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Lauren Bloom was used to the heavy thrum of chaos. The way that patients were rolled into her ER with gruesome injuries or undercover afflictions that weren't visible to the untrained eye. She'd been able to pick out an addict from a group of beauty pageant queens because she knew what addiction looked and felt like. It was as simple and as complicated as that. Lauren was an addict and she always would be.
Just hours ago she'd been at an AA meeting, where she tore herself apart and built herself up again, just to give a little hope to a room full of strangers. Real people with names and stories and reasons for being where they were now. People who squeezed her shoulder when she was finished and told her what a "good job" she'd done.
Lauren knew what loss was. She'd been at death's door before, but it was different when it was family. Even if there was resentment and anger lurking at every turn, family was family. So when she spotted her baby sister Vanessa walking into her workplace, she mentally prepared herself for another outburst. Lauren didn't want her personal life to mix with her professional one, but she knew that the younger Bloom was a loose cannon and she had ignored the problem long enough.
Except that Vanessa was no longer the problem and neither was Jeanie.
Because she was dead.
"Mom kicked it… Mom's dead."
That was what Vanessa had said, but Lauren was having trouble comprehending it. She felt like her usually capable brain had short circuited, now unable to juggle more than one piece of information at a time. Vanessa was here. Jeanie was dead. They would have to make phone calls and arrangements, but that would have to wait.
"Wait for me at home."
"What? Lauren, did you hear what I just said?"
"Yes. Please don't argue with me."
Lauren ignored the shocked looks of the other doctors and nurses standing around her. Word traveled fast in New Amsterdam; soon everyone else would know. She didn't even change out of her clothes as she left the hospital, narrowly avoiding the cracks on the sidewalk as she made her way over to her old apartment. It was all muscle memory, blindly running on autopilot as her body fell headfirst into a customized version of shock instead of succumbing to grief.
Soon she was standing at her old apartment door, lifting her hand cautiously to knock on it. Lauren knew that she shouldn't be here. Leyla had moved on and she thought that she had too. But there was something important in that apartment. Something that she had not been able to lug around with her when she moved in with her sister.
As the door cracked open, a tired Leyla's eyes widened in surprise.
"Lauren? What are you doing here?"
Her expression was unreadable as she slowly glanced up at her ex-girlfriend and then back down at the ground. Lauren almost lost her nerve just then, knowing that at any moment Leyla's partner could pop in and ask why she was coming around. Nevermind that this was still technically her place; it had stopped feeling like home when Leyla moved back in and invited someone else inside.
"Do you still have the tree?"
Leyla nodded, taking a step back as if to allow Lauren the opportunity to peer over at it.
Which she did, the ER doctor glancing over at said tree and feeling the unbearable urge to sit by it. To simply share her space with another living thing that wouldn't ask too many questions or break her heart or blame her for shit that she did back when she was a teenager. Lauren suddenly closed her eyes for a moment, feeling like she was intruding, the urge to run gripping her throat in a vice.
"I should go."
Her voice was shaky, but resolute as she started to turn away, pausing only when Leyla reached out to touch her hand.
"Lauren, wait..."
It was a familiar touch, turning mechanical fingers into something a little more fluid, more expressive as they gently squeezed Leyla's hand. Pleading for something that she couldn't ask for in words. Not out of pride, but because so much time had passed between then and now.
"Come in."
Then came a gentle tug, which Lauren's worn out body followed as her feet moved of their own accord and carried her over to the tree. It was somehow smaller than she remembered it, yet also bigger. It was a lively green, a clear indication that Leyla knew how to take care of it. She had always been so good with living things.
Lauren was not. Even now as she took a seat on the floor and stared up at the majestic gift that had once been a staple of their relationship, she realized that she was not good with dead things either. She just wasn't good with anything.
Lauren wasn't sure how long she sat there, staring up at that tree. But eventually Leyla followed her lead and sat down beside her. They didn't say anything, but the lack of urgency for her to leave silently told Lauren that her ex's partner was out and that they wouldn't be back before she was gone.
"How do you still keep it alive?"
Leyla knew that wasn't the real question that she wanted to ask, but she decided to humor her. Because despite their rocky ending, Lauren was still a very important person in her life. Whether she was an active part of it or not.
