by S. Walden
He walked in and she looked up. He never turned his face to her but kept it focused on his friends in the opposite corner of the room. She realized that he never looked at her empty seat while she was gone, never wondered where she was. If he had, then he would have looked over now to see if she was there. But he didn’t because it was unimportant to him, and she felt heart pangs. She had not felt them since being released, but thankfully, these weren’t as strong as they used to be. The medicine made sure of that, dulling her senses to a fine, low drone. Something manageable. Something safe. And she was glad for the relief.
He sat down in front of Joshua—was that his name?—and started a conversation. She watched him push his hand through his hair and thought it must be a nervous habit. He turned to face the front of the classroom when the bell rang.
She looked at her book bag. She pulled out a notebook and placed it on her desk. It all seemed rote, and she opened the notebook to a fresh page. The lines were neat and straight, and she imagined her handwriting would ruin the perfect symmetry, the stark whiteness of the paper. She wasn’t sure she remembered how to take notes anyway. Could she even write? She held her pen poised over the paper for a split second, and then brought it down to form a jagged letter ‘C.’ The ‘L’ followed tentatively. The ‘A’ was indecipherable. She paused.
You can do it, Clara, she said to herself encouragingly. You can do anything. And she knew she was right because she had taken her special pills.
***
They sat at dinner, Beatrice itching to talk but unsure if things were back to normal. She wanted them to be. She missed Clara.
Clara pushed her food around then started eating tiny morsels when she caught sight of her mother watching her.
“I have another solo,” Beatrice said tentatively. “In the end-of-year play.”
“That’s so great, sweetie,” Ellen replied.
Clara smiled at Beatrice. “I’m proud of you, Bea,” she said, and Beatrice warmed all over.
“Will you be able to come, Clara?” Beatrice asked.
“What kind of question is that?” Clara asked. “Of course I’ll be able to come.”
“I didn’t know if you had to go back to the hospital,” Beatrice said, then wished she could take it back.
Clara smirked—something she hadn’t done in a long time. It felt strange and wonderful.
“Only if I have another mental breakdown, Bea,” Clara said. “But I think I’ll be okay.”
Ellen huffed. “It’s not something to joke about, Clara.”
Clara winked at Beatrice who stifled a giggle.
“I’m serious, girls,” Ellen warned.
“Oh, Mom,” Clara said airily. “Take a chill pill.” And then she reached over for her bottles. “Here, take one of mine,” she offered and burst out laughing. The laughter bubbled up from deep within, and she thought she would choke on it. It felt so good, and she wanted to keep laughing like that until her final breath.
Beatrice and her mother looked at Clara. They weren’t sure if it was normal laughter or crazy laughter.
“I made a joke!” Clara wheezed, and Beatrice giggled.
“Very funny, Clara,” Ellen said, and then she cracked a smile.
“A chill pill!” Clara said cackling even more.
“Ha ha,” Clara’s mom replied, but then it turned into real laughter.
They sat at the dinner table and laughed until the laughter ushered tears.
“Jesus, what’s wrong with us?” Ellen asked in between giggles. She wiped her eyes. “Are we mental?”
Clara couldn’t breathe for the fresh wave that hit her. She pounded the table with laughter, trying desperately to gulp down air, feeling her body give up the ghost of the past. They could call her a freak, make fun of her in every way, and she no longer cared. Her mother had made a joke, and Clara didn’t care about anything else but sitting at the table in their tiny kitchen laughing her heart out.
***
“How was the psych ward, Clara?” Amy asked. She had never said a word to Clara until now, and Clara liked it that way because she was afraid of Amy. But that was before. Clara was not afraid of Amy anymore.
“Very relaxing,” Clara replied sweetly. “Thank you for asking.”
Amy was not deterred. “Did you go in there screaming and threatening their lives? Did they have to strap you down? Put you in one of those strait jackets?”
Students congregated in the hallway to listen. Clara noticed that Florence was among them.
“Did they give you a lobotomy?” Amy asked, emboldened by the growing crowd.
Clara thought for a moment. “All of the above,” she replied.
A few students laughed. Amy was furious.
“I can’t imagine what you looked like foaming at the mouth,” she sneered.
“Not pretty, let me tell you,” Clara said. “But they just stuck a needle in my arm, and before I knew it, I was sleeping like a baby.”
More students laughed, and Amy doubled her efforts.
“So now you’re taking all kinds of pills because you’re a psycho?!” she screamed.
Clara grinned at her. “So many that sometimes I can’t keep track, and that’s never a good thing. You better watch out,” she said playfully in a singsong voice. She turned to Florence who stood staring in wonder. And then Florence smiled at her, and Clara smiled back.
“You’re a fucking psycho, Clara!” Amy yelled desperately.
Clara turned on her heel and headed down the hallway. She heard Florence say, “You’re a bitch, Amy,” and other students muttering in agreement. She continued down the corridor passing right by Evan whom she didn’t notice.
