Work Text:
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So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
.
we're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
//
She’s forgotten what it’s like to live alone.
Mark has been a great help, but she knows that she needs to move on. There is only so much that she can take off of him, and after a while she begins to feel guilty. Guilty because he is her ex’s father, of all people, and here he is being kind to her when he has every right to turn her away.
He, of course, denies that she is any trouble. In fact, he insists that he is more than happy to have her living with him for however long she needs to. He says that she is welcome to stay, that he is more than happy to help her get back onto her feet, and that his home is her home until such time as both of them are confident that she will be okay by herself.
Carmilla, of course, cant seem to shake the feeling that his kindness comes out of pity. That she doesn’t deserve any of his help, and that he is only helping her because he feels sorry for her. She knows logically that this isn’t true; that Mark is helping her because he actually cares about her. He has yelled at Laura over the phone on Carmilla’s behalf, after all. For several hours, too. So there is clearly some honesty in his affirmations that Carmilla is welcome to stay, and Carmilla honestly doesn’t think Mark has a bad bone in his body.
Overprotective bones, sure, but good ones nevertheless.
But there was also a time that she would have said the same about his daughter, and she was wrong about that now wasn’t she?
+++
Her apartment is on the sixth floor.
She has to ride in the elevator to get there, because the stairs only go to the fourth floor. There are some people in her building that climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and then get into the elevator, but Carmilla doesn’t understand why they would do that. Surely it is easier to simply ride in the elevator the entire way up?
It doesn’t make any sense, but she doesn’t ask why they do it either because Doctor Fieldman says that it is rude to question that sort of thing.
What exactly “that sort of thing” means, Carmilla doesn’t know.
She holds her tongue.
+++
Her apartment is small, but she doesn’t particularly care about that. It has a bathroom and a bedroom and a small corner kitchen that has a window that looks out onto the playground. Soemtimes she stands there on a Saturday morning, brewing coffee and making toast, and she will watch the small children play. She enjoys those morning, because children possess a sense of freedom about them that never fails to bring a smile to Carmilla’s lips. And when she stand there, sipping coffee or buttering toast, she can watch those small, happy children playing and feel a small sense of happiness herself.
There are times though, that she will sit alone in her small apartment and feel the darkness overtake her. And try as she might she never can really shake the feeling of those dark clouds constantly hovering over her.
Doctor Fieldman says that it’s normal. That after a bad break up, and considering the circumstances of that bad break up, he is not surprised that the darkness has come back to hang over her in thick, black, clouds.
“But you’re strong, Carmilla,” he says, over and over at every chance he gets. At every session they have together. “You’re strong and I believe you can beat it. You did last time.”
“Yeah,” Carmilla replies, “I did. But things are different now. I’m different now.”
“How?”
“I’m alone.”
+++
There is an old lady that lives across the hall from Carmilla. Her name’s Sadie, and her husband had died two years before. She’s lonely, and Carmilla’s lonely, so Carmilla decides she’s going to spend a lot of time with Sadie.
Sadie tells her stories about her life, about how she and her husband fell in love and their wedding. About their children and grandchildren who lived twenty-minutes away but rarely visited because their lives were so busy. Carmilla thinks it’s sad, but Doctor Fieldman tells her that sometimes when people are sad, they don’t like to think about how they’re sad, and that it’s usually better to help them think of happy things. So Carmilla asks Sadie if she wants to go to the park and watch the kids play, because when Carmilla watches the kids playing it makes her feel happy, and maybe it’ll make Sadie feel happy too.
Sadie looks at her for a moment after Carmilla asks, and there’s a small glint in her eye that almost seems to make her eyes twinkle. And then she smiles.
“I’d like that very much.”
+++
There was a time a long, long time ago when Carmilla thought she might have a chance at normalcy. When her father was around and her mother didn’t hate her quite as much and her brother was too young to know any different.
Her father would hoist her up on his shoulders and spin her her around, her laughter cracking through the stillness of their neighbourhood and the weight lifting from her heart, freeing her from the sadness that she was too young to fully comprehend.
