CHAPTER FIVE
Someone has pizza.
The smell trickles in through my opened door and my nose perks up. It’s not uncommon for one of the kids to use their extra money to eat dinner here. It’s a safer space than what many of them go home to. What is totally unfair is the fact it’s against regulations for me to eat any of their pizza. During the school year I eat dinner here most nights, but over the summer I try to make it home. It means by four o’clock my stomach would consider ingesting anything in sight…or smell.
I should get up and leave my office, but I can’t will my legs to move. I like to spend my last hour with the kids before I hand over the operation of this place to John, the evening help I hired thanks to the successful fundraiser the RDA girls held in April. We’re mostly volunteer supported but free people aren’t always reliable. It’s nice to have someone.
Of course I can’t leave now. If I go out there, I worry I’ll finish up whatever cheesy goodness is left. My stomach uses the thought to growl in agreement.
The top right drawer of my desk vibrates, the metal buzzing distracting me from my stomach trying to eat itself.
Plus, I get cranky when I’m hungry. It’s best I don’t subject myself to pubescent teenagers right now.
MARISSA: Now that you and Grant are dating can we do couple game nights?
I wonder where in the hell Marissa heard Grant and I were dating. And how long she waited before texting me. With Marissa, not long. The RDA girls could be a case study on codependence. If I didn’t know Marissa had a sister, I’d assume they were only children searching for an emotional bond they missed out on in childhood.
CLARE: Grant and I are not dating.
I stick the phone back in my drawer and close it hoping it’s the end of the conversation.
But of course it’s not. Twenty-three seconds later when I remove the phone again there’s another message from Marissa waiting.
MARISSA: Are you sure?
Did she ask me if I’m sure I’m not dating Grant? Like it’s possible to be in the dark about who you’re dating.
Before I answer she messages again.
MARISSA: Because the word on the street is he bought you a laptop and was at your house last night.
I chuckle. She says “word on the street,” but she means “word in the comic shop,” which is so much less cool. And how do they find these things out? Do they spy on each other? Report back their every movement? I mentioned the codependence, right?
CLARE: I’m returning the laptop and he didn’t make it past my dining room last night.
Don’t give me that look — it’s the truth. This is why I have a guy best friend. They don’t ask so many questions. Before I think much about it I tap out another text.
CLARE: Grant has gone stalker. I need him to back the f up.
This return text for Marissa takes longer and I waste time staring at my white cinderblock wall, my framed certificate for most caring director hanging from a cheap frame. When the text comes, I’m not nearly as angry.
MARISSA: Grant can be an all-out guy. I think he’s excited you’re finally talking to him, but I’ll tell him to back off if that’s what you want.
CLARE: Yes, thanks.
A pit in the ball of my stomach forms as I punch out the words. Isn’t it what I want? I spent so much time and energy staying away from Grant I never took the time to figure out if it was worth it. Besides the annoying deliveries, it hasn’t been horrible spending time with him. I guess.
The pizza smell gone, I sigh and stick my phone back in the drawer. It’s too late to take the words back now, and it’s better for everyone if Grant and I part ways before it gets complicated. I’m not interested in learning how he’d react if he ever found out my past.
“Long day?” John says while plopping down sideways in the chair on the other side of my desk.
His legs hang over the armrest, dangling in midair and waiting for my reply. One of the reasons he’s so great with the kids is his laid-back, fun personality, but today it grates on me. He’s too much like Grant with his pleasant personality, brown hair and blue eyes.
I wave away his concern. “Nothing here. Just my personal life.”
John’s head pops up, a smirk on his face. “Personal life? I wasn’t aware Clare Cunningham had one of those.”
He makes me laugh as being around John normally does. “On occasion I’ve been known to leave the facilities and partake in certain social activities.”