***
Clara was absorbed in the words of a new novel and did not notice him. Only when she looked up at the sound of the tardy bell did she see him sitting beside her. She jumped, but she said nothing. He said nothing. He opened his notebook and held his pen. She blinked a few times, unsure if she was hallucinating. But he was there. Silent, but there.
***
Evan sat beside her for the rest of the week. He never said a word, and neither did she. She read them, not spoke them. And the few that she did have were stolen away, drowned in the glass of water she used to wash down her pills. The bell rang, he sat down. The bell rang fifty minutes later, he walked out.
***
She looked up from her novel as she sat at her usual table in the cafeteria. He stood over her, holding his tray, waiting. She nodded, and he sat down across from her. He uncapped his bottled water and unwrapped his sandwich. He said nothing as he ate, only handing her an extra napkin when he noticed she didn’t have one. She took it and said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
***
The bell rang and she got up to leave.
“May I walk with you?” he asked.
She nodded, and he fell in step beside her as they made their way down the hallway. Students gawked, and she didn’t care.
She reached her locker and opened it. She changed out her books as he watched her. When she was through, she closed her locker and waited. She didn’t know what he expected her to do.
“I’ll be seeing you, Clara,” he said, and walked off.
***
They were in the middle of another silent lunch when she sneezed.
“God bless you,” Evan said.
“Thank you,” she replied.
He went back to eating his pizza, and she couldn’t stand it.
“Why are you sitting with me?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
She didn’t talk for the rest of the lunch period.
***
He caught up to her at her car. She was searching for her car keys.
“Hey,” he said tentatively.
She looked up from her purse. “Hi.”
“I didn’t sleep with her,” he blurted. “Amy. After you and I broke up. I didn’t sleep with her. It was a rumor that started. I just did
n’t deny it.”
Clara stared at him.
“I just wanted you to know,” he said, then walked to his car.
***
He came into class early. She was already in her seat. He sat down beside her and pulled out his notebook.
“I didn’t mean it,” Clara said. “When I said I wasn’t sorry for what I’d done. I didn’t mean it.”
“I know,” Evan replied softly. He chewed his lower lip, thinking. “I’m sorry about the dress, Clara. I didn’t know what to do. I made the wrong choice because you’re right. I’m selfish.”
Clara shook her head. “I was scared,” she said. “I was scared of everything. Ms. Debbie died. The only adult who knew. She took care of us, you know? She helped us when she could. But then the second delinquency notice came for the property tax, and I was afraid they’d take our house away. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified of being homeless, and I didn’t make enough money.”
Evan closed his eyes. She had never revealed the details to him, and he realized he didn’t want to hear them. They were too painful.
Clara swallowed hard. She hadn’t felt any real, strong emotion in weeks.
“I was desperate,” she whispered.
“I know, Clara,” she heard him say as the bell rang.
***
“I didn’t want to lose you,” Evan said at lunch.
Clara looked up from her book.
“It was stupid, but I thought I would lose you either way,” he said. “If I told you about the dress at your house, you would be so embarrassed that you wouldn’t want to see me anymore. I chose wrong. I was hoping no one at prom would even notice, but I convinced myself that Amy and her friends weren’t that cruel. Because I’m an idiot.”
Clara thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t have stopped seeing you if you told me. I would have been mortified, yes, but that wouldn’t have made me break up with you.”
“I made such a big mistake, Clara,” he said. “I wish I knew how to apologize in a way that’s bigger than words.”
Clara nodded. It was too much for her to talk about over sandwiches and milk. She tried for something light.
“Would you like one?” she asked holding out a tater tot.
“A peace offering?” he replied.
She shrugged, and he took it.
***
“I thought about you all the time while you were away,” Evan said before class started.
Clara looked at the wall beside her desk to hide her face. Amy had made fun of her in the hallway, and she fought back and won. She no longer cared what everyone thought of her mental breakdown. Except for Evan. She was embarrassed about it with him.
“I was scared for you,” he went on. “And I thought it was all my fault.”
Clara stared at the wall as she replied.
“I get it from my mom,” she said quietly. “It didn’t really have anything to do with you. It’s . . . it’s a chemical thing. That’s what they told me, anyway. I think what happened with us just kind of helped along the inevitable. It was going to come either way, like after Christmas.”
“Oh.”
They were silent. Clara finally turned to face him.
“I heard voices,” she said. She didn’t understand why she told him that. She thought maybe he needed to know just how crazy she really was. She wanted to be honest about everything.
She waited for him to get up and leave. For good.
“Did you hear my voice, Clara?” he asked. “Because I talked out loud to you all the time.”
“What did you say?” Clara replied.
“I told you I loved you.”
***
She closed her locker and turned around. He was standing there staring at her, a look on his face she’d never seen. He was wrestling with something, but she didn’t know what it was.
