Embolden

by Syrie James

  Later, as Claire headed to biology, Señora Gutierrez called out to her. “Claire! I wanted to thank you for that gym you mentioned. I signed up, I’ve been going three evenings a week, and I’m really enjoying it.” Her cheeks bloomed pink as she added with a twinkle in her dark eyes, “It helps that the trainer is also really cute.”

  Claire laughed. “That’s great, Señora.”

  The whole rest of the morning, Claire floated on a cloud, excited about her achievements. It was like the time she’d saved Neil from getting a D in Spanish. She felt like a superhero, righting wrongs and doing good in the world. If only she could tell someone about it, it’d be even more satisfying. But whom could she tell? Erica kept ignoring her. Brian was distracted by his new crush. If Helena found out, Claire would be in big trouble. She might even be grounded again.

  The person she wanted to tell was Alec.

  Well, Claire thought, at this point, why couldn’t she share her news with Alec? She’d finally proven that she’d made things better with her newfound gift. It was time to come clean and stand by her choices.

  At break, when she found Alec at their locker, she thought he looked distracted and worried. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey.” He gave her a brief smile.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Aye.” He didn’t offer more.

  Okay, then. Claire took a breath, wondering where to begin. “I tried to call you last night. You didn’t answer.”

  “Sorry. I, uh … left my phone on silent by mistake.”

  Bullshit, Claire thought. She wondered what he’d been up to. If she asked, would he tell her? If she went first, and divulged what she’d been doing, would he respond then? God, everything was so awkward lately. It was so long since they’d had a minute to themselves.

  Maybe what they needed was some alone time. If they had a nice, romantic date, maybe it would set the proper mood. Maybe then Alec would open up to her about what he was doing. And afterward, she could fill him in on her own recent activities in a more private space.

  “So. Valentine’s Day is coming up,” she commented.

  “Aye, I’m familiar with the custom.”

  “I have a sneaking suspicion that’s on your Never Done That list?”

  He nodded. “I guess I should be asking … which do you prefer, chocolate or flowers?”

  “Both?”

  Alec’s small smile at her joke made Claire feel worse. She shifted her weight, struggling to look at him.

  “Or, neither. I don’t know, Alec, we haven’t exactly been all that … romantic lately. It’s been ages since we had an actual date.”

  “Over a month, in fact.”

  It made her feel a little better to know that he’d been counting, too.

  “Rehearsals seem to be getting in the way,” he added, but his eyes were somewhere else, like he knew it was a lame excuse.

  “It’s more than that, and I think you know it.”

  Silence. She wished she could read what he was thinking or touch him to get a vision of what was going on. Or even brainwash him into telling her everything. But the first was impossible, the second might not even show her what she was looking for, and the third was … well, just a really, really bad idea.

  “Why don’t we do something about it?” Claire suggested finally. “Valentine’s Day is on a Saturday this year, which is really rare. You want to do something special? Just the two of us?”

  He lifted his eyes to hers at last, and in that instant she got a brief reminder of the sweet connection they used to share.

  “Sure, let’s do it. What do you have in mind?”

  Since the weather was unseasonably warm, even for Los Angeles, Claire decided to take advantage of it. She’d thought of something special for her Valentine’s celebration with Alec and had insisted on putting the whole thing together herself. She would surprise him; all he had to do was show up.

  It was almost five o’clock now on the day itself, and Claire was rushing around like a maniac trying to get everything in order. She’d set up a table and two chairs on the rooftop of her building. The night before, her mom had helped her string twinkle lights from every available pole and post, and it made the simple garden area feel movie-grade romantic.

  She’d spent hours in the kitchen preparing the perfect meal. She’d settled on prosciutto-wrapped asparagus and stuffed mushrooms for appetizers, and a caprese salad with fresh basil, tomatoes, and buffalo mozzarella as the second course. A slow cooker filled with braised short ribs was plugged into the electrical outlet in the rooftop’s barbecue area, and it smelled delicious.

