Claire's Song (25 page)

            “I guess. Mom’s not kicking either of us out,” I try to joke. I don't even get a smile in return, not even an obligatory pretend smile. Ryder nods and grabs his backpack from his bed.

            We walk outside and get in the car, neither of us saying a word, even when we get to school. Ryder’s out of the car and walking ahead of me and I feel so lost. How did everything fall apart in a matter of hours?

RYDER

            I wasn’t trying to hear it, but I did. I heard their entire conversation. It’s not exactly hard when our rooms are so close together. And no, I’m not that big of a prick to be jealous of Claire's feelings for a guy who’s dead, a guy who was her best friend. What her mom said struck me—that she’s shoving crap down instead of dealing with it. I see that in Claire. Her mom is worried that Claire's using me to get over Jamie, to push the real issue away. I don’t necessarily think that’s the case. I know Claire hasn’t grieved Jamie properly, actually I think anyone with two eyes can see that, but I heard her say that what she felt for me is different, that she loves me. That’s what's got me all twisted up inside. Claire cares for me just as much as I care for her, something I was afraid of. It’s hard to imagine anyone loving me. I’m seeing all this emotional turmoil and I’m afraid I’m just going to make Claire worse. I knew it was a selfish move to let myself have her, but I couldn’t die without knowing what it’d be like to have Claire love me, to spend my days with her.

            A lot of crap is going on in my mind and I want my razor more than anything. Maybe then my mind would quiet down. I’m worried about seeing my Dad again. I'm supposed to meet him for dinner tonight at one of the restaurants we used to frequent. On top of that, I'm worried about Claire picking up on my plans. She's asking me questions and picking apart my words when I slip up. I don’t want to fight with her, not when we have less than a month left together.

            It’s killing me to walk away from her right now, to hear her trying to keep up with me. Finally, she grabs my arm and swings me toward her.

“No way are you doing this to me. I let Jamie, but I’m not letting you,” she hisses, her voice the most serious I’ve ever heard it.

She’s staring me down, her backpack swung over her shoulder. I want to grab her and push her up against the nearest car and kiss her senseless. Even when everything seems to be falling apart or when life gets crazy, Claire's always there, always steady.

            “Why’d you let Jamie get away with it then? Why am I different?” I ask, my gaze heavy. I really want to know.           

            Claire takes a step closer to me. Her hand reaches down to mine and clasps it. “Because I’m in love with you, you idiot. I’m stupidly in love with you, so much so that I can’t see straight. We’re going to fix this. I’ll fix it, if you’ll just tell me what to do.”

            I bring our clasped hands to my mouth and kiss Claire's hand. “Claire, you’re perfect. There’s nothing for you to do. This is all me, okay? I'm just stressed out about Dad, my Mom, the show, just things. I get moody sometimes and I’m sorry,” I tell her as I wrap my arms around her and hug her tightly. Could I ever really stay away from her?

            Her scent wraps itself around me and I swear I feel like I’m home.

            “It’s okay,” she mumbles into my chest.

            “I don't know how I ever deserved you,” I say as I kiss the top of her head and take her hand, leading her into school.

            The rest of the day actually goes smoothly, with school being a breeze. That worries me. Don’t get me wrong, it's nice and all that, but it’s also a sign that everything is about to blow up in my face, or at least that’s been my past experience.

            As soon as Claire and I get home, I go upstairs and change my shirt. The black bag is calling to me, like it always does. I look at the clock and then at the bag and back again. I’m feeling antsy and itchy, like I need it, like the razor is a drug. Claire’s in her room and I can hear Frightened Rabbit blasting from the speakers. I try to think of her, try to let her be the reason I don’t do this, but really, it’s the same situation as hers, just different methods of madness. I know I've got to be the one to say no to the cutting, because
I
want to, not because of someone else. And right now, I’m not strong enough to say no to it. I walk over to the bag, knowing I don’t have enough time for this, that I’ll be late for dinner, but I don’t care. Just as I’m grabbing the bag, I hear Claire's voice.

