Next, they offered Claire a menu. She enthusiastically ordered her own lunch, deciding on a sushi variety plate with a side salad. Claire decided Tony must not like sushi. She hadn’t eaten any in months. It tasted wonderful. Following lunch she chose to receive a manicure and pedicure while the cosmetic specialist completed her make-up. Claire yearned to walk around outside, yet she was truly enjoying the pampering. Smiling, she recalled Tony’s enthusiasm about her spa experience.
It was nearing 2:00 PM when the receptionist brought Claire the telephone. “Ms. Nichols, you have a call.” At first, she just stared. Other than Emily over a week ago, Claire hadn’t spoken on a phone for almost six months. She immediately believed this was a test.
Looking at her nails under the dryer, she said, “Thank you, could you please ask who it is?”
The receptionist inquired and continued, “Mr. Rawlings would like to speak with you.”
Claire carefully took the phone. “Hello, Tony?”
“Very good, Claire”—she smiled—“I’m on my way to the airport. I need to make an emergency trip to New York.” Tony’s voice sounded informative but preoccupied.
“All right. Will I be going too?”
“No, Eric will be back in Chicago this evening and accompany you home. Just continue your plans and be back at the apartment by 6:00 PM. Charles will see that you get to the airport for your flight.”
Claire wanted to ask about the shopping. She felt pretty and didn’t want to spend the afternoon in the apartment. However, he did say to continue her plans. She chose to believe that included shopping. If she didn’t ask, she could plead ignorance when questioned.
“Okay, I will.” She didn’t want to say anything inappropriate with people listening. “Do you know when you will be back?”
“Not for sure. I believe Saturday. I need to go, we’re at the airport.”
“I will see you then. Have a safe trip.”
“Claire”—he paused—“don’t disappoint me.”
“I won’t Tony. I’ll see you Saturday.” The telephone disconnected from his end. Claire handed the telephone back to one of the clinicians and inspected her nails, holding the phone hadn’t caused any damage. Her fingers and toes glistened shiny red, and her make-up had been expertly applied. Claire stepped in front of the mirror. She wished with all her might that Tony could see her now—she felt stunning.
There were a total of six assistants that worked directly with Claire. She went to the front desk, signed the charge slip, and gave the tip money to the receptionist, with an additional fifty for her. Claire smiled and thanked her for bringing her the telephone.
Back at the apartment Claire changed clothes, wanting to get outside and enjoy the shops before she needed to return at 6:00 PM. Looking out of the windows, she could tell the day was warm. The waves on the lake also told her that the breeze was strong. But of course, that was why they call it the windy city!
She had a little over three hours to shop and she wanted to make every minute count! All of a sudden, time slipped back six years. She needed to shop fast in order to get back to class. The biggest difference between then and now was her goal—instead of bargains—she looked for the buys that would please Tony.
Charles offered Claire a driver, but she wanted to walk. The busy city and warm weather created an exhilarating atmosphere. She longed to be outside and on her own short schedule. Cartier was her first stop. She found another pair of sunglasses. They were like the ones from New York, except black, which would be better for winter.
Although that was her thought, she wondered if she would really be with Tony all winter. Compartmentalize. Right now, her plan was to enjoy this afternoon and some shopping, the rest would work itself out.
Her familiarity with the magnificent mile proved advantageous to her goal. She didn’t have Eric to pick up packages, so she didn’t buy anything too bulky; however, she managed some smaller bags from Saks, Anne Fontaine, Armani, and Louis Vuitton.
Claire approached the Trump Tower and her watch said she had thirty minutes to spare. She stopped in the coffee shop for a quick café mocha. In Iowa, she mostly drank plain coffee with cream—very high quality and amazingly delicious. This afternoon she was living and decided a little chocolate would hit the spot.
