Claire's Song (28 page)

            Mrs. Watkins brings in a basket full of bread and puts it on the table. Mr. Watkins is right behind her with an even bigger dish of lasagna. Claire takes one look at it and she lets out a tiny laugh, the kind that escapes the lips of people who are on the verge of losing it.

            "Claire, everything okay?" Her mom asks, her brow all pinched.

            Claire nods and smiles as she takes her seat. "His favorite," she says so quietly that I'm not even sure she's talking to me. She's just staring at the plates of food.

            "The food?" I ask.

            She nods. Her parents take their seats and I have no idea what to do. Claire prepares her plate like a robot without saying another word. Her parents look at her worriedly and then back at me, like I might know what Claire's thinking.

            "Claire, if you don't think…" Her mom starts, but quickly stops. She's confused, just like everyone else. Claire seemed like she was really digging this idea this morning. Then this happened.

            Claire shakes her head as she moves the food around on her plate, making it look like she's actually eaten. "No, it's fine. It's just tough. It's the first birthday I've celebrated without…" Her voice catches and the fork clatters to the plate. Her hand is in front of her face and I can tell she's trying hard not to cry.

            "Claire," I whisper.

            Her eyes meet mine, tears threatening to spill all over her face.

            "You can do this. I know this is Jamie's first birthday not being here, but you have to know that he would want you to be strong for him. It's okay to cry, you know that, but he wouldn't want you to stay so…broken for so long," I whisper into her hair.

            Claire blinks a few times, the tears disappear and she takes a deep breath. I didn't know if I said the right thing or not. Her parents are watching us with wide eyes, but they say nothing.

            "This is fine," Claire finally chokes out.

            "You sure, honey?" Her father asks.

            Claire nods. We eat dinner in awkward silence. Once everyone finishes, the dishes are cleared as we await the cutting of the cake. Claire's mom smiles and looks at everyone and then at the picture of Jamie on the table.

            "Why don't we share a memory of Jamie in honor of this day?" She asks, her smile sad like Claire's.

            "I remember the time I caught him in Claire's room for the first time," Mr. Watkins says with a laugh. Claire even smiles at that one. “I heard music playing in there and a boy's voice and I expected the worst. When I got there, though, it was just the two of them playing Monopoly." Claire lets out a laugh, a real laugh at the memory and we all follow suit.

            "He did love Monopoly," Claire adds as she looks at me with a smile.

            "I remember the time he offered to cook dinner because he ate with us so much," Mrs. Watkins says as she cuts slices of cake and puts them on tiny plates. "He actually bought take out and put it on our real plates. Was so proud of himself too."

            Claire nods and then takes a deep breath. "I remember the time he told me I was his best friend. His best friend in the entire world," she says in almost a whisper, her voice barely floating to our ears.

            My heart breaks for this girl and I know there's nothing I can do to fix it. Her mother's words come bouncing back into my ears and I can’t help but let a small part of myself wonder if it’s the truth, whether Claire even realizes it or not. Am I just someone helping to ease the pain of Jamie's death? Am I someone to pass the time with until she's better? Either way I know I'm the most horrible person on the planet for what I'm doing to her, yet here I am wondering what to do to make it all go away, to make the pain better for her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CLAIRE

            It's been a week since Jamie's birthday party. I was a complete mess that night. I thought everything would be okay, that I would be okay, but I was anything but. Things are a little better now, maybe because like always, I force them down and try not to think about them. But I have been feeling the pull to read Jamie's letter again. You'd think those final words of his would be emblazoned into my mind, but I can't even remember when I first read it, because I was so screwed up, so upset.

            Tomorrow's Thanksgiving and I try not to think about how Jamie came here instead of eating with his own family. This year I have Ryder. I'm pretty sure his Dad is coming to eat with us, too. That should be interesting.

            Ryder. I've been thinking about Ryder a lot lately. How he held me that night I lost it about Jamie, how his touch makes me feel, his kisses, and I am afraid I'm rushing into things with him, that I'm not being fair to him, but I'm too selfish to let him go. I want him in my life, I love the way he makes me feel, the way I feel about him. All of those things are real, no matter what the circumstances are. I know I'm not using him as a band-aid for Jamie.

            "Okay, honey, we'll be back tonight, okay?" My mother calls from the doorway of my room.

            "Love you, bye!" I yell after her. She and Dad are going to visit old college friends that are in town, leaving Ryder and me alone in the house. Instantly I warm to the thought. As soon as I hear the garage door shut, I text Ryder.
They're gone ;)

            A few minutes later I hear his door open and my heart starts beating wildly and continues to do so on up until he steps foot into my room. He's so gorgeous with that chiseled face, those perfect eyes. I'm liking the way that t-shirt stretches across his body, the way his jeans hang off his narrow hips.

            "That was fast," I joke. I go to my Ipod and put on one of my favorites, "Remember Me as a Time of Day" by Explosions in the Sky.

            "I feel like we haven't been alone in a long time," Ryder says, his eyes burning into me, heating me up from head to toe. With each step I take towards him, I feel like I'm going to faint, my insides are so twisted up and nervous.

            "We can change that now," I whisper once I'm closer, my arms looping around his neck, my mouth next to his ear.

            He pulls back and gives me his sexy half grin, one side tilting up higher than the other.

"Kiss me," he orders, his voice soft and conflicting with the demand.

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him with everything I have, the remaining pieces of my heart and soul thrown together in this kiss. Our lips move expertly together, not missing a beat. The taste of him is everywhere, clouding my thoughts, my mind. He makes a gruff noise when I bite his lip and a sound escapes from my lips when he moves to my neck. The kiss grows deeper and more passionate, everything screaming, begging for
him.

            "Ryder," I gasp.

