DECEMBER 31, 1995
CLAUDIA
It was less than two hours until 1996 would start, and Claudia couldn’t wait to bid adieu to what had turned out to be the worst year of her life. She sat on her bed listening to a Joni Mitchell CD while staring at the heap of clothing on the hardwood floor in front of the closet. Earlier in the week she had read an article about how people in China clean out ‘the old’ prior to Lunar New Year, bringing good luck. Feeling utterly desperate, she decided to give it a try. After all, what could it hurt?
Regret filled her as she realized that she probably should’ve taken on the job in little bite-sized chunks (like the article had suggested), instead of all at once. And after hours of making decisions, she had completely lost her resolve, now wishing she could wiggle her nose like Samantha fromBewitchedand have everything neatly back in its place.
After accepting Mike’s offer, she’d moved into her newhouse (a charming Spanish-style mid-century bungalow) a week before Thanksgiving. But first she’d spent two months in a rental that smelled of mold while she waited for the sellers to vacate. Depressed and angry, she had shoved everything into closets instead of unpacking properly before buying only the basics. Her new house looked like it belonged to a bachelor. Not a single thing was hung up on the walls. There were no throw pillows. No candles. No shelves filled with mementos or books. Instead, she dumped everything and went home to Nebraska to spend Thanksgiving with her parents.
She told them a somewhat true version of what had happened between her and Mike—his stint in rehab (but not how much she’d been drinking for the last several years), how she was unceremoniously kicked out of his house and the band, all in one quick visit from a woman named after a pet, and how her short-lived music career might be over already. Her father was appropriately angry on her behalf (given the fact that she skipped the part about her feelings for Zane). Her mother, who was scrubbing the stovetop after the potatoes had boiled over, sighed heavily and told her it was a man’s world so she should be glad to be getting an entire house out of the whole thing.
They suggested she sell it and move back home, but she declined, telling them she was still hopeful that singing and songwriting was in her future. She also declined to come back for Christmas, citing the need to save money (which was true).
And now, she sat, her back against the dark wood headboard, trying to force herself to stand up and get back to work. She still had two hours. Claudia could finish in time to let the luck roll in. Her eyes closed instead, and she sent up a silent prayer to the gods that she’d wake up late nextyear with a hit song of her own on the radio, having skipped all the loneliness and the months of clawing her way back. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it?
Her phone rang, and when she looked at it, she saw Mike’s number. Her heart squeezed, and she tapped the cordless handset on her forehead a couple of times while she decided what to do. Ignore it and hope he’ll think she’s out having the time of her life? Or answer it and possibly end the year in a huge argument (or perhaps in bed with her ex)? Oh, that sounded so much better to her than organizing every item of clothing she owned. The sex was very good. In the end, she decided to answer it. After all, what if something was wrong and he needed her? (Like he was about to die from a lack of sex?)
“Hello?”
“Hey, you,” he said in that smooth voice he used when he was trying to get her in bed. Or maybe that was just his voice. “How are you?”
“Surviving. You?”
“Good. Yeah, keeping myself out of trouble. I’m going to ring in the new year sober for the first time since I was twelve. Also, my first time doing it alone.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re sober.” She closed her eyes, realizing how much she missed him.
“Me too. No big plans for tonight?”
“I got a couple of offers, but in the end, I decided to clean out the closets instead.”
“Was it because of that article about Lunar New Year cleaning inThe Times?”
She chuckled. “Don’t tell me they got you too?”
“God, no. I’d hire that shit out.”
There was a long pause while Claudia thought about how nice it had been to have someone do these things foryou. She’d gone from loving the fact that she’d never have to scrub another toilet again to scrubbing her toilets. Not that there weren’t bigger problems in the world. “How have you been feeling?”
“Some days are better than others. We were in the studio for a few weeks, which has been good for me. Kind of hard though. The guys have been great. They’re all drinking pop and coffee…”
“Sounds like they’re being very supportive.” Unlike how they’d been with her.
“Definitely. Kind of makes me feel like an asshole though. Like I’m too weak to be around booze and coke, so everyone else has to suffer.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s not like cocaine and alcohol ever made anyone’s life better.”
“True. But still.” He sighed, then said, “We’re taking time off from recording during the holidays, which is good for the guys with kids. And Steven. He’s in Amsterdam or… Paris, maybe? Somewhere doing shit I can’t do anymore.”
She listened to him talk, her body aching to be with him right then, even just to hold him. “I stopped drinking too. Back when you were in Utah actually. Not that it’s the same thing. But I wanted to do what you were doing,” she said, pulling a pillow onto her lap as a surrogate for her ex.
“Wow, I had no idea.”
“I guess Kitty didn’t tell you,” Claudia said, a slight edge to her voice as her indignant anger returned.
“No, she didn’t. And I’m sorry she came by to tell you everything. I think it would’ve been a lot better coming from Dean. Or me, I guess. It should’ve been me. Obviously.”
“Yeah, that would’ve been the best way to do it.”
