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“You know, it just doesn’t feel like I can win with you anymore,” Claire pointed out one day. “I can’t be myself around you.” The words hurt, as they were often meant to when one person had given so much to receive little to nothing.
“If you want to break up with me, will you at least say it in a less cryptic manner?” Sarah sighed, they’d had this fight before yet it always ended the same way. Idly tapping her fingers on the desk, her manicured nails were the only noise beyond the silence that stretched across the room. She popped her gum loudly, as if she were oblivious to the tension between her and Claire.
“I’m trying, you know. I even used an I-statement this time, it beats texting your ex in a drunken stupor.”
They’d broken up before. One time in 2012, they hadn’t spoken for weeks until Claire had shown up at Sarah’s door and asked for another try. There was a brief split in early 2013 when Sarah had been considering coming out and Claire just couldn’t. She had a bright future ahead of her and didn’t want any distractions or roadblocks in the way, coming out of the closet included. She’d given everything she could to Sarah, yet this was one thing she just couldn’t find it in herself to give.
A couple months after the split in 2013, Claire had woken up to a drunken text from Sarah that had simply said why does it hurt so much without you. Claire didn’t have an answer. She’d drowned her sorrows in work and hobbies and socializing until she didn’t have time to mope. In the end, she went over to Sarah’s condo and they’d slept on it. Claire never got around to throwing out the bottles of Sarah’s pumpkin spice shampoo.
(They never really talked about it. Maybe that’s why it didn’t work out in the end, after the break up in December).
“You know, I’m concerned for you.” Claire’s mother had said, when she’d called recently. It had been a couple months since Claire had finally given up on Sarah and walked away. She’d deleted Sarah’s number from her contacts, untagged herself from all of her photos, and boxed up all of the stuff she had left at Claire’s apartment. Even then it was too much, and she found herself looking for a new place an hour or so away, to get away from the memories she was desperately trying to leave behind.
“I’m fine, mom. My school work is just catching up with me, that’s all.” Claire could hear her mom sigh over the phone.
“You just haven’t been the same. I know that college is busy, but if you ever need to you’re always welcome here. Your father could use some help assembling that greenhouse he’s been dreaming of, you know the one.”
Claire did know the one. Her father had bought it months ago and never assembled it, claiming that he was waiting for “the right time”. She also knew that it was about time for her to visit, she’d skipped her family’s traditional Thanksgiving for spending time with Sarah, her girlfr- ex. Her ex. Her first long-term relationship.
It hurt to think of her, sometimes, and in the rare events during which Sarah slipped through the cracks of her self-imposed walls, it took all of her will not to cry over a pint of ice cream. Even driving past their old place had hurt, especially knowing that some stranger was now living in what had been theirs and had been going to be theirs for the rest of their lives, ideally.
“I’m sorry mom, I’ll try to be over soon, okay?”
Sometimes she wondered what Sarah was doing now. She was probably off living her life, not hung up over what could've been, like Claire was.
“All right, darling, just wanted to let you know that you’re always welcome here with open arms. You just seem so preoccupied.” Claire hated to hear her mom when she sounded like this- so disappointed, and tired. She would do anything to see her mom’s face light up with joy and pride again. It’d been so long.
After hanging up, she slipped on her shoes, grabbed her wallet and left her building without turning back.
A voice in the back of her head whispered, running away won’t solve your problems. She figured she may as well try to anyway.
Waiting in the line of Starbucks, she dozed off slightly until she she heard a voice saying, “Ma’am, it’s your turn.” She looked up and was surprised to find that the line had already dissipated in front of her.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s been a long morning already. Can I have just a cappuccino, please? Venti, and soy if it’s no problem.” The cashier smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Absolutely, ma’am, that’ll be $4.05.”
Ma’am. The cashier herself was a couple years younger than Claire, maybe a senior in high school or so. Claire was struck suddenly by a wave of nausea at the thought that maybe she was getting a little too old to be living in a Starbucks and her cheap one bedroom one bath apartment. Shortly after this realization, the barista announced her name, cutting off her train of thought. She picked up her coffee and left.
On her way to work, she listened to whatever random pop song was playing at the time. It left no impression upon her as she sat in silence, drumming her fingers against the wheel occasionally in beat to the music.
When she arrived at the parking lot of her workplace, she cut the ignition and just sat in complete silence for a minute. She cracked her knuckles, checked her teeth in the mirror, grabbed her backpack and slammed the car door shut behind her as she walked towards the entrance of the building.
Currently, she was working as an intern at a local lab, specializing in archaeology. The commanding scientist had her working on a virtual model of a recent site the team had surveyed- a dig in Teotihuacan, about thirty miles north of Mexico City. The name of the site, which means "place of the gods," came from the Aztecs. Claire had always been fascinated by history, especially by the ways its stories had been carved into literal and nonliteral stones, to keep its patrons guessing even thousands and millions of years later. History was rigid, except for the points at which it wasn’t anything but an indefinite mystery. That’s where her internship came from, to take those mysteries and unravel them inch by inch.
She hadn’t made a name for herself or a career of it yet, but it was all she had, and it was a start.
A couple hours later, she checked her phone and found a text from her roommate, Janice.
“Guess whos going out tonite?”, it said. “Dont u dare skip out on me babe :((((((((.”
Claire tried to ignore the initial sickness in her stomach from the thought of going out, and replied, “can’t, sorry jan. too much work, u know”. In reality, her work was almost done for the day, yet she was still overwhelmed by the urge to decline and spend the night in with her computer and a blanket. It wasn’t necessarily that she didn’t like hanging out with Janice. It was just that she was so tired, and so stressed, and didn’t really feel like going out would solve anything.
Your instincts haven’t stopped you from doing much yet, a voice in the back of her mind mumbled. She resolutely chose to ignore that, as she closed up at the lab and headed on to her car. She couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. It’d been awhile since she’d last gone out.
The last time, or times, she’d gone out were just shortly after the break up. She just sort of floated from bar to bar, making bad choices and spending too much money on nights and people she wouldn’t remember the next morning.
Cringing, she shook her head. That was the last time she was going to let her emotions get the best of her. Starting the engine, she backed out of her parking space and drove back to her place. Predictably, when she arrived, Janice was waiting for her, with her hands on her hips.
