Marsh took another sip of tea, and for a moment Clara wanted to strangle her. Who was this woman to act like she knew her? “So he ended things then?” Was all she said.
“He did.”
“Huh.” Marsh let them slip into silence, and Clara couldn’t help but feel like she was being judged.
“What?” She blurted, irritation coating her voice.
“Just confuses me a little.” Marsh replied casually, adding absolutely nothing to the conversation.
“What does?”
“He is absolutely obsessed with you. Why would he end things with you?”
Clara tried to make sense of the words, “What do you mean ‘obsessed with me?’”
“Well, don’t hate me, but when he came down the other day I was definitely flirting with him.” Clara wanted to lash out, but knew any movement or expression on her part would only prove Marsh’s point, so instead she put the tea to her lips, watching Marsh from over the rim of her cup.
“He didn’t even notice. All he could talk about was you. How amazing you are on this assignment, the plans you both had for breaking in, the brilliance he’s witnessed.” Marsh paused as she downed the last of her tea, but Clara wouldn’t show whether or not the words hit home. They did. “I don’t know what you did to that boy, but you’ve got some kind of hold on him.”
Marsh set her cup in the sink, and left Clara alone in the dim kitchen. She didn’t mean to have a hold on him. She didn’t mean to be anything at all. “He’s obsessed with me.” She murmured to the darkness trying to wrap her mind around that idea.
There was no way to reconcile it. She couldn’t understand him obsessing over her and him ending things with her. His insistence that she was weak, while bragging to others of her strength. He had become two different people in her mind, and she didn’t know how to bring them back together. Which man would he be today? The one she kissed in the alley? She grimaced at that thought.
Or the one she almost slapped when he said he wouldn’t be her crutch?
She closed her eyes and let herself relive that moment. She felt the excitement from having been assigned to special ops. The joy of wanting to celebrate it with the person she loved the most. Her heart was pounding as she ran down the hallway to reach him. She threw her arms around him, practically jumping into his arms. And he sat her down and pushed her away.
Her heart sank at his stern look. Then he tore into her. He said she was weak. He said he wouldn’t be a crutch for her. “You need to grow up! Stop being so weak. It’s pathetic. I can't do this anymore.” His final words and he walked away without looking back. He didn’t give her a chance to interject. Didn’t give her a chance to change his mind, to explain her choices. Just walked away down the hallway she couldn’t follow.
She had stood there for what felt like hours. Too numb to even cry. Too upset and shocked to process anything beyond the fact there was no longer a person in front of her. When she finally found the strength to walk back down her own hallway, she resolved within herself that she would never be weak again. If he ever saw her again, he wouldn’t recognize her.
Did she accomplish her goal?
40CARVER
Nothing had changed on the map over the last three hours they spent staring at it. Carver took another drink of his black coffee, and grimaced at its lack of warmth. How long ago had he poured this cup?
The logistics of the mission were close. Close enough they might work, but just far enough it could be a complete disaster.
Minutes. That was the amount of time they would have to pull everything off. Which meant that every second mattered. Marsh had thoroughly timed the guards. However, the festival was an added element. With the additional people came additional security. Would their switches become more precise or less? It was an element they couldn’t prepare for. The best they could do was hope everything went according to plan.
“Okay, I officially have a headache.” He groaned.
Clara scowled at him, “Can you just focus? We have to figure this out.”
He took her tone in stride, accepting the distance she was creating. “I’ve been focusing. Now I need to not focus so I am able to focus again. I’m going for a walk. You’re welcome to join if you would like. I want food from the festival.”
“I’m good. Thanks.” He could tell she didn’t approve of his choice to go back to the festival, and honestly, her disapproval was fair. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to celebrate inhumanity.
He walked out through the front, stopping by the front desk to say hi to Marsh. The bookstore was relatively empty, and she asked if he would bring her food back. He agreed. “How’s the planning?” She asked before he had a chance to turn away.
“It’s going.” He didn’t have the energy to provide a jovial tone, and he could tell she understood.
“Clara being a bitch?”
He flinched, “I don’t think she would like to hear you call her that.”
Marsh laughed, “Oh absolutely not, but hey, if the shoe fits.”