"Water, plant food, adequate lighting…"
"Didn't you forget love?"
"Yes, that too."
Lauren paused, wanting to smile but unable to. She found herself unable to move her lips enough to form any other expression but neutral. It was safer that way. To remain detached. She kept telling herself that, even as her knee jiggled a little with nervous energy and she felt her thoughts organizing themselves into neat little piles: she'd label them problems and solutions for Future Lauren.
"Lauren, what happened?"
It hurt that Leyla could still tell that something had happened. That Lauren was no longer as good at hiding it, even from someone that had become a perfect stranger. So perfect, but so foreign now. Because Leyla had moved on. She had invited someone else into their private space and started a new life for herself, as she should.
One life ends and another begins. It was the natural course of things. Lauren understood that, as a doctor, but as a daughter… no, she was not prepared to face it yet. All of the anger that she still had pent up inside. How much of Jeanie she'd seen in her patient's mother today, when she called her out for indulging in her daughter's addiction.
Was it a sign? Did she believe in signs now, due to how exhausted she felt? Because it was so hard to believe in anything these days.
"I can't…"
"You can't talk about it? Okay."
Lauren shook her head.
"No, I can't believe that she's dead."
Leyla turned her whole body towards her ex just then, both surprised and frightened about who "she" could be. Mentally she ran through a list of the personnel at the hospital, since Lauren still spent most of her time there. But it was hard to pinpoint one specific person without making assumptions.
"Who?"
"Jeanie."
Not her mom, but Jeanie. It was easier to address her by name, like it was a clinical situation. No feelings involved.
There was a long silence then, because Leyla knew enough about Jeanie and Lauren's complicated estrangement to know that this was not an easy moment. Lauren had sought out the tree — their tree — for some sort of comfort after weeks of no contact. Leyla suddenly felt guilty, like maybe she had kept it all to herself when it was clear that Lauren needed it more than she did.
"I'm so sorry, Lauren."
Lauren nodded in acknowledgment, but she wasn't sure if she felt the same way. Was she sorry? Wasn't she just complaining about how shitty her life had been, thanks to Jeanie? So why flip the narrative? Why suddenly act like she cared? She didn't care.
Even as tears trickled down her face, Lauren was simply mourning the end of something. She couldn't even give it a proper name, because she didn't feel like they had a proper mother-daughter relationship. It was a mess; she was a mess.
"Does your sister know?"
Lauren nodded. She thought about admitting that they lived together, that two addicts were trying to co-exist in the same space, but she didn't want Leyla to feel bad. She didn't want her to feel obligated to make any changes or reach out as an exception to her rule.
"She was the one that told me."
It was the truth, and after a lie had been what stood in the way of their relationship ever blossoming into something lasting, Lauren took the high road. Still, it was hard listening to Leyla apologize for something that wasn't her fault. Lauren knew that was what everyone else would do too: apologize and regard her with pity, which was really the last thing that she wanted.
Or was it? What did she want? Why was she here? Lauren glanced between the tree and Leyla, knowing that she had lost them both. It was her own doing and she had come to terms with it. So she wiped her eyes and took in a deep breath, before moving to stand.
"You can come over whenever you want, to see the tree."
It was a kind offer, but Lauren shook her head. She wouldn't impose like that again. Taking another glance around the apartment that had once been theirs, Lauren could see all of the subtle changes. How it had become more of Leyla's apartment and less of hers. She didn't want to take that agency away from her again, the drive to live her life however she wanted to.
"This is not my tree anymore. It's yours. Thank you for letting me visit it."
Leyla frowned, but she nodded in understanding. She was not the person that was meant to comfort Lauren right now. Maybe there was someone else. Plus, Lauren had her sister and her friends. Despite what happened between them, Lauren was still a very good friend and Leyla was convinced that everyone else could see it, even if sometimes Lauren couldn't.
Lauren walked to the door, ignoring the tingling sensation in her palm from where Leyla had touched her. Trying to bypass the need to be held by her and her alone. There was no one else. There would be no one else. Maybe she would die like her mother:
Alone.
"Is there anything that I can do for you?"
Lauren paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob as a million thoughts ran through her head.
Kiss me. Hold me. Hate me. Forgive me. Tell me that it's going to be alright.
