Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VALERIA
When Valeria makes it home from work, she is fully expecting Brooke to have left her a note—the way she has so many other times—telling her she needs space. Thankfully, this time, she finds a bouquet on her doormat and a note from Brooke, saying she’ll stop by after dinner with her parents.
Valeria grabs the flowers and hugs them tightly to her chest, letting them be the beacon of hope they truly are. Had Brooke found her with Camila a few months ago—maybe even a few weeks ago—she would have disappeared. Now, Valeria can see she’s trying, and that means the world to her.
When she walks through the door, she makes quick work of changing into her favorite pajamas and reheating leftover pasta from last night’s dinner.
Then, she heads into the living room and reaches for her computer to call Camila.
Valeria hadn’t messaged her—not because she hadn’t thought about it, but because a text felt .
. . insufficient. Too small for something like this.
And the brief moment she’d had to check her phone between appointments she’d spent responding to her mom’s rapid-fire questions about what had happened at lunch.
She hadn’t answered them, though. Not completely.
Just enough to satisfy, enough to get her to let it go and move on without hinting at how serious the argument with Brooke had been.
Calling Camila now feels like as good a time as any.
Valeria hits the FaceTime call button on her computer and waits, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. She’s never called Camila before, let alone FaceTimed her. Thankfully, she doesn’t have much time to sit with the awkwardness because Camila picks up after the second ring.
Valeria sighs, thankful Camila is still picking up her calls.
“Hey,” Camila answers, but her face is nowhere in sight; instead, Valeria is staring at a beautiful chandelier. Camila adjusts her phone, and Valeria sees blurry streaks of ceiling light and a flash of knuckles before Camila comes into view.
“Hi,” Valeria replies. “How are you?”
“I think I should be asking you that question,” Camila says before worrying at her bottom lip.
“I’m okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Yeah. Things with Brooke are fine; I’m worried you and I aren’t.”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” Camila tilts her head slightly before furrowing her brows.
“Just everything that happened today. Every time we hang out, I bring a little dramatic flair into your life. I don’t mean to, I hope you know that.”
“I do,” Camila says almost immediately. “And before you even try, you don’t need to apologize to me on her behalf.”
Valeria smiles, a soft one that could almost be mistaken for a frown. “How’d you know that’s what I was going to say next?”
Camila shrugs. “Lucky guess.”
The line goes silent for a few seconds. Valeria almost hates how predictable her behavior around anything Brooke-related is. That even Camila—who’s basically a stranger, someone she’s only known for weeks—can pick up on it.
“I like you, Valeria. I think you’re a good person, and I want to keep being your friend, but I don’t know that Brooke and I will ever be on those terms. I’ve been nothing but cordial, and she has been everything but that.
I understand if that feels like too much drama for you to handle and you need to end this friendship. ”
Valeria’s stomach turns painfully. This is the conversation that always waits at the end of getting close to someone new. She hates having to choose between Brooke and everyone else. She’s done. She doesn’t want to keep living in this loop.
“What? No, no, absolutely not. Brooke needs a little time to adjust to the fact that you’re in my life now. I haven’t made a new friend in years, so it’ll be an adjustment for her.”
Camila gives her a tense smile and nods. “Let’s hope she adapts quickly, then, because I don’t enjoy disliking her. I’m sure there must be good parts of her in there somewhere, maybe deep, deep inside.”
Valeria laughs, but before she can make a joke about it, she hears Miso coughing, almost dry heaving.
“Are you okay?” Camila asks, looking down at Miso. “Is that noise normal? It’s the third time she’s made it tonight.” Camila turns to Valeria, her eyes getting wide with worry.
“Yeah, it sounds like she’s trying to pass a hairball.”
“Oh, ew. She just did.”
“Well, that’s good,” Valeria says, as her front door opens. When she looks up, Brooke is walking in. A tiny worry flourishes in Valeria’s chest. “I have to go,” she says almost on instinct. “But let’s make plans to hang out soon.”
“Yeah, I should go, too. I need to clean this up. Have a good night.”
“You too,” Valeria says before quickly hanging up.
“Who were you talking to?” Brooke asks as she walks into the living room toward Valeria, an eyebrow raised.
Valeria debates telling the truth or lying. For a moment, lying tempts her, promising to avoid conflict, but if Brooke is ever going to accept Camila as Valeria’s friend, lying will only make things worse.
