by Portia Moore
I slip on the pair of Chuck Taylors that are older than my marriage but are more comfortable than the five-inch heeled boots I wore here. These are more suited to the wide-legged jeans and T-shirt I’m wearing.
I grab my bag and the handle on my suitcase and drag it downstairs and into the kitchen, where Raven is sitting with a cup of tea in hand. She smiles as I enter, her eyes drifting to the bag on my shoulder.
“Let me get you some tea,” she says quickly.
I start to protest but realize it’s easier to just accept it.
“I thought you’d sleep later,” she says, pouring me a cup.
I set my bag on the floor and take a seat across from her. “No. I wanted to get an early start.” I take the cup as she offers.
“On what?” she asks before taking a seat next to me.
“I’m leaving.”
“You’re going back home?”
“No,” I say after taking a sip of tea. “I’m going to stay with a friend in Chicago for a while—until I decide what I’m going to do.”
“Lauren, I wish you’d stay here. I don’t—”
“I need to get away. Not away from you. I just need a change of scenery,” I interrupt. I see she doesn’t approve, but she doesn’t protest either.
“Are you going to be driving?”
“No. I’m leaving the car here. There won’t be anywhere to park. I called a cab to take me to the bus station, and I’ll take that the rest of the way.”
“I’ll drive you,” she offers.
“No, it wouldn’t make sense for you to drive me all the way to Chicago, then drive all the way back right after.”
“It’s fine. I don’t have much to do today anyway,” she says, pouring me some more tea, though my cup is far from empty.
“No, Raven, it’s not necessary, and the ride there will give me some time to clear my head,” I tell her, desperately not wanting to argue with her.
“Well, at least let me drop you off at the station,” she says in a pleading tone.
I sigh, feeling a small smile spread across my face. I give in. “Okay.”
“So who is this friend you’re going to be staying with?” she asks.
“Someone I used to work with,” I say, running my finger around the rim of the cup.
“This is a woman, right?” she asks nervously.
My eyes widen in surprise. “Of course.”
“I was just asking.” She smiles, clearly relieved.
I can’t help but giggle. If Cal found out I was staying with a man, I can’t even imagine what he’d do. He’s never been the jealous type. He never needed to be. I’ve only had eyes for him since we’ve been together. No other guy could stand a chance, and he knew that. But if he even thought it, I’d hate to see what he’d do. I’ve only seen his temper once, and it was like a lion was let out of the cage. He was furious; I’d never want to make him like that.
“How long are you going to stay with this friend?” she asks, taking the cup from me even though I’ve only taken a sip.
“I don’t know. I just—I need to get away from everything I’ve gotten used to.” I sigh.
Raven continues to busy herself about the kitchen then turns to face me with her hands on her hips. “Well, I’d really like for you to stay here and let me help you with whatever it is you’re dealing with. But whatever you feel you need to do, know I support you one hundred percent.”
I can’t help but smile. Sometimes Raven just surprises me. She does the exact opposite of what I think she’s going to do. I get up from my seat and hug her tightly, recognizing the scent of her perfume from when I was younger.
“Thank you,” I tell her quietly before taking a cleansing breath.
“Everything will be fine, sweetie,” she says, rubbing my back.
“I hope so. I-I don’t want lose my marriage. It’s just starting to be so much. I think taking a step back from all of the issues we’re dealing with would be good for both of us.”
“This is just a rocky time. Every marriage has them,” she tells me, hugging me a little tighter. She stands back and lifts my chin. “It’s the strong ones who make it through them.”
I nod, wiping away the tears building in my eyes.
“In fact, this will be good for you, some time to find yourself. Sometimes you forget about yourself when you’ve been with another person for so long.” She smiles, putting in place a stray hair.
I pictured this conversation going differently. I thought she’d tell me to stop being so sensitive and stick by my husband.
“What?” she asks with a smile.
“It’s just, I thought you would take Cal’s side on this,” I tell her.
“Lauren, I don’t really know what’s going on between you two to take anyone’s side. But you’re my niece, and I love you. I care about Cal very much, but if he’s making you feel like this, I can’t stick up for him. You come first. In the end, I’m going to support you, right or wrong. But I don’t see you being wrong on this.”
I hug her again.
“Lauren, we’re here,” Raven says, nudging me gently.
I open my eyes and see that we’re parked in front of the bus station. I stretch lightly. I feel as though I’ve been asleep for hours and could still sleep several more days.
“Honey, are you okay?” she asks, eyeing me with a worried expression.
“Yeah, just tired,” I tell her, gathering my bag off the floor and setting it on my lap.
“I was talking, and before I knew it, you had drifted off to sleep. I hope I wasn’t that boring.” She smiles, and I return it.
“Not at all. I just didn’t get much sleep last night,” I assure her.
Her expression shows she’s not convinced. “You’re sure you don’t want me to drive you? It’ll be no trouble.”
“I’m going to be fine. I’ll feel better knowing that you won’t be driving back from Chicago alone,” I tell her as I get out of the car. I walk around to her side, and she steps out.
