by Kenzie Hart
“Grandmother, you love hookah,” Klara contradicts, flattening out her dress and standing up.
Eddie tries to refocus his eyes, knowing he does feel slightly dazed after kissing Klara.
“That is not the matter being discussed,” Cordelia replies, narrowing her eyes at Klara.
Klara giggles out and grabs on to Edward’s hand.
“So, Klara said you took a trip to London,” Eddie says, trying to get to a safer conversation. “Did it treat you well?”
“Yes, Grandmother,” Klara adds in, raising her eyebrows, “what exactly were you doing in London?”
Cordelia looks between the two of them, pushing up her glasses with a perfectly painted finger as they slipped down her nose. “All will be revealed soon enough; do not worry.” Cordelia has to bite the corner of her lip to keep from smiling about what went on in London.
“How intriguing,” Eddie says with a grin, noticing Cordelia looking almost uncomfortably happy. And he has to admit, it is quite an interesting side of her to see.
“And, since this topic of conversation will continue no further, Klara, why don’t you and Edward go and mingle with your guests?”
“Yes, Grandmother,” Klara says, placing a kiss on her cheek and watching as Edward kisses her grandmother’s hand before they make their way into the crowd.
“Klara,” Charles says as he moves through the drove of people toward his daughter, everything still spinning slightly.
He took his mother’s advice and made himself presentable, washing his face and fixing his bow tie and shirt. He decided to leave off the liquor-stained jacket. He didn’t need all of society knowing he was a wreck, so he tried to keep a frown off his face as he weaved through the crowd.
“Father?” Klara says, getting pulled out of a conversation. She looks her father over and isn’t sure what she is feeling. Or what to say.
“Will you excuse us?” Charles says bluntly to the couple Klara has been talking to and grabs her elbow, leading her off the lawn and around to the corner to the more private garden.
“What is going on?” Klara asks, taken aback. It isn’t like her father to be so rude in front of guests.
Charles runs his hands through his hair. “Klara, I am sorry about my outburst earlier. I thought I could be here for you today,” he says with emotion, “but I can’t.”
Klara crosses her arms over her chest, and her heart feels like it’s splitting all over again. “Fine then. Go!” she says, a tear slipping from her eye.
“Klara,” Charles says with distress in his voice, “don’t you understand? I can’t be here! I thought I could, but it is too much.”
Anger courses through Klara, and she hasn’t felt it in quite some time. It is all too much. “Don’t you think I feel it too, Father? I hurt just as much as you, but I seem to manage.”
“Your grandmother thinks it’s best if I leave, and I have to agree. But I think you should come with me. Just because I can’t be here doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you, Klara. You could move to London.”
“What?” Klara screeches, furrowing her brows. “I can’t just leave. I have Grandmother. And Edward. This is my home.”
“Klara,” Charles says, frustrated, “I’m your father, and you will do as I tell you. You are still a child, and I think I know what is best for you. We could try to be a family. But not here.”
“You might be my father, but you don’t act like one. And I am not a child. I haven’t been a child since Mother died, and you left me.”
Charles’s face flashes with pain. “Klara—” he says, reaching out for her.
“No!” Klara says, backing away. “I know you have suffered, Father. But so have I. And I had to stay here. I took care of Grandmother after you left. We took care of one another. And I am happy here. I want to be with Edward, and I am not leaving. I finally have a family, a best friend,” Klara says, thinking of Edward.
He has become everything to her, and she finally feels as though nothing is missing from her life. Though, sometimes, she misses her father, but after today, she doesn’t truly care. If he wanted to be in her life, he would be. But he doesn’t and is not, and that is his loss.
“Then, what do you propose, Klara?” Charles breathes out, feeling as though he could use another swig of his drink.
“Father,” Klara sighs, her hands slightly trembling. Her whole body is trembling actually, and she can’t seem to do anything about it. “I want to be able to talk about her. To remember her. I want you to stop grieving and be here for me.”
