16 - Lauren
Lauren
“I’m telling you, you haven’t seen the real Chicago until you’ve completed this little tour,” Clara rubbed her hands together like some mad scientist, a look of genuine glee on her face.
Her enthusiasm for taking me out on this day trip of hers was infectious.
She’d insisted I bring my camera along to take some snapshots she thought I’d be interested in.
With how hard she was trying to distract me from the stress of the pending petition that had just been filed against me, I couldn’t have said no.
And it really was nice to take a break away from everything.
We were waiting in a bigger huddle of passengers, patiently watching for the Brown Line L train to make its appearance.
Clara had informed me that we were to give the currently boarded passengers the right of way first, and given my less than friendly welcome to the city, I was determined to follow every official and unofficial rule I could.
“I may not have a photographer’s eye, but I know beautiful landscapes when I see them,” she said, looping her arm through mine.
I was still getting used to her shows of platonic affection.
It was one thing to be sexually intimate with the guys.
That was a sense of certainty there, even with someone like Brock.
But there was a level of vulnerability in non-sexual intimacy too, and that could be just as scary.
After years of being on my own, it was still a little shocking and a bit uncomfortable. But I couldn’t deny the comfort it brought me to spend time with Clara this way, or how I appreciated her help in all of this mess.
“You have your own eye for beauty,” I pointed out. “You’d have to. You were able to sell me on the firehouse, after all.”
“Oh, I think the place practically offered itself to you on a platter. I just helped with the sales pitch a bit, that’s all,” she said jovially.
“Speaking of which, what’s happening with the renovation job right now?
I know the guys can’t do any heavy-lifting until the paperwork is officially approved. ”
“They’re still doing smaller jobs, things that won’t violate the permit situation but will also help speed along the project once things get underway,” I said. “They’re there right now.”
“Oh, so you managed to drag yourself away from your three paramours for an afternoon with little old me,” she fluttered her eyelashes at me. “I’m deeply moved, truly. I don’t think you could’ve paid me to leave that apartment.”
“Clara,” I laughed. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, please,” she said.
A low, rhythmic vibration hummed through the metal platform under our feet, announcing the train’s approach, then a tinny screech as it banked the corner.
Dual headlights cut through the track shadows of the “L” as a massive car nosed its way into the station, bringing with it the smell of hot electricity.
We waited until the passengers all bundled out, then finally stepped onto the train. Inside, the car was a cramped mix of plastic and metal, with high-back blue seats filed in rows beside stainless steel poles.
I took a few photos, already enchanted by the quaint nature of the train.
Clara and I found our seats and only then did she pick up the conversation where we’d left off.
“That kiss you shared with the blonde one at my birthday party says otherwise,” she said, nudging my arm.
I covered my face with my hands. It’d felt so natural in the moment, but looking back I didn’t account for the fact that I’d made out with Callum in public. At a freaking party, no less.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said sheepishly.
“Why are you apologizing?” Clara asked. “You’re single. He’s single. You’re both hot. I don’t see why there’s a problem there.”
I made a sound of uncertainty.
"Look, I’m not going to try and beat the truth out of you,” she said, moving closer to me as a larger passenger slunk past. “But I am curious. And I’ve seen the way you all look at each other. Whatever is going on is not just between you and Blondie, is it?.”
I hesitated.
I knew that we hadn’t exactly been super subtle with the stolen glances and banter.
She’d only been witness to that dynamic a few times and already she’d figured it out.
I looked at her big, sincere eyes and realized with a startling clarity that I trusted her.
Clara had proven her loyalty and trustworthiness a million times over in the short period of time I’d been living here.
She’d extended help when I didn’t even have the humility or guts to ask, and she’d been fighting for me in this case even though she didn’t have to. I trusted her enough to let my walls down and only then did I realize how starved I’d actually been for that kind of companionship.
“Okay,” I acquiesced, squaring up to tell her the full story. “But you have to promise to keep this to yourself.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, because of course I’m going to go tell Neighbor Tim all about your love life. This is a matter of National Security, after all.”
I filled her in on everything, from the first day I met Rafe outside of Stella’s to the growing tension between me and each of the guys, down to how I’d slept with two of them. And one of them twice.
The math of it all sounded more scandalous when I said it out loud, and by the time I finished I was actually kind of embarrassed. But Clara looked enthralled.
“It’s like you’re living a movie,” she said, her body language animated with excitement. “My God, Lauren, talk about being lucky to score three hunks in one renovation job. Teach us plebs your ways, I beg of you.”
I snorted. “It’s hardly a movie. If it is, it’s probably closer to a thriller. Things would be a lot closer to picture-perfect if not for the hold up and…the messiness of the situation.”