He would answer her questions with a patient understanding, never seeming to grow tired of them, and trying his best to be as honest as possible. She didn’t understand at the time, how tiresome it must have been. She still doesn’t, not really, but she tries and she can see that it must have been a lot to handle. Her respect for her father only grows, as she understands more and more. Her love for him never dimmed.
Mother blamed her when he left, of course. It was the first of many situations she was blamed for, and the unfounded accusations that were placed upon Carmilla’s ten-year-old shoulders weighed her down. Plus William was old enough now, to understand more the situation the family found themselves in, and he followed the example their mother set, reminding Carmilla constantly of how unnatural she was. How wrong she was, and how much of an inconvenience her “condition” was and the lengths their family had to go in order to accommodate it.
And for the longest time, Carmilla believed them.
+++
“Do you want to find him?”
Doctor Fieldman studies her with the carefully calculating eyes that Carmilla has grown so used to. There stare no longer makes her nervous, but prompts her to dig deep enough for an answer that would satisfy the question. Satisfy both Doctor Fieldman, and Carmilla herself. It’s progress, she supposes, that she feels completely comfortable in the psychologists’ presence, but it is also a little disheartening because the comfortable feeling is entirely due to the fact that she has spent an hour every week for the last six years in this very chair.
It’s another reminder that she isn’t normal.
“I don’t know.”
“Have you thought about it?”
She has, of course. Many times, and she says as much because she doesn’t know what else to say. Bust she doesn’t know if she actually wants to go through with it, because the complete uncertainty about the outcome makes her nervous and anxious and a whole lot of other things she can’t seem to name. Would her father actually want to see her? Would he care? She hopes so, but she doesn’t know, and she isn’t sure if she is capable of taking that risk.
“Do you think tht, should you have the chance to meet him again, you would want to?”
“I don’t know.” Carmilla bites her lip. “It’s been so long and he left for a reason. Mother always said that reason was me. What if she was telling the truth?”
Doctor Fieldman looks at her for the longest time, and Carmilla plays with her fingers whil trying to avoid his gaze. When she can’t avoid it any longer, she looks up and Doctor Fieldman smiles warmly, leaning forward and locking Carmilla’s gaze with his own.
“Your father probably left for a multitude of reasons but from what you’ve told me I can almost certainly assure you that you was not one of them.”
For the first time in may, many year, Carmilla feels the weight on her heart lift jut a little.
+++
Sixty-five days since that say, and she still goes to the bar. She still sits in the same seat watching the same crowds, but somehow feeling considerably different.
Not many people come up to her anymore, and part of her is thankful while the other part wonders why.
+++
On Sundays at 8pm she will call Mark. He will answer after exactly five rings, and they will talk for an hour. Usually Carmilla will do the talking, and Mark will listen, but occasionally he will tell Carmilla about clients that come in, or a funny story about the lady who works the cash register at the grocery store down the street.
Carmilla likes talking to Mark. She likes that he will listen to her, and give her advice about things she doesn’t know how to ask other people.
Doctor Fieldman likes that she speaks to Mark as well, because he said it’s a good thing that she’s developing a healthy parental relationship with someone.
But honestly, Carmilla just likes feeling loved.
+++
Sadie’s grandchildren come over one Wednesday afternoon, and Carmilla is invited.
They have tea and cake, because that’s what Sadie and Carmilla always have when they get together to talk, and Carmilla listens to Sadie ask her grandchildren about their lives. She listens to the bunch talk excitedly, and the eldest babble on about their upcoming wedding. Sadie is excited about that too, and Carmilla realises that even though the family don’t get together very often, they still love each other very much.
“Where’s your fiancé?” Carmilla asks, and the eldest grandchild smiles in Carmilla’s direction.
Their name is Lafontaine, and they have hair so red Carmilla can’t help but stare. Lafontaine doesn’t seem to mind, though, and just smiles at Carmilla warmly every time they catch her staring.