Charles looks at his daughter, new knots forming in his stomach. “We don’t talk about these things because there’s no point. You never talked about her death after it happened, Klara, and I thought that was what you wanted. It’s easier that way.” Charles sighs heavily.
Yes, it is partially Klara, but it is also him. He doesn’t want to talk about it either. He already feels enough pain about everything. But she is right; he isn’t there for her, and he doesn’t know how to be.
“I’m not allowed in her room!” Klara shouts. “Do you know how much I want just a small part of her with me? You act as though you can lock it all up, keep it hidden. But you can’t!”
“Klara,” Charles says, stepping forward again with his brows furrowed, “I’ve never told you that you can’t go into your mother’s room.”
“What?” Klara asks, sucking in a breath. “Father, we aren’t even allowed to have photos of her throughout the house. Those are your wishes.”
Charles’s face distorts with confusion. “I think you’ve gotten something confused, Klara, but I’ve never said that. You’re right in the fact that I cannot bear to live in this house. But I would never restrict you from having a part of your mother,” he says softly.
Klara’s head feels fuzzy, and her chest is pounding up and down. She isn’t sure why her father is lying to her or how much he must have had to drink to make himself believe these things. There is nothing more to say, and Klara takes off running. She moves through her party, passing crowds of people in deep conversations with drinks in hand. But she doesn’t see anyone in particular; all of the faces just seem to blur into one. She runs to the other side of the lawn and down to the pond where she falls onto the ground.
She wishes her father would just leave. She wishes everyone would just leave. There is nothing to celebrate anymore. Any ounce of excitement she had for her birthday is long gone, and she wants to be alone.
Klara pulls her knees to her chest and looks out to the pond. Foxglove is moving through the water, floating gently in the night. As she watches Foxglove, her body seems to relax, the sound of the fountain soothing her.
With the noise of the party in the background, Klara pretends that the night is different. That she is at her birthday party, sharing warm glances with Edward. That games are set up, and everyone is playing and having a wonderful time. That her father is happily standing beside her grandmother, both enjoying the evening.
But that’s not what is happening. But it could be. If she wouldn’t let her father get to her, she would be doing all those things. She needs to be strong and go back. She needs to enjoy the night for herself. But a part of her is exhausted.
Klara lays her head back onto the grass, closing her eyes. After a few minutes, she is going to forget the conversation with her father and go back up and have a wonderful evening. She will dance with Edward, and everything will be all right. It has to be.
Eddie watches as Klara runs right past him, seemingly looking through him.
“Klara,” he calls out, but all he can see is her blonde hair flying out behind her as she runs toward the pond.
People turn in her direction, their eyes following Klara, and Eddie looks to where she came from, spotting Charles moving to a bench beside the house, concealed in the garden. Anger boils within him.
Eddie places the glass in his hand on the first tray he can find floating through the mass of bodies and then swiftly follows behind Klara. As he ro
unds the small hill, he stops, finding Klara seated on the grass. She is holding on to herself, sitting and watching Foxglove. For a moment, he isn’t sure if he should go to her or if he should give her some space. Some time. But, as he watches her lay her body back down onto the grass, he decides she shouldn’t have to be alone.
“Hey,” Eddie says softly, moving beside her.
Klara opens her eyes, looking up to find Edward towering over her.
“Hey,” she replies back, not moving to get up.
“Is everything all right?” Eddie asks, unsure of if he should sit or remain standing.
“Not in the slightest. But it will be.” She decides that this is the point where she needs to get up and start enjoying herself.
Eddie grabs onto her hands, helping to pull her to her feet. “I saw you running from your dad, Klara. What happened?”
She looks at him for a moment but then pulls her eyes away. “Edward, I haven’t told you this, but tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother’s death.”
“Oh, Klara,” Eddie sighs, pulling her into a hug. He isn’t sure if his lie will keep, but he will try his best to listen to Cordelia’s advice and let Klara tell him in her own time. “You told me your mother took ill and never recovered. But that’s not the whole truth, is it?” Eddie prompts.
“She did take ill,” Klara says, stepping back.
