by J. S. Badham
Was it selfish? Yes, more than she had ever been. But she was hoping she was being selfish for him. He could do better, and she knew that. And then there was that insecurity motive again, her means of feeling unconfident if they were ever together. You could call Claire stupid or damn right ruthless, but she was concerned about both their appearances in all of this. What they would say about her and what they would say about him. She didn’t want to ever feel put down, spoke of in such a manner that it destroyed her…and him? She wasn’t in his elite circle. Who would understand that they fell in love without fingers pointing that she just wanted the stack of cash? It didn’t matter if she was young or not; she wasn’t in his league.
Claire thought it wouldn’t have mattered after all when he admitted who he was and she wasn’t put off. But seeing his place, knowing his position, and knowing all that time he’d known all along made her feel small. It sucked that all roads had led to this, but she was hoping she was being selfish for both of them.
Sunday mornings were usually blissful; she could get up at any time, trudge off to the gym if she wanted, or simply lay about in her pyjamas all day. At one point, she had Zack around here, his pure demeanour offering more than enough entertainment, and when they were together, a love she had twenty-four-seven in her pocket. Now, it was a different story. She felt disgusted in herself and not just by her groggy appearance, dribble plastered upon her chin and bags growing under her eyes from the lack of sleep last night.
Claire was annoyed with how she handled yesterday, after she thought when she turned up at his that perhaps everything would have been sorted and she’d been lying in his arms than at bay.
Rolling onto her side, she sighed. Everything would work out eventually. There was even the thought that perhaps she wouldn’t even have her job. After all, she hurt the guy. What could she expect, though? She acted as if she never brushed a thought to him. Treated him like he was an accessory, a temporary fix to build up her walls, and then only to knock down his. Claire wanted to speculate how he felt, but she dismissed that thought as she sat up and shoved her feet into her slippers.
Part of her yearned to see his caller ID flashing onto her mobile screen when she picked it up off the side of her dresser. Nothing. Just what this new Claire was trying to feel for him.
Nothing appealed more than visiting Darren today, she couldn’t risk staying alone in her thoughts. It would eat her up, and besides, Darren had it ten times worse, that constant reminder of his loss shoved in his face. She needed more than ever to be there for him than mope in her own thoughts.
So, with determination, Claire got changed, putting on a pair of skinny jeans and pairing it with an old, green baggy t-shirt. As far as it came to hair, she shoved it into a ponytail, hoping the obvious greasiness it had obtained from the miss of two days’ wash would do it justice.
It took her perhaps little more than an hour to get to Darren’s block of flats after a minor accident on the road plunged the traffic into congestion. After climbing the first set of stairs, she headed down the corridor, offering a sympathetic glance towards Jonas’s door that was plastered with cards of condolences, and at its foot, rows of flowers ranging from white and pink lilies to dark red roses. At least there was sympathy for him.
Taking a deep breath, Claire attempted a smile, working on making it appear natural as she knocked on the door. She had to put on a brave face for Darren. He needed her more than ever, and it would be selfish to focus on her own problems.
She could hear the locks being shifted on the other side until eventually the door opened. At first sight, Darren was cleanly shaven, something that surprised her. His clothes appeared fresher and cleaner, brown shirt and pair of blue washed jeans, but what took her more in shock was the towering cardboard boxes sat at either side of the corridor behind him.
Claire’s eyes pulled with scrutiny as she asked, “Everything okay?”
Darren slowly nodded, moving aside as she entered his apartment and continued to examine every crevice and item she could get a look at. “I’m just in the middle of things. I didn’t expect to see you. Usually, you’re still lounging about in your pyjamas. I know what you do on a Sunday morning. Something sparked you up with energy today?” he said. She noted the absence of that hoarse, weak whisper she had grown used to. Claire even acknowledged his conversational tone but dismissed it towards what she was really implying.