Sitting at the table surrounded by her packages, sipping her café mocha, Claire’s mind wandered. Her life seemed to have taken a turn. The last few weeks were much better than months earlier, so much better than she could have predicted. She talked with Emily—if only for a few minutes. She thought about the rules: speaker phone, limitations, and the briefness of the call. It took a magnitude of compartmentalization to concentrate on the affirmative aspect of the conversation. Nonetheless, she spoke with her sister and that made her happy. Then there was the barbeque—minus the unfortunate misunderstanding—which was a success. Tony introduced her to his friends, and they were nice to her. The date with Tony the night before was romantic: dinner, walking, the play, and the activities until they fell asleep. Now, she was sitting in Chicago—a destination she loved.
Smiling, she sipped her café mocha and thought about him. She hated him one day and then allowed her hair to change colors because he requested it. The more she thought about it, maybe allow wasn’t the appropriate word. Really, did she have an option? How could he hurt her one day and then make her feel so fulfilled the next? Her internal debate continued.
As she thought of Tony, feelings of lust pushed away the old feelings of fear. Remembering the sensation of his touch, sound of his voice, and taste of his skin, she wanted to believe this was a significant improvement. She wondered how she could be having these feelings, how she could enjoy his presence, and even look forward to being with him. She’d read about Stockholm syndrome—maybe that was it. She knew it didn’t make sense—but she couldn’t deny the way she was beginning to feel.
Preoccupied in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the woman approaching until she stood directly above her. “Claire? Claire Nichols is that really you?”
Claire looked up in disbelief, realizing that someone actually addressed her. She recognized Meredith Banks immediately. She was a sorority sister from Valparaiso. It made sense—Valparaiso was nearby.
“Hello, Meredith, how are you?” Her voice reflected her genuine excitement and surprise at seeing someone from her past. They’d roamed these streets together, in another life.
“Gosh, I’m great. How are you? You look amazing. I haven’t heard from you in ages!” Meredith looked at the other chair. “Do you mind if I join you for a few minutes?”
Apprehensively, Claire looked at her watch. She needed to be upstairs by 6:00 PM—it was 5:40 PM. She considered appearances—it would be rude to not allow her to sit.
Claire motioned with her hand. “Yes, please do.”
The two ladies talked about what brought them to Chicago. Meredith noted, looking at the booty surrounding Claire’s chair, she was obviously doing some shopping. She even noted it was higher-end shopping than they did in college. Claire laughed it off, saying even these stores had great deals. She couldn’t help think about Bonnie who’d gauged the value of her clothing and wondered if Meredith were doing the same thing.
Meredith asked if Claire saw any shows while in town. Claire told her she saw Wicked and enjoyed it very much. Did Claire remember the fun shows they used to watch and the concerts? Meredith mentioned she was in town for work. Where was Claire working? She seemed to know Claire had been in Atlanta. Claire wondered if they had spoken while she was there, they must have. Meredith lived out west these days—in California. Did Claire ever make it out that way? Where was she living?
Claire did her best to be evasive, yet friendly. This was her sorority sister being friendly—not some paparazzi. Finally, Meredith started talking about her husband. She married Jerry from the fraternity and their group. Did Claire know that? No, she didn’t. How long had they been married? And Anne and Shaun were engaged! If Claire would give Meredith
her address, she was sure that Anne would want to invite her. Meredith wondered if Claire was married. Was she seeing anyone? Hadn’t she heard rumors?
That word sounded an alarm—Rumor. Wasn’t that the word Tony used to describe her—a rumor? Claire laughed again. “Oh, Meredith, didn’t we learn years ago you should never trust rumors.”
Checking her watch again, it was 5:55 PM. “It was great seeing you, but I really do need to go. We should catch up sometime.” Claire tried to not be rude, but she didn’t want to talk any longer. She went directly to the security counter, where the guard recognized her and helped her with her bags as they went to the residential elevators.
By 8:00 PM, Claire sat in Tony’s jet by herself, flying back to Iowa. Eric copiloted. She tried not to think about her conversation with Meredith. She decided compartmentalization was best—she would think about it another time. Instead, she decided to think about Thursday and Friday with Tony out of town. Smiling, she told herself, I’m going to my lake!