He approached her and cupped her face in his hands. He looked into her eyes searching them. His brows were furrowed as he looked at her, searching, searching the hazel until he discovered it. And then his face relaxed, lit up, and he bent his head to kiss her tenderly on the lips. It was long and slow and gentle. It demanded nothing. It forced nothing. It forgave and asked for forgiveness.
Evan was pulled away by a teacher. Clara heard “no physical contact in this school” as he was ushered down the hall, walking backwards and stumbling into students because he refused to walk face forward and turn his back on her.
***
She waited by her car for him. She hoped he would come. How could he not after kissing her in the hallway? She needed to feel his lips again, taking her back to a place before their fight, and her breakdown, the hospital, and her loneliness.
She saw him in the distance. He was coming. She itched to go to him. She couldn’t stand it. She saw him running, and then she moved. Fast and stumbling and then she crashed into him before she knew it, her body crushed against his chest, his arms holding her desperately, afraid to let go. She cried like she did before the pills, spilling the tears into his shirt, and she heard his sob, felt his body shake with it, and thought that she was holding him up so he wouldn’t collapse.
“Clara,” he cried, his voice strangled and strange. “I’m sorry.”
He cupped her face, and she watched as the tears poured from his peridot eyes, running down his cheeks and falling on to her. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks and chin. He kissed her lips hard, and she clasped her hands around his wrists, held onto him as he kissed her with a force she’d never felt. He meant to bruise her, and she wanted him to.
“I’m sorry,” she said over and over into his mouth, tasting his tears, her tears at the corners of her lips.
He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to her car and set her on the hood. He pressed her hard against him, hearing her moan as he sucked her neck, pushing himself harder in between her legs until she cried his name.
“I want you to always say my name, Clara,” he said looking down into her eyes. “Will you do that for me?”
“Yes, Evan,” she said softly, wiping underneath of his eyes. She pulled him gently to her lips.
He opened her mouth with his tongue and found hers, playing with it until she squirmed with heated sexual desire. He pressed his hips harder into her, and she pushed back wanting him to take her there, on the hood of her car, in the student parking lot.
She felt him dragged from her, heard a familiar “no physical contact in this school,” and Evan’s protests that they weren’t in school but outside of it.
“Wise guy,” the coach said as he escorted Evan into the main building.
Clara sat on her car watching Evan grow smaller with the distance between them. He turned around and flashed her a smile.
“I’ll be seeing you, Clara!” he shouted.
And she smiled back.
Epilogue
“Your roommate sounds awful!” Beatrice said, her face screwed up in an unattractive grimace.
“He is,” Evan replied. He sat beside Clara and Beatrice on the soft spring grass surrounded by the honeysuckle vines.
“And he rarely showers,” Evan went on. “That’s unpleasant, too, when you’re living in a 12 x 12 cell.”
Clara giggled at Beatrice’s shocked reaction.
“But he’ll be out of my life soon, and there are other things about college that are fantastic,” Evan said. “Like my class schedule. I don’t have to report until eleven.”
Beatrice sighed dreamily. “I can’t wait to go to college,” she said. “Do you have a lot of homework though?”
“Yes,” Evan replied. “A lot.” He turned to Clara and smiled.
“I bet Clara will go to Maryland to be with you,” Beatrice said teasingly. “She got accepted, you know.”
Clara cocked her head and scowled playfully at her sister. Beatrice giggled.
“I’m hoping she does,” Evan said, and took Clara’s hand in his. Clara blushed. Even after everything, she blushed.
“Mmhmm,” Clara replied.
“I bet you’ll be the only girl there with a college boy!” Beatrice exclaimed. And then she clasped her tiny hands and rested them on her cheek. “Oh, Clara. Won’t it be so romantic walking into the dance with your college boyfriend? Won’t all the girls wish they were you?”
Clara laughed. “I don’t know that any girls at school wish to be me. But it’s a sweet thought.”
“Oh, I’m sure they do! Too bad for them that they don’t have honeysuckles,” Beatrice replied, and then added, “Speaking of, it’s time to get down to business.”
Evan leaned over and planted a light kiss on Clara’s cheek.
“Okay you two,” Beatrice said waving her hand. “Now Evan, we’ve explained everything. And since you’re new, you get to go first.”
“That’s awfully generous of you,” he said and plucked a flower.
Beatrice tried to wait patiently as Evan thought of his first wish. But he took too long.
“Evan, you were supposed to come prepared,” Beatrice said.
“Wow, really?”
Clara laughed.
“Would you like one of us to go while you think?” Beatrice asked. She really was all business.
“No no,” Evan replied. “I’ve got this.” He looked at Clara as he made his first wish. “I wish that tonight is really fun, and romantic, and everything Clara wants in a senior prom.” He sucked the juices from the bottom of the flower.
“I wish for Mom to never run away again,” Beatrice said, and downed the magic sugar.
“You took my first one, Bea,” Clara said.
“Clara, choose another. You must have a bazillion wishes in your head,” Beatrice replied.
“Fine, I wish to have a magical night,” Clara said, but Beatrice shook her head.
