Lauren's sister had an argument with her maths teacher on Tuesday. On Wednesday, she watched the first episode of the new O.C season, but says it's not as good as it used to be. On Thursday she and a group of girls from her gym class took a picture together on the edge of the running track, one of those birds eye shots where you all lie in a circle, your heads together and smile upwards. V's laughing in the picture, in the middle of pushing a strand of hair that has blown over her eyes. She also met a puppy on her way home that day, a golden retriever who licked her hand and then peed right next to her shoe. On Friday, she went to a costume party dressed as a Swedish milkmaid, blonde plaits and all.
Nobody else would notice the hole in her life but Lauren. The silence. The constant omission. Home.
It's not that glaring yet. At that age, who's not trying to pretend their parents don't exist? But Lauren also remembers how hard it was over the years to maintain that absence. To just pretend home wasn't a thing. There was the avoiding having friends over after certain hours. Hiding the notes for parent teacher nights because you couldn't guarantee Jeannie wouldn't have a boozy lunch earlier. Giving vague answers when friend's parents ask about how Thanksgiving, Passover, Memorial Day weekend was. No inviting boys to meet the parents and definitely no sleepovers with friends.
It used to be fine, sort of. When she was in sixth grade, her best friend Shira would stay over all the time. Shira thought Jeannie was fun. And she could be, sometimes.
One night, they were ten, Shira and Lauren were in the kitchen trying to make pancakes while her father napped in front of the TV. Jeanie waltzed in from a party, long past tipsy but upright.
"Pancakes!" she cried, clapping her hands together, her bracelet clanging. "How fabulous. I am hungry."
When Lauren admitted they didn't really know what they were doing, and that they hadn't really got past pulling the ingredients from the list out of the pantry, Jeannie scoffed. "How hard can it be? I'll help. I'm a fabulous cook."
Lauren hadn't seen her mother inside the kitchen since her dad hired the house help when he opened his clinic. Now, watching her mother sway there in a fitted gold dress, handbag still on shoulder, lips enshrined in her favourite deep rose lipstick, rubbing her hands together, she wasn't convinced.
Jeannie looked at the recipe for a second, pulled a face and then flapped a hand. "Oh, surely you just throw everything in and mix!" She picked up the eggs and, hamming for them, dumped the whole carton, packaging and all, into the bowl. "There!"
Shira burst into giggles.
"That's right, isn't it?" Jeannie grabbed a spoon from the canister and started stirring the carton around. "And milk?" She took the jug from the counter and threw it on top. A dribble of milk spilled from the loosened lid.
"Oh, dear," she sang, stirring wildly. "But you wanted pancakes, I'm making pancakes!"
By the time she flew the open packet of flour in, sending a white cloud over them, Shira was howling with laughter. Even Lauren caved as Jeannie hummed loudly, stirring the packets into the bowl.
"There, girls, done!"
She tossed the spoon onto the counter and made one of her grand sweeping exists, leaving a cloud of her musky rose perfume mingling with the flour. "I shall leave you to cook them!"
The mess was still there the next morning when Rose, the help, arrived.
But then there were the other times. Like the night when Shira and another friend were staying over, watching movies in Lauren's room. The moment she registered the amounts of thumps and bangs that accompanied her mother's return from the neighbour's house, eleven-year-old Lauren was on high alert. She turned the TV volume up, masking the sounds coming from the rest of apartment, every muscle tensed, waiting for it. When the calls came later, plaintive cries that could be heard above the film, Lauren clambered off the bed,
"Stay here," she ordered her friends. "Don't leave."
Their eyes widened, but they nodded, obedient.
It was one of the nights Jeannie didn't make it to the bathroom. Couldn't make it. Already used to this particular routine, Lauren cleaned her up, started a laundry load so Rose wouldn't find the mess, and hauled her mother to her feet. By the time Lauren got to bed, she was laughing, like she'd already forgotten what happened. When Lauren scuttled back to her room, praying she would stay put until morning, the movie was over. Shira and Rebecca were curled in the bed, looking uneasy, their mutual silences deafening.
