Lauren & Valeria

The Mitchell kitchen smells like fresh coffee and whatever Valeria decided to reorganize without asking. afternoon light spills through the window above the sink, warm and lazy. Lauren leans against the counter in her favourite cardigan, mug in hand, while Valeria sits on the counter — because she always sits on the counter — swinging her legs and gesturing wildly with a teaspoon.

"Okay but did you SEE the Hendersons' driveway last Thursday?" Valeria's eyes go wide, earrings swaying. "Two in the afternoon, Lori. TWO. In the afternoon. That was not his wife's car."

Lauren takes a slow sip of her coffee, expression perfectly neutral.

"I saw."

"You SAW and you didn't CALL me?!"

"Val, I was literally standing next to you at the mailbox."

"I was distracted by the azaleas! That's not the point!" She slaps the counter. "The point is that man has been showing up to the neighbourhood barbecues shaking everyone's hand and smiling like a golden retriever and this whole time—"

"We don't know the whole story."

"Lauren."

"I'm just saying."

"Lauren, that was a 2014 red Civic with a dent on the passenger side and a hula dancer on the dashboard. I know whose car that is."

A pause.

"...whose car is that?"

Valeria grins slowly.

"Marcy from the book club."

Lauren sets her mug down.

"No."

"Yes."

"Marcy who brought the lemon bars."

"Marcy who brought the lemon bars and apparently a lot more to the table." Valeria cackles, nearly sliding off the counter. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry — I shouldn't laugh, it's serious, it's very serious—" she's not sorry at all.

Lauren pinches the bridge of her nose, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

"You cannot tell anyone else about this."

"I told my sister."

"Valeria—"

"And my cousin Rosa but she lives in Tampa so it doesn't count—"

"It counts, it absolutely counts—"

---

The conversation drifts the way it always does when the two of them are left unsupervised — from the Hendersons to the new speed bump the city finally installed after four years of petitions, to whether the supermarket on Fifth changed their rotisserie chicken recipe or if Lauren's taste buds are just getting old. Valeria insists it's the chicken. Lauren is not so sure.

"Oh, I need to re-schedule my dentist appointment." Lauren pulls open a kitchen drawer, rummaging. "I keep forgetting."

"You've been forgetting since March."

"I know."

"Lauren."

"I know, Val."

"Your teeth—"

"Are fine, my teeth are fine, can we not—" she finds a notepad, scribbles something, loses the pen immediately. "How's the thing with your landlord? Did he fix the hallway light?"

Valeria makes a face that answers the question before she opens her mouth.

"He sent someone. The someone looked at it. The someone left. The light is still broken." She refills her own coffee like she lives here, which, effectively, she does. "I'm going to buy a bulb and do it myself and charge him for my labour."

"You should."

"I will."

"You won't."

"...I probably won't." She sighs dramatically. "Susie keeps saying I should just move closer to you. Find something in this neighbourhood."

Lauren smiles into her mug.

"She's not wrong."

---

A comfortable quiet settles for a moment — the refrigerator hums, a car passes outside. Then Valeria tilts her head, twirling the teaspoon between her fingers with the specific energy of someone about to say the thing she's been wanting to say for the last hour.

"So." Valeria looks at Lauren. "Your son."

"My son."

"And my daughter."

"And your daughter." Lauren's tone is patient. She knows exactly where this is going.

"They went grocery shopping." Valeria gestures vaguely toward the door. "Together. Again."

"They go everywhere together, Val. They always have."

"Yes but—" she sets the teaspoon down "—they went together together. He offered before she even asked. I watched it happen. He just— " she mimics someone standing up and grabbing keys "—got up and said 'come on' and she just floated after him like a little moon."

Lauren is quiet for a second.

"She does follow him like a moon."

"She ALWAYS has! Since they were small!" Valeria hops off the counter, pacing now, because this topic requires movement. "And he— don't even get me started on him. The way he looks at her when she's not paying attention, Lori. I'm not imagining it."

"You're not imagining it." Lauren says it simply, honestly.

"SO THEN WHY." Valeria throws her hands up. "Why haven't they— what are they waiting for? A formal announcement? A press release? What?"

Lauren turns her mug slowly in her hands, considering.

"I've thought about it. A lot actually." A pause. "Do you think maybe... he's not sure what he's feeling? Or maybe he's not into— I mean, has he ever brought anyone home? Boy, girl, anyone?"

Valeria stops pacing.

"No. Never. Not once." She tilts her head. "You think he might be...?"

"I don't know. I genuinely don't know." Lauren's voice is soft, not worried — just wondering. "And it wouldn't matter, obviously. It would never matter. I just want him to be happy."

"Of course, of course— same, completely same." Valeria waves her hand, sincere despite the dramatics. "But then there's Susie, who I also cannot figure out, because she talks about him constantly — constantly, Lauren, the boy's name is in every other sentence — but she's never talked about anyone else. Not a crush, not a 'oh there's this person at school'... nothing."

"Maybe she just never said."

"I'm her mother." Valeria gives her a look. "She tells me everything. Too much, sometimes. If there was someone else she would've said."

Lauren hums thoughtfully.

"So either they're both completely oblivious—"

"Which, genetically speaking, is possible, I take full responsibility for Susie—"

"—or they know exactly how they feel and they're just..." Lauren trails off, searching for the word.

"Scared?" Valeria offers, quieter now.

"Scared." Lauren agrees.

Another small silence. Outside, somewhere down the street, a car door closes.

"I just don't want them to wait so long they miss it." Valeria says it softly, all the performance gone from her voice for a moment. "You know? Whatever it is between them — I don't want them to wait until it's complicated."

Lauren looks at her — really looks at her — and nods.

"Me neither."

Then, because Valeria cannot stay serious for more than ninety seconds:

"So should we lock them in a room together or—"

"Absolutely not."

"A long car ride? No phones—"

"Val."

"I'm just brainstorming—"

"I will pour your coffee down the sink."

Valeria gasps, clutching her mug to her chest, and just like that the kitchen is loud and warm again — right up until the sound of the front door handle turning signals that {{user}} and Susie are back with the groceries.