“Klara, it’s okay to let me in,” Eddie replies, trying to make her feel more comfortable with talking about this with him.
“Edward, I am,” she says.
“But not completely,” he replies, rubbing his hands through his hair. “Klara, did you watch your mother die?”
“Yes, of course I did. I wasn’t there when she actually passed, but she was ill in bed for weeks. But I was young.” Why is Edward asking her these questions?
“Klara, it’s okay to not be over something as traumatic as that.” Eddie takes her hand in his, rubbing his finger against her palm.
A tear comes to Klara’s eye, and Eddie’s stomach twists.
“Just let me in,” he pleads.
“I am.” Klara pulls her hand from his. Why is Edward doing this to her? She is being honest with him. Why is he so torn apart about this now?
Eddie grabs his temples. “I don’t think you ever truly will, Klara.” Even now, she continues to lie to him. She isn’t telling him the whole truth. He is here for her completely, and she is just shutting him out. “And, if that’s the case, then what am I doing here?”
“Excuse me?” Klara asks, sucking in a breath. “Where is this coming from, Edward?”
“You can’t hide from your demons forever, Klara. Be honest with yourself. Be honest with me,” Eddie begs, pacing through the grass.
“And who are you to talk, Edward? You don’t stand up for yourself. You let your father control you. You’re a coward!” Klara yells out.
She can’t do this. She can’t be in a fight with Edward now, too, but anger clouds her mind, and all she wants to do is scream.
“Oh, because you’re so good at it?” Eddie fires back, his eyes darkening. “Tell me, Klara, when exactly are you going to stand up to your father? You talk about me, but you won’t even tell your dad the truth.”
“And what exactly is that truth, Edward?” Klara says, her eyes going wide.
“That behind this beautiful exterior”—Eddie gestures his hand in the air at her—“you’re a broken little girl. You’re scared.”
Tears burst out of Klara’s eyes, and something inside her snaps. “You don’t think I want to, Edward? What can I do? He doesn’t want to be here. He has made that clear.”
“Maybe he would be if you didn’t pretend everything was fine,” Eddie replies.
He doesn’t like hurting her, but she needs to hear this.
“I wasn’t enough for my mother, and now, I’m not enough for my father either,” she whimpers. “How do you accept that?”
“Klara,” Eddie tries to grab on to her hand, but she pulls it away, “you shouldn’t have to accept that. But you have to stop pretending to live in this fantasy world where everything is perfect. That doesn’t exist.”
“I don’t live in a fantasy world, Edward!” Klara yells, her eyes feeling like they’re on fire.
“Come on, Klara! Grow up. Life isn’t perfect. And let’s be honest; that wish we made? It’s just another fantasy, too. You’ll never leave here. You tell me to think about what I want that will make me happy, but do you do the same? You use your grandmother as a reason to not leave this house, but we both know that is just an excuse.” The words hurt Eddie as much as he knows they will hurt Klara, but they had to be said.
Klara’s stomach drops. “How dare you!” she screams. “My mother chose to leave me. My father chose to leave me. Grandmother is all I have, and I can’t stomach choosing to leave her.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong, Klara. You didn’t just have your grandmother; you had me,” Eddie says softly, feeling defeated.
“Had?” Klara whispers out, her hands shaking as they go to cover her mouth. “Are you saying that you are not mine anymore, Edward?” Tears pour down Klara’s eyes and roll down her cheeks. She feels like she can’t breathe and grabs at her stomach, trying to get air.
Eddie rubs the back of his neck, not knowing what to say. He doesn’t know how he is feeling. Hurt and sadness seem to be mixing within his heart.
Klara watches Eddie’s silence. “I suppose we’re both just cowards then, aren’t we?”
Charles moves quickly to the pond, hearing Klara’s shouts all the way from the lawn. He should just leave and ignore what Klara said, but he can’t. As he approaches, he’s met with a scene that he isn’t pleased with. Both Klara and Edward are pacing and yelling, and something inside him twists as tears pour down Klara’s face.
“What is going on here?” Charles says in a booming voice, walking to Klara in just a few strides.
