The Girl Made of Clay

by Nicole Meier

  “Oh yeah?” Sara imagined him brightening on the other end. She knew this was what he wanted, but it was more than that. The news meant she’d taken what he’d said to heart. Moving TR out of the guest room meant things had taken a shift.

  “Yeah. He’s going to camp out in his guesthouse with his girlfriend while the big house gets remodeled. It’s tight, but it will do.”

  Charlie was silent for a minute. “You okay with that?”

  It felt like an olive branch. “Yes. I think I really am.”

  “And your brother? You okay about him too?” Sara was grateful for Charlie’s concern. He knew the discovery of TR’s family had been a blow, and he was worried about its effect on her.

  “I am. Bo is nice. You’ll meet him sometime—if you want, that is. I think you’d like him. He was living with TR and Marie, but after today he’s decided to get a place in town. He’s moving out so his parents can have the guesthouse. He’s also pretty good with his hands and offered to do a lot of the repair work on TR’s house. It will be a good project for him and my dad to do together. I actually think they’re looking forward to it.”

  “Wow. That’s quite a lot of progress. I’m guessing your dad has you to thank for getting everyone together. I’m happy for you.” He paused and then added, “If you’re happy.”

  “I am. It’s good. Really good.” She rubbed at her eyes, the day catching up with her. “It’s a long story, and I want to tell you all of it. But we need to figure out what’s going on between us first. Don’t you think?”

  “I do.”

  “Charlie, I’m—”

  “I know,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m sorry I said the things I did. You’ve had a lot going on, and I realize it all kind of came crashing down at once. I just . . . I just haven’t been very happy.”

  Sara bit down. The statement stung. He’d said this twice in a matter of days. “I want you to be happy.”

  A sigh passed through the receiver. “I want the same for you, Sara. But we don’t communicate anymore. I know I’m always gone. And that’s on me; I agreed to pick up my schedule. But when I am home, you’re off somewhere else. You’re booked with volunteer meetings or running around with Sam, and that’s fine. Except when we are both home, we don’t talk. I come home from trips, and I feel you’re resentful over my absence, but it’s my job, Sara. And I’m trying to do the best I can. In the middle of all of this, your dad moves in—again something we never discussed before it was literally happening—and I feel like it was one more distraction pulling you away from me. Or maybe vice versa. I don’t know. My point is for the past several months, it hasn’t felt like we were ever on the same page.”

  He was right. The weight of her own judgment hung heavy. They’d been slowly pulling apart for months. And if Sara was honest, she was resentful over his job. She knew who he was when she married him: a pilot who was required to be away much of the time. But talking about it and living it were two different things. The stress of having her husband away so frequently exasperated her. He’d work hard shifts and return depleted, not able to fully engage with her and Sam whenever he was home. At first she felt bad that Charlie was always so tired; she could understand why all he wanted to do was throw on a pair of sweats and watch the ball game for hours on end. But after a while of this, her empathy faded, and irritation settled in. She assumed most of the household duties and began leaving Charlie out of the loop entirely. What was the point? Life had to go on, whether he was around or not. Looking back, Sara could see where he’d be put off by her lack of communication. She was just as much to blame as was Charlie.

  They both could do better.

  “I know.” She pulled the receiver in tight and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry it hasn’t been good. To be honest, you’re right. I am resentful of how much you work. When you mentioned you might be working more, I should have said that I didn’t want you to. But I wanted you to want the same thing. With all the extra shifts you’ve taken on, and that you don’t seem to mind, I’ve been scared that maybe you found happiness elsewhere.” She was afraid to finish that sentence.

  “Elsewhere? You mean like with someone else? Is that what you’ve been thinking? That I hooked up with another woman?” He sounded wounded.

  “Well, the thought did cross my mind. What would you think if I was voluntarily choosing to spend more time away from my family? And it’s not just me. It’s Sam. Maybe you needed space from me, but that goes hand in hand with not being around for Sam, and that made me angry too. I assumed the only logical reason was there was someone else you preferred to be with.” The concern caught in her throat.

  “Sara.” He paused. “Honestly, I haven’t. That’s not who I am. Yes, things got sideways, but I didn’t go that far from you. I won’t lie; flying is lonely, and with you pulling away, it’s been lonelier. Sometimes I’ll grab a drink with a flight attendant after work. But that’s the extent of it. I swear. I would never cheat. This is me you’re talking to.” He sighed. “And about Sam, you’re right. I let my own hurt feelings get in the way of me being the best dad I can be, and for that, I’m ashamed. I want to do better for him. I want to be there for him.”

  “What about me?” she asked, her breath in her throat. “Do you want to be there for me?”