“Darren, what is with all these boxes? They…Jonas’s th—”
“No,” Darren said, walking on ahead of Claire as he headed into the central living room, which looked as bare as the corridor felt, despite the heavy packing of boxes. “You were supposed to come around later, or rather I was going…to tell you later.” Itching his head awkwardly, he sat on the sofa that was missing the bright pink blanket that had given it life.
“What’s happening?” Claire muttered, her voice on edge as she slowly sat down in the armchair opposite the two-seater.
Darren exhaled. “I’m moving, Claire.”
“W-what?” she whispered, her voice failing to remain distinctly audible.
Her friend nodded his head, failing to meet her eyes for a few seconds until confidently he looked up and explained, “Yeah. I’m moving to London. You know when I told you about that list that Jonas made when he got his promotion? Well, we had it down as moving to London, you know, so…” He nervously licked his bottom lip. “I want to follow his wish, our wish. And you were right; the company can transfer me to their base over there or…I could just do something else. I just need to go, Claire.”
Claire’s bottom lip quivered as she rubbed her palms together. “I know this is selfish to say, but what about me? I don’t know what I’ll do without you, Darren. You’re…my best friend. My family.”
Darren smiled weakly. “And you’re mine. I’ve thought about it hard, and it’s just something I have to do. I feel trapped here, Claire. Everything is too depressing, so I need to make the move. And you know you’re always welcome to visit me,” Darren explained, leaning forward as he grabbed Claire’s hand. “If anything, I’ll be homesick missing you, and I’ll be begging you to come over every weekend.”
Claire couldn’t hold back the tears, not this time. This just wasn’t what she had expected. He was her everything. All those memories. The countless laughs in the kitchen at work, the movie nights on weekends, and how they had each other’s back scoping for that cute guy in the club. If anything, this felt worse than when Abbey left. Ten times more. She was closer to Darren since day one.
“Girl, hottie five o’clock to ya,” Darren whispered, drawing Claire’s attention to the right. “He’s totally working those eyes up and down at you. He’s got those ‘fuck me, mommy’ eyes.”
Claire laughed rolling her eyes, “Yuck, Darren!”
Another flashback.
“Are you sure?” she whimpered, wiping back the tears running down her cheeks.
“Yes.” He nodded. “I have the apartment sorted, work, and I’ll have you always on dial. My mother will visit when she can, and it will be a chance to start something new, knowing Jonas is always at my step.”
Claire sobbed, shaking her head as she closed the gap between them and hugged her arms around him. “I’m just…going to m-miss you so much. I love you so, so much.” She choked on the load of tears. “B-but as l-long a-as you’re happy, that’s—that’s all that matters.” Kissing the side of his neck, she tightened her embrace around him.
“I love you too, babes,” Darren croaked, holding his best friend close. “We’ll never be far from each other. Not really. You know that?”
Claire nodded, weeping into his neck.
“Darren! The film’s going to start in a second. Get your ass over here!” Claire bellowed out into the corridor.
“Err, excuse me, honey!” Darren remarked, exiting from the bathroom with his face covered in some green facial mask and his pink dressing gown he’d once bought from a charity shop. “Beauty doesn’t wait for anyone
. I gotta look hot.”
The memories just seemed endless.
Darren pulled Claire back as he swiped his thumbs against her cheeks to remove the falling tears. “And you? I’d feel better if you told me that situation with you and Zack was sorted. So is everything okay between you two now?”
“Yes,” Claire lied, sniffling as she sat beside him.
“Don’t lie,” Darren warned. “I know when you’re lying.”
Claire pressed her lips together as she dropped her head back, blinking back more tears as she spoke, her tone weak and full of despair. “I messed up, Darren…I had no choice. It just won’t work between us. I slept with him Friday, and all I could do was wave it off as nothing to him. I want him to hate me because it will make it all easier.”