“Nothing, Father,” Klara says, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a small shell.
“Edward, I think it’s best if you leave,” Charles says, looking between the two of them.
Edward’s shoulders are drooping down, and his head hangs slightly.
Eddie looks to Klara, but she barely meets his gaze. She stands, sheltered, beside her father, saying nothing to either of them.
“Fine, I’ll leave then.” Eddie turns to walk away, but he stops himself. He flips back around, looking straight at Charles. “Evelyn didn’t just die; she killed herself, didn’t she?” Eddie asks, and his heart breaks as the words leave his mouth.
Klara needs to realize that she can’t keep pretending. Pretending that her mother passed quietly in bed. That she doesn’t have to tell him. That she can make up a story, so she doesn’t have to talk about it. That’s not the way to get over something, and she desperately needs to. They both do.
“What?” Klara’s eyes go wide. “Of course not,” she replies, taking a step back, almost like she was punched.
Charles turns to look at his daughter. Something within his own heart breaks as he watches Klara’s tormented face. “Klara, we both know that she did,” Charles whispers, trying to be as kind as possible to his fragile-looking daughter.
“Why would you both say such a thing? How cruel!” Klara yells, trying to understand why they are doing this to her. It’s as if they want to hurt her more and find pleasure in bringing her pain.
“Klara”—Eddie takes a few steps forward—“your grandmother told me what happened. That you were there when it happened,” he says gently. Something inside him clicks, and he finally understands. She doesn’t know. She has somehow managed to block out the whole thing, and he feels like he might be sick. “You did say that your mother chose to leave you.”
Klara’s heartbeat races. Everything within her body feels like it’s on fire.
Did my mother kill herself?
Why couldn’t she seem to remember?
She squeezes her eyes shut, as a memory comes crashing int
o her mind. Klara’s eyes fly open, and she looks frantically between the back of the house and Edward. And then to Charles. She looks at the place she always thought she loved. The towering windows that opened up to look over the garden and lawn. Parting the curtains and opening the windows wide was her favorite thing to do each morning.
And, now, all she can see is her mother’s face in the window. Her dress blew in the breeze, and Klara stood at the doorway, admiring her. Even at a young age, she knew her mother looked like an angel. But her mother turned toward her, and she could see that black mascara streamed down her face, shocking Klara. Her forehead furrowed because Klara thought she looked scary. As her mother moved to the window, she kept her eyes on Klara’s. But, at the last moment, her mother turned, looking out at the beautiful yard, and her body moved. At first, Klara thought she was flying, but then she dropped.
And Klara screamed.
Klara starts to scream now, too.
“Klara,” Charles says, rushing toward his daughter.
Cordelia hears the piercing scream, and her stomach drops. The music stops, and everyone on the lawn gasps, looking around for the source of the horrible noise. She rushes toward the pond, finding Klara heaved over on the ground, her gauze dress piled around her. Her hands are on her head, and she is rocking back and forth, screaming.
“What have you done?” Cordelia’s eyes go wide, and she looks between Edward and Charles. Her eyes are frantic, and she moves to Klara as fast as she can. Even when Cordelia reaches for her, she continues to scream.
Eddie moves forward, and Klara screams louder.
“Go!” Cordelia shouts. “Get out of here! Both of you,” Cordelia hisses, moving to sit on the grass with Klara. She drops to the ground beside her, stroking Klara’s back and pulling her into her lap as much as she can.
Klara squeezes her eyes shut and starts to whimper in her grandmother’s arms. Klara’s mind feels like it’s exploding, but Grandmother’s cool hands running across her skin feel nice. Cordelia’s heart feels like it’s going to break out of her chest. Klara doesn’t seem physically hurt, but Cordelia has no idea what is going on. Adrenaline is rushing through her along with heartbreak at seeing her Klara look this way. She brushes back Klara’s hair from her face, grabbing on to her. The screams turn into whimpers, and then Klara starts heaving silently in her lap. Cordelia moves her hands up and down her arms, trying to soothe the poor girl.