“Claire, you have just got to go out with me. You’re the best wingman I know, please?” Claire rolled her eyes and opened the fridge to get a snack.
“Flattery will get you no where, Jan.” Jan pouted before turning around to rummage through her closet again. She eventually pulled out a shining, silver crop top and waved it around in victory before presenting it to Claire. After eying it in disgust for a few brief moments, Claire sighed. “We’ve been over this, Janice. I’m busy.”
When Claire looked over at Janice, her eyes were round and pitying. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about, baby. You never go out anymore. It’s either the lab, random cafés (Claire fights back the urge to mention that no, her cafés are not random, she has a precise list of acceptable coffee suppliers), or our apartment. When was the last time you had some fun?”
“I had some fun, Janice, when I was bar hopping,disappointing my parents and spending time with strangers. Can’t you see? I’m trying to get my life back on track.” Claire began to walk out the door again when Janice grabbed her shoulder. Claire flinched. Ignoring Claire’s discomfort, Janice continued on.
“That wasn’t fun, Claire, and you know that.” The mature part of Claire is perfectly aware that what she was doing wasn’t having fun, but destroying herself. Punishing herself for another failed relationship. She wasn’t prepared to think about it quite yet in detail.
Shrugging, she shoved past Janice, sat down on her bed, and took off her shoes. She balled up her socks and tossed them into the laundry bag hanging from the door knob of the closet.
“Look, Janice, you’ll have a lot more fun if you just go without me, okay?” Janice, disheartened, put back the shirt.
“I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m just worried, babydoll.” The nickname didn’t sound as affectionate as it normally would have, but rather, disingenuous.
“Don’t be. I can handle myself,” Janice visibly shrunk at this, looking away in hurt. “I’m sorry,” Claire started. “That’s not really how I meant to say that. What I’m saying is thank you for caring about me, I love you, now go out and have some fun, okay?” Claire smiled weakly. “You can tell me about it tomorrow, just make sure you stay hydrated.” Janice laughed, although it was slightly hollow-sounding to Claire’s ears.
Grabbing her wallet off the kitchen counter, Janice turned to Claire. “Alright, Claire. You’re off the hook today, just promise me we’ll go out soon, okay?”
“Bye, Janice.” Claire said. If Janice had noticed that Claire had never explicitly promised her anything, she didn’t mention it.
Shortly after Janice headed out, Claire found herself on her bed, laptop nearby, drinking some tea. Stretching, she opened the lid and checked her social media. John Spencer just got frozen yogurt with some old high school friends; Karen Cohen just got engaged; Hillary Ponte is now a proud aunt. Scrolling through her own Facebook feed, all of her recent posts were just things she’d been tagged in, or articles her distant family members had shared with her. She didn’t have a single accomplishment of her own. She slammed the lid of her computer shut and turned on the television.
“Breaking news, a blizzard in Michigan has led to numerous fatalities including that of its beloved governor, Jeff Maurier.” Claire changed the channel.
“The time’s ticking down on the remainder of third period... three... two... and he scores! Joe Ward just scored the game-winning goal for the Capitals with less than two seconds left-” After casually ripping off a hangnail, Claire changed the channel.
“Her new music video swept the nation. She had so much talent and potential for only being eleven. Here she is toda-” Claire changed the channel.
“A couple months ago, a dog-fighting ring was broken up in Chicago. Let’s see how those poor animals are doing today.” Claire decided that maybe she ought to try a movie.
Scrolling through the available selections, it seemed like every option was either a three-star romantic comedy or had Adam Sandler in it. She turned off her television, rolled over and fell asleep.
The next morning, she woke up to the sound of Janice shuffling into their apartment. Upon finding her glasses, Claire yawned and looked over at her clock on her bedside table. It was 6:37, a couple minutes before her alarm was set to go off. Janice, seeing Claire stirring, shrugged apologetically.
“Sorry, babe, I hope I didn’t wake you up too early,” Claire tried to tell Janice that it was fine, but not being much of a morning person, she ended up making a sort of assenting noise and hoping for the best. “I have good news, though.” Face smashed into her pillow, Claire groaned. “Don’t give me that, Claire, I found someone you might like.” Claire sat up and rubbed her eyes groggily.
“Don’t get me wrong, Jan, but I’m fine. I don’t need you setting me up with random girls you meet at parties.” The girl could be straight, for all she knew (how did Janice even find someone, hey, my friend is mopey and sad, date her please?).
Janice ignored her. “C’mon, she’s perfect. She plays field hockey and is studying languages right now. How cool is that? Plus, she said she’s seen you around before and thinks you’re cute. Give her a go, please Claire bear?” Wincing at the nickname, Claire sighed.
“Fine, what’s her name?” Claire ripped a loose thread off from the hem of her shirt and wrapped it around her pinky until it became purple.
“Jessica!” Claire tossed the thread away and searched for a face or some sort of link to the name, but the only person that came up was her fourth grade spelling teacher.
It was at that moment that her alarm began to ring. Slamming a hand down in the general direction of her clock, Claire yawned once again and slowly disentangled herself from her makeshift blanket cocoon. She stumbled towards the Keurig her parents gave to her as a graduation present years ago and began to make herself some coffee.
“Claire, don’t forget, you’ve got to be at work early today to meet up with your team members!” Claire let out an indignant squawk and ran to the bathroom to get herself ready and fix her bedhead. Stumbling turned to scrambling as Claire quickly got dressed and brushed her teeth. Laughing, Janice was holding a steaming tumbler of coffee for Claire as she ran out the doorway. Claire mumbled a goodbye and thank you to Janice before booking it to her car, avoiding spilling coffee on herself as she dodged passerby and waved a greeting at the complex’s janitor.
When she finally arrived (on time) to the lab, she checked her phone and found a single text from Janice. All the text contained was a number and a winky emoji. She saved the number to her contacts. At that point she’d had enough caffeine to weakly chuckle at the message. Pocketing her phone, she left her car and entered the lab.
The meeting room of the facility was mostly full by the time Claire arrived. “Oh, good, Claire’s here. We can start without Alex, he’ll be unreasonably late anyway.” Dr. Maxim’s voice rang across the room to the door frame from which Claire had just entered the room.