  Now, with less than half an hour before Alec arrived, Claire focused on setting the table with the embroidered Parisian tablecloth, fine bone china, and sterling silverware that Helena had lent her. She adjusted two tall, slender red candles in silver candlesticks and set a crystal vase in the center of the table, waiting for the flowers that Alec had offered to bring.

  She wondered what kind of flowers he had in mind. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever told him what her favorite flower was, but peonies—such bright, elegant, intricately petaled flowers—always brought a smile to her face.

  Claire had just finished filling the water glasses from a pitcher she’d brought upstairs when she realized she’d forgotten the other drink for the evening. She was about to run for the stairwell door when her mom walked through it, carrying just what she needed.

  “Since we don’t have an ice bucket,” her mom said, holding a stainless-steel bowl filled with ice, in which were propped two wineglasses and a bottle of sparkling cider, “I hope this will do.”

  “Thanks, Mom! It’ll knock one star off our review, but I think we can manage.” Claire smiled as she positioned the wineglasses just so beside each place setting.

  “The table looks beautiful. That’s at least three stars right there.”

  “Ten minutes to go, and fresh out of the oven,” came another voice. Helena appeared, carrying a tray covered in foil.

  Claire’s smile widened as Helena set the tray on the tile counter next to the slow cooker. “Thanks, guys. Well, I guess everything’s ready. How do I look?”

  The beaming, affectionate looks on her mom’s and grandma’s faces told her that they approved. Claire was excited. Her mom had actually sprung for a new dress for the occasion, something she hadn’t done since Homecoming. Remembering what had happened that night made Claire cringe, and she quickly pushed the memory away. Tonight would be different. She’d found the perfect Valentine’s Day dress. It was red (of course) and sleeveless, with a fitted bodice, a scoop neck, a flared skirt that showed off just the right amount of thigh, and a heart-shaped cutout at the back.

  She’d somehow managed to squeeze in time, between all the cooking, to straighten her hair and put on a dash of makeup. The bracelet from Alec had been the final, finishing touch.

  “I’ve never seen anyone more radiant,” Helena conceded, “except perhaps for me, on several particularly memorable occasions in my youth.”

  Claire laughed.

  “We’ll give you two some space tonight,” her mother added. “You deserve it. Just don’t take advantage of it, okay?”

  “An unnecessary warning,” Helena commented dryly, looking at Lynn. “I seriously doubt that Alec would take your daughter on a rooftop lawn chair.”

  “Grandma!” Claire flushed the shade of her dress.

  “And now we exit, stage right.” Her mom ushered Helena into the stairwell. “The moment he arrives, we’ll buzz him into the building so he can come straight up.” The two women disappeared.

  Claire lit the candles on the table. For some extra romance, she started the playlist on her laptop that she’d put together for the evening. It was an eclectic mix of slow jazz, soft bluegrass, and even some elegant flamenco guitar in honor of the first time Alec had played guitar
for her.

  The music added to the festive mood. Claire glanced about the rooftop. It looked and smelled awesome. Her plan was to watch the sunset when Alec arrived (it was supposed to set at 5:38 p.m.), then sit down, toast each other, and enjoy the food she’d prepared. Surely, all her efforts would put Alec in a relaxed and conversational mood. And while they ate, they’d be able to open up and talk to each other at last.

  She wondered whether she should be sitting or standing when he arrived. Which would show off her new dress to its best advantage? Then she decided that was stupid. Instead, she peered over the waist-high wall at the edge of the roof, watching for Alec’s Mustang. He should be here any second. Alec was never late; in fact, he prided himself on promptness. It was one of the things she loved about him.

  A few minutes ticked by, though, without any sign of his car. Finally, she heard the sound of an engine approaching. Her heart leapt with excitement.

  But it was a black Volvo station wagon that drove right by.

  Claire sighed, waiting. She watched the sun sink beneath the horizon in a pinkish-golden glow, sad that she hadn’t been able to share the moment with Alec.