            “Ryder?” She calls from the door. It’s dark in here, the shades drawn, and the lights off.

            “Yeah?” I turn around and let the bag fall back into place.

            “Here,” she smiles as she extends her hand to me. My lucky pick is sitting in her palm. “Figured maybe you could keep it for a while.”

            I take it from her palm and flick it between my fingers. “But I gave it to you.”

            “I know, but I think you could use it today. I’ll get it back from you, don’t worry,” Claire says as she puts her arms around my neck. “Now, have fun and don’t do that thing you do.” She’s smirking at me now.

            “What thing?” I ask.

            “Let him talk. Don't shut him out just yet. See if he’s worth a shot, because he might be telling the truth, Ryder. I don't want you to miss out on the chance to have a family,” she says and then she kisses my lips lightly.

            She’s got a good point and she sees through all of the crap. That’s one of the many things I love about her. I slide the pick into my pocket and wrap my arms around her waist.

            “You’re right,” I smile against her lips. I want to stay here all day and kiss her, but I know I can't. I'm already running close as it is.

            Claire glances over my shoulder at the clock. “You better go,” she says as she kisses me again and disappears into her room. I hear the music blasting again and I smile, the black bag momentarily forgotten.

            The entire drive to the restaurant is filled with nerves, even with my lucky pick in my pocket and Claire on the brain, I'm still thinking too much. I hate my Dad, but at the same time I miss the guy and I wonder how different my life would’ve been had he not screwed around on my mom. Then I see the woman she’s become and I wonder if that’s who she’s been all along.  That kind of crap just doesn’t pop up out of nowhere.

            My pulse thunders in my ears as I park next to the shiny silver BMW. Anger is the first thing that wells up in my chest, anger that my Dad is sporting a brand new BMW when Claire’s mom bought me the clothes on my back. Actually she bought me most of what I own and I tried getting a job to repay her, but she insisted that I focus on my schoolwork. Not too hard a thing to do when I’ve got less than a month to live. The memory of the rotting trailer comes back to my mind, the water pockets in the ceiling, the rats and roaches, the dirty mattress. I went from a nice two story home in the 'burbs to that and back again. Where was my Dad when that all went down?

            I sit and look at the restaurant’s sign, Glynn's Sandwich Shop. This is the same place Dad and I used to eat when he still cared, a place that used to be my favorite restaurant. But I haven’t been here since he abandoned me and there are a lot of memories inside those doors. The thought makes my chest tighten and it hurts to breathe. I think about the time I realized he’d left, that day I came home and he was just
gone.

Homecoming dance is tonight and Darren is throwing a killer party. The pep rally today was okay and Kyra will be cheering me on from the sidelines. Afterwards we have to go to the dance. Not that I want to do that. If I had my way, we'd skip the dance and go straight to the after party.

I pull into the driveway and Dad's car is nowhere to be seen. He's usually home after school, at least for a minute or two. Mom's car is blocking the driveway, the parking job a little too aggressive, too crooked. An eerie feeling creeps over me as I park on the curb in front of our beast of a house.

Instead of going in, I sit and study the house, looking for something out of place. Everything else seems the same and I figure I’m just crazy. I get out and go inside and call for Mom. I hear sniffles, then a loud sob coming from the living room. I throw my backpack down and race into the room that looks like a museum instead of a room where people actually live.

What I see almost stops me cold, but I push forward. My mother is on the floor, pictures of her and Dad spread all around her. Her mascara is streaked down her face and a huge, completely full glass of wine is sitting next to her. I've never seen her so defeated. She hasn’t always been the best mom, not even close to winning an award or anything, but she's falling apart right in front of my eyes.

"Mom?" I say as I lower myself next to her.

Her bloodshot eyes meet mine and then she starts to sob all over again. I put my arms around her and I can feel her shake. I don't know what to do with this. I pat her back while my mind is racing.

"What happened?" I ask.