Dr. Maxim was the leading researcher of the Teotihuacan dig. She’d been working at the lab for over thirty years and showed no signs of quitting or retiring any time soon. Rumors about her had been shared through the intern grapevine for years. Dr. Maxim was a spy for the Soviets; Dr. Maxim was the lead singer and guitarist of a band in college; Dr. Maxim didn’t have a first name; Dr. Maxim was allergic to most fruits including common ones like pears and strawberries. Claire doubted the last two were true but hadn’t yet seen Dr. Maxim eat any fruit so she couldn’t be quite sure.
Clearing her throat, Dr. Maxim began to speak.
“Hopefully, this meeting won’t be too long. I know we all work to do before the presentation at the 2015 Annual Meeting Call for Papers, so let’s get to it.” The 2015 Annual Meeting Call for Papers, held in mid-January by the Archaeological Institute of America (AIA) and the Society for Classical Studies (SCS), was a convention that offered numerous courses and talks about artifacts, art, society, fashion, architecture and archaeological research methods of the classical and New World. For archaeologists all around America, it was a big deal. Claire and her team had been looking forwards to the conference for months. They would be presenting a short panel about their findings in New Mexico and Teotihuacan.
Dr. Maxim spoke for a couple minutes longer, gauging how far each part of the overall team had come with their individual assignments. After the meeting was dismissed, Claire set up her station at her little cubicle and began to work, any thoughts of Jessica leaving her mind for thoughts of 3D modelling and science instead.
A couple hours passed, and eventually, Claire packed up and headed home (although not until having been heckled by Dr. Maxim for a bit first, because really darling, you’ve worked hard today, take the rest of the day off). When she arrived home, Claire found a text from the number Janice had texted her, presumably Jessica, saying “I heard you like cafés. A nearby one is hosting an open mic night in a couple hours, you in?”
Claire had to think for a second. It had been a while since she’d gone out for some leisurely enjoyment, and it was just a café. With Janice’s voice egging her on in the back of her mind, she replied “Yeah, sure! Do you know my address?” Soon enough, she got a reply of “Yep, your friend gave it to me. Pick you up at seven?” After replying with a simple, but not too brief “sure, sounds great”, Claire began to dig through her closet for some clothing to wear. Did she go dressy casual? Even more casual? What was appropriate for a first date? Should she wear perfume, or maybe more makeup? What if it looked like she was trying too hard, or even worse, too little?
(It had been so long since she’d gotten ready for a date).
In the end, she’d gone with some ankle boots, boyfriend jeans, and a nice short-sleeved shirt. She hoped it hadn’t looked like she’d put an hour into the outfit, even if she totally had. She shot a quick text to Janice with a photo of her outfit and casually scrolled through her newsfeed while she waited for seven to roll around. It’d been awhile since she was a part of the dating scene; her life had revolved around Sarah for the past couple years, even with the occasional break ups here and there. It was so weird to her that her parents hadn’t even known about such an important part of the last few years in Claire’s life. Then again, that was just one of the many things that led to Sarah and Claire’s arguments. Claire wasn’t brave, or exciting, or outgoing enough for Sarah.
In the end, she still wasn’t sure whose fault their failed relationship was.
(She couldn’t help but think it was hers).
She looked at her hands and found they were shaking, although whether in anticipation or nervousness (or something else) she wasn’t quite sure.
Unfortunately, it was then that the doorbell chimed and Claire heard a series of knocks from her and Janice’s apartment door. Upon opening the door, she was greeted by a tall brunette, practically crouching to fit through the doorway.
“Hey, it’s Jessica, or Jess. I’m assuming you’re Claire?” Shyly smiling, Claire gestured at Jessica to come in.
“That’s me, it’s nice to meet you. Can I offer you a drink?” Jessica, or Jess, laughed.
“We’re going to a café, Claire.” Claire blushed profusely. “It’s okay though! I was just pointing it out, I can buy us some drinks there.” After thinking briefly, Claire turned and grabbed a light sweater off of a nearby chair.
Claire blushed. “You really don’t have to...” The two exited the apartment.
Jessica waved her off. “You can cover the food on the next date, okay?” Claire couldn’t help but smile.
“Well, if you’re so sure, let’s get going.” Swallowing her doubts, Claire followed Jessica to her car and they drove to the café hosting the open night.
When they arrived, Claire claimed a table close to the stage while Jessica went to purchase some drinks and a snack. There was still a good fifteen or so minutes until the performance was set to start, and a small crowd was beginning to form. The café itself wasn’t anything particularly special, just one of the many indie, locally-owned places near campus. Claire didn’t want to sound cliché per se, but it was very cozy, and she could see herself returning in the future. There was art all over the walls, in a variety of styles. Upon closer examination, Claire noticed that every single one was from a different local artist. After a bit, she returned to their table.
Jessica walked over, carrying two cups and a pastry bag. “I got you a latte, soy since I heard that you were lactose intolerant. I also got us a cranberry muffin, sound good?” The amount of attention Jessica must have been paying to know Claire was lactose intolerant surprised her. Sarah had never bothered to pay attention to the little details.
“Sounds great,” Some light tapping and a test, test, one two three came from the speakers. “Speaking of which, it looks like mic night is about to begin.” The crowd hushed as a short, plump woman began to speak into the mic.
“Hello, it’s nice to see such a large crowd here at our first open mic night! I’m Alyssa, and I am the president of the university’s Poetry Club! You might be wondering, ‘since when have we had a poetry club?’ Well, we’re here, and we’re ready to shine.” There was some light laughter at that, and a couple of catcalls. Alyssa giggled. “Aw, stop, you’re making me blush. Anyway, sit tight and enjoy the show! Up first, we have the lovely Georgia with her poem, Home.” A girl with curly, strawberry blonde hair and freckles walked onto the stage and began to recite a poem.
By the time open mic night was finished, a variety of poets and poetry had been showcased. Claire’s coffee was long gone, as was the muffin she and Jessica had been sharing. Jessica chugged the final dregs of her drink before speaking.
