by Devney Perry
How could it not be weird? I was attracted to Clara. I doubted there were many men on the planet who wouldn’t find her alluring. Add that to the emotional connection I’d had with her years ago and I was as enchanted by her as I had been as a kid.
For that, the guilt was eating me alive.
I hadn’t slept much last night. Holly had stayed over like she did most nights lately. Never in my life had I been so glad for a period week. I hadn’t had to come up with a reason to skip sex. I just . . . it didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel right.
Holly and I had been dating for a year but she kept her own place. We’d talked about her moving in after her lease expired, but I hadn’t insisted on it. She had a key. She knew she was welcome anytime.
The only night it had ever bothered me was last night. She’d curled into my side and I’d felt like a total fucking son of a bitch because while I’d been in bed with one woman, I hadn’t been able to get my mind off another.
After tossing and turning for a few hours, I’d finally given up and disappeared into my office. Hours of sifting through paperwork and emails hadn’t done anything but give me a headache.
I just . . . I needed a sign from Clara that we were good. That we were friends and whatever I’d been feeling yesterday was one-sided. Look at me.
She wiped a bit of salsa from the corner of August’s mouth.
Look at me.
She plucked another chip from the basket.
Clara, look at me.
She brushed a crumb from her lap, then locked her attention on her son.
Goddamn it.
August was the true champ tonight. That kid had filled every second with all the facts stored in his little head.
“We learnded about skeletons too,” he said.
“I like skeletons.” Holly leaned forward. “I’m a nurse so I know lots about skeletons.”
“Did you know the femur is the largest bone in your body?”
She nodded. “I did know that.”
“The smallest bone is in your ear. It’s the . . .” His forehead furrowed. “I can’t remember the name.”
“Stapes.”
“Yeah, yeah.” His eyes lit up. “The stapes.”
“What was your favorite thing about kindergarten?” I asked.
“Recess.”
I chuckled. “I liked recess too.”
“Karson said you guys live in Arizona.” Holly sipped from her margarita. “He actually told me about all of it. The Cadillac and how you came to bring it here. It’s so fantastic. The whole trip across the country. Truly . . . wow.”
“It’s been incredible to connect with everyone again.” Clara smiled and lifted her own drink, sparing me just a quick look over the rim. “I sent the girls a text last night. They all wanted me to tell you hello. And Londyn said she’s sending you the title to the car before you try to do something stupid like return it.”
I chuckled. “I’ll have to get her number from you.”
Somehow, I knew it wouldn’t be strange talking to Londyn again. And somehow, I knew the feeling I’d had yesterday with Clara, that longing, wouldn’t be there with my former girlfriend. Londyn and I would talk as old friends because that door had closed a long, long time ago.
No way could I say the same about Clara.
I took a chip, scooped some salsa and chomped it with fury. What the hell was wrong with me? Clara was an old friend too. We were history. So why couldn’t I shake the feeling from yesterday? Why did it feel like I was on the wrong goddamn side of this booth?
Holly deserved better than this.
I just had to get through today and life would go back to normal. Clara was leaving tomorrow, and I’d put the memories in the past. Move forward.
“What did you guys do today?” I asked, eating another chip.
Clara glanced up, then her eyes skidded away.
Yeah, this hadn’t been one-sided. I could fool myself all I wanted but she’d felt that spark yesterday too.
Fuck. I was such a prick.
“We spent most of the day at the beach,” she said.
“I built a sandcastle,” August said proudly, shifting to his knees so he could bend down and gulp his lemonade from the cup’s straw.
“And we took one last drive in the Cadillac.” Clara’s eyes softened and she looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time this evening. “I hope you don’t mind a few extra miles on her.”
“Not at all.”
“It’s too bad you’re leaving so soon,” Holly said. “It would be fun to hear more stories about the junkyard. Karson rarely talks about it.”
Because it wasn’t a time I wanted to relive. I’d been angry and channeling a lot of false confidence. The stealing and the fights . . . I wasn’t particularly proud of myself at that age.
“What’s a junkyard?” August asked. The kid didn’t miss much. Obviously, it wasn’t something Clara had spoken to him about either. I doubted she would until he was older.
“It’s a place where they take old cars and trucks that are broken,” I answered.
“Do they get fixed?”
“No, not usually,” Clara said. “They call it a junkyard because most of it becomes junk.”
“Like garbage?”
She nodded. “Like garbage.”
“What about the Cadillac then? It’s not garbage.”
“Sometimes, the best cars get rescued,” I said. “That’s what happened to the Cadillac.”
“Oh. Sort of like my puppy stuffy that got ripped but Mom fixed it so we didn’t have to throw it away.”
I grinned. “Exactly.”
August snatched a chip from the basket, content with the explanation. His curiosity was infectious, but the questions I wanted answers to weren’t ones I could ask today. Mostly, I wanted to know about his father. Yesterday’s attempt to broach the subject had backfired.
“Did you tell her about the junkyard?” Holly nudged my elbow.
“No. It, uh, didn’t come up yesterday.”
Holly thought the junkyard was an interesting piece of my history. Like most people, unless they’d lived it, she didn’t realize how hard it had been. How close I’d been to breaking so many times.