By the time middle school ended, Shira stopped coming over. Lauren couldn't exactly blame her. At Shira's house they sat in the living room, fighting over the TV with her brother instead of hiding out in Lauren's room all night. They traipsed in and out of the kitchen to beg Shira's mother for snacks, instead of Lauren sneaking out to collect the food Rose had left for them wrapped on plates in the fridge. They went to synagogue together, something they only did on the rare weekend her dad was around. Jeannie was always either too drunk or too hungover to attend.
Shira's house had double the people but twice the calm of Lauren's, and she loved being there, too. But after middle school ended, Shira stopped inviting her home, too, and Lauren always wondered about how much her friend had told her own mother about Lauren's life. All she knows is that by the time they started high school, they barely even spoke.
Vanessa doesn't post on Sunday. Sundays used to be the quietest days. At least until Jeannie woke up, a howling mess from however she'd spent her Saturday nights. Maybe Vanessa spent it bringing buckets and water and aspirin. Maybe she spent it hiding in her room. Maybe there was nothing fun or funny about Sunday to post.
"Stalking again?" It's Helen, clutching a coffee cup as if her life depended on it.
"Maybe."
She sits down next to her in what is now their shared spot in the Film Appreciation lecture hall. "Have you started your Film Appreciation essay?"
"The real question is: Have I even given it a second's thought?" Lauren mumbles.
Helen sighs. "Good. Me too. Too stressed about the Biochem test. And sleep. Does your roommate start talking the minute she wakes up?"
"Hell no." Lucky for Lauren, Steffi's kind of a bedraggled mess in the morning. Silence reigns in their room before classes begin. "That's probably what's keeping us on good terms."
"Well, I'm not sure how much longer I can be on good terms with mine if she keeps up the morning nattering."
"Nattering?" Lauren laughs. "How British. Just tell her to shut up."
"That goes against every non-confrontational bone in my body. You know, I decided to go to the café this morning to escape her, and she decided to come with me. I couldn't say a word. Just pretended I remembered I had to meet you, and got a take out." She sighs again, louder. "Anyway, want to study for the Biochem test tonight?"
"Sure. Do you mind if I ask my friend Dan?"
"Depends. How much does he talk?"
When Lauren asks Dan if he wants to join their test study session, he offers his house for the session. Lauren nixes that quickly and suggests her café instead. No need for all of the myriad opportunities for awkward encounters that Dan's house would foster.
Dan's still clearly shook by the Evan and Lauren post-party thing, because the first thing he says when they slide in a booth at the back of the café is, "I'm sorry about the other day. I shouldn't have asked why you were at my house. My mom always said I shouldn't pry."
Lauren shrugs. "You weren't prying. You were just surprised to see me in your living room. It's kind of understandable."
"Okay," he says frowning into his water glass.
"What's wrong?"
"I guess I just didn't think you'd like someone like Evan."
"I don't."
He wrinkles his brow. "That doesn't make sense."
"I know it doesn't. Sometimes whether you like someone or not has nothing to do with it."
"It doesn't?"
"Sometimes it does," she says quickly, realising this might be a bit too it's complicated too soon for the boy who's still trying to find his first girlfriend. But it's too late now. She sips her coffee. "Sometimes, it's just about a moment in time."
"So you liked him for a moment?"
"A very, very fleeting, very drunken moment."
"That doesn't sound like the greatest way to make a choice if you like someone."
"It's not." And that's why whenever she thinks of last Saturday night, she still get this gross, withering feeling in her insides.
Dan moves onto more pressing things. "Your friend is late," he says nervously, looking at his watch. "I have to be home in two hours."
"She's like, two minutes late. Relax, she'll be here."
The moment she speaks, the café door swings open. Lauren waves to Helen. Beside her is a short, slightly chubby girl with a thick red bob cut carrying a briefcase-looking bag.
"Hi," Helen says tightly. "This is my roommate. She thought she'd come along and study with us."
