after their breakup. Even now, every once in a while, her phone lights up with a message from Eileen, and no matter how much she’s grown and healed, sometimes it still feels impossible to ignore.