“Personally, I liked the poem comparing capitalism to the Titanic,” Jessica looked completely genuine. Honestly, Claire wasn’t even sure if she was serious or not. Instead of replying, she chose to pick up their trash instead. “So, what did you think?” Jessica stood up from her seat and pushed in both of their chairs.
Claire smiled brightly. “It was fun, thanks for taking me! Next one’s on me, though.”
“The next open mic night?” Claire groaned at the joke, if you could even call it one.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you.”
Jessica cocked her hip to the side. “Despite all evidence towards the contrary? Yes.”
“Well, if the evidence says so.” Jessica pretended to look shocked, and Claire laughed.
That was Sunday evening. Somehow, Claire found herself waking up in her bed the next morning with her pajamas on and absolutely no memory of how she got home. Upon checking her phone, she found a text from Jessica. “You kind of conked out in the car,” it said. “You woke up when we got to your place, but after changing into PJs you fell asleep right away.” She snorted. Great first impressions, Claire. Stretching, she looked over at the time. Still a bit of time before her first class. Scrolling through her messages, she found one more from Jessica.
“Had a great time, though, when’s the next one?”
The punch line was always “when’s the next one?”. I’ll pay next, we can do this, or that, next, etc. And, as predicted, that was the first of numerous other dates. During these dates, she found out a variety of other things about Jessica:
Jessica wore glasses. Jessica was a pro at darts. Jessicas was allergic to cats. Jessica knew four languages and counting; English, Spanish, German and Mandarin. Jessica had two siblings, an older brother and younger sister. Jessica was afraid of bees, but not spiders. The list went on and on. Jessica couldn’t skate, Jessica won her fifth grade spelling bee, Jessica’s older brother was in the marines.
Between dating, schoolwork and work itself, Claire found herself with little time for other things, like, say, calling her parents.
“You said you’d help your father with assembling the greenhouse.”
“Hello to you too, mom.” Claire could hear a sigh over the phone.
“We haven’t seen you in so long. I tried to ask your friend Janice and she just said to call you,” Claire silently thanked Janice, and resolved to buy her dinner. “Are you hiding something from us? Are you pregnant? Oh my gosh, what if you’re pregnant? Or even worse- did you flunk out? Are you doing drugs?” Claire blinked. Maybe she should call more often, if this is what her mom thinks she had been getting up to since the last time she visited. Which, to be fair, was a while ago.
“Woah, woah, woah, mom, I’m okay. I’ve just been busy, that’s all. The archaeology conference is coming up and...”
Her mom interrupted her before Claire could finish her excuses. “I don’t care about your geology,” (‘It’s archaeology, mom.’ ‘Whatever, same difference, sweetie.’) “I just care about seeing you, okay?”
“I’ll come over this weekend, mom, I promise.” Claire he resisted the urge to throw herself out of the nearest window. After reassuring her mother that yes, she was coming to visit, she hung up, and genuinely attempted to calculate the chance of a major injury from vaulting out her bedroom window. It wasn’t a good attempt, though, as she was never very good at math, at least not the kind that doesn’t involve archaeology. It was then that Janice chose to walk in, while Claire was staring inquisitively at the window.
“Whatever you’re trying to avoid can’t be that bad, baby.” Janice sympathetically pouted at Claire moping at the kitchen table. Claire grumpily tossed her phone onto the living room couch.
“I may or may not have just promised to visit my parents over the weekend.” Janice rolled her eyes and huffed.
“It’s about time.” Claire gave Janice the evil eye. No more free dinner for Janice, she immediately (mentally) revoked the offer.
“I don’t need another person to critique my life choices.” Janice raised her hands in surrender, and toed off her shoes.
“I’m not saying your, well, avoidance is uncalled for. I’m just saying, you ought to have stopped by sooner. Your mom’s a little paranoid,” Janice fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “By the way, you might want to take advantage of us having hot water right now. By taking a nice, relaxing, non-judgmental bath.”
Claire sulked the entire way to the shower. Much to her chagrin, her shower was actually surprisingly relaxing and non-judgemental.
Before she could even process it, the weekend was upon Claire. Saturday morning, Claire woke up to a disgustingly cheerful Janice looming over her bed. Claire scrunched up her face and squinted against the light in the room. Janice laughed.
“Come on, sleepyhead. Someone has to make sure your lazy butt makes it to your parents’ house.” Claire considered smothering herself with her pillow.
“I hate you.” she mumbled.
“What’s that, I can’t understand you, it appears your voice is slightly muffled. Did you say, ‘I love you Janice, thank you for making me coffee, best friend’?” Claire perked up at the word ‘coffee’. Janice’s face lit up as if she were watching a young child. “That’s right, muffin, it’s here. Waiting for you to get out of bed and face the music,” she cooed.
When Claire finally rolled herself out of bed, she found that the coffee was cold. No matter, the sentiment (and caffeine) still stood. She chugged it down like water. She then packed a small overnight bag with an extra change of clothing just in case, and after a thorough examination of the apartment, walked to where her car was parked and proceeded to sit in the front seat for ten minutes and toy with the radio before settling upon a random local pop station. So what if she was stalling, if anyone asked, she had some very important matters to settle before heading to her parents’. Like, beating her high score in Candy Crush. And refreshing her social media every couple seconds.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Janice. “claire i s2g if ur still sitting in the parking lot im gonna go down there myself and drive u to ur parents’ do u understand”.
After replying with an affirmative, Claire begrudgingly started the ignition, backed out of her parking spot and began the long (short) journey to her parents’ house.
When she arrived at the driveway of her parents’ home, her mother was waiting for her, with outstretched arms. Claire stepped out of the car and embraced her mom. Her mom sighed contentedly as she hugged Claire, which was a bit unsettling for her.
(Had it really been that long since she’d last visited?)
After what had felt like an eternity, or just a very long year, Claire’s mom finally released her and patted her head.
“How about you go put your things in the guest bedroom, darling. Relax a bit, I know it’s not a pleasant drive. Just be sure to be down at eight for dinner, we’re having your favorite.” Shen then hugged Claire again and wandered off to do whatever mothers do.