"Hi, I'm Busy. Both in action and name," the girl says with a smile, pulling books and folders from her case.
"Cute," Lauren drawls. What's to bet she says that every single time she's introduced? Helen narrows her eyes at her. "Nice to meet you, Busy," Lauren says obediently. "Guys, This is my friend Dan."
Dan nods and gives them both an awkward wave.
"I've seen you both around campus," Busy says, pushing past Helen and shuffling into the booth.
Lauren can't say she's seen Busy. And if she usually wears fluorescent yellow sweaters with smiley faces on them accompanied puffy purple ski jackets, Lauren is pretty sure she would have remembered.
"So, Dan," Busy says, resting her chin on her hand and staring straight at him. "Where are you from?"
"I, uh, I live just down the road."
She pulls a face. "No," she says witheringly. "I mean where did you come here from?"
Two minutes in her presence and Lauren already kind of wants to slap this girl. No wonder Helen looks so tense.
"Oh, um, Portland," Dan replies, glancing over at Helen.
"Another Washingtonian, like me." Busy jerks her thumb at Helen. "This one is from the other side of the world."
"Um, not exactly. I hear Portland is cool," Helen says to Dan.
He blushes, and stammers. "I guess."
Lauren watches him glance at Helen again, and quickly look down at his book. Uh oh.
"Well, I guess we should get started," Busy says, checking her watch. "I only have an hour and then I have to go and work on my physics assignment."
"Yes'm," Lauren mumbles.
"Maybe we can at least order coffee first?" Helen says, shooting Lauren another warning look.
"Oh, I brought my own." Busy pulls a flask out of her bag.
"I don't think you can bring your own coffee to a café." Helen tells her.
"No, you definitely can't," Lauren says.
"But what if they don't make it how I like it?"
"Trust me, Ray's never made a coffee someone didn't like," Lauren says.
When it Dan's turn to order he just shakes his head and turns red.
"You okay?" Lauren asks him.
He nods and scratches his hands through his hair, looking more flustered now she's drawn attention to him. Maybe this is female overload for him. Or maybe it's just stranger overload.
"How about you test us with the flash cards first?" Lauren says, pushing them towards him. Having something to focus on might chill him out.
"O-okay." He grabs them and starts to shuffle them like a deck of cards. A few spill from the set, fluttering onto the table and the floor at their feet.
"Nice one," Busy says giggling.
Lauren bends down out of the booth to pick up the fallen ones from the carpet, almost knocking heads with Helen, attempting to do the same thing.
"I may have to stab your room mate with a spoon," Lauren hisses.
"Now you know how I feel every single day," Helen mutters back.
"You probably don't even need to shuffle," Lauren says gently as she passes Dan the cards. "We haven't looked at them before."
"Oh, right," he says, blushing again as he gathers them up.
When Ray brings their coffee, Lauren clutches her cup between both hands. "You're my hero, Ray. No, truly."
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." He grins. "In fact, that might be the only nice thing you've ever said to me."
"Not true. I told them that you make good coffee not ten minutes ago."
"Well, that's an indisputable fact, not a compliment."
"Is that so?" Helen says, raising an eyebrow. "Because you Americans have a pretty skewed idea of what constitutes good coffee."
"Okay, London Calling," Lauren scoffs. "You come from a country where stewed leaves are a delicacy."
"Tea is a fine drink, I'll have you know," Helen says, all haughty.
"Maybe you actually should drink some before you start canning my skills," Ray tells her.
Helen obediently takes a sip of her cappuccino. The eyebrows go up again. "Okay, so you're definitely an exception. After drinking this, it is an especially great pleasure to meet you, Ray."
Dan suddenly blurts out, "Do they hurt?"
"Do what hurt?" Busy asks him.
Dan points at Ray's arms.
"Oh, my tatts." Ray nods. "Yeah, sometimes. Depends on where it is."
