by G H Edwards
“You guys gave us dinner and helped us when we needed it most, so I wanted to bring you something,” Claire said as she unpacked the boxes. Soon the table was filled with cast iron pans, steel pots, seeds, and water jugs with filters. With every item removed, Jenny let out a gasp as she covered her mouth in shock
“Oh, my God, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for us.” Jenny wept, wrapping Claire in a strong hug.
“Oh, and this,” Claire said as she pulled out a large paper bag filled with cheeseburgers. “They’ll be cold, but they still should be good.”
Tim stood with his arms crossed and an angry look on his face. “Girl, ya just don’t get it, do ya?” he said roughly.
The two women stopped in mid hug to face him.
“We don’t wanna live like you people. We don’t want yer pots or pans or yer cheeseburgers,” Tim said as he pushed each item, walking around the table in disgust.
Jenny looked at him. “Tim stop. She’s tryin’ to do something ni—”
“We don’t want charity,” Tim interrupted. “If we wanted this stuff, we’d be livin’ down the street from ya, but we ain’t, because we don’t want it and we don’t need it.”
Claire stood up straight as the smile left her face. She looked at his rough, sun-beaten face and her heart pounded as it had on the first trip. Although she’d begun to question everything she’d ever known, the fact that this large Billy was standing in front of her, angry, made her uneasy. She felt herself backing down and had the old feeling of needing to run away. Glancing downward, she thought of apologizing when suddenly a lightning bolt of courage and anger shot though her. She knew she wasn’t the same little girl who had crawled in before. She’d experienced enough pain and heartache to last her a lifetime, and she wasn’t afraid anymore.
“Listen here, Tim,” she said, nearly spitting out her words. “You helped us when we needed it. I know you don’t need help from me or anyone—everyone can see that. But one thing you’ve forgotten is that we’re neighbors. And neighbors help each other. That’s how communities start.” She felt an amazing release as she continued. “But I’ve been thinking and I’ve started to realize something. The real reason everyone moved away from here isn’t because they were pushed out; it’s because no one could stand living next to an asshole like you. So they moved as far away as they could.”
The silence was thick in the air as Judy put her hands over her ears to block out what she knew was a bad word.
Tim burst out in uncontrollable laughter. Soon everyone in the old house was laughing and the tension disappeared.
“Okay, okay, girl,” Tim said, still laughing, with his hands up. “Don’t scratch out my eyes.”
Soon they were all looking at the various items as Jenny cried tears of joy and repeatedly hugged Claire.
After the greasy cheeseburger dinner, Claire offered to help Jenny put Judy to bed. The little girl was falling all over the house as she listed off things they’d do the next day; she was clearly overjoyed to have Claire back in the house. Claire walked Judy up to her small bedroom. Jenny watched from the door as Judy chattered in rapid sentences.
Claire was doing her best to tuck Judy in when the little girl suddenly stopped. “My tummy hurts,” she said, rubbing it.
“That’s probably from the cheeseburgers. It takes a little while for your tummy to get used to them, but when you do, you’ll love them,” Claire said.
“They were soooo good,” Judy said.
“Okay, youngin, off to sleep,” Jenny said walking over and kissing her daughter’s forehead.
Claire waved as the two women left the room, and Judy fell asleep almost instantly. They tiptoed downstairs to start cleaning. Claire tried to help, but Jenny pushed her away. She sat down on the old couch, which not long before her husband had fallen asleep on.
Leaning back in his large creaking arm chair, Tim looked at Claire. “So what’s yer plan now, lil lady? Ya gonna drive all the way back to Houston by yerself?” Tim asked.
“Yes,” she answered proudly. “My friends in Miami helped me prepare. They got me the car and everything I need.” Her answer was met by a long silence.
Tim retrieved his piece of wood and small knife and began to whittle. It looked like the same piece of wood from before, and Claire wondered if he whittled a lot or only when she visited. Claire had a lot she wanted to talk about. She wanted to tell Tim about everything she had learned in Miami. She wanted to tell him about gerivirus and Rebecca and Ben, but she didn’t know where to begin. Even so, she could think of no one better to bounce her ideas off of.
“So your life’s had a pretty big change, huh?” Tim said.
Claire nodded. “Yeah.”
“What’s your plan now?”
Claire smiled and wondered where to begin.
CHAPTER 38
A few days later, As Claire approached Houston, the sun was setting. The early-evening light reflected off the skyscrapers and the miles of green fields that surrounded the city, giving the entire area an emerald glow. She pushed her taxi as fast as it could go. The yellow lines of the highway had blurred into a thick strip that she followed into the city.
As the highway doubled then tripled in size, Claire wondered if she was being watched. She felt like she’d be arrested as soon as she drove underneath a streetlight. Calmly she reminded herself that she had done nothing illegal—she was free to travel, right?