“she has to work, unfortunately.”
“What does she do?”
“She teaches kindergarten.” Lafontaine picks up another slice of cake and breaks of a piece, placing it in their mouth and smiling as they swallow. “Which, for some people who know her, is rather funny to think about.”
Carmilla frowns, “why?”
“Because Perry is, let’s say, rather erratic. And to think of her in a room with so much potential for mess and loud yelling is funny.” Lafontaine laughs quietly to themselves, “but she loves is. And she’s good at it. The kids love hr too.”
“Maybe she’s just like that at home then. Sometimes people deal with their work differently to the way they deal with their home life. Because when work issues carry over to someone’s home spaces, it can be more stressful that if that issue comes up at work.”
Lafontaine smiles at Carmilla, nodding. “That makes sense.”
“or maybe your fiancé just doesn’t like that you make the same amount of mess as a five-year-old.”
The look that Lafontaine gives Carmilla makes the latter worry, and Carmilla think that she has overstepped her bounds. But then Lafontaine gives out a loud laugh, and nods their head a few times and Carmilla relaxes, breathing out slowly through her nose, looking down at her tea.
“Yeah,” Lafontaine laughs, clapping Carmilla on the back, “you’re probably spot on with that one.”
+++
It has been exactly eighty-two days since that day, and Carmilla wonders why she still wakes up wishing she isn’t alone.
+++
“How you holding up, Carm?”
Mark looks at her calmly over his plate of eggs and bacon. It is exactly the same dish that his daughter had ordered when she would accompany Carmilla to Sunday brunch, but Carmilla isn’t thinking about that. Or, she is trying not to think about it, anyway.
It isn’t working very well.
“I’m okay.”
It isn’t a lie, because she is okay. But it isn’t exactly the truth, either. She is coping. She is going about her daily life and she is coping. And she doesn’t see why she needs to do anything more than that because it isn’t anyone else’s place to tell her how to live her life now is it? Besides, it isn’t as though she is letting anyone down; she is meeting her work deadlines and she is meeting with the people she regularly meets with. Like Mark. She isn’t not-living, she is just…gliding. She is gliding through her life with as little thoughts about the matter as she can muster.
There isn’t anything wrong with that now is there?
“Is that right?” Mark raises an eyebrow, and Carmilla feels herself flush under the gaze. the same look her father used to give her when she had snuck an extra popsicle out of the freezer after dinner and then told him that she hadn’t. The look on her face must tell mark more than her lack of speech does, because he smiles and places his knife and fork down carefully on the plate before leaning forward and looking Carmilla directly in the eye. “So tell me, how are you holding up?”
“I’m coping.”
Mark hums, gesturing for Carmilla to continue. She sighs and places her own knife and fork down, sitting back in her chair and looking at Mark with an expression so pained he has to stop himself from getting up and wrapping her in a hug right then and there.
“It hurts.” She blinks a few times to stop herself from crying because she isn’t about to let herself get so vulnerable in a public space. “It hurts and sometimes I dream about her, about when it was good, and then I wake up and remember that it’s not and that she’s gone and it feels like I’ve been stabbed in the chest.”
Carmilla sighs. “Why does it still hurt after so long? Shouldn’t it be better by now?”
Mark swallows, meeting Carmilla’s broken expression with one he can only hope conveys the amount of sympathy he has for the woman. “Sometimes, Carmila, broken hearts are never truly mended. You just need to learn how to move on. “
“That’s the problem,” she says, “I’m not even sure I want to move on.”
+++
On a Tuesday afternoon in October, LaFontaine invites Carmilla over for dinner. Carmilla hesitates only for a second to process the invitation, before agreeing, but Lafontaine doesn’t seem to notice. Or, if they do notice, they do a very good job at hiding it, because they grin a wide, toothy grin that Carmilla can’t help but return.
Dinner’s at six on Thursday, Lafontaine informs her, but Carmilla can arrive any time after four.