  A few more cars passed by. Claire looked up each time, but none of them were Alec. Antsy and frustrated, she went back to the table to her check her phone. It was five-fifty! Alec was twenty minutes late. Where was he? Claire checked for missed messages, but there weren’t any.

  She was about to text him, then stopped herself. She didn’t want to be the needy girlfriend. It was too soon to worry. He was just late, that’s all. Maybe traffic was bad. Maybe his phone had died. He’d be here soon, and everything would be fine.

  The candles were burning down. Claire’s stomach growled. She remembered that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She’d been too busy decorating, prepping, and cooking. The aroma from the short ribs was tantalizing, but she didn’t want to lift the lid until Alec got here. He wouldn’t notice, though, if one of the mushrooms was missing, would he?

  At six-fifteen, with still no sign of Alec, she peeled back a corner of the foil covering the tray of appetizers, snagged a stuffed mushroom, and popped it into her mouth. It was lukewarm, but it was flavorful. So good in fact that she couldn’t resist taking a second one.

  Her phone rang. Claire raced back to the table, slightly less starving now, and grabbed the phone. Finally, Alec was calling!

  It was Erica.

  Disappointment cut through her like a knife. Claire answered. “Hello?”

  “Happy V-Day.” There was a heavy note of sarcasm in Erica’s voice.

  “You, too,” Claire replied. Why was Erica calling her now?

  “Sorry to call in the middle of stuff,” Erica said, the apology sounding more genuine than her previous statement. “You and Alec are in the middle of stuff, right? Like dinner or something?”

  Claire detected another layer in Erica’s voice, which sounded like sadness mixed with loneliness. “No, actually. Alec … hasn’t arrived yet.”

  “Well, perfect timing, then. Everybody I know is off on some big romantic date tonight except me. I’m just sitting here at home alone, and I made the mistake of looking online. Gabby and her posse are tweeting the play-by-play of their evenings. And Brian just posted photos of himself and Kayla looking all snuggly. So, now I’m pissed off! It’s like he’s doing this just to taunt me.”

  Claire felt bad for her but really didn’t want to talk to Erica about this right now. Her chest already felt so tight with stress about her own relationship problems, Claire didn’t know if she could take someone else’s. Especially someone who’d been blowing her off for weeks. Now suddenly Erica was in the mood to chitchat, because her new friends weren’t around, and she was lonely and jealous of Brian’s girlfriend?

  “I’m sure Brian didn’t mean to hurt you, Erica.”

  “He couldn’t have waited until tomorrow to post pictures? This day sucks. What are you guys doing to celebrate?”

  “I made dinner.” Claire didn’t feel like adding that Alec was more than half an hour late.

  “I wish I had someone to make dinner for.” Erica sighed. “Sorry I’m being such a whiny ass.” After an awkward silence, Erica added: “So did you get my Evite? Are you guys coming to my birthday party?”

  The change of subject caught Claire off guard. “Oh. I—”

  “Almost everyone else has responded by now. When I didn’t hear from you, I was worried that it got lost in junk mail.”

  “No, I got it, I just … to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you really wanted me and Alec there, or if it was just a courtesy invite.”

  “What? Are you kidding? I definitely want you there.”

  That was the last thing Claire had expected her to say. “Really?”

  “Totally! I know I’ve been in my own world lately, but I’m pretty over it at this point. My party’s going to be awesome. I have like fifty people coming, there’s going to be great food and music, and the necktie theme is going to be so fun.”

  “Sounds great, Erica.” Claire hadn’t expected to ever get an olive branch from her former best friend, let alone tonight of all nights. She was trying to refocus her attention on this turn of events, when she heard a car approaching below that sounded like it could be Alec’s. Her pulse jumped. “Of course we’ll be there,” she added hastily. “Hey, Alec just got here, so I have to go.”

  “Oh. Right. Say hi to him for me. Bye.” Erica hung up.

  Claire stared for a second at her phone, feeling guilty about the abrupt way she’d ended the conversation. But it was Valentine’s Day, after all. Phone in hand, Claire raced to the front wall and looked down at the guest parking area. It was getting dark now, but she could make out an SUV pulling into the lot. A man and woman she didn’t recognize got out. Her heart sank.