The first thing Claire did when she got to the guest room was to launch herself onto the bed, kick off her shoes, and think. Taking in the sight of her childhood home, she smiled faintly, and wondered why she hadn’t bothered to come sooner. Oh yeah, she was juggling an emotional on-and-off relationship with an internship and college. Exhaling softly, Claire stretched and splayed out across the soft comforter of the bed. Janice was right, her parents deserved better than an ungrateful daughter that never spoke to them or returned their calls. Checking her phone, she found texts from Janice and Jessica and a couple notifications from assorted apps. She plugged in her phone and turned it on silent; her messages could wait for her to shower and take a nap.
After enjoying the experience of unlimited hot water, Claire decided to respond to the messages from Janice and Jessica. Janice’s was something along the lines of “so was it as bad as youd thought it would be”, while Jessica’s was a little more considerate, saying “hey babe, give me a call when you get there! i love you <3”.
Claire’s breath hitched when she read the words “I love you”. She knew it was dumb, but it felt so committed and real. It reminded her of the first time she’d said “I love you” to Sarah. It had been a long week for Claire, with numerous deadlines and exams. Sarah had been gracious and patient all week, despite Claire being moody and grouchy for the entire time. After the final day of exams, she’d taken Claire to their favorite restaurant and smiled so brilliantly that Claire couldn’t help but take her hand and smile back.
“I love you so much,” Claire had said, her voice full of conviction and trust. She’d been surprised by her own frankness and began to stutter, apologizing profusively. Sarah looked her straight in the eyes and said the words back. It was then that Claire knew she’d found someone unlike anyone else, someone she could see herself in the long run with.
Of course, she’d been wrong.
Thankfully, she was pulled out of her brooding when she heard a shout of “dinner!” from downstairs.
During dinner, the conversation had been a little stifled. A bit of meaningless chat here and then but beyond that there wasn’t much noise besides that of chewing and clanging dishware. Claire finally decided to end the awkward silence by saying, “So, guys, how have you been?”
Her father spoke up. “Pretty good, I’ve still got to assemble that greenhouse. Also, recently, I’ve been having some computer problems. I’m planning on getting it checked out later this week. What about you, Claire?”
“Work at the lab has been tiring but satisfying, we’re nearing the convention which is pretty exciting.” That led to a string of conversation about Claire’s archaeology (‘Still not geology, mom’) and the upcoming panel her team was hosting.
Shortly after, Claire’s mom asked, “So Claire, have you found a boyfriend yet?”. Claire swallowed audibly. She knew that her parents would (probably) be cool with her whole queer thing, yet she just couldn’t bring herself to tell them. Sarah just hadn’t understood; it had, after all, been part of the reason they’d finally split up. Thinking back, she figured maybe Sarah wouldn’t have been the best girl to take home to her parents anyway. She was brash, and her piercings and hair might’ve been a little too jarring. Either way, their relationship never got to the point at which that was a problem for Claire, although it probably could have.
(If not for her apparent issues in commitment, according to Sarah).
“Not really mom, I haven’t been looking.”
Claire’s mom chuckled. “Well, you’d better start looking. When I was your age I was beginning to think of finally shacking up with someone.” Claire laughed along uncomfortably. It was honestly simultaneously amazing and relieving that her mom hadn’t caught on yet; yet she couldn’t help but wish that maybe her mom would stop asking about her acquiring a boyfriend, and maybe a girlfriend instead. Or maybe just stop asking about her being in a relationship at all. Sometimes it felt like all her mother cared about was whether or not she was dating someone. Claire knew that she was being slightly unfair but couldn’t bring herself to care.
They finished the rest of dinner in silence, Claire’s mother and father occasionally shooting her concerned looks. Later, after they’d eaten desert, Claire’s mom cornered her. “Listen, Claire, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know that college is busy and stressful and that maybe a relationship isn’t what you’re looking for right now. I’m sorry for being so insistent about it, and want you to know that I will always love you and be proud of you for what you’ve accomplished, okay?” Claire stared in shock. It all felt very sudden, and Claire wasn’t sure if she could so easily let it go.
“Thanks mom, that means the world to me. I’m sorry I haven’t exactly been a five-star daughter but I’m going to try, honest.”
“That’s all I could ask for.”
Claire replayed the short yet strangely emotional dialogue in her head on repeat for the rest of the night. The next morning, she woke up to the smell of waffles feeling refreshed and invigorated. Smiling to herself, she brushed her hair and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. When she walked into the room, her dad was settling a plate of warm waffles onto the table. Claire stood in the doorway for a couple seconds, relishing the peaceful, content scene in front of her before walking over to her father and offering to help.
“If you wanted to, you could clean the counter and mixer. The waffles should be done in a couple of minutes. Also, if you could chop up some fresh fruit, that would be nice.” For a couple minutes, it was just Claire and her father silently washing dishes and preparing breakfast. It was weirdly... domestic, in a soothing way. Her mother came down right when the last of the waffles had been finished.
“It smells great in here, guys! Is it time to start eating?” Claire’s father hummed an affirmative.
“I guess it is. Before I forget, Claire, grab the orange juice and whipped cream from the fridge.” After grabbing the requested items, Claire sat down at the table across from her parents.
Claire’s father cleared his throat. “So, Claire, how’s college?”
After she finished chewing, Claire gave a basic rundown of her classes, and her normal spiel about annoying classmates. Her father nodded in response, while her mother chose to shake her head sympathetically.
The rest of the day was pretty unimportant, up until the point where Claire packed up her overnight bag and said goodbye.
“Are you sure you have to leave so soon, darling?” Claire shook her head.
“Sorry mom, I’ve got work and school. I’ll be back soon, though, I promise.” Her parents each gave her one last hug before Claire got into her car, started the ignition and backed out of her parents’ driveway.
The first thing Janice said when Claire returned to their apartment was “I told you so.” Claire rolled her eyes.
“Fine, you win.”
Days passed, things happened. The archaeology panel went off without a hitch, Claire went on a couple more dates, exams were taken and passed. As a whole, Claire’s life was pretty regular. She was content with the pace at which her life was progressing. She hadn’t been keeping up with her parents as well as she’d promised, and she hadn’t hung out with Janice in a while, but work and school were going well and Claire was hopeful for her upcoming career. And if Janice was staying out longer, and if her grades were slipping, then it wasn’t any of Claire’s business.