She gets there at five on the dot.
Perry answers the door, and smiles warmly at Carmilla, ushering her in and taking her coat before directing her to the kitchen where Lafontaine is sitting dejectedly on a stool at the bench.
“I got ordered out,” They say with a roll of her eyes, “apparently the kitchen isn’t the place for experiments.”
Carmilla blinks, “of course it isn’t,” she says, not understanding, “the kitchen is for cooking. Science is generally done in a laboratory.”
“That’s what I told them!” Perry exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “you’d do well to listen to your friend, Lafontaine.”
Carmilla sits down next to Lafontaine, watching the heated exchange of glances between the couple, not quite following what is happening and slightly concerned that she might have caused the end of an engagement. When Lafontaine laughs and Perry rolls her eyes, Carmilla chuckles along nervously.
“Come on, Carm,” Lafontaine gets up off the stool and nods towards the doorway. “Since I’ve been ejected from the kitchen, I’ll give you a quick tour.”
///
The house is small, but it’s tidy and quaint, and Carmilla is rather fond of it, actually.
As Lafontaine guides her through the room, the red head talks animatedly about the thousands of pictures that hang on the wall, telling Carmilla stories about some of their favourites and laughing at the memories they provide. Carmilla finds herself enjouing the stories, although she doesn’t quite understand some of them and she forces herself to avoid asking the question that burn within her. It isn’t the place, she tells herself, she’s only known these people for a few months and she really doesn’t want to force them away with her issues.
With her differences.
She wants a normal friendship for once.
“Perry and I have been best friends since we were five,” Lafontaine smiles as the two walk back into the kitchen. “We started dating in college, although I had feelings for her for most of high school.”
“Why didn’t you start dating in high school then?”
“I had other things going on, ya know? And it was a huge change. I was scared. Perry was scared. We didn’t want to lose a great friendship over an uncertain relationship.”
“it worked out well in the end though,” Carmilla smiles.
“yeah,” Lafontaine bobs their head in agreement, “it did.”
///
Carmilla is more nervous that she thinks she should be as dinner is served, and she sits at the table trying to will her leg to stop bouncing. Lafontaine smiles at her from across the table, and Carmilla smiles back as she breathes as inconspicuously as she can in an attempt to calm her racing heart as much as humanly possible.
When her plate is placed in front of her though, she can’t control the expression that flies across her face. She looks up at Perry, frowning, and the woman frowns back.
“I hope I did it right. I asked Sadie, but she wasn’t certain.”
Carmilla looks between Perry and Lafontaine before glancing back down at her plate. The food, organised with clear lines between each of the items makes something in Carmilla’s chest burst, and she jumps to her feet, flinging herself at Perry and wrapping the woman in a hug.
There aren’t any words that seem to encapsulate the feeling Carmilla that builds within Carmilla, and so she finds herself repeating, thank you, thank you, thank you, over and over again into the woman’s shoulder.
“Of course, darling,” Perry replies, “I’m just glad I did it right.”
“You did it perfectly.”
+++
Carmilla generally doesn’t celebrae her birthday, but this year Lafontaine and Perry organise a lunch in the park.
It’s a Saturday, and Sadie brings cakes and Mark brings juice and they sit around enjoying the mild fall weather. Carmilla doesn’t talk much, but she does listen to her friends talk about their wedding. Mark asks questions and Sadies gushes about how excited she is, and Carmilla realises with a start that she is happy.
One hundred and twenty three days since that day, and Carmilla is happy.
+++
Carmilla sits in the familiar chair in the familiar room, looking at the familiar face and feels the words she never thought she would utter fall of her tongue.
“I was to find my father.”
+++
Christmas comes and goes and soon Carmilla finds herself at Sadie’s. Surrounded by many ginger children of various ages, she feels rather out of place. But the family is welcoming and enthusiastically engage her in their annual New Years Eve celebrations, which mainly consist of telling bad jokes and watching bad TV shows and various Disney movies.