Tell me that I'm nothing like my mother.
Tell me that you love me. Remind me that I still love myself. Tell me that I'm not broken.
Break me. Heal me. Leave me.
Don't leave me.
"No, you've already done everything that you can for me… just be happy, Leyla. You deserve it."
Leyla stared back at her with glossy eyes, like she wanted to say that Lauren deserved it too.
Everyone did. It was a catch-all sentiment, nothing personal. Lauren was so sure that Leyla didn't feel anything towards her anymore. Nothing positive, at least. It was like the lump in her throat whenever she looked at her and realized that they could have been happy together, if she'd only thought about the consequences of her actions.
But now it was too late, wasn't it?
So why did Leyla step towards her, crossing the room and closing the distance between them? Why did she stand close enough for Lauren to be able to smell her shampoo and feel the ghost of her breath against her cheek? Why were her eyes still so captivating up close, like they held universes within them?
Past Lauren would have kissed her. Damned be the consequences. She would have chased that high like a much needed distraction.
But this Lauren thought about the outcome of such selfish, impulsive actions. Leyla was seeing someone and she did not want to be the other woman. Lauren also did not want to reopen old wounds, remembering how long it took for them to heal enough to blend in with the rest of her scars.
Leyla was the scar that she was proud to wear. Because what they had was real. And she had been able to explore so much of herself and her potential, back when they were a couple.
Unfortunately, she got greedy and things fell apart.
Lauren glanced down at Leyla's soft welcoming lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss them. But she reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder instead, squeezing it gently. Creating a much needed distance between what she wanted and what she knew was no longer possible.
"Goodnight, Leyla."
Her ex-girlfriend was both surprised and proud of her self-restraint, proving that she had changed. This Lauren was sober, responsible, and selfless. She was putting Leyla and their beautiful past together above her own needs, which was the only thing that Leyla had ever wanted from her.
"Goodnight, Lauren."
The walk home to her apartment that she shared with Vanessa was long and tiring. Lauren knew that she should have called a cab, but she didn't. She needed to walk off this excess energy, before she dealt with anything else.
She stopped at the pizzeria that she used to frequent with Leyla, wondering if they still remembered their order. Her heart clenched at the thought of them laughing together over a large pizza with pineapple. How the tangy taste mixed so well with the rest, in such a surprising way.
Leyla had surprised her at first, and then Lauren had grown within their relationship, until she surprised herself.
She ordered a slice of pineapple pizza and slowly ate it at one of the booths, not remembering the last time that she ate today. Lauren wasn't very good at keeping track of things like that: at taking care of herself. But it felt like she was taking a bite out of comfort food as she finished it off, wiping off her hands on a napkin and allowing herself to sit there for a moment. To try to actually enjoy what she ate. But it was so hard to find enjoyment in anything, given the news she'd just received today.
Lauren was so lost in her own thoughts that she was startled when someone slid into the opposite end of the booth, holding two bottles of water and sliding her one. It was Leyla. Lauren wondered if she had found her here by coincidence, or if she had followed her here.
Did it matter?
"Thanks."
Lauren wrapped her hands around the bottle, feeling the coolness against the plastic and trying to let it ground her.
"You've changed."
Lauren slowly looked up at her ex, afraid what she'd find there. Disappointment? Had she changed for the worst?
No, she was wrong.
Lauren could only see respect and maybe a hint of pride in her expression, assuming that she could still read her correctly.
"I had to."
It was an honest response. After her break up with Leyla, Lauren felt like the only way to rise from rock bottom was to go up. Well, first she had a fumble with Vanessa, when trying to fix what she broke with her sister became her new addiction. But then things got better. She weaned herself off of her adderall. She went to AA meetings. She stayed sober.
For three years and seven months.
But it felt like such a small milestone now, as she sat across from Leyla. Maybe part of it was the residual guilt she'd felt when Vanessa discovered her three year sobriety coin and tossed it away in anger. Because Lauren had been keeping her sobriety a secret from her unstable sibling.
Unity, service, recovery. To thine own self be true. Those were the words inscribed on the coin, more like a mantra than a prayer.
"No, you chose to."
