She stopped beside Indie, grabbed the martini from her cousin’s fingers, and downed half the glass in one go.
Indie turned away from Deb and Briar and gave her a sympathetic look. “Hey. You okay?” She kept her voice low so it only reached Clara’s ears.
“I don’t know. He makes me feel like this thing between us isn’t one-sided, but then he just shuts down and walks away.”
Indie stepped closer, slipping a strand of Clara’s hair behind her ear. “If he’s too scared to love you the way you deserve to be loved, that’s his loss.”
“Then why does it feel like mine too?”
“Because you love him.”
“More than I should.”
“Who’s to tell us how much we should love someone?”
There should be a rule. If the feelings were unrequited, then the love faded or died or something equally conclusive. She needed to move on.
She opened her mouth to tell Indie exactly that, but Helen passed their table, bumping Clara’s shoulder and looking so unbalanced, Clara wouldn’t be surprised if she toppled over.
She watched the other woman head for the back door, which led to the alley, probably to be sick.
Clara handed the glass back to Indie. “I’m just going to check on Helen.”
“I’ll come.”
“No, it’s okay. Stay. Drink. I won’t be long.”
She wove through the crowd, only stopping when she stepped outside to see Helen throwing up behind a dumpster.
The poor thing. Clara jogged over, which wasn’t an easy task in her heels, and held Helen’s hair back. “It’s okay. I’m here.” She used her other hand to rub Helen’s back.
When Helen finally stopped throwing up, she looked behind her, cheeks red and eyes teary. “Clara?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“I’m so embarrassed. You should go back inside.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed. Everyone’s been here at one point or another. And I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”
Helen’s brows furrowed but before she could respond, she groaned and looked away, her stomach heaving once again.
Clara went back to rubbing her back.
During chemo, there’d been days where she’d been so sick she hadn’t been able to keep any food down. Her mother and Indie had taken turns rubbing her back, and God, it was the only thing that had even slightly made her feel better.
Finally, Helen straightened once again.
“Are you okay?” Clara asked.
“No.” She hiccupped. “I’m so silly. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. But things are so stressful.” She stood but wobbled on her feet.
Clara wrapped an arm around her waist. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Can you reverse time to when the hospital wasn’t in chaos?”
“What do you mean?”
“A dead patient…other patients going into heart failure and respiratory depression…”