Maybe Claire should have been paying more attention, but she had a lot on her mind, especially on the weekend of the archaeology panel at the 2015 Annual Meeting Call for Papers. Her team was on a last-minute time crunch, as some models had accidentally been altered hours before they were set to be displayed. Claire was panicking.
“Janice, Jan, oh my gosh, how are we going to pull this off.” Janice was in the kitchen cutting vegetables for a salad. Claire rambled on and on, get louder and louder; as her worrying got louder, Janice’s motions got jerkier, up until the point where she accidentally cut herself. Swearing, she rushed into the bathroom to wash the wound and bandage it.
Claire didn’t even blink, she just followed Janice into the bathroom and kept talking.
The air within the apartment seemed tense after that. Janice was being particularly indifferent towards Claire, as if they were just random strangers paired together in their freshman years of college again. Janice seemed tired, and stressed. She seemed to be weighed down by her thoughts (even if Claire was too oblivious to tell).
Things became clear when she came home one day to find Janice crying.
“Are you okay?” she’d asked.
Janice, upon seeing Claire, began to sob. “Do I look okay to you? You haven’t even noticed how I’ve unraveling these last couple weeks and I’ve had it up to here with it. So you tell me; am I okay?” Claire tried to reach towards Janice, but Janice cringed away from her touch. “Don’t touch me.” Harsh coughs rattled Janice’s frame, but she continued on with her tirade anyway. “I can’t even bear to look at you. Do you even notice the emotions of others? It’s always about you.” Claire wanted to apologize, wanted to tell her that she was sorry, for everything, and she wanted to sit down next to Janice and cry with her. “You’re a bad daughter, a bad girlfriend, and even worse, a bad friend.” Claire didn’t know what to say.
(She never did).
Janice glared at her for a couple moments later before grabbing her phone and storming out the door without another word. The outburst felt uncalled for. She didn’t (couldn’t) think about it, so she chose the next best thing: forgetting it.
She looked in her (and Janice’s, as her inner voice helpfully added) kitchen cabinets before pulling out a couple bottles of vodka. She took off her shoes, sat down on her bed, opened the first bottle and began to drink.
The first sip burned her throat and made her eyes tear up but she continued on. The television droned on in the background but she payed it no attention. When she found that she’d finished the first bottle, she opened the second.
Laying on her bed in a ragged heap, she looked up at her ceiling. Maybe she was a bad friend, and a bad person at that. She hadn’t gone to church in easily over a year. She didn’t even notice her roommate had been falling apart before her eyes, and she had hardly spoken to her parents since last promising that she would visit soon. Shaking her head, she looked over at her bedside table, grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found the name she was looking for. Jessica.
Jessica picked up after a few rings.
Claire began by saying, “I’m sorry.” Jessica remained silent. “I can’t do this, Jessica.” She heard a gasp over the line.
“Are you... breaking up with me? Why?” Tears clouded Claire’s vision. She began to shake. She could barely hear Jessica's voice over the noise of her own heart beat.
“Because I’m afraid. You deserve better than me.”
When Jessica spoke again, she sounded angry. “Are you giving me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech? Don’t you think you could just try a little harder?”
Claire began to sob. Try harder, it was something that she’d heard from the back of her mind repeatedly for a while now. “No,” she murmured, and she hung up. She then deleted Jessica’s number from her contacts and threw her phone across the room. After crying for a while longer, she eventually fell asleep.
When she woke up, she was disoriented and miserable. She sat up when she remembered what had happened the previous night. It all felt so fast, as if one moment she was happy and content with life and suddenly she was shaking on the ground covered in her own tears and a thin layer of sweat. As she stood up, her limbs cracked and popped unpleasantly. Stumbling along, Claire made her way to the shower and stepped into the freezing water fully clothed. She sank to the floor of the shower and began to cry again. Her head was pounding and she was suffering from a terrible hangover. It only got worse when her alarm began to ring from the other room.
Trembling, Claire trudged over to her bedroom and ripped the cord of her alarm clock out of the socket in the wall. After shooting a quick, barely legible text to Dr. Maxim saying that she wouldn’t be at work that day, she grabbed all the blankets she could find, built herself a cocoon and resolved to stay in there until the world ended or she died, whatever happened first. She must have drifted to sleep, because a while later she woke up to the sound of her phone ringing. When she ignored it, it began to ring again only moments later. Moaning, she rubbed her eyes and picked up the call without checking the caller ID.
“Claire, are you there?” Janice’s voice came from the speakers broken and vulnerable, much like how it had been before she stormed out of their apartment previously.
“What do you want?” Claire could hear Janice’s shudder over the phone. She decided to try again. “Look, that didn’t exactly come out the way I wanted. The point is, I’m kind of in a bad mood right now and your voice isn’t helping my hangover. I’m sorry I was a neglectful friend but can you wait just a little longer to chew me out some more.”
“I need you to pick me up.”
“What.” Claire deadpanned. She was honestly impressed by how little emotion she was showing, or rather, how she wasn’t already bawling.
“We both made some mistakes last night. Mine involve me being stranded across town in an unfamiliar apartment complex. Can you pick me up?”
That’s how Claire found herself driving across town in awkward silence, hungover, with Janice in the passenger seat. They drove without saying a word until they arrived at their place. When they walked in the door, Claire wordlessly slipped off her shoes, put some popcorn in the microwave, grabbed two bottles of some generic sports drink, put The Princess Bride into the television and sat down on the couch. Within a couple minutes, Janice joined her, clad in fresh sweatpants and a large t-shirt. Claire pressed play and the movie began, as did Claire’s journey towards becoming better.
Claire decided that the first step to becoming better was to go to church more. She herself wasn’t very religious. Church was only something she was dragged to a couple times a year, forced to sit for hours in uncomfortable clothing while some old guy droned on about the Lord. She wasn’t really sure where she stood in her relationship with a higher deity, let alone whether she felt as if one existed. The morals that had been coerced into her head had been lost after years of having no say. When she told Janice about her newfound journey, Janice laughed.