Maybe it was my fault for not explaining it to her. But why would I want to rehash the struggles? She’d gotten the glossed-over version of the past. To her, it had sounded like an adventure. Again, probably my fault for not painting it in a dirty, rust-tinged light.
That was part of why talking with Clara had been so easy yesterday. She understood. She’d always understood.
“What about the junkyard?” Clara asked.
Before I could answer, the waitress appeared with our meals. Even with the few minutes it took to get August settled with his quesadilla, when Clara looked at me for an answer, I still hadn’t figured out exactly how to say it.
“The junkyard is . . . well, it’s mine.”
“Yours?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I own it.”
“Did you buy it?” She set down her fork. “When you lived in Temecula?”
“No, I didn’t buy it.” I gave her a sad smile. “Lou left it to me. In his will.”
“Oh.” Her gaze dropped.
“Who’s Lou?” August asked, his cheeks bulging with food.
“An old friend.” Clara touched his hair, then focused on her plate. Though her fork only poked at her enchiladas.
“Are we gonna see him too?”
She shook her head. “No, bud. He . . . died.”
“Oh.” August looked down. “How?”
“In his sleep,” I answered. “Surrounded by his collections.”
The sadness in Clara’s eyes broke my heart. “Did you see him often?”
“No. You know Lou.”
“Yeah.”
Lou didn’t like visitors, even me. The few times I’d visited, I’d made sure to call ahead first. I’d gone in the morning. And only on the last visit had he actually invited me inside his shac
k.
The inside of Lou’s home had looked much like the yard. There’d been piles stacked in hallways. There’d been shelves overloaded with books and boxes and binders. The kitchen counters had been so cluttered that the only free surfaces had been the sink and stove.
He’d led me through the maze and we’d sat at a small table, surrounded by his possessions. That was when he’d told me about Londyn and how she’d called for the Cadillac. How two days after that call, a fancy truck had shown up to haul it away.
I’d debated walking through the yard, but fear had stopped me, and instead, I’d left Lou to his solitude. I’d given him my card and told him to call me if he ever needed anything. That I’d stop by again.
He’d died before I’d had the chance.
Three months after the Cadillac had disappeared from the yard, so had Lou.
When his lawyer had called to break the news, and to inform me that Lou had bequeathed me all of his belongings, I’d nearly fallen out of my chair.
“I went to his funeral,” I said. “I met his sister.”
“He had a sister?” Clara asked.
“And two nieces. They were nice. Kind. They arranged for him to be buried beside his wife.”
Clara’s eyes bulged. “Lou had a wife?”
“She died young. In childbirth. Lou had been a mechanic back then. The junkyard had been in his family. After his wife and baby . . . he gave up his shop and moved to the shack.”
“Lou.” Clara pressed a hand to her heart.
“We didn’t really know him, did we?”
“No, we didn’t,” she whispered, her eyes glassy.
August looked up at Clara with worry on his face. “Mom?”
“I’m okay.” She shook away the sadness and smiled. “How’s your quesadilla?”
“Good.” He shrugged and took another large bite.
Holly leaned in closer, her hand finding my leg under the table. When I looked down, her brown eyes were waiting. They were the color of coffee, rich and warm. But they weren’t as pretty as Clara’s.
And I was a son of a bitch for making the comparison. Fuck.
“Maybe you should ask . . .” Holly nodded at Clara.
I gave her a slight headshake.
Either she missed it or ignored it, but when she turned to Clara and opened her mouth, it wasn’t to eat. “Karson has been putting off going back to Temecula, but he finally is. On Wednesday.”
“Seriously?” Clara’s face whipped to me. “This Wednesday?”
“In two days.” I lifted a shoulder. “Your timing is ironic. My plan was to go there tomorrow and check the place out before my meeting.”
“What meeting?” she asked.
“There’s a developer in Temecula who’s trying to reclaim the area. He’s building a housing development and wants to buy the junkyard. I agreed to meet him on Wednesday.”
“Maybe you could go too,” Holly suggested. “If you wanted to see it again and if you don’t have to hurry home. I think it would be cool to go back to a place like that. See if it’s changed. I work Wednesday through Sunday at the hospital, otherwise I’d go along. I’ve been wanting to see this junkyard since Karson told me about it.”
Which was the reason I’d scheduled the meeting for a Wednesday. Holly was a supportive girlfriend, but this trip wasn’t for her.
“Uh . . . no.” Clara shook her head. “I don’t think . . . no.”
I nudged Holly, and this time, my headshake wasn’t to be ignored.
She didn’t know what she was suggesting. She didn’t know the pain it could cause Clara to go back to that place.
Holly didn’t even know the specifics of my childhood, let alone Clara’s. All I’d told her about my past was that I’d had a bad relationship with my mother and run away at sixteen.
Dinner conversation was nonexistent after that. At least, between the adults. August came to the rescue once more, providing the entertainment with tales of kindergarten and a long list of his favorite toys. When the waitress came with the check, Clara insisted on paying the bill.
“You brought me a car,” I said as we all walked outside. “You didn’t need to buy dinner.”
“I’m happy to. It was lovely to meet you, Holly.”