The sun had set and the darkness that had taken over the mammoth skyline began to disappear, replaced by a blanket of scattered lights that replaced the stars. Approaching the unbroken line of skyscrapers, she was reminded of her walk into Miami. As Claire sped towards the city, other vehicles began to fill the roads. This was driving that Claire wasn’t used too. Soon she was dodging and swiping around busses and other taxis. Panicking, she cut across the lanes with a fury. Every vehicle on the road seemed to be honking at her as she cut through the city toward her home. She had grown up in the city, but it was difficult for her to navigate in a car. She suddenly had to care about one-ways and bad drivers. After over an hour of city driving and narrowly avoiding multiple fender benders, she reached her block and parked in a nearby alley. Releasing a long breath, she got out of the car, looking at the canopy of steel and glass around her. The familiar sounds of the bustling mega city filled her ears. Using every available limb, she grabbed the bags and boxes and began the tiring process of hauling all her new items up to her apartment. She walked into the lobby, passing her neighbors. She expected them to look at her differently or welcome her back, but they didn’t. No one seemed to have noticed she or Michael had left.
She called the elevator, and when it arrived, she stepped in. The familiar smell of her block filled her nostrils. Old dirty carpet, thousands of meals being cooked simultaneously, sweat. Part of her was glad to be back but also wasn’t exactly happy about it. She felt like a different person, like when she visited her mother’s apartment and saw her old room. Everything was familiar and where it should be but somehow foreign and old; she was almost surprised it was still around. Eventually she found her door out of the long line of duplicate doors. She turned the key and reached around to flip the switch to disarmed the security system Michael had built. The process reminded her that this was the first time she was home without her husband. As she stepped into the dark apartment, the busy silence was agonizing. As she dumped her new belongings to mix in with her old things, the smell of Michael and her old life overwhelmed her. It felt like Michael was simply down at the store and would be home soon, but she knew everything had changed. She walked the tiny space and lay down on top of a pile of Michael’s clothes that had been left behind. She spent the evening sobbing and breathing in the remaining smells of her husband.
CHAPTER 39
Going to her favorite coffee shop, Ana Maria’s, used to relax Claire. The smells of brewing coffee, the light music playing, and the voices of her friends were easily one of her favorite things, but this morning it j
ust made her miss her husband. Even though the café was just across the street from her block, she hadn’t been to Ana Maria’s since well before the trip to Miami. Her sole focus had been on preparing for the trip, and it seemed she didn’t have a spare moment or the spare money to spend sitting around. She knew she would get lots of questions when she came in, but she knew she had to make the trip.
“Hey there, stranger,” a friend named Sam called to her from a couch as she walked in. Claire gave a slight wave but continued to the counter.
“Well, there you are, Claire. We’ve been worried about you. How’s Michael doing?” Erica, a longtime employee, asked as Claire approached.
“Hi. Is Julio here?” Claire asked quickly, deflecting the question.
Erica’s expression changed to confusion. Claire and her husband were always nice, but today she seemed to be on a mission.
“Yeah, he’s in the back. Let me get him,” she said, as she turned and disappeared behind a makeshift door. Claire looked around, trying not to make eye contact with anyone she knew. She couldn’t handle questions about Michael right now. Soon a heavyset Latino man appeared with a smile on his face.
“Claire. We were just talking about you guys. How is everything?” Julio asked.
“Yeah,” Claire said brushing the question off. “Can we talk somewhere private?”
“Sure,” Julio said, sounding confused. He escorted her behind the counter and through the flimsy door. Claire had never been behind the counter, and the experience was slightly disorienting. Bundles of cups and bags of supplies were stacked on shelves. Julio opened a small door at the very back of the storage room, then stepped in and sat down in the only chair, facing Claire. The office was so small that Claire could barely close the door without having to press against Julio.
“Do you own this place?” Claire blurted out.
Julio shot her a confused look. “What?”
“I know this sounds strange, but just tell me: do you own Ana Maria’s?
“Yes, I do. You know that.”
“So you’re the sole owner?”
“Well, yeah”
Claire took a deep breath and thought. That didn’t seem to make sense. But maybe it did—why would a big corporation need to own some little coffee shop on the corner of a useless ward?
“I mean, I run the place and make all the decisions. But I give a small cut to my partner,” Julio said.
“Your partner…who’s that?”
“Claire, why do you want to know? What’s going on?
“Please answer me. Who is your partner?”
“Well…I don’t like to tell people this. I like this place to have a small mom-and-pop feel, but in order to open we had to get into a partnership with Dewey’s. But they don’t control anything we do here; they just put up some of the money at the beginning, and I send them a small cut.”
“What’s Dewey’s?” Claire asked.
“They own most of the smaller shops like mine around this part of town,” Julio said shamefully, “They set up our vendors and occasionally inspect us.”
“So they’re like an investor?”
Julio nodded. “Kind of. I mean I couldn’t get the license unless I partnered with them.”
“What? Like the local wouldn’t give you a license unless you partnered with them?”
“Yeah, so I had to do what I had to do.”
“Do you know who owns Dewey’s?” Claire asked.
Julio shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, but they don’t have any say in how I run things here. Please…you’re not going to tell anyone, are you? I know you kids like this place because it’s not like the rest of the chain shops.”