Experience is the most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God, do you learn.
—C. S. Lewis
Chapter Nineteen
‡
Thursday morning, Claire woke to the unfamiliar sound of rain. With the dryness of the summer, at first she questioned the pitter-patter, but as her mind cleared, the noise made sense. Going directly to the window, she saw droplets of water on the window, gray clouds, and puddles on the ground. She had been so excited about the lake, but she didn’t want to walk five miles—each direction—in the rain and mud. Disappointment overwhelmed her. How could it rain on the one day she wanted sun? With Tony gone—the day dragged on endlessly.
The next morning, she lay in bed and listened for the sound of rain. Straining her ears, she only heard silence. Tentatively, looking out the window, Claire beheld the crystal clear blue sky. The rain had washed the dust and dryness of the summer away leaving everything looking fresh and clean. The bright sunshine glistened on the moist leaves.
Wearing her robe, she went out onto the balcony and immediately realized the drop in temperature. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and gazed out over the polychromatic woods. The crisp autumn fragrance penetrated deep into her lungs. She knew it would be muddy, but she didn’t care. She’d wear an old pair of shoes and make her way to her lake.
Getting ready that morning, her reflection caught her by surprise. The new blonder hair made her skin tone lighter and eyes deeper green. It wasn’t as if she suddenly looked like Marilyn Monroe, but her reflection looked more blonde than ever before. Claire wasn’t sure what she thought of her new look, but she did know, Tony wouldn’t be back until tomorrow; so, she pulled the lighter hair back into a ponytail.
As she got ready for her adventure, Claire realized she didn’t own anything old—as in old shoes. Everything was new or looked new. The clothes which were in her closet almost six months ago were gone—now too large. Whether she shopped or not, her wardrobe never waned. Currently, sweaters and jackets multiplied while she slept.
Luckily, her feet hadn’t changed size, so the hiking boots she requested months ago were waiting and ready. Claire decided she’d just clean them when she got home. Catherine didn’t approve of Claire’s plan, saying the ground would be muddy and slippery. What if she fell and twisted something? Claire promised she would be safe. She explained that it had been so long since she hiked in the woods; she wanted to stay out as long as possible. She would return—she simply didn’t know when.
Catherine promised dinner upon her arrival—no matter how late. She also provided Claire with a packed lunch complete with water bottles and a thermos of warm coffee. A little past 10:00 AM, she left the backyard.
Although it had been almost a month, Claire knew each turn to find her lake. At almost noon she reached her destination. The shore looked exactly like she remembered, except the trees surrounding the lake were now multicolored with rich vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges. Green had definitely become the minority. Certain varieties of deciduous trees were completely bare. Claire suddenly wondered what made some trees lose their leaves earlier than others; she had some research to do.
The scent of autumn filled the air, thick, poignant, fresh, and spicy. After yesterday’s wind and rain, the morning air was still and the lake was calm, the surface resembling a giant mirror. The colorful trees on the shoreline reflected off the water. The simplistic beauty made Claire wish she had a camera.
The sounds of nature were everywhere: bees or yellow jackets buzzed in the autumn sunshine, birds sang, and forest rodents scurried through the fallen leaves. Claire watched as ducks swam on the beautiful smooth lake, leaving wakes as their trail. Some floated near the shore, occasionally dipping their heads under the water, filling their stomachs for their flight south. September was almost half done; she would head south too, if she could. Pensively, she thought about Atlanta.
When Claire dressed, she put on jeans, a workout t-shirt, and a jacket. Now that the sun glowed strongly from high above, the warmth allowed her to remove the jacket. By late afternoon, she even took off her boots, rolled up her jeans, and waded into the water.
Part of her recognized the possibility she may not be back to the lake before winter, and she wanted to experience as much as she could. Of course, she hoped her debt would soon be considered paid. More realistically, she realized her duties now included travel. If she were expected to accompany Tony out of town, she wouldn’t be home to explore.
