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Sydney Adamu was proud of herself. Her father was proud of her, so how could she not be? Her head ached, shoulders were sore and throat seared from throwing up but she felt fine. Allowing herself a few more minutes of downtime, she walked to the back door of The Bear as slowly as possible, already feeling guilty over her lethargic stride, but before she could pick up the speed and get back into it, her legs were frozen in place as the door swung open.
In a lacy black dress that draped her as though in mourning, Claire burst out from the door and collapsed on the stairs, tears streaming down her face. She poured her eyes out in her cupped palms and Sydney, despite not really ever caring about her all that much, was filled with rage.
It’s not like she was some banner toting feminist or something, but when she realized that Claire’s tears were obviously because of Carmy somehow, she cursed him and all of mankind under her breath. Seeing the way he was so hesitant about her the past few weeks had constantly irritated her; he would avoid calling her his girlfriend but then also discussed the menu with her and flaked on Sydney whenever she needed him, to hang out with Claire instead. But at the moment, watching the poor girl sobbing, Sydney couldn’t feel anything but sympathy, so she decided to be a girl’s girl and approached her.
“Hey, you okay?” was all she could croak out, her throat still rough from earlier. For a second, Sydney thought that Claire hadn’t heard and was about to speak louder but then she lifted her head up.
“Oh, hey,” Claire wiped her eyes and in the process, smudged her eyeliner so that they looked like cat’s whiskers pointing out from the sides. Sydney involuntarily chuckled at the sight, but shook herself out of that, and explained.
“Y-Your eyeliner…” Sydney pulled out her handkerchief - which she suspected probably had some stains from the kitchen, but it was too late - and handed it to her.
“Ah ha,” Claire chuckled humorlessly, “Thank you.”
Claire reached for the cloth and her fingers grazed Sydney’s. Cold , thought Sydney.
Wiping her face, Claire laughed again sheepishly, a little humor back in her voice.
“Sorry, your kerchief is stained now,” she then took a whiff of the cloth and Sydney perked an eyebrow, “It smells like caramel.”
“Yeah, I should be the one saying sorry, I don’t know what you just wiped your face with,” Sydney replied light-heartedly but it actually did have a sliver of truth. She surveyed Claire’s face to ensure that she didn’t make her mess it up more by smearing oil or something, and figured that she liked looking at Claire’s face. She had found her really pretty despite her seething rage towards Carmy and Richie the day they were introduced, but the chaos of the moment meant that she couldn’t really properly get a look at her then. Now, despite the streaks of eyeliner lining her cheeks, smudged lipstick and pink, runny nose; Sydney decided that she really was beautiful, but then snapped herself out of it.
“Well, if I contract anything, I’ll let you know… in court,” Claire attempted a joke which fell flat on its face at Sydney’s feet, but she gave a cordial chuckle anyway.
“You-” Sydney pointed to the edge of Claire’s mouth and Claire gave it a swipe, and held the cloth back out to her.
“No you can keep it,” she waved dismissively, “I have loads at home.”
“What flavors are those?” Claire sniffled but still held the kerchief out to her.
Sydney bit back a smile as she took back the cloth, and tried to play along.
“Um…” she feigned deep thought, “One is strawberry, another is egg, there’s one that’s chilli, you can’t use that for your eyes-”
Claire let out a short, loud laugh, pausing Sydney and catching her off guard. The laugh wasn’t particularly joyous but not coated with the sound of tears like before, either, and Sydney was pleased with herself for causing it. Girls supporting girls, am I right?
“Your food was great, by the way,” Claire began, on a different tangent, “Really, really delicious.”
Sydney took that as an invitation to saunter up and take a seat on the steps beside her, maintaining some distance as she sat. The gentle wind caused the tips of Claire’s long hair to graze Sydney’s knuckles that were wrapped around her knees.
“Thanks,” Sydney picked at her pants and noticed that Claire wore a pair of sheer tights under her dress. That must be why her hands were cold.
“I’m not exaggerating,” Claire insisted, and Sydney figured that maybe she didn’t sound as confident, “It was brilliant. I don’t usually get to eat such good food, it’s just pre-packaged meals, nuts, sandwiches…”
She tucked her hair behind her left ear so Sydney could see her face clearly. It suddenly seemed too close for comfort and Sydney was hyper aware of the fact that she had just thrown up, and that her breath probably wasn’t pleasant, and kept her mouth firmly shut.
“So your gourmet food was wonderful,” she smiled softly, “It’s not just food, it’s art, actually. Thank you.”
Sydney’s feet shuffled under Claire’s piercing stare. She looked at Sydney as though she was the only being in the whole world, and Sydney felt her cheeks get warm as she averted her eyes to stop the spell.