Between wheezes, she’d asked, “Do you even believe in the idea of G-d?” Claire wanted to be offended but in all honesty, she wasn’t sure. As a child she’d been led to believe that there was a Lord, and that there was Jesus. Somehow these two ideas came together to form Christianity. On the other hand, her experiences in adulthood showed her that those that believed in religion were mocked for ‘not believing in science”. Claire wondered why she couldn’t just believe in both.
Not sure where to turn, Claire decided that her best bet was probably Wikipedia. According to the main article on Christianity, Christianity was “an Abrahamic, monotheistic religion based on the life and teachings of Jesus as presented in the New Testament”. Claire wasn’t really sure what any of that meant, except for the monotheistic and Jesus parts. After more wiki-ing, she found that the basic idea was that Jesus died but was eventually resurrected to reward people for believing in him and to relieve them of their sins. Eventually, he ascended into heaven or something and now chills there with the Lord. Claire wasn’t so sure what she thought of that, or the idea that one man got to decide whether or not you were worthy of not being tortured in the afterlife. She’d seen the evils some Christians had committed and decided that maybe this wasn’t the life for her.
After even more thinking and a lot more googling, Claire decided that maybe it didn’t matter if she believed in Jesus, just that she believed in the possibility of a higher deity watching over her, protecting her. Beyond that was all speculation, and she was okay with that. It didn’t matter to her what might’ve happened in the past (regarding religion; history was super cool and she totally cared about that), and what was going to happen in the future.
To Claire, the future was always something she viewed in a more abstract manner. There were two types: the optimistic and pessimistic futures. The optimistic future was used when she was doing something stressful or strenuous; as if she were saying to herself, 'Don't worry, what's happening in the present will be irrelevant in the near future'. The pessimistic future snuck up on her in foul mockery, as if saying 'No matter what you do now, there will always be unpleasant, unavoidable things in the future that you cannot hope to prepare for. Also, fuck you.’
Claire’s quest to embrace her spiritualism didn’t go unnoticed by her parents.
“So, Janice told me you’re Jewish now,” Claire fought to urge to laugh outright. “Not that I have anything against the Jews, of course. Did I mention, I think my dentist is Jewish? Dr. Goldstein, that’s a Jewish name right? Would you know?”
“No, mom, I’m not Jewish. And who knows, he could just have a an ethnically-Jewish name.”
“Does this mean you aren’t going to church anymore? What religion are you then? Muslim? Buddhist?”
“I’m not really any of those, mom. I think I’m an agnostic theist.” When the line stayed quiet for a few moments more, Claire spoke up. “It’s fluid, but it basically means that while I don’t identify with a certain religion, I do think that there’s a possibility that G-d exists.” Claire could hear her mom sigh with relief.
“At least you’re not a Scientologist, if you’d said that then I might have had to pay you a visit.” Claire shuddered at the thought. After a bit more talking, Claire hung up. She felt giddy. It was a silly thing to get excited away, confessing to her parents her newfound religious beliefs, but it was a large step for herself and her quest to embrace her identity.
She wondered what the next step was.
In the end, she decided to look into maybe joining a philosophy club of some sort, to talk about religion and other philosophical things. She figured it was as close as she was going to get to regularly attending a service. After searching through the school’s club directory and asking around a bit, Claire found a club she thought she’d be interested and contacted the club’s president, a girl in her math class named Rebecca. Rebecca made sure Claire knew when and where the club was to be meeting, and thanked her for her interest in the club. It was then that Claire resolutely decided to give the club a go.
When Claire told Janice what she had done, Janice gave her a disclaimer.
“Man, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were serious about this,” she paused, and then began to speak again in a less apologetic tone. “Look, I totally respect you and your religious views and all that, but if you start preaching to me or whatever about how atheists are destroying the fabric of society, we’re gonna have a problem.” After promising that she would never be one of ‘those guys’, Claire and Janice played Mario Kart.
(Janice, as usual, playing Bowser while Claire, as usual, chose Wario).
Eventually, the day of the next philosophy club thing approached (Claire having already forgotten what it was called). Checking her watch, Claire tapped her foot and waited impatiently outside of the campus library. Upon noticing her in the crowd, Rebecca excitedly approached Claire.
“I’m so glad you came! Come with me, I’ll introduce you to the others and we can get started.” Rebecca then dragged Claire with a surprising amount of force to a nearby group of students. After some (almost aggressively) enthusiastic greetings, the group claimed one of the library’s study rooms and got to business.
During, the meeting, Claire learned a lot of things, the most important of which being that religious is as confusing as it is unprovable and entirely theoretical. She found it interesting how something with no solid proof had such a large following, not to say that she didn’t understand. It was nice to have something to believe in, and with everything else that had been thrown at her, the idea of a higher, almighty deity didn’t seem too preposterous. Claire found that she could speak out without judgement and did so as she pleased. At one point, the discussion got so heated that Rebecca had to intervene before a fight broke out. Basically, it was awesome.
After promising that she would return for the next meeting, Claire headed home. The rest of her day was average, yet it felt to Claire as if she had actually accomplished something, or maybe like she’d started something new. She couldn’t quite peg what she was feeling beyond an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and contentedness.
As how she felt was elated, so was her relationship with Janice. They’d never officially talked about the fight. Thinking back, it was so short yet she couldn’t bring herself to think of it as petty, because it really wasn’t. The contents of the fight were important. Claire was (and probably still is) a neglectful friend. Claire’s reparations had not been paid, and she was fully aware, yet she wasn’t sure what to do.
(Maybe it was because she lacked the emotional capacity to fully comprehend what had led to the argument in the first place, let alone how to fix it).
She tried to pay attention more. She watched the leaves on trees bristle in the wind, the way the corners of Dr. Maxim’s mouth twitched when she made a joke and the way the barista at her favorite café always painstakingly wrote each patron’s name on their cup. She observed as geese lazily floated on the surface of the water in the pond near her apartment, as napkins long discarded by their owners blew in the wind, as commuters ground the butts of their cigarettes into the road with the heels of their shoes and as the seconds on the clock in her writing course ticked by.
(She was reminded that those seconds were gone forever. Never again would she experience the fifty-third second of the twenty nine minutes and nine hours on that fateful Saturday. It was surreal, yet she knew that time waited for no one).