  “I do, Sara. But honestly, I don’t know if you’ll show up when I am there. This marriage of ours has to be a two-way street, and no matter how much I want something or how much we both want it, that doesn’t mean it’s going to work out. I don’t know what our future holds. We have to more than want it; we have to work for it.”

  “I’m sorry. For everything. I’m here now. Maybe we need to find someone to talk to. Like a counselor. I mean, I’m willing if you are?” The question dangled, and she worried he might say no.

  “Yes. Okay.”

  Sara hugged her knees again. “Okay.”

  “Now what?”

  “Maybe you can come over tomorrow to see Sam, and then we can go out to lunch, just the two of us, and talk. TR’s here for a couple of more days. He can stay with Sam for the afternoon so we can have some time alone. We could even go to Birdie’s restaurant. I think it would mean a lot to her if we showed up. She’ll be busy working, so it will still just be us for the most part, but it would be a nice gesture. And she makes that good tuna poke bowl.”

  “You know how much I love her tuna poke bowl.” His chuckle was warm, even over the phone. They set a time to meet the following day. Sara said good night and then paused, unsure. In that short moment, she realized that if there was one thing TR taught her, it was that you didn’t wait to make things right. Even if Charlie didn’t love her anymore, even if the problems in their marriage were too big to come back from, she didn’t want any regrets or uncertainty that she hadn’t been fully honest with the people she cared about. That she hadn’t done everything she could to show them how she felt.

  “I love you,” she said softly, almost a whisper.

  “Me too.” His tone was hesitant, but he’d said it, and Sara was grateful.

  She pressed the phone to her chest to hold on to that feeling just a moment longer. It was a small step, but she was grateful nonetheless. She knew all the hurt feelings and uncertainties wouldn’t be patched up overnight. But Charlie had agreed to try, and that was the most important part. They were going to try.

  Calling Acer, she retreated into the warmth of her house. Going room by room, she flicked off the lights. Pausing outside TR’s door and then Sam’s, she listened. All was peaceful. Moving down the hallway, she wished the same peace for Charlie and Bo—and even Marie. Just as TR said, she had to snatch up the goodness while she could. And that was exactly what she intended on doing.

  Three weeks later, Sara walked confidently through a set of double doors and took a seat on the last remaining chair in the room. Glancing around, she silently congratulated herself for being there. It had taken a bit of courage to announce her plans to her family. To her happy delight, Sam, Charlie, T
R, and even Bo all responded with boundless encouragement. And now here she was. Ready to step into the next phase of her life.

  Slipping a nearby canvas apron around her waist, she waited. The buzz of excitement traveled up from her shoes and extended into the tips of each one of her fingers. She was so happy she could burst. Faces surrounded her and smiled in nervous greeting. A familiar earthy aroma tickled her senses. Her palms splayed across a smooth wooden surface, the gray, dusty film pleasantly reassuring.

  It was like being home again.

  A bohemian-dressed woman with gentle eyes and a long skirt entered and addressed the class. Sara liked her instantly. “Welcome, everyone,” the woman said. “This is Pottery 101, and I’m your instructor. We’re going to have a lot of fun in here, so find a wheel, and let’s get started.”

  A short little man next to Sara leaned over and whispered, “I’m so excited!”

  Sara felt as if her whole insides were smiling right back at him.

  “Yes,” she said. “So am I.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The first thing I do when reading a new book is go straight to the acknowledgments page. I know how much effort goes into publishing a book, beyond the writer’s work. It takes a whole tribe. I should know. Without my tribe, in particular, I wouldn’t be here.

  Thank you first and foremost to Abby Saul. You are the best agent I could ask for. Thank you for plucking me from the slush pile and being my champion, editor, truthsayer, and all-around talker-off-ledges. Thank you to Danielle Marshall, who took that coffee meeting in Seattle and said yes. I’m forever grateful. Thank you to the entire Lake Union team, especially my editor, Alicia Clancy. Tiffany Martin, your talent and (sometimes) relentlessness pushed me to make the pages the best they could be.

  A shout-out goes to the Ladies of the Lake and all my friends at the Women Fiction Writers Association. So many of you paid it forward, helping give sage advice (Kerry Lonsdale!), and I hope I can do the same for other writers along the way. Thanks also to my hive of “Bees.” You know who you are, and I love you. To Molly Carroll, my literary sister, a big hug.

  Finally, thanks to my husband, Greg, and three kids, Natalie, Lauren, and Ben. You put up with all my shushing and writerly determination with love and support. My heart is full.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2017 Benjamin Edwards

  Nicole Meier’s previous novel is The House of Bradbury. She is a native Southern Californian who pulled up roots and moved to the Pacific Northwest, where she lives with her husband, three children, and one very nosy Aussiedoodle. Visit her at www.nicolemeierauthor.com.