“N-No, thank you ,” Sydney shrugged, “Car- We just wanted to provide a good experience, that’s all. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
She added an awkward nod as the period of the sentence and chewed on the inside of her cheek, pretending like she didn’t just say his name, and gauged Claire’s reaction. She had absolutely heard it, though.
A silence fell between them that wasn’t comfortable, nor awkward. A silence born from unfamiliarity. That’s when Sydney realized she actually didn’t know anything about Claire except her name and her job.
“Are you allergic to anything?” Sydney tried to get to know her, “Like, any foods?”
Claire’s brows furrowed at the question and after a few seconds, she answered.
“No, nothing particular, I guess…Why?”
“Oh just in case I need to avoid it when you come to eat next time,” Sydney assured her, but then was surprised to see Claire’s eyes fill up with tears again. Uh-oh, said the wrong thing.
Claire reached out and grasped Sydney’s forefinger that rested on her knees, with her cold hand. A soft touch that gave Sydney a jolt in her stomach. For a second, she dreaded throwing up again but then the feeling mutated, and fluttered lightly right under her ribs.
“Good luck with your restaurant, Sydney,” Claire began, and the fluttering turned violent as Sydney absorbed how her words sounded like a permanent goodbye. What the fuck did Carmy do now?
“I hope The Bear is successful and I hope you get all the Michelin stars and awards,” the hand around the finger tightened, “You deserve it. You both do.”
Before Sydney could thank her or say anything, Claire stood up and fixed her dress. The air hit her fingers again, now unheld, and she missed the grip. As Claire readied herself to leave, a million questions ran across Sydney’s mind. What did he do? Do I kick the guy in the face for you? Where are you going? Are you never going to come back? But we just met? Can I have-
“Your number?” Sydney finished her thought out loud. A thought that pushed its way in with all her other thoughts and burst its way out of her mouth. Claire paused and stared straight down at her. A streetlamp from across the road lit her up from behind, forming a halo around Claire’s head, and tying Sydney’s tongue.
“I’m sorry?” Claire tried to clear up her confusion at the phrase abruptly dropped by Sydney. The breeze pushed Claire’s hair into her face and as she wrestled with it, trying to clear her field of vision, Sydney stood up to meet her eyeline and ease her struggles.
“Uhh… I was asking for your number. You know. In case…” Sydney let the rest of the sentence hang in the air because even she did not know in what case she would ever have to communicate with Claire. Was there any sort of rule that stated that you’re not supposed to be friendly with the ex-girlfriend of your best friend? Sydney didn’t know for sure.
Claire simply smiled somberly and slid her hand down Sydney’s wrist, and held her hand, until Sydney was sure they looked like they were about to read out vows in the back alley of a gourmet restaurant to any possible onlookers. Maybe it was that amusing idea, or perhaps something else - that flutter? - but Sydney had to fight back a grin. Looking into Claire’s morose eyes, it was clear this wasn’t a cheeky moment, even if holding her hands brought a surge of adrenaline for Sydney.
“I’m sorry,” Claire ran her thumb over Sydney’s palm as a punctuation, “But it was great knowing you, however little… I think we could’ve been great friends.”
Sydney’s chest dropped. Claire was slipping away and Sydney wanted to hold her back tight to stop her but she was already leaving. Fixing the strap of her purse, Claire smiled softly and walked out of the alley, growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared over the horizon. Two whole minutes after she was out of sight, Sydney came to her senses. She just let Claire leave? Like that? She slapped herself mentally and cursed herself verbally.
There was Claire, sobbing because of her best friend, complimenting her work, wishing they’d known each other well; and all Sydney did was stumble and fumble through the entire conversation. She started off the night and ended it knowing exactly one thing about Claire: she doesn’t have any allergies. How pathetic.
But as she left for her house, waiting for her train, Sydney recollected more things she knew. She knew that Claire had a serene smile, one that pouted a bit before widening. She knew that Claire’s hair was soft, the phantom locks still brushing over her fingers as she held onto the pole to steady herself in the bus. She knew that Claire looked beautiful in her makeup, eyeliner and lipstick, the stains of which were still on the handkerchief that Sydney dug out of her pocket once she reached home.
As she set her alarm and reclined, exhausted after a busy day and anticipatory before another stressful one, the day’s events played back in her mind and when she remembered the chaos that erupted with Carmy in the freezer, Claire wormed her way back into her mind. Her voice, her eyes, and her touch lingering in Sydney’s senses. And with a start she realized. She’d developed a fucking crush. On her best friend’s lover. On the day they broke up. Sydney groaned and slammed her face into her pillow, hoping it would smother her into sleep.