The cold water made her feet tingle. She watched as her polished toes stepped on pebbles and squished the underwater terra. When she stood still, the minnows swarmed, investigating the bright red toenails. Some even nibbled at her toes; it tickled.
Claire had eaten her lunch midafternoon, but her stomach told her she needed dinner soon. Finding some coffee in the thermos—no longer warm—she pretended it was a Frappuccino—without the crushed ice. It helped to fill the void until she reached the promise of Catherine’s dinner. The daylight hours were decreasing, and before she knew it the sky began to redden.
Glancing at her watch, it was after 7:00 PM. She wondered where the day had gone, as the most beautiful scene unfolded before her eyes. Sitting on the shore she watched the sky as the sun settled over the lake. She couldn’t make herself get up and go back to the house as the lovely postcard picture transformed into a stunning explosion of crimson.
The setting sun caused the few cumuliform clouds to change from white—to gray—to pink—and then to a vibrant red. The radiance beamed onto the leaves, altering their color. The scene continued to improve in brilliance and the beauty continued to grow. Claire sat patiently and watched with a new sense of contentment.
Once the sun reached the line of trees at the far end of the lake, the darkness quickly extended over the land. Claire remembered Catherine, and knew she’d be worried. The idea of walking back to the house in the dark woods should have frightened her, but it didn’t. She knew her way.
When she stepped into the clearing, the illumination from the moon allowed her to see her watch, 8:30 PM. She wasn’t making bad time, but it would be almost 9:30 PM before she reached home. The air had cooled but still tasted fresh and clean, she inhaled and set off as fast as she could. Direction wasn’t the issue—it was safety. The ground not only had limbs and roots as obstacles, but the rain left muddy areas which made her slip. One time her left foot slid, making her right knee muddy. When she stepped into the backyard, her eyes focused on her watch, it was 9:35 PM. The last leg of her trip took longer than normal. Although, her stomach growled for dinner, her first priority was removing the muddy boots, jeans, and taking a shower or a nice bath.
Leaving her boots on the back stoop, the carpeted floor of the southeast corridor felt soft under her feet and quieted her steps. As she opened the door to her suite, her thoughts ran between removing her muddy jeans and a warm shower. Navigation through the dark room was easy, and she even considered leaving the light off. Then she remembered Catherine.
Turning on the light would let her know she’d returned. As she reached for the light switch, she sensed his presence. Before she could speak an arm came down over her neck and her head turned sharply upward as her ponytail was pulled back.
It all happened so fast, she gasped.
His fierce voice through the darkness was unmistakable, “Where the fuck have you been?”
She tried to respond, but the arm around her neck restricted her air intake. She couldn’t breathe, much less speak. He let go of her, momentarily, while he spun her around. She faced him as he gripped her shoulders with a force she’d never experienced. His warm breath hit her face with each word. “I asked you a question. Where the fuck have you been?”
Coughing at the sudden intake of oxygen, she tried to respond, “Tony, I didn’t think you were coming home until tomorrow.”
That wasn’t an answer to his question. Although the lights were still off, with the bright moonlight streaming through the unblocked windows, her eyes quickly adjusted. With diminished light, distinguishing color was difficult; Claire didn’t need to see color to know his eyes contained none. He released the grip on her shoulder with his right hand and struck her. His left hand stopped her from falling. He supported her, only to confront her again. “I’ve asked you a question twice. I will not ask again.” Once again, his hand contacted her cheek—harder this time.
“Tony, please stop”—she gasped for breath as her temple and cheek stung—“I was hiking in the woods.”
He let go of her shoulders, and shoved her onto the sofa. He followed and loomed over her body as she lay against the cushions. “Do you expect me to believe you were in the woods until this time of night?”
She tried to explain, “I was in the woods.” “The sun was setting.” “It was so beautiful.” Her words came in gasps.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 19