            He pulls away a little and his gaze meets mine. In that moment it seems that he can read my mind. My legs are around his waist and he carries me to the bed, where we continue to kiss and explore. I want him even though I know it's too soon, even though I know I shouldn't. But more than anything I want my first time to be with Ryder, I want his hands all over me, his mouth claiming mine as his.

            My breathing gets heavier with each press of his lips to my skin and then suddenly he pulls away from me.

"Claire, we've got to stop," his breath hitches, his voice husky. He starts to move away from me and suddenly I feel cold.

            "Why?" I ask, hating how needy I sound, hating that I want him this much.

            "Because you're not ready," he says simply and then rolls over to the side of the bed he occupies, Jamie's side. When will it ever fully be Ryder's side? Or will it always be Jamie's?

            I sit up for a minute and study him. His eyes are on me doing the very same thing and I wonder if he's right. My body is completely willing, but could I handle sex right now with the state I'm in? I want to argue with him, but I don't. I simply lay on his chest and we lay there together, that familiar shifting appearing once again and it makes me nervous.

After a while, Ryder falls asleep. I’m glad because he's been looking more tired than usual.  I can only attribute it to getting ready for his big show that's coming up in less than two weeks. I move just slightly, careful not to wake him. I study him in all his perfection and lightly trace my finger across his cheekbones and down his neck. I take in his arms, which have gotten more defined within the past two months.

I move my path downwards to the leather bands on his wrists. Around and beneath the bands I can see what looks like angry slashes, but so many that the skin is discolored. What is this? Then it hits me and I sit up so fast I can barely catch my breath.

Ryder sits up too, disoriented. "What is it?" he asks, blinking several times.

I put my hand on my head to stop it from spinning, my breathing bordering near panic attack. "It's…well, I saw something," I manage to get out.

Anger swells up in my heart, threatening to explode, and I don’t know what to say, what to do, what to think. I scramble off the bed, trying to put space between the situation, between my heart.

Ryder's eyes narrow in confusion as he looks at me. "What did you see?" He pulls down the sleeves of his hoodie all the way over his leather bands.

"Do you…do you…cut yourself?" I ask, my world threatening to crumble and crash into the merciless sea.

Ryder runs a hand over his face and then quietly he asks, "Why do you care, Claire?"

 At this moment he is no longer the Ryder I fell in love with. This boy before me is hardened and cold and there is nothing but sadness radiating from those eyes, the very same eyes that used to study with me with such care and interest.

"Because I do, Ryder. Because I care about you, you stupid idiot!" I scream as I throw my hands up. "When will you realize that? That I love you? And, and…" I can't get the words out. I'm freaking out.

My heart is thundering in my chest, its echo pulsing in my ears, the world is spinning on its axis and there isn't enough air to breathe. I slide down against the wall and sit on my floor; my eyes staring helplessly back at the boy I love.

"What the hell, Ryder? You are such an asshole! You know what I went through with Jamie and you're cutting yourself? Why? Why do you do it? What if you actually hit an artery?"

"I die," he says simply, as if it's no big deal.

"Why do you cut yourself? And for how long?" I ask, my chest constricting and hurting. I can barely make myself say the words.

Ryder rubs the back of his neck as he refuses to look at me. I stand up, although I feel wobbly, like everything I know has been ripped out from beneath me.

"Look at me, Ryder!" I raise my voice, anger fueling me now.

Ryder finally glances at me as he throws his arms out to the side, "What do you want me to say, Claire? It's not what you want to hear, is it? I've been cutting myself for years now."

"Why?" I ask, my voice shaking, my heart breaking at how defeated Ryder sounds.

The word is on repeat inside my head, inside my heart.
Why? Why? Why? Why?
Lindy's taunts of being the Black Widow rear their ugly head and I have to take a deep breath in order not to lose it right then and there.

"I can't tell you," he answers, looking at the floor. "Look, I should go. I'll pack my things and just move in with my Dad."

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" I block the doorway.

He doesn't answer me.

"There are other ways to deal with whatever it is," I say.

Ryder looks at me, his voice soft and not angry, "Then you need to look into that about Jamie, Claire. You say you're dealing with his death, but you're not. You're a freaking mess. Just like me. We all have our own ways of dealing with things."

Ryder tries to go past me, but I grab his shirtsleeve. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"No," he answers and then he's gone, gone from my room, my house, my life.

RYDER

            She was going to find out sooner or later. She was willing to give herself to me and I knew at that moment that I couldn't do that to her. I love her too much, even though I never wanted to in the first place. The way she looked so broken and helpless shattered everything I had left and I knew I had to get out of there. I threw everything I had in a bag and went to my Dad's, where I spent Thanksgiving eating a fancy catered dinner. 

            It's been a week since our fight and I ignore her in school and she does the same. We are two complete strangers now, no hint of what we used to be, and it makes me think of that Smashing Pumpkins song, "Perfect."

            Even with all that, I'm still writing Claire a last song, because that doesn’t mean I don't love her. It's just better this way. Now she has time to get over me maybe, before I actually kill myself. I've got this countdown written on my hand. Sick, right? Today it reads two days. Two days until I never see Claire again, never touch her soft skin or smell that vanilla perfume of hers. Two days before I tell her goodbye forever.

            Since I'm ending it, I've managed to lay off the cutting, the anxiety strangely nonexistent. My Dad doesn’t notice a thing, but how would he, since he never noticed anything before? He's had me filling out college applications and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him it's over for me, that I'm tired of fighting.

            Lindy has picked up her crusade at school and one day last week Darren beat the crap out of me. I let him because I’m tired of it all. I got a nice black eye from it, but I didn't get suspended, which my Dad said was commendable. Freaking commendable. I don’t want to be commendable. I'm a coward, that's what I am and I know it.