It was while she happened to be paying attention that she met Casey. It was a late Thursday evening, and Claire was taking a quick walk to get some fresh air during a study break. Across the street from the park near her apartment, she saw a girl around her age struggling with a bike and her disproportionately large backpack. Claire decided that it was her citizenly duty to offer some help. Upon hearing Claire approach, the stranger looked up.
Claire waved. “Do you need some help? It’s getting pretty dark.”
The stranger smiled wide with relief. “Yes, thank you so much! My bike’s wheel is stuck and won’t turn, and it’s a little too heavy to be carrying by myself with my school stuff.” It was pretty cliché, looking back. It seemed as if a lot of Claire’s life was turning out to be that way.
Between the two of them, it took about twenty minutes to drag the bike to where the girl, whom had eventually introduced herself as Casey, was living. Under ordinary circumstances, it probably would’ve taken Claire only ten or so minutes to walk there from her own house. As Claire pointed this out, Casey shrugged.
“I attend the college here too,” she said, by way of explanation. “While you’re here, can I offer you anything?” When Claire asked for her number, Casey laughed. “You’re rather forward, aren’t you.”
(It wasn’t necessarily that Claire was confident or anything, just on that night she’d been feeling particularly exuberant and outgoing).
When Claire entered her home that night, she was even more so pleased to find a text from an unknown number, simply containing a winky face and “thanks”.
The next morning she tells Janice what happened the night before, and she falls apart laughing.
“You literally came straight out of a sitcom.”
“I wouldn’t say straight.” she quips back.
The first time Janice meets Casey, she embraces her a tight hug. It’s a common intimidation tactic of hers, the college roomie equivalent of a shotgun-threat dad. Casey takes it all in stride, and Claire can tell from the start that she and Janice are going to get along.
A weeks later, she arrives at Casey’s place to find her crying and is suddenly struck with a sense of deja vu. She’s mostly sure it’s not her fault this time, though.
The second time around, she’s still not sure what exactly to do. She settles for silently leaving and hoping that Casey didn’t notice her arrival in the first place.
The next day, she takes Casey out for a date to a make-your-own jewelry store, the idea being that you select the beads and the design and can then proceed to make it and pay for it in the store. Claire thought it was a pretty cool idea when she’d thought of it, but she begins to realize that Casey isn’t as interested when they arrive, holding hands. She looks uninterestedly at the selection of beads, running her hand through the row of beaded lines. Claire gazes adoringly at some pretty turquoise beads, and asks Casey what she thinks. Casey hums a bland affirmative in response, and checks her phone for the time.
Janice looks at Claire pityingly when she returns home.
Retrospectively, Claire thinks of another time when she heard Casey shouting on the phone at someone else in a foreign language, before hanging up and huffing in quiet anger. Claire’s not really sure what happened to the cheerful, grateful Casey she met that one evening across from the park. It occurs to her that maybe Casey was just thankful.
She breaks up with Casey a couple more weeks later, and she isn’t surprised to note that Casey seems thankful once again. Unlike Jessica, Claire doesn’t stay in touch with Casey.
Speaking of which, after the break up, she gets a text from Jessica. “Sucks,” it says. “wanna get some lunch? Its on me.” Claire smiles and accepts, dragging Janice along with her.
The three meet up at a local sushi bar with a student discount. They warmly greet each other, and order their own meals. Jessica, having decided to go vegetarian recently, orders some vegetarian rolls with cucumber and avocado. Janice orders some dumplings and egg rolls while Claire gets an excessively extravagant dragon or dinosaur roll or something, it didn’t matter what was on it as long as it was cheap and looked cool (which it did). They also split an order of tofu and edamame.
It’s Janice that raises the question: “You don’t seem too upset over this recent breakup.”
Jessica nudges her. “That came out harsher than she meant.”
Claire shakes her head, taking a bite of tofu. “It just wasn’t working,” she says dismissively. Jessica and Janice trade pierced looks but don’t say anything.
The rest of lunch is spent in relative silence, broken by occasional chatter but nothing meaningful. While Claire drove, she couldn’t help but think about breaking up with Casey. Their relationship had felt so easy at the time. Until it wasn’t, of course.
That night, while brushing her teeth, Claire wondered if maybe it was her fault. Casey was too complex for her, and deserved someone with the emotional capability to love her. Claire wasn’t that person, clearly. She was awkward talking about feelings, and even more so with dealing with the feelings of others.
(“You’re a bad daughter, a bad girlfriend, and even worse, a bad friend.”)
Her original plan at this point had been to go to bed and forget about this train of thought for a while, but then Claire was struck with a bit of a revelation. She’d always just rolled over in bed and ignored her issues, maybe this was her problem. So, instead, she decided to call Janice.
“Janice, I’m a terrible person.”
Janice scoffed. “Congrats, you’re becoming self aware.”
“Shut up, this was where I planned on apologizing to you.”
After a brief pause, Janice hummed an affirmative. “Go ahead then, I guess.”
Claire opened her mouth, and the words started to pour out regardless of what her internal censor was saying. “That night when you were crying a lot, and we fought and you accused me of not having any feelings or whatever, remember that?” Claire continued on without giving Janice time to answer. “You were right. I’m a complete jerk, and I’m sorry, but this is when I’m going to try to work on that. You’ve been an amazing friend to me these past few years and I’m so thankful we roomed together those years ago. I put my feelings in front of yours, even though you were always there for me, and when things got tough, I got flakey.” When Claire looked at her hands, she noticed that they were shaking. “You deserve a friend with a shoulder you can cry on and from this point on I’m going to try to be that friend.” Claire took a deep breath and waited.
Janice sighed. “I wasn’t entirely kidding when I said you’d become self aware. We should definitely talk about this more but it’s getting late, how about we discuss it over brunch tomorrow?” Despite know that Janice couldn’t see her, Claire nodded excitedly.
“Sounds great, Jan.”
It had taken years, but Claire could eventually confidently say that she was over Sarah. She no longer woke up expecting the smell of pumpkin spice in the sheets beside her, and no longer longed for the feeling of her rough, calloused hands embracing her own. Maybe she was self-absorbed with her own preoccupations and worries. But for once, she was aware of the needs of those close to her, as what was once simply “surviving” transformed into “living”, and even “thriving”.