  Blowing out a sigh of disappointment, Claire realized she couldn’t wait any longer. She had to know if Alec was okay. She made the phone call. It went straight to voice mail. She left a brief message, trying to keep her voice light. “Hey, dinner’s been ready for a while, and I’m waiting for you on the rooftop. Hope to see you soon!”

  She started to worry now. Had Alec been in an accident? In her mind, she saw his mangled Mustang wrapped around a telephone pole, an image that made her shudder. Then, with a gasp, she wondered: Was that an actual vision? Had it really happened? No, no, stop it, she told herself. It wasn’t a vision, just the product of an anxious mind. There was a reasonable explanation for his lateness. There had to be.

  The candles were halfway gone, wax dripping down the candlesticks and threatening to spill onto the tablecloth. Claire gently blew them out, cursing herself for not waiting to light them until after Alec arrived.

  It was getting cool, and a breeze picked up, fluttering the tablecloth. Claire wrapped herself in the red shawl she’d borrowed from her mother and wandered around the rooftop, phone in hand, not wanting to miss Alec’s call or text. She eventually tried checking Instagram, just to pass the time, but it didn’t hold her attention.

  The silence was deafening. The twinkle lights, which had looked so festive before, just looked sad and pathetic now.

  Another hour passed.

  Worry ate at her like a cancer. At the same time, Claire started to feel light-headed from hunger. She tried a prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, but it was cold and limp. She wiped her hands, too upset to eat anything else.

  At eight o’clock, she unplugged the slow cooker. A glance through the clear glass lid told her that the short ribs she’d labored over so intently were now sludge.

  Claire was about to retrieve the box she’d stashed in a corner and start packing up all the china and glassware, when she heard a car stop outside, the sound of a car door slamming, and hurried footsteps. She recognized Alec’s voice as he muttered something into the intercom downstairs, followed by the buzz that let him in.

  She sat
down at the table. So. Not in an accident after all. Just two and a half hours late. A few choice comments she’d like to hurl at him, fueled by hurt and growing anger, bubbled up in her mind.

  The stairwell door burst open so hard and fast it actually broke off its hinges, smashing into the stucco wall behind it and leaving an indentation. Claire leapt to her feet, startled, as Alec dashed through the opening.

  “Claire, I’m—” He began.

  He stopped short, taking in the lights and the festive setup, and whatever he was going to say died on his lips.

  Whatever Claire had planned to say died, too, as she stared at him in shock.

  Alec looked like he’d just been to war. His clothes were absolutely filthy and ripped, the knees of his khaki pants gone, one sleeve of his white-and-blue-striped button-down shirt pulled away at the shoulder. His face was flushed and streaked with grime and blood, there was an ugly scrape on his forehead, and the skin showing through the gaps in his clothing was red and raw.

  Incongruously, he carried the remnants of what used to be a bunch of flowers, now just a bundle of wilted stalks wrapped in tattered cellophane and red paper.

  As Alec glanced around, his eyes looked weird—bloodshot and kind of glazed and unfocused. He paused, seemingly flustered as he noticed the door and wall he’d damaged. In an apparent attempt to fix his blunder, Alec reached for the door handle, which crumpled in his grip like aluminum foil.

  What on earth was happening? Claire had never seen him this strong.

  She leapt to her feet and ran to him. “Oh my God, Alec! What happened?” She stopped a couple of feet away, afraid to touch him.

  “I—” Alec hesitated, clenching and unclenching the fist that wasn’t holding the flowers. One of his eyelids started to twitch. His voice sounded a little off as he said, “I’m really sorry I’m late, Claire. But I can’t tell you about it. Not right now. So please don’t ask.”

  “Don’t ask?” Claire stared at the battered and bloodied man before her, dumbfounded and more hurt than she’d ever felt in her life. “How can you even think I’d be okay with that? Something horrible obviously just happened to you. I deserve to know about it!”