“Julio, I’m not going to tell anyone. Don’t worry. I just had to check something. Thanks,” Claire said, standing up and opening the door.
“Wait. What’s this all about?”
“I’ve just taken a sudden interest in business in Houston.”
CHAPTER 40
Terry Allen’s office wasn’t on the top floor of the highest building in town. He and his father before him thought that would be too grandiose, too obvious, too super villianish. So instead he stood in his giant office on one of the average-size buildings but with a much better view. His office took up the entire top three floors of the Allen Corp. Building, an ultra-modern glass structure along the south-side of the bay. He stood just over six feet tall and had thick black hair that was usually styled to the latest trend, though he’d never admit that. He was thirty-six and stayed in great shape through his twice-daily exercise sessions that were almost always interrupted by work. In public he always wore a suit of some kind, but during his multitasking workout routine he wore the best athletic clothes available, though no one would ever see him like that.
Allen was completing his morning workout routine in the large gym that connected to his office when his phone rang. He grabbed a white cotton towel from the nearby bench as he walked to the phone, which sat on a glass desk. “This is Allen,” he said, his standard answer to the dozens of calls he received every day. “Yes, but not all of it,” he said, and hung the phone up.
He returned to his workout. Soon after he restarted his ab workout, the phone rang again. Allen instantly stopped and stood and returned to the phone. This call was from Bob Klesel, who was what Mr. Allen called his media man, but his official title was Gust Group public relations executive.
“Mr. Allen, sir, do you have a second? It’s important,” the familiar voice on the other end said.
“Bob, if it wasn’t important, would you be calling me?” Allen said, slightly out of breath.
“Well, no, sir. But I just thought you should know this,” Bob said quickly.
“What have you got for me?”
“Station 6 just had this girl come to their studio. She has a crazy story about her driving to Miami and back.”.
Terry Allen’s paused as his mind went into its usual overdrive, and he began to silently fill in the blanks.
“What’s her name?”
“Claire Gale. Pretty girl, young,” Bob said.
That name definitely sounded familiar to Mr. Allen, but he couldn’t remember why. “Did she say why she took the trip?” he said, as he left his gym and headed for his private bathroom.
“She said she was trying to find the cure to gerivirus.”
That was it; Allen stopped in his tracks as the dots connected. His mind raced as he wondered how long it would take for Commissioner Wilson to apprehend her. “What did she say?”
“Well, she didn’t find a cure, but she did say some interesting things about the trip and Miami.”
Allen had retrieved his personal phone, picked it up, and held down the number 1 to activate his speed-dial contact. As it connected he asked Bob, “What did she say?” trying to sound calm.
“Well, she said she met some Billies, and they were worse than she’d ever heard. And she said Miami was hell on earth.”
Allen’s phone had connected, and Commissioner Wilson’s voice was coming through the other end. Putting one phone down, he picked up his cell phone. “Hey, commissioner. Never mind. I figured it out. Thanks.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Allen,” Commissioner Wilson’s gruff voice said though the phone as Allen hung up.
“She said that?” Allen said to his PR man. “You confirmed that she said the Billies were horrible and Miami was a war zone?”
“Yeah,” Bob replied
“Um…okay, that could work.” His mind was thinking steps ahead. “You said she was pretty, right?”
CHAPTER 41
Claire was surprised at how hot the lights were. She’d never thought simple lights could be so hot, but she felt like she couldn’t stop from sweating. She wondered how all the newscasters stayed so perfect looking while miniature suns blazed down on them. She looked across her small apartment at her interviewer while she was having her makeup applied. Claire hoped her makeup wasn’t running; she wanted to look good for the cameras—she knew it was impo
rtant. The news crew was busy setting up cameras and even more lights. Her apartment seemed to burst with equipment and people, and she asked again why they had to have the interview there.
“Because, sweetie, it gives the viewer an insight into your life and shows that you’re just a normal person like they are,” the female producer said from out of the shadow.
“Oh, okay.” Claire nodded.
“None of us have ever been to such a low numbered block before, it’s nice,” the producer said with a hint of disgust in her voice.
Claire put on a fake smile. “When will this be on TV again?”
“It’ll be on in an hour, and then it’ll run again at five,” the voice replied from the darkness.
Claire nodded and wanted to ask about sweat-proof makeup but didn’t. Across from her, the gorgeous news anchor Claire had seen a million times on TV sat down and introduced herself. Claire was nervous as the news anchor, Jill Jones, attempted to make small talk and compliment Claire’s tiny apartment. Claire smiled and nodded, ready to agree to anything Jill said.
“Do you have any questions before we start?” Jill asked, trying to coax Claire into speaking.
“How do you stay looking so beautiful under these hot lights?” Claire blurted and immediately regretted it.
“Oh, you’re so sweet,” Jill said, reaching forward, putting her hand on Claire’s. “It just takes some getting used to, I guess.”
Claire smiled and nodded stupidly.
“Just relax and be yourself. They’re going to love you—I just know it.”