“I guess there’s no convincing you otherwise,” she relents. I laugh at her persistence, and she sighs. “Well, honey, be safe.” She pulls me into a long hug.
“I will,” I promise her.
“I’d feel a lot better if you gave me this friend’s number.” She frowns.
I shake my head. I would, but Raven would just call a thousand times to make sure I was okay. Plus, I don’t want Cal to know where I am right now. And as many times as Raven says she wouldn’t give it to him or tell him where I am, I know how convincing Cal can be. He is a master in the art of persuasion, and anyone not immune to it gives into him within minutes.
“Do you want me to wait with you until the bus gets here?”
“No, thank you, I’m fine. It should be here soon… see? There it is.” I point at the bus pulling into the loading area.
“Okay, honey.” She smiles weakly and gives me another hug. “You call me the minute you get to your friend’s house, okay?”
“I will. The moment I hit the door,” I assure her as she hesitantly gets back into her car.
She looks at me one more time, her hand on the keys.
“I promise,” I tell her.
She smiles and blows me a kiss before she finally pulls off. I reposition the strap of the bag on my shoulder, grip my suitcase and head to the booth to buy a ticket.
“We’re here,” the tall gray-haired man tells me.
I smile awkwardly. “How much is it?” I open my bag for my wallet.
“Twenty sixty-two,” he replies.
I hand him a twenty and a five.
“Thank you, ma’am. Have a good one,” he says.
“You too,” I say, getting out of the cab.
“No problem,” he says before pulling off.
It’s almost eerie how quiet the street is. It’s so near downtown Chicago, and I expected the noise of cars, people, or music playing loudly, the soundtrack of the city. I look at the names listed next to the doorbells and smile when I see
Davis. I push it and wait for a response.
“Who is it?”
I smile widely. “It’s Lauren.” I giggle.
“Lauren! I’m coming right down.”
I can’t help but laugh; her excitement is contagious. A few moments later, the front door swings open, and she almost knocks me on the floor with her hug.
“I can’t believe you’re here. Oh my God!” she shouts in my ear as I try to keep my balance.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Somehow, I don’t feel as though I’m matching her energy.
“I thought you were lying about coming. You always say you’re coming then call with an excuse.” She laughs at me, taking my bag.
“Well, not this time.” I sigh.
“Come on,” she says, leading me up the stairs.
I take in the building. The white walls, wooden floors, and windows letting the sun pour through them remind me of my apartment in college.
“These stairs have made me lose at least five pounds.” She laughs as we round another flight. By the time we make it to her apartment, she’s huffing and muttering under her breath, “I hate living on the third floor.” Putting her hand on the doorknob, she announces, “This is it!”
She leads me in, shutting the door behind us. “It’s kind of small, but I love the neighborhood. It’s always quiet since there’s a hospital up the street. They have this quiet zone thing.”
I smile as I look around the small apartment and walk to the window. The sun’s seeping through, lighting the entire room. I close my eyes as it falls on my face and open them again when I hear her footsteps coming in my direction.
“So this is it. Like I said, it’s small, and you’ll have the couch,” she explains.
“The couch is fine,” I assure her.
She gives me another big smile. That’s one reason I love being around Angela—she always has a way of looking at things positively, and there have only been a few times I’ve seen her sad or mad at anything.
“I still can’t believe you’re here.” She laughs, linking arms with me. She leads me to the off-white sofa situated behind a wooden coffee table. “So how have things been going?”
I debate whether to tell her the truth with a fake smile or just pour out all my problems to her. “Okay.” I sigh, deciding to go with the less time-consuming route.
She frowns at me. “Okay?” she asks sarcastically.
I nod and play with my fingertips.
She sighs. “Well, I know something’s wrong, but I’m not going to pester you, since I have a feeling you’re not going to tell me now.”
I giggle. She still knows me so well. Now it’s my turn to sigh. “Cal and I aren’t the best of friends right now.”
Her smile immediately softens. “Do you want to talk about it?”
This is why I love Angie; any other person would just dive into the questions without considering how I felt about it.
“Not really. Right now, I’m so tired I just want to sleep,” I tell her.
“Of course! Well, I have class in, like, thirty, so you’re more than welcome to crash in my bed to get some rest,” she offers.
“Oh no, this is fine.” I gesture to the couch.
“Are you sure?”
“I just spent the last half hour in a cramped cab; this is a vast improvement.” I laugh.
She stands. “Well, let me go get you some sheets and pillows.”
She disappears for a moment and comes back with a crisp pink sheet and pillow. She sets them next to me.
“Thanks,” I say gratefully. “I see you’re still into pink.” I giggle.
“Look who’s talking.” She nudges me playfully, referring to my stint of wearing various shades of pink for at least a year. I needed something to brighten up my then-dull life, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. “So my class is over in three hours, and after that, I’m going to head to the library for maybe an hour or two. When I come back, you be all rested up so we can do the girl-talk thing and order some takeout, okay?” She grabs a brush and quickly runs it through her hair.
“That sounds good,” I tell her, slipping out of my tennis shoes.