“Camila,” Valeria answers.
“Mmm,” Brooke says before leaning in to kiss her.
“How was dinner with your parents?” Valeria asks before Brooke can overthink her being on FaceTime with Camila.
“Good. They were sad you couldn’t make it, but they say hi. My mom is already planning the Christmas getaway.” Brooke shakes her head, a soft smile on her lips.
“She does plan the best Christmases,” Valeria says, thinking of the holidays she’s spent with Brooke’s family. Valeria’s mom always celebrates on December 24th, so for the past four years she’s had Christmas twice. Not that she’s complaining. It’s her favorite holiday.
The rest of their night is pretty uneventful.
Brooke doesn’t bring up Camila again, and the tension in Valeria’s chest slowly loosens its grip.
They put on a movie they’ve both seen before, something familiar enough to half-watch, half-ignore.
Brooke’s head ends up on Valeria’s shoulder, and they both fall asleep on the couch.
Sometime later, groggy and tangled together, they make their way to Valeria’s bed.
The next morning, Valeria’s phone vibrating under her pillow wakes her up. She groans and fishes it out, blinking at the bright screen.
Camila.
Valeria instinctively takes in a sharp breath. Camila has never called her, and that fact immediately worries her. She slowly slides out from under Brooke’s arm, careful not to wake her, and sneaks out of the bedroom.
“Hello?” Valeria answers in a whisper.
“Miso is pooping blood,” Camila screams into the phone.
“ . . . What?”
“Miso is pooping blood,” Camila repeats, slower this time. “I woke up, and it was just—everywhere. I don’t know what to do.”
Valeria’s stomach drops. Immediately, her mind races through every possible scenario, trying to figure out what it could be and how to help.
“Okay, okay—Camila, breathe,” Valeria says, voice soft but stern, the same voice she uses at the clinic when a pet parent is on the brink of panicking. “What color is the blood?”
“Red, really bright red, almost jelly-like.”
“Is it a lot?”
“Kind of?”
“Describe it to me.”
“Some of it looks like it’s blood and hair, some of it is poop streaked red. That one looks fresher.”
“Alright,” Valeria says, trying to keep her voice steady. “That’s good.”
“Good?” Camila screams again.
“Yes, that means whatever’s going on is low in her GI tract. That’s better than something higher up, which would turn the blood black. For now, keep an eye on her and make sure she stays hydrated. If it hasn’t cleared by tonight, bring her in tomorrow morning. Did she get into anything overnight?”
“Not that I can tell.”
Valeria hums. “It’s not super common, but since you say there’s hair mixed with blood, and she kept trying to throw up a hairball last night, she could have another that went down her GI.
Cats usually throw them up, but sometimes they go through instead, causing all sorts of issues, including bloody stools.
If that’s the case, it should clear up once she passes it.
Keep an eye on her litter box to see what’s going on. ”
“Okay, okay.”
“I’ll come by during my lunch hour to give her a laxative that should help her pass it more easily.”
“Thank you,” she sighs.
“No worries, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later.”
When they hang up, Valeria clutches her phone close to her chest and leans back against the wall. A soft creak behind her startles her. She turns and finds Brooke at the bedroom doorway, hair messy, eyes half-lidded.
“Who’s calling you so early?” she asks, her voice groggy.
“Camila. Her cat isn’t doing well this morning,” Valeria says, trying to keep it light.
Brooke traces her top incisors with her tongue, eyebrow raised. “Isn’t there a 24-hour clinic open she can go to? Why is she calling you?”
Valeria shrugs, a little defensively. “She’s a friend.”
Brooke’s mouth hardens to a line, and she nods, folding her arms across her chest like she’s physically holding herself back.
She doesn’t argue, but Valeria can see she doesn’t like it, either.
Still, she reins it in—she’s been doing that more and more.
Her explosions have simmered into something manageable.
Valeria pulls her in for a kiss, trying to shake off the tension she knows is brewing.
Brooke lets it happen, but doesn’t kiss her back.
Valeria pretends not to notice. She doesn’t want to make it a thing, so she heads to the kitchen instead, starts the coffee, and they slip into their usual morning routine.
Once Valeria arrives at the clinic, she checks her schedule and can’t help but chuckle when she sees that Camila is her first appointment of the day. Of course she is.