Carmilla stays rather close to Perry, who has taken the woman under her wing in a rather motherly manner. LaFontaine often jokes that despite Carmilla being several years older than both Perry and themself, Carmilla is their adopted child. At first, Carmilla doesn’t approve of the title, feeling as though it is the pair poking fun at her sometimes childlike questioning. But after a while she grows to like it, after realising that it is more the couple’s way of expressing that Carmilla is part of their little family.
It is unusual, at first, being openly accepted into the family. It took some getting used to, but after Carmilla finds herself wedged into the corner of Sadie’s sofa with a small red-headed child sitting on her lap and a taller, broodier, red-headed teenager sitting next to her she realises that this is the family that she had lacked growing up. This is the family that she has always wanted.
And she wouldn’t change it for the world.
+++
Sitting with LaFontaine at her dining room table, looking through photos of her father, Carmilla doesn’t know why she has waited so long to start seeking him out. LaF doesn’t say much as they sit there; they are working their way through Carmilla’s biscuit box, simply sitting in silence looking at the photos of a much younger Carmilla, and letting the latter tell them bits and pieces about her childhood.
“Do you know how you’re going to find him?” LaF asks eventually.
“No.” Carmilla replies, “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Have you tried a Google search?”
“I highly doubt that will bring up anything useful.” Carmilla replies flatly. LaF doesn’t seem to care though, and opens Carmilla’s laptop.
“What’s his name?”
“Joseph. Joseph Karnstein.”
LaF types it into the Google search bar and hits enter. As they wait for the results to load, Carmilla feels herself growing anxious. The bigger part of her knows that a simple Google search will be far too easy, but a smaller part of her hopes that it will be that easy. That her father will somehow turn up on the first page of results, and they will reunite and have a happy ending.
The two of them flick through the results one by one. There isn’t much to go on; a few LinkedIn profiles and some Facebook results, but nothing even remotely close to Carmilla’s father.
“Karnstein isn’t a popular name,” LaF states as they close the laptop, “have you tried the phonebook?”
Carmilla shakes her head, “I’m not good with phone conversations. I’m not even sure if I own a copy of the phonebook.”
“We do.” LaF says, “I could get Perry to bring it around and I’ll call for you.”
Carmilla nods. It’s worth a try.
//
There are only six listing under Karnstein in the phone directory. One of them is hers, and another her mothers. Under J. Karnstein there are two listings.
The first one is a kind lady named Josephine, who tries to sell LaF some homemade soap products.
The other is answered by a teenager named James who says that Joseph Karnstein is his father.
“He’ll be back at five, if you want to talk to him?”
“Um, yeah. I’ll give you a call then.” LaF agrees, and hangs up.
Carmilla is in shock.
+++
Carmilla speaks to her father for exactly ten minutes and twenty-three seconds on the phone, before agreeing to meet for coffee.
LaF and Perry promise to stay close by, in case Carmilla needs to leave, and Mark frees his afternoon in case she needs him. Carmilla is glad she has these people around her, because she honestly isn’t sure how she would cope if she’d had to do this alone.
She knows she wouldn’t have been in this situation at all had she not had LaF and Perry anyway, but she is still glad that she has these people who care about her enough to help her do this.
Her father hasn’t changed much.
He still has his kind eyes. He looks the same, if maybe a few pounds heavier and his hair is significantly greyer. But when he sees Carmilla he smiles and stands up.
“I didn’t know what you drank, so I got you a hot chocolate. I hope that’s alright.”
Carmilla nods, because she does like hot chocolate, and when it comes she smiles at the fact that her father remembers she doesn’t like the marshmallows in her drink, but placed on a separate plate on the side.
“I made sure they put two of the same colour. I know you never liked having one of each.”
“Thank you.” She whispers, picking up a marshmallow and smiling as she ate it. Her father smiles back.
They talk for what seemed like hours, and when it starts to get dark her father asks if she wants to come to dinner. Carmilla refuses, saying that it is Friday night dinner at LaF and Perry’s and he nods understandingly.