Clara tilted her head to the side. “You know, I was just kidding about the whole movie thing. Perfection is severely overrated. It’s the messiness of life that makes it fun and unpredictable.
And anyway, everyone knows that the best movies are the ones that have enough conflict to keep you on the edge of your seat.
I’d stop overthinking things and just enjoy it if I was you. ”
She had a point. She didn’t know it yet, but my entire life until now had been about survival, not fun or relaxing. This was the first time in forever that I could actually let go and breathe. And yeah, maybe it wasn’t conventional or “normal”, whatever the hell that was supposed to look like.
But it was my reality as it stood, and I’d be damned if I let it pass me by and for now, I let myself get swept up in the rest of the day.
The train rattled Southward, eventually banking into the Loop. We hopped off at the Wells and took the metal steps, eventually emerging into the heart of the city where the smells of exhaust and fresh lake breeze came together in a blur.
Clara led the way and we took our time with the scenic route, with me periodically snapping photos of shots that were begging to be taken.
We traced along the concrete paths of the Riverwalk, and I marveled at the emerald-green water and glass skyscrapers, and the way the massive steel-truss bridges arced over us like a ribcage.
With every single shot I took, I could practically feel my body unwind from the tight coil it’d been forced into since I got the news of the petition.
If I’d been rubbed raw by all the politics surrounding the firehouse, then this trip was the salve I needed to feel calm again, more myself than the frantic woman I’d been morphing into.
When we were done with sightseeing, we stopped at a little coffee house and ordered two signature s’more lattes and leisurely made our way back to the “L”, homebound this time.
“Feel better?” Clara asked, blowing down on her drink.
“Much,” I said gratefully. “You have no idea how much I needed this. I’ve barely been able to recognize myself lately with how much I’ve been panicking over this mess with the permits.”
“It’s going to be fine,” she reassured me. “Trust me. I’m still working to get the final permits approved. It’ll all fall into place, you just have faith.”
The one thing I’d usually struggled with. It wasn’t practical, or immediately useful, but for some reason today it felt like the most logical answer. I gave Clara a grin.
“I think you missed your calling as a life coach,” I commented.
She chuckled in response. “I don’t think I quite have the patience for that. I’m selectively altruistic.”
We made our way back to the neighborhood and the firehouse, and I invited her in for a nightcap. When we walked into the bay area, we came face-to-face with a retreating Brock.
“It’s early to be packing up, isn’t it?” I asked, trying for as much brevity as I could but my voice sounded brittle even to my own ears.
“I have a meeting with the inspector and figured we may as well call it a day,” Brock replied, not even looking up at me. When he was done, he passed by with a quick nod of acknowledgment. “Miss Wolfhaardt, Miss Reyes.”
And then he was off. I didn’t even realize how rigid my shoulders had been pulled until I heard the door slam behind me and my body sagged in response. Clara gave me a look, her mouth pulling at a corner as if to say “I told you so.”
Rafe came waltzing out next, his greeting even more abrupt and brief than Brock’s had been.
He put his motorbike helmet on while still inside, then left with a quickness that seemed almost deliberate.
Clara and I listened as he revved up his bike, then tore away from the apron as though it were on fire.
“Drama queens,” was all Clara said in the silence of the bar area.
“I have a Cabernet Sauvignon," I offered glumly.
“A woman after my own heart,” Clara replied.
We were about to walk to the kitchen, when a sound came from there that stopped us both in our tracks. It sounded like…singing? A deep, honey-sweet voice that was actually pretty on-key. The singer wasn’t exactly studio-ready, but they could certainly hold a note.
Clara and I looked at each other, puzzled, before wordlessly moving forward to investigate. I put a finger to my lips as we rounded the kitchen. The sight that greeted us was absolutely perplexing.
Callum, singing to himself softly while cooking up a storm in a floral apron that I certainly didn’t own.
While I was trying to make sense of what I was seeing, Clara looked as though she was having the time of her life.
Neither of us said anything, as though we were afraid a single word would break the image in front of us.
But Callum quickly turned around, pan in hand, and when he saw us, he shut up instantly, just as startled as we were.
“Oh, Miss Lauren, you’re back,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “I didn’t think you’d be home this soon. I know how stressed you’ve been lately and thought you might like a home-cooked meal you didn’t have to make.” He scratched the back of his head. “I should’ve asked first, right?”
“Oh no,” Clara jumped in. “No, Lauren was just speaking about how the day left her starving.”
When I glared at her, her mouth trembled with a laugh she was holding back. “So I think I’m gonna leave. I’ll take you up on that Cabernet some other time, okay?”
Then she made a speedy exit, not affording me the opportunity to say anything else as Callum smiled with that same old, charming grin of his.
I was starving, alright.