Her friend returns to the car at either theleastormostconvenient time.
“Welp,” she says. “Never mind! Turns out I’m all set."
We both look at her like we have no idea what that means and again, I’m conflicted. Iwanther to stay, but Ineedher to go.
Her friend winks at her and slides into the driver’s side. Claire puts one foot inside the car but hesitates before moving the rest of her body.
“Maybe I’ll see you around then,” I say, and fuck, do I mean it.
“Now who’s the stalker?” She pulls her other leg inside and closes the door and I watch them drive away.
10
Claire
Pushing open the door, I call out to my parents that I’m here. It’s always weird announcing myself in the house I lived in for eighteen years, but God forbid I scare my parents by arriving on time for the dinner we eat together every week. If I had a dollar for every“Heaven’s sake, Claire!"I’ve gotten, I’d be loaded. So much in fact, that I may be saved from the current problem at hand.
I’ve spent the last few days reeling from Chloe’s little charade. When I asked her on the car ride home what her intentions were, she assured me that it was important that you remind men that you exist.
I then said something along the lines of“I’m pretty sure if I have to remind a man that I am alive, that’s probably not a great sign of compatibility,”to which she replied,“Claire, you highly underestimate the stupidity of men.”
Regardless, if any part of her wanted to solidify my unhealthy obsession with a man I barely know, she was extremely successful. It’s like he was an itch I couldn’t scratch that’s now threatening to kill me. Like when you’re starving so you eat a snack only to realize now you’re even hungrier than before, that one small taste only deepening the need.
“In here!” Mom calls from the kitchen. I hear her chopping lettuce for a salad. Dad’s voice comes muffled through his office door, which tells me he’s on a late call, as usual.
“Hello, Mother.” I quip, offering her a kiss and a box withWhisk!written across the top. “Your favorite.”
“You’re sinful,” she says teasingly, holding the blondies from the nearby bakery. Bringing the box to her nose she breathes deeply beforesetting it off to the side. She sweeps the lettuce into a bowl and begins slicing up a cucumber. I take the first slice and pop it in my mouth as I make my way to the other side of the island for a stool.
“You know, Margie from church told me her grandson is starting at your school in the fall. Sixth grade! Isn’t that something?”
“Sure is,” I say, swiping another cucumber.
“Do you think you’ll have him in one of your classes?”
“No idea. They don’t put out the schedules until later so…” I attempt a subject change. “Dad working?”
“You know him. He said he just had to finish some things up for a file and he’d be right out.” She glances over. “Speak of the devil himself.” Mom throws a wink towards the office door as my dad steps through it.
Dad always seems to be working. When I was younger, he tried his best to make all my silly, school concerts and little, dance recitals despite his busy schedule. He may have snuck in the back a time or two, but he caught at least most of them. He knew what it was like to feel overlooked, so despite the demands of his job, he did his best with the time that he had. That being said, that time was often short.
It helps that Mom, on the other hand, would come early, with bright eyes and a big smile, and sit with whoever she knew at that event, cheering me on, front and center. She never seemed to mind bearing the load of doing almost everything else, as long as he showed up for the big things.
"Your father makes the money Claire!"she used to say."I make the magic."And although she was teasing, she was right. She was the one leaving little notes in my lunches or decorating my door for birthdays, but Dad kept the family afloat in the quiet ways — the ways kids never seem to notice.
“Hey, Claire Bear. Ooh, you brought blondies.” Dad per usual heads straight for dessert and tries cracking open the box, as Mom, per usual, smacks his hand simultaneously. “Worth a shot,” he says, rounding the island and kissing the top of my head before taking the stool next to mine.
“Claire and I were just talking about Margie’s grandson going to Jefferson this year, weren’t we Claire.”
“Mhmm, sure were," I say spinning my stool away from the counter. "I’ll set the table!” Leaving no room for argument, I grab three dishes from the cabinet and head towards the dining room.
“Don’t forget the napkins!” my father calls after me, shrugging only to my mom.
I successfully avoid talking about this upcoming school year until dessert when Dad says, “I bet you’re anxious to get your normal routine back aren’t ya, Bear?”
“Well, it’s only been a few weeks, but so far I’m enjoying the summer. I’ve had a lot of extra time to run and work on my writing. I kind of wish I had more time to do both all year round.” I play with the crumbs on my plate waiting for what’s coming.
“Those are fun hobbies, sure, but you have to make a living!” He chuckles, wiping first his mouth and then his hands with his napkin.