She cries a little longer before she pulls away, wipes her eyes and answers me. "Your father left us." The hatred in her voice is unmistakable and I feel my whole world shift beneath my feet.

"What do you mean, exactly?" I ask, rubbing the back of my neck.

Mom gathers the photos from around her and walks over to a bucket she's placed by the table. She throws them in there and I watch her, wondering what she's up to and why my Dad left. Where has he gone?

"He's been sleeping around with that secretary at work and now they've run off together. He was so hoping you'd be here so he could tell you good bye." Sarcasm drips from her tongue as she angrily searches through a kitchen drawer.

Meanwhile, I feel like I've been punched in the gut, a hit from a linebacker knocking me flat on my face. My Dad's never been perfect, but I didn’t see the signs that something was wrong. But then, I wouldn't have. I was too busy with my world, with football, school, Kyra, and parties. Popularity has been more important than my family. Immediately I feel like I'm at fault, but I don't dare say it out loud. The last thing my mother needs right now is to validate me.

"He's selling the house, so we've got to move out within the week," she says as she stops searching. She removes a lighter from the drawer.

"Where will we go?" I follow her, scared of what she'll do. I've seen a few manic episodes of hers, but this one is by far the scariest because Dad isn't here to calm her down.

"I don't know, Ryder. I don't know what we'll do," Mom answers me as she zones out on the pictures in the bucket. I'm not even here as far as she's concerned.

She flicks the lighter, once, twice, and then there's a flame. She holds a photo to it and the edges curl. I figure she'll blow it out, but she doesn't. She throws it in the bucket, allowing the other pictures to catch on fire.

"Burn in hell, Robert," she sneers and then she leaves the room. She leaves me alone in the room with a bucket full of pictures that are on fire.

"Seriously Mom? Are you trying to catch the place on fire?" I shout as I rush to the kitchen for a glass of water. I dump it in the bucket, extinguishing the fire before anything crazy happens, well, anything crazier than this.

My mom slams the door of her bedroom in reply and I'm contemplating what to do. The Homecoming Game, the dance, the party, all of that seems so trivial now. Life seems so trivial. I clean up the mess my mother made and decide that I'm not going to the game.

 Kyra calls me and I try to explain the problem to her, but she only yells at me, says I’m too sensitive about this, and breaks up with me for leaving her dateless for Homecoming. Not exactly the support I was looking for when I answered the phone.

 I look up and see a picture of my Dad smiling back at me, sitting nice and pretty on the mantle. I pick it up and study the man in the photograph. What kind of man leaves his family like this? Kicks us out of our home just to be with someone else? Divorce happens all the time, but did it have to be like this? I didn't even get to say goodbye and I don't know where he's gone. Hatred is contagious and it begins a slow burn in my chest and when all the "what ifs" and "what will we do nows" race through my brain, I clutch the frame in my fist. I throw it with everything I have at the fireplace and leave it there, glass and all, because as far as I'm concerned, my father is dead to me.

And he still is dead to me in a way. Even so, I know that I’ve got to go in there. Claire’s right. I’ve got to do this and give the old man a chance. Of course I don’t think he’s genuine, but he is moving down here for a little over a month, even though he thinks it's until graduation. I collect my thoughts, flick my pick between my fingers and go inside.

            Dad is sitting at a table near the window, our old table, wearing a polo shirt and khakis. His hair is neatly combed, not a single hair out of place, just like always. The newspaper is spread out in front of him on the table and the moment he sees me, he quickly snatches it back up to make room for me. He smiles at me like he’s actually happy to see me. I keep asking myself if it's real. I’m always wary of people who are nice to me because that usually means they want something from you. The only people I've never really questioned are Claire and her folks.

            “Ryder, I’m glad you came,” he says as he motions for me to sit across from him.             The waitress is there in an instant and takes my order. Everything else may have changed, but my order remains the same. Once she leaves, Dad gets all serious, which makes me nervous.

            “I was afraid that maybe you wouldn't come,” he admits. His eyes look tired. They mirror the exact look of my own eyes.