“Yeah, I guess.” That’s not it though. It was something about realising how quickly life can move on—how suddenly feelings can change—that sent me spiralling. Could Clara change her mind so easily? Could she go fromwe are togethertowe don’t workjust as fast as Natalie did?
“Do you…” Clara starts speaking, her voice hesitant and small. “Do you wish things were different? That you two were…you know.”
“That we were what?” I ask.
“Do you wish things were different?” Clara asks. I hear a shuffle of fabric, like perhaps she’s adjusting her buttons. “That Natalie never left?”
The questions catch me off guard. Hypothetical questions areusuallydifficult for me to answer but this one doesn’t take me very long to answer. “No.”
“You hesitated.”
“Well, I was thinking that if Nat hadn’t left me I’d have probably married her.”
“Right. Of course…” Clara’s discouraged tone sends a warning jolt to my system.
Fix this. You can’t lose Clara. You can’t close up again.
I take a long moment, graciously granted by Clara’s silent patience, to sort through my thoughts. One thing becomes clear above all else—I need to tell Clara the truth.
“Clara, I’d never in a million years have guessed thatthisfeeling was possible. I’d have been content to stay with Natalie, never knowing better.”
“What feeling?” She asks, an ounce of her usual, hopeful lilt returning.
“That I’d spent my life as a half, and now I’m whole. Like I’ve been sleeping so long under a haze—an illusion of comfort—then you came in. Sunshine and golden rays of light. And you made everything brighter.”
“Oh.” Clara’s hands wrap around my waist in the dark.
“I don’t wish I was still with Natalie. If this… me and you…” I stutter as she rubs small circles on my sides. “If I’d gotten aglimpseof how good life could be at any point over the last nine years, I’d have broken things off with Natalie. You have a place in my heart that no one else could ever have. I doubt anyone could come close.”
“Ev…” Clara laughs, accompanied by a happy type of whine and a deep breath. “Evan, I love you.”
I inhale sharply. “You do?”
“Yes. In all of the ways,” Clara says sweetly.
“All of them?” I ask. A soft, giddy laugh comes from both of us at the same time.
“I actually thought there were only two kinds of love before. That it was just love like your family or romantic love. But I think there may be hundreds of kinds. Love like a new lease on life. Love like a place to exist freely. Love like being understood.Love like the contented quiet. Love like freshly baked cookies. Love like a thin veil between wishing it’d started earlier and loving the way it began.”
We press our foreheads together. All I can hear is the muffled party sounds from down the hall and our breath—heavy and in perfect synchronisation.
“Well at least it’s new for us both.” I brush my lips over her nose in the dark. “I missed your mouth,” I whisper.
“Just now or in general?” Clara asks, kissing the corner of my lips.
“Both.” I whisper. “I’m sorry I freaked out. It’s just weird being here. Nothing I can’t handle, nothing that changes what we have. But it’s still so strange..”
“I can’t imagine what that feels like but I think you’re doing a great job handling it.”
“I’m sorry though.”
“Don’t be.” Clara clears her throat. “But, maybe, did you have something else to say? Perhaps a reply?”
Oh my god.“Clara, I love you,” I say in a rush. I cannot believe I forgot to say it back. I’ve said it so many times to her in my head, in deleted texts, and to her sleeping body that I didn’t even think to reply outloud. “I love you,” I repeat—just to be sure.
She sighs out as if she’d been holding her breath. “Goodness, you really had me out on a ledge for a minute there.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, bringing her closer.