"It's a strange habit, really," Dan muses. "Putting what is essentially permanent marker on your skin. Assuming that you'll want whatever you like or feel at a certain moment in time for the rest of your life. I mean, that's a gamble."
"An expensive gamble, too," Ray tells him, not the least bit offended.
"Do girls like it?" Dan asks.
Lauren fight an urge to laugh. "Why? Planning on one?"
"I guess they do," Ray replies. "My girlfriend Jenelle does."
"Aren't we a little off topic," Busy suddenly interjects. "Shouldn't we be studying Biochemistry, not discussing dubious life choices?"
"Yeah, how is that studying going?" Ray teases, nudging Lauren.
"It's hard. And we haven't even started."
He nods. "My girlfriend did your course," he says. "So I've spent a lot of time with those flash cards. But she's in vet school now, so it was worth it.."
"I'm going to vet school, too," Busy says, brightening. "And what did you study?"
"I didn't," Ray says.
"You didn't go to college?"
"School of life, baby."
"Uh, okay," she says doubtfully.
He shrugs. "Why get yourself in debt when you don't even know what you want to do?"
"Well I do know what I want to do," Busy says, pursing her lips.
"Lucky you," He says cheerfully, picking up an empty glass.
As soon as he heads back to the counter, Lauren scowls at Busy. "Well that was snobby."
Busy's eyes stretch wide. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be. I just grew up in a place where everyone was really driven. We had to go to college. It was the only option."
"Well I grew up on the upper East side where people only believed in the existence of other people who shopped in the same two department stores, lunched at the same spots and went to synagogue together," Lauren counters. "Yet I somehow managed not to forget the rest of the world exists, and that people may not want or have the same options."
"Okay," Busy mutters. "Sorry I'm not as woke as you."
"It's not woke, it's facts."
Helen looks slowly between them, her brow furrowed. Dan looks positively distressed.
Lauren points at the cards in Dan's hands. "Anyway, let's leave the intellectual snobbery behind and get back to osmosis, shall we?"
"That girl was annoying," Lauren says as she and Dan walk the quiet street back to his house and campus.
"Does she have a boyfriend?"
"Who? Busy?" Lauren frowns. "Who cares?"
"No, not her, Helen."
"Oh. Um, well, not exactly, bu—"
"Maybe it'll be Helen," he says, all dreamy.
She slows her steps. "You're talking about your first girlfriend thing, right?"
"Yep."
She lets out a breath. "Dan, I don't know if this is a good idea. She's kind of got something complicated going on back home. It's not official, but, you know, it's a thing."
"I can work with that."
"You can?" Sweet as he is, she's never once got the sense he can work with any kind of thing.
His face drops. "No, probably not," he says resignedly. "But she's gorgeous, and smart, and she's doing medicine too, so there's a future."
"Hey, dude, take a breath. Your medical career is, like, at least eight years away. I wouldn't try to sell any girl on that. You'd just terrify them."
"Oh, okay."
"Look," Lauren says slowly as they stop at the corner where they part ways. "Helen's one of those, sophisticated high-definition girls. Like, she's probably too shiny to even hang out with me if she wasn't stuck in the middle of nowhere. Lots of guys like girls like Helen."
"I do."
"I know, but, well, what I am saying is, have you ever heard the expression punching above your weight?"
"No."
"Okay maybe look it up later."
"Okay," he says obediently.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Dan."
"Okay, good night." He goes to turn for his house, but spins back around. "Oh, by the way, we're having a party on Saturday. I'm supposed to invite you."
She pulls a face. "Who said to invite me?"
"Raf."
She grins. "Is this some kind of a trap?"
"I don't think so," he says, confused.
"I'm kidding."
"Oh." He grips the straps of his backpack. "Will you bring Helen, do you think?"
She sighs. "I'll ask her. "
"But not the other girl. She was rude."
"I'm rude," she counters.
"Yes, but you're good rude."
"Good rude?"
He shrugs. "Yes, because you're really actually nice."
Something blooms in her. "I'll take that. Night, Dan."
"Night, Lauren."