I chose you. It was what she wanted to say, but Lauren was too emotional to make decisions like that and she didn't want to regret it later. She already had enough regrets, when it came to the end of their relationship. Lauren didn't want to keep piling on more reasons for why they weren't good together. For why she wasn't good enough for anyone.
Not for Leyla, not for Floyd, not for her mother.
Lauren brushed her finger over the condensation that had built up on the surface of the bottle. As if seeing the water more clearly would also clear up her foggy mind. But one thing had nothing to do with another.
"Lauren, you don't have to be alone right now."
The more Leyla spoke, the more Lauren felt the urge to push her away. Whatever walls had come down during their relationship had been built up twice as strong now. What might have sounded like a perfectly good alternative directly after their break up was now pure torture. Why was Leyla here? Why couldn't she just let her go?
"Yes, I do. Please go. I'm sure that someone's waiting for you and — "
"We broke up."
What? Wait, why was she telling her this? No, no, no. Lauren refused to believe it. She preferred to live in blissful ignorance.
"When?"
What a stupid question.
"Right after you came by and saw me with her."
Was it her fault? Of course not. It had been her apartment, damn it! She shouldn't have had to bunk at Reynold's place on a couch, or end up compromising her sobriety by staying with Vanessa. Lauren should have been able to go home to her own apartment and live in a safe space.
"It doesn't change what happened."
Leyla reached out and touched her pinky finger against Lauren's, as if testing the waters.
"I'm not saying that it does, Lauren. I'm just saying that your apartment is still yours. You don't have to go anywhere that you don't want to go."
No, she was right: but it wasn't about wanting, it was about obligation. Vanessa was hurting and she couldn't abandon her again. So Lauren took in a deep breath, allowing Leyla's hand to cover hers. She allowed her shoulders to drop a little, her façade falling away like a broken masquerade mask. Lauren reached up with her free hand to rub at her forehead.
"Thank you. But I have to do this. She's my sister."
Leyla nodded in understanding, but she didn't remove her hand.
Lauren didn't ask her to move it either, finding comfort in the way that their fingers still fit together so well when she turned her palm upwards.
"I have to go."
"I know."
But she didn't want to.
After returning to her apartment with Vanessa, Lauren had been able to have a semi-civil conversation with her sister. There were parts that were ugly and angry, but there were also parts that were about putting away the gas tank and the lighter. They were sisters and they were all that they had left.
The next few days felt like a blur.
Lauren was given explicit orders to take some time off, which only made her feel worse. If she wasn't busy conducting the messy orchestra that was the ER, then she didn't know what to do with herself. It was almost like a helpless feeling, which made her retreat to the one place that once felt safe:
Her old apartment with Leyla.
Nothing was said after Leyla opened the door and ushered her in. Lauren was dressed all in black, post memorial service from that morning that felt like a punch to the gut. Leyla had been there too, but she had gone to work afterwards and was now wearing her scrubs.
Lauren found her way back into her old bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with a blank expression on her face. She had been unable to cry, which only made her feel worse. What kind of person didn't cry at their own mother's funeral? Clearly only a monster. But she was so emotionally drained that it was hard to even reach down to remove her shoes.
So Leyla did it for her, removing her heels and neatly setting them aside, before helping Lauren out of her dress. There was nothing but respect and a blind dedication in her every move, no ulterior motive behind them as she tucked Lauren into bed and pulled up the covers over her shaking frame.
"You're shivering, Lauren."
If she was, Lauren hadn't noticed. She was staring at the wall, like it was suddenly the most interesting piece of art in the entire world. Lauren didn't move or flinch, even as Leyla left the room.
She didn't expect her to come back a few minutes later, feeling a dip in the bed as Leyla shifted a little closer.
"Is it alright if I hold you, Lauren?"
The "yes, please" got stuck in her throat and refused to come out, so Lauren simply nodded and closed her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time that she properly slept, but the distinct cinnamon smell of Leyla's body wash as her arms wrapped around her from behind lulled her into a sense of security. It was such a tender moment that her shoulders also began to shake, quiet sobs scratching their way out of her throat and interrupting the comfortable silence of the room.
Leyla simply held her through it, not letting her go now that she had her back in her arms. They weren't what they used to be, but that didn't mean that they couldn't be there for each other. Maybe they could even be something better.