Chapter Six
Evan
November 29th
It’s been two weeks since Clara and I made our plan that she's dubbed Operation Merry and Gay. It was either that or Ho-Ho-Homo. I think I chose the lesser of two evils. Though, both made me smile.
I like that she says every thought that pops into her head. Occasionally she’ll wince after like she’s perhaps said the wrong thing—but honestly, I find it endearing. Even if it’s not always themostsocially acceptable. She’s got a good heart. Her whole family does.
We’ve been texting a lot but haven’t met up since her first day at the new job. The gallery has her working a lot of evenings and (strange, I know) teaching mostly happens during school hours.
Clara’s usually just starting her day when I’m eating lunch. I take my break at a different time than the rest of the staff. High school kids require little supervision over lunch for the most part. A simple rotation of hall monitors and cafeteria watch does them fine. But my kids need someone with them at all times, so I switch off with another teacher and take my lunch earlier than most.
It’s quiet. I like that.
Enjoying a turkey provolone in the pleasure of my own company is truly one of my favourite things. The staff room has been decorated for the season. It’s charming. In a Buddy the Elf went overboard sort of way. The art teachers are most likely responsible for the twinkling lights, dozens of hanging kraft paper stars, and chain link bunting overhead.
I’m just noticing a snag that will give way to a full tear on my tights under the burgundy dress I’m wearing when voices approach down the hall in the offices. I take a bite of my sandwich and position myself for ideal eavesdropping. Then, immediately regret it.
Giggling. Familiar giggling. Natalie’s. And another voice I recognize shushing her flirtatiously, Lisa’s.
God, if you’re real like my mother insists you are, please don’t let them come in here. Lock the door. Start a fire. Strike me dead. Anything.
“So, didsheRSVP?” Lisa asks Natalie right outside the door. I know by the way she said it, “she” meantme. Bile starts climbing up my throat and suddenly, turkey and provolone is entirely unappetizing.
“Yeah.” I hear a breathless rasp that resembles a faint laugh. “With a plus one.”
“No!” Lisa finds thishilarious.
“Mhm…” One of them rattles the door handle and I pray to disappear. Time slows and before I think, I’m reaching into my bag on the table for my phone. I hit Clara’s name andcallso quickly I swear I’ve broken the speed of light.
“Ev? You okay?” A huskier version of Clara answers that has my mouth turning dry. Is that what she sounds like when she wakes up? It’s intoxicating.
“Hey, you,” I say, just as Natalie and Lisa turn the corner and spot me. “I’m sorry, beautiful, did I wake you?”
A contended, sleepy sigh meets me and does fuzzy things to my brain. “Yes, but I love waking up to your voice.”
I’ll give it to her, Clara is quick on her feet. She probably thinks she’s on speaker. I don’t tell her otherwise…yet.
“I’m just having lunch and missed you.” I hold my phone by pressing it between my shoulder and ear, and pick at the chipped black polish on my right hand in order to stop myself looking towards Nat and Lisa. The two of them are still lingering behind me at the coffee machine, probably exchangingthat was closeexpressions. “How are you feeling?”
“You mean after last night?” Clara giggles. “Baby,” she purrs. “I’m still—”
“No, you’re not on speaker.” I wince, crossing and uncrossing my legs under the table. “Sorry, I should have said.”
“Oh, okay.” She laughs. “Who’s around? Natalie?”
“Yeah.”
I hear a shuffling of sheets and a soft groan that to me sounds like Clara sitting up in bed. I imagine the wild loose bun on top of her head that she used to get after our sleepovers growing up. My heart blooms a little at the thought. “Okay, repeat after me,” she says calmly.
I can feel my cheeks flushing, a woozy sort of rush as I say, “okay,” and chew at my thumbnail.
“I know, I can’t wait either,” she says in aslow,sultry voice I’ve never heard from her before. Then I repeat, less effectively, I’m sure, because speaking suddenly seems very difficult.
“Oh isthatwhat you have planned…” She giggles so delicately the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I do my best to mimic her, exactly as I can.
“Now ask me what I’m wearing.”