Darren tutted, shaking his head as he intertwined his fingers through her left hand. “Darling, what are you doing? This man loves you. Why should it matter whether he’s rich? And you know without a doubt he loves you. All that lying shouldn’t mean a shit to you. He loves you, and that’s all that should matter.”
“But, but—”
“No, Claire,” Darren interrupted, squeezing her hand. “You’re a fool if you’re gonna give up that easily. Why care if a few stuck-up brats say a word or two? What should matter is you have each other, and that is all. And you know?” He paused as he took a shaky breath. “You’re lucky. I would do anything to have Jonas here with me.” Claire felt ashamed as she acknowledged how abusive she’d been to something so precious that Darren had lost.
“Look,” Darren began. “Don’t give up. Please. If that’s one thing I want to be sure of before I leave this place, it’s that you’re happy, too.” Then with a light chuckle he added, “Stop being so fucking stubborn, Claire. Would you? Please.”
Claire sniffled weakly, turning into him for another hug as she muttered a word of apology and pondered quietly to herself what Darren had said to her.
“Promise me,” Darren demanded, pulling Claire away again.
“I promise.” She nodded, ever so grateful she had a friend like him; he was irreplaceable.
Chapter Seventeen
Rodeo in Central Park was the name of that book. Sold 2.5 million copies all across the world for its sensational, vibrant romance stirring the population of middle-aged women who yearned for a sex life just as depicted in all fifty-five chapters. It was a great read. Corny, but something that couldn’t be put down. Claire, however, just felt disappointed with the protagonist of the story, some business-class woman who couldn’t help but be as stubborn as possible over denying her feelings for a Texas cowboy. There couldn’t have a been a bolder sign to show that man’s love, yet her deliberate ignorance was always getting in the way. And because of that, this woman was near to losing all contact with her fella who boarded a plane back on to sunny ol’ Texas, struggling to put up a fight for their relationship. That was how frustrating she had become. Like many other readers, Claire disliked how long it took for this woman to depart from her old ways and realise her love for this man. Perhaps that was what made it more realistic. Strange how that story was suddenly feeling familiar to that of her own. Was she as foolish as that woman? Because she could sure as hell remember the drop-dead, gorgeous cowboy vexed by how the woman he loved was suddenly treating him. There was more than enough resemblance to her own situation, a difficult person like herself and a fed-up Zack, tired of waiting around.
Then there was her other issue: Darren was leaving. It had of course been discussed before, in response towards Jonas’s promotion. That, Claire could remember, but at least she knew her friend wouldn’t have been moving alone. Now, it just seemed apparent that he wanted to leave everything behind, depressed by how every little thing reminded him of his late lover. It was understandable, yet as much as she listened to him speak so passionately of needing to do this for himself, Claire couldn’t just allow him to go.
It was heartbreaking to think that the man she had known for three and half years would no longer be in easy reach. How on earth was it going to be possible to not picture Darren sitting opposite her at work? Claire would miss him terribly, that pink-feathered pen stuck between his lips and the hidden smirk he attempted to disguise, prominent even as he ducked down below the desktop as he made a remark; whether he was teasing Claire about her sexual life or bitching his latest on Monica. God, Claire was even certain she missed Monica now, only because it became the sole topic on Darren’s lips. Who else would provide her the humour, gossip, and protection that Darren had given? Sure, she could visit and talk over the phone, but it just didn’t feel the same as meeting face to face each day. It made no sense without Darren. And there was no sense in finding a stranger’s face opposite than the man she called her friend. It felt like the sun was being cast away for a ship of rain.
What on earth was she going to do?
It was raining outside. Typical Sunday evening. Typical British weather. She had already attempted to call Abbey, hoping her old friend and roommate would at least provide comfort, but for whatever reason, she wasn’t available to take the call, and there was her attempt to phone her dad, who answered but wasn’t there beside Claire to physically console her as he tried to do over the phone.
“Dad, what do I do?” She sniffled, holding the grey-stuffed cushion against her chest as she looked out the window. From all that she had told him, he had told her sincerely the truth.