“You too.” Holly smiled. “I hope you keep in touch. Does Karson have your number?”
“I don’t.” I pulled my phone from my pocket, and when Clara recited hers, I sent her a text.
It dinged in her purse as she reached in to pull out the Cadillac’s keys. Clara turned them over in her palm, holding them for one long moment, then she handed them over. “She’s all yours.”
“Thank you.” The weight of the keys was too heavy. It wasn’t just handing over a car, it was the end.
This was goodbye.
“I’ll see you at home.” Holly gave my arm a gentle squeeze. Then she gave August a fist bump and walked to my Audi, the two of us having driven it here to meet Clara tonight.
I’d drive her to the hotel. Then go home.
To Holly.
We loaded up and I pulled away from the restaurant, finding it hard to meet even the minimum speed limit. Cars began to pile up behind us but I couldn’t press my foot into the gas pedal.
“Sorry. About Holly,” I told Clara. “She doesn’t understand.”
“No apologies needed. Most people don’t.”
The air was warm as it rushed past our faces. August seemed so content in this car. One of his hands rested on the door as he took in the world around him.
The Cadillac made too short a trip and as I parked in front of the entrance to the hotel, my lungs wouldn’t hold any air. The pain in my chest was crushing.
Clara was out the door the moment the tires stopped moving. She seemed in a rush to get August out of his seat and unclip the seat belt that had held it in place.
I got out, taking it from her to set it aside. “I could take you to the airport tomorrow.”
“No, that’s okay. We’ll get an Uber.”
“Mom, can we go swimming?”
“Sure, bud. Can you say goodbye to Karson?”
I knelt in front of him and held out my hand. “It was nice to meet you, August.”
He grinned as he shook it.
“Ouch.” I flexed my fingers after he let go. “Pretty strong kid you’ve got, Clara.”
She put her hand around his shoulders, pulling him into her legs as I stood.
Then I memorized her face, one last time. The pink bow of her lips. The golden flecks in her eyes. The smile that woke me from my dreams. The breeze picked up her scent and carried it closer. Oranges and vanilla. Sweet. Clara.
“It was good to see you.” My throat burned and the words came out in a rasp.
“You too.”
I waited, wanting that hug. Clara had always hugged goodbye.
Instead, I got a wave and a small smile. “Take care of yourself, Karson.”
“Yeah.”
Then she was gone, ushering August inside with one hand while she carried his seat with the other.
She left me standing beside a Cadillac with a hole in my chest.
I stood there for a few minutes, staring through the glass doors to the lobby, hoping and wishing maybe she’d come back. But when the desk clerk gave me the fifth strange look, I unglued my feet.
This was the end.
“Goodbye, Clara.”
The drive home was a blur, and when I walked through the door to find Holly in the living room with a book in her lap, for the first time, the sight didn’t make me smile.
“Hey.” She closed the book. “How’d it go?”
“Fine.”
“Do you want to—”
“I’m going to go for a run.” I walked away, but not fast enough to miss her startled expression.
I kept walking, disappearing to the bedroom to change. Then I was out the door, my feet pounding on the sidewalk to the beat of the music in my earbuds as I ran the couple blocks to the beach. When I hit the
sand, I pushed harder. Faster. With every step, I willed Clara out of my mind.
There was a woman in my house who loved me. A woman who made me laugh. A woman who I cared for.
Holly didn’t deserve this from me. I would do better.
Tomorrow, I vowed to do better.
Clara was returning to Arizona, and I would forget about her.
Or . . . try. I would try.
I pushed myself until my legs were burning and my lungs were on fire. Sweat dripped down my face and over my bare chest. I hadn’t bothered with a shirt, I rarely did.
Three miles from home, I stopped and collapsed on the sand, resting my forearms on my knees until I regained my breath. Then I sat there for hours, watching as the sunlight faded from the sky.
Tonight. I’d give myself tonight to mourn the loss of Clara again.
Then tomorrow I’d let her go. For good this time.
Lost in my own head, I jumped when my phone rang, the jogging earbuds I wore still locked in place. When I tugged the phone from my shorts pocket, I expected to see Holly’s name on the screen.
But it was an out-of-state number. A number I’d memorized the same moment I’d typed it in earlier tonight.
“Hi,” I answered.
“Hi,” Clara said, her voice low. August must have fallen asleep. “Are you busy?”
“No.” My heart raced faster now than when I’d been running.
“I was thinking about what Holly said. About Wednesday.”
“Come with me.” The plea in my voice was unmistakable. “I don’t want to go alone. And I don’t want to take Holly. She’s the best. It’s just that . . .”
“She doesn’t get it.”
I shook my head. “No one does.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay, you’ll go?”
“I’ll go.”
I closed my eyes as a wave of relief crashed over my body. She was coming. Tonight hadn’t been goodbye. “I’ll pick you up around ten tomorrow.”
The plan was to stay at a hotel tomorrow night before the meeting Wednesday. The drive back to Elyria wasn’t long, but my meeting with the developer was at eight. With the regular morning traffic, it didn’t seem worth the rushed commute.
“We’ll be ready,” she said.
I breathed. “Good night.”