“Lauren, how old are those?” she squeals.
I cover my face in embarrassment. “They’re the only flats I have,” I admit, and we both break into a fit of laughter.
“Wow. Anyhow, there’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, which you’re welcome to, though I wouldn’t recommend it. Pepsi is all I have to drink—I’ve become addicted—and if you want to take a shower, turn it on ten minutes before. It takes forever to heat up, believe me,” she explains, grabbing her backpack off the table in the kitchen. “The bathroom is back there next to my room. I don’t have to show you the kitchen, and yeah—” She gestures quickly. “I feel so bad about leaving you here alone when you just got here. I feel like I should be showing you around or something.”
“Ang, it’s not like I’m a tourist; you don’t have to show me around. And I did kind of call you on short notice. I’ll be fine,” I reassure her.
“I know. I still feel really bad, but I’ll have to do that later.” She laughs, grabbing her keys off the table. “If I miss the bus, I’m virtually screwed,” she says, rushing to the door. “Like I said, mi casa, su casa.”
She exits, and I hear the lock click on the door. I look around the cozy little apartment, remembering the days when Hillary and I roomed together. How tiny our apartment was, but how warm it felt. That’s exactly what’s missing from my own home—warmth and happiness. I search for a phone, hoping she has one, and spot a cordless on the kitchen table. I dial Raven’s number.
“Raven, it’s me. I’ve made it safely. I just got here a few minutes ago and just wanted to let you know. I’m really tired, so I’ll call you again tonight. Love you,” I say and hang up.
I crawl back onto the sofa and spread the sheet over my head. There aren’t any lights on, but the sun is filling the apartment. My eyes are so heavy they feel like bricks. At last, I let them close.
“Lauren, Lauren.”
I open my eyes to see Angie standing over me. “Hey,” I say, starting to wake up.
“You’ve been sleep this entire time?” she asks, turning on a lamp beside us.
My eyes adjust to it; the sun has completely set.
“I guess so,” I tell her groggily, sitting up.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asks worriedly.
“Yeah, I’ve just been really tired,” I tell her.
She feels my head. “You’re warm. Do you feel sick?”
“No, I feel fine. I just haven’t been getting much sleep,” I lie. I’ve been getting tons. It seems as if all I’ve done is sleep—or cry.
“Are you sure?” she asks skeptically.
“I’m completely fine,” I assure her. The last thing I need is another person worrying about me; that’s the reason I left Raven’s house.
“Okay, well, I picked up some Chinese on the way home. I thought you would have been up by now.” She giggles, grabbing a remote. The stereo comes on. “We need some life in this house.”
She laughs, shaking her hips to the beat. I laugh at her as she shimmies toward me with the most serious face in the world.
“I’ve seen you shake it at the club. Don’t act all shy,” she warns me then grabs my hand and leads me to the kitchen.
“What did you get?” I ask, hearing my stomach growl.
“Fried rice, orange chicken, and onion pancakes” she says, passing me a plate and silverware.
“So how is grad school going?” I ask her as I wash my hands.
“Boring and difficult, but it beats getting a job.” She laughs, grabbing an onion pancake and sitting on the counter.
I roll my eyes playfully. Angela’s parents have agreed to pay for everything she wants or needs as long as she’s in school, and she’s taken it to the extreme.
“Come on, don’t look at me like that. Cal spoils you rotten.” She giggles.
“Well, that’s b
ecause he’s never home,” I say dryly, taking a seat at the table.
Her expression softens, and she sits next to me. “Is he still working for Crestfield Corp?”
I nod.
“Long hours?” she says skeptically.
“Yeah, maybe that’s it.” I laugh to myself sarcastically.
“You don’t think he’s cheating on you, do you?”
“He says he isn’t, but how many cheating husbands tell their wives that?”
“Do you believe him?”
“Our problems, I believe, are much bigger than a woman, but I can’t rule it out.” I laugh, pouring myself some fried rice. I take a spoonful, feeling awkwardness fill the room.
“What can be bigger than an affair?” she asks.
“I wish I knew,” I say, pushing my plate away. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.
“You know, when you called me, I was sort of surprised, to say the least,” she reveals.
“I’m sorry about the lack of information; I just needed to get away,”
“It’s okay. I know how it is.” She smiles warmly. “I remember how you and Cal were, how in love you guys were. Not to mention how extremely jealous me and Hillary were.” She laughs. “I mean, he was incredibly hot.” She sighs.
I smile. “He still is.”
“You remember Devon? I’d want to jump his ass whenever I saw him. The problem was so did every other woman who saw him.” She laughs.
“Devon, the basketball player, right?” I ask as if I didn’t know. He was unforgettable, with tanned skin, coal-black hair, and a pair of greenish eyes.
“Yep, and every city he played in, he had at least three women.” She giggles. “You know, I’ve dated Asian, black, Hispanic—oh, and Italian—and honey, you know what they all have in common? The inability to understand the concept of being in a monogamous relationship,” she explains with a frown, pouring more rice on my plate. “I’m determined to find one though. Up until now, I’ve had the worst taste in men.”