“Claire,” he began, muting the volume on the television in the background. “Just be yourself now. Stop holding yourself back. Stop being so afraid. Make things right; that’s all you can attempt to do. Ignore those feelings that pull you back and just take a chance.” An encouraging tone that offered slight hope.
And as for the rest of the evening, Claire was left to dive into her thoughts. She felt so alone. Claire wanted so desperately to have Zack beside her, pulling her into his arms as he rocked her quietly asleep. She was so scared. It just didn’t shock her then when she spoke reassuringly to herself, an act of madness, hoping somehow somebody would reply. More importantly, Zack.
Voicemail after voicemail, she’d left him a dozen after each one was left to ring out. She poured her heart out into everything, hoping that if he was actually listening, he’d pick up the phone and answer. But he didn’t, nor did she expect him to after she’d broken his heart.
Darren was right. He was always right. How she had handled the situation was not a smart move, and instead she had only abused something so precious that he had been deprived of. She knew she had to fix it. She knew she couldn’t keep lying to herself as Zack had pointed out.
“Zack,” she would begin, trying her hardest to hold back tears as she watched the rain clatter upon adjacent roofs. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you…I never meant to…I j-just wanted to…” Then she would stop, end the call, and cry as she wondered whatever had possessed her to punish Zack.
The rain picked up speed, hammering down onto the metallic roofs of cars forming a symphony of sound; each pitter patter down the window pane mimicked how Claire felt. She deserved this pain. It could have been prevented, but she summoned it.
“Zack,” she would then weep, wondering if this would be the call he’d answer. Her knuckles faded whiter as she gripped onto the phone. “I’m sorry. I love you so much. I know that. I’ve a-always known that from the second I saw you…p-please forgive me.” Then she would end that voicemail and ring out again, and then again, and then again until finally fatigue washed entirely over her and she was left to fall into the hands of sleep.
***
Monday made no difference. It didn’t matter that she was at a keyboard; it didn’t matter that she had deadlines or the fact she had to rely on it for next month’s rent. It just didn’t matter anymore.
A, B, E, backspace, backspace. God, Claire couldn’t even manage to spell a simple word; her mind just seemed more jumbled up as seconds climbed on. Everyone around her was all oblivious, trapped in their own bubbles, whilst C
laire felt darkness consume her in utter misery. She wanted to breathe again, and deep down she knew the answer to that lay with Zack. Oh, how she expected him to walk through the department at any second, glance over at her with confidence, before racing over to her to then lift her in his arms with glory. Claire wanted to feel his arms wrap around her and hear him say that everything would be all right. She wanted it more than anything. The weekend had been such a foolish mistake.
Why hadn’t he phoned back?
Fuck, fuck, and fuck, Claire cursed as she shook her head and fell defeatedly into her arms.
“Excuse me, Claire.” A voice caught her attention; it was in haste, as suspected by the several times she heard the woman exhale. Sitting up and turning in her desk chair, she acknowledged it was one of her colleagues, Kate, a single, young mother she had spoken to a couple of times. “Sorry, so sorry, but I am going to be a pain and ask if you could finish off the copies I’ve sent to the printer. My son has been sick at school, and I need to go pick him up. Is that okay?” she explained, pushing her brown handbag’s strap further onto her shoulder uncomfortably.
Claire nodded her head. “Sure, not a problem. You go check on your son. Go, go, go,” Claire said with a sympathetic smile, soon standing up as she headed towards the giant machine that served at least eight functions, including photocopying. At least it would take her mind off things if she had something else productive to do.
Leaning on the machine, she sighed and out of boredom began to read the posters stuck above it on the wall. Each one went on about punctuality, the right attitude, and teamwork. Claire frowned, turning her attention towards the huge stack of papers freshly printed coming out the right end of the towering giant. By what it said on the interactive screen, she had another hundred copies to go. How on earth was that going to keep her distracted?