“I could come over tomorrow night?”
“I think I would like that very much. You can bring your friends if you like.”
+++
Carmilla is nervous, and it takes LaFontaine, Perry, Sadie and Mark to get her out of her apartment. She had spent the better part of the day worrying, and had called Mark in a panic because what if he hates me?
“I can guarantee he does not hate you, Carm.” Mark has said, “he just wants to get to you know again.”
LaFontaine helps her choose her clothes, and Perry drives them towards the address Carmilla’s father had scrawled on a napkin the day before. It is a quiet drive, and Carmilla sits in back seat, counting her breaths as she stares out the window. Her father lives ten minutes from her apartment, fifteen minutes from the house she had shared with Laura. How had they been so close and yet never met?
It isn’t until Perry opens her door that Carmilla realises they have arrived.
As Carmilla stepps out of the car and follows LaF and Perry to the door, she smils. The house very much resembles the house she had grown up in. The flowers in this yard are in full bloom, and she cant help but remember a time when she would sit next to her father as he weeded the ones in front of her childhood home.
When he answers the door, Carmilla stepps in and is immediately engulfed with the smell of rice and spices.
“I’m making the beef stroganoff you liked as a kid.” Her father states with a hint of uncertainty, and Carmilla realizes he’s just as nervous as she is. “I hope that’s okay. James likes it too.”
“Where is James?”
“In his room.” Her father smiles, “He’ll be out soon. He’s going over his history mid-term with a tutor because his marks aren’t up to scratch and he doesn’t want to get held back. Again.”
Carmilla nods.
Perry immediately takes to the kitchen, helping Carmilla’s father with the last of the preparations, and Carmilla and LaF look on. Joseph asks Carmilla about her life, her work, and Carmilla in turn asks about his life and what James was like.
“He’s a good kid,” her father says, “I adopted him a few years ago. His mother was a friend of mine, and she was sick. When she died, she left him to me.”
“He can’t be any worse than Will.”
Her father laughs.
///
When dinner is ready Joseph sends Carmilla to inform James.
“Second door on the left. The one with the posters.”
She knocks twice before opening the door, and when she does she freezes.
“Oh hey, you must be Carmilla.”
Carmilla nods, but she isn’t looking at James.
“Are you alright?”
Carmilla runs.
+++
She is halfway down the street, sitting on a bench when Mark calls.
“Carm. Laura called me. Are you alright?”
“No.” She gasps.
“Breathe for me, okay? I’m on my way.”
+++
Her father finds her on the bench, and sits with her in silence. He doesn’t ask what had happened. He doesn’t push for information. And when Mark pulls up he didn’t question who he is, but allows Mark to wrap Carmilla in his arms.
They walk together back to the house.
Laura is still there. Of course she is. Perry is serving up dinner, and LaF is sitting with James, sending glares in Laura’s direction. The two haven’t met before, but LaF has learnt all they need to from the little bits of information Carmilla has told them, and from that they have decided that they don’t like Laura at all.
Laura greets her father when he comes in, and Mark hugs his daughter while Carmilla takes a seat next to LaF. James smiles at her, and she smiles back because it isn’t his fault his history tutor is Carmilla’s cheating ex-girlfriend. He just wants to pass his classes.
“Carmilla would you like a drink?”
Carmilla nods, not sure if the speaker is Mark or her father, but either way a glass of water is placed in front of her and she takes it, drinking thankfully because her throat has become dry and course and she isn’t 100% sure why.
“Are you hungry?”
She isn’t sure, and she says as much.
“I’ll dish you up a small bowl.
///
They eat in silence.
Carmilla doesn’t look at anyone, but everyone looks at her and it makes her nervous and her leg begins bouncing under the table.
LaF holds her hand, squeezing it occasionally in a way that comforts Carmilla and lets her know it will be alright.
Laura is at the end of the table, next to Perry and Mark. She is looking at Carmilla, and Carmilla knows she wants to say something but the tense silence that envelopes the table seems to stop her. No one wants to break the silence, and so the dinner becomes an incredibly awkward affair and Carmilla can’t help but feel responsible.
She’s glad that no one speaks to her though. She doesn’t trust herself not to cry.
Her father is confused, and she feels terrible about that. He had invited her over to reconnect and now she has shut herself off. She isn’t talking, and he is confused and upset and she isn’t helping. He doesn’t push though. He doesn’t push and he keeps sending her worried glances across the table but she can’t bring herself to look at him properly.
She just keeps on hurting people, and she can’t seem to stop it.
///
Once dinner is finished, James excuses himself to his room. Perry and LaF go to clean up and Carmilla is left at the table with Mark and Laura and Joseph.
“You don’t have to tell me of course. I wont push you, but I am curious…” Her father begins, looking between the three people at the table.
Carmilla looks up, glancing from her father to Mark who holds her gaze. She nods slightly, giving him permission to speak on her behalf, but Laura cut in.
“Carmilla and I were in a relationship for a long time. But we broke up and this is the first time in a very long time that we’ve seen each other.”
“Two hundred and ten days.”
Laura frowned. “Sorry?”
“Two hundred and ten days.” Carmilla repeats louder, “it’s been two hundred and ten days since you cheated on me.”
Joseph’s head spins around. “You cheated on her?”
Laura seems to falter, and Mark steps in. “Yes she did, and she is now dealing with the consequences.”
Joseph looks from Mark to Laura and back again. “And you’re Laura’s father?”
Mark nods.
“But you are also close with Carmilla?”
“She stayed with me after the…incident. We were close during the relationship and I wasn’t going to let Laura’s bad decisions impact on my own relationship with Carmilla. I wasn’t going to leave Carmilla alone again.”
Joseph nods. “Yes, ah, thank you.”
Silence falls over them again, and Carmilla finally brings her eyes up to look at Laura. The woman is sitting low in her chair, arms crossed protectively across her chest and looking miserable. It sends a shooting pain through Carmilla’s chest, but then the image of her and that red-head in their bed flickers across through her mind and she reminds herself of all the reasons why she shouldn’t be feeling sorry for Laura.
But as much as she doesn’t like Laura, she still cars about her, in a really fucked up way, and all of a sudden the room seems far too small and she excuses herself to get some air.
She didn’t expecting Laura to follow.
They sit on the front steps, side by side. Laura doesn’t say anything and neither does Carmilla. There isn’t much to say anyway. They don’t know each other anymore. They aren’t friends, they aren’t lovers. Laura doesn’t know where Carmilla lives now, and Carmilla doesn’t know if Laura has stayed in their house. Can she afford it on her own? Carmilla doesn’t know. And she tells herself she doesn’t care.
She does though. She will always care.
“I know I’ve said this before, but I’m sorry.” Laura breaks the silence, and Carmilla can feel Laura’s eyes on her but she keeps her own eyes fixated on the ground.
“And, for what it’s worth, I was telling the truth when I said it didn’t mean anything. It was wrong of me, I know that. I should have come to you about my feelings. I should have come to you and I didn’t and I fucked up. I know that I probably never have a chance of being with you like that again, and I completely understand if you never want to see me again, but just know that I’m sorry and I never set out to hurt you. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”
Carmilla laughs.
It catches them both by surprise, but she doesn’t stop. She laughs and Laura sits there dumbfounded until Carmilla stops.
“I accept your apology,” Carmilla ays at last, “but that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
“But I do care about you. And, as much as I don’t understand it, I do miss you.”
Laura nods. “Me too,” she whispers.
“So, if you want, we can try and be friends. I don’t know if it will work, but I’m willing to try. But I do mean friends. I don't trust you, and I certainly don't forgive you for what you did. I don’t think we can ever be the way we were, but I’m willing to try and be friends with you.”
Laura smiles, and Carmilla realises exactly how much she has missed that smile.
“I’m okay with that.”
//
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.