Claire's Song

by Ashley King

  I look outside at the darkness that encompasses the yard. The moon sits in the night sky proudly, the stars shining and showing off their beauty. Nights like this when the air is cool, just enough to send a chill through your bones, are my favorite. Jamie snuck inside my room on many nights like this. The clock reads eleven, but it feels so much later than that. I feel tired as I stare back at my journal sitting on the bed. I can’t even make myself write in it.

  A light tap comes at the door and my heart leaps in my chest. I open it and find Ryder standing there in plaid pajama bottoms and a gray tee shirt. And he’s filling everything out like a champ. Since he's been eating regular meals, he’s starting to become more muscular than before.

  “Hey there,” I smile at him, looking down at my cat clad pajama bottoms and matching shirt. He’s seen me wear worse, so I’m not stressing it.

  “You lonely?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. The way his muscles stretch when he does that captures my attention. I step out a little ways past him and look down the hall and see that the light in my parents’ room is off.

  “Not particularly,” I smile, although he knows me so well. Could he sense that I needed him?

  “Oh, cool. In that case,” he grins at me and makes for his room. He’s too good at this game. I quickly grab his hand and wrap mine around it.

  “You want to come in?” I ask.

  He shrugs, “I don’t know. I mean, you’re not lonely, so I can always go work on some music.”

  My eyes brighten. “You can work on it in here, if you want. You’ve got that big show coming up, Mr. Rock Star.”

  A thousand emotions crash over Ryder’s face, the most noticeable being sadness. He tries to mask it, but it’s too late.

  “You don’t want to play the show anymore?” I ask, still standing in the hallway with our hands intertwined.

  He rubs his other hand over his face. His eyes are bloodshot and there are purple bags beneath them. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed how tired he’s been. “It’s not that, not at all. To play in front of a crowd is my dream.”

  “Then what is it?” I ask because I genuinely want to know. When someone’s dream is so close to coming true, aren’t they supposed to be happy about it? Instead, the boy I first met reappears, the one who kept those thick walls around him. He doesn’t seem like my Ryder, the one who kisses me sweetly, who makes me think crazy good things, the boy who loves me.

  He shakes his head as he whispers, “It’s nothing. Not tonight, anyway.” He gives me a sad smile and leads me into my room.

  I want to argue. I think of all the times I wanted to argue with Jamie and I didn’t. Then he went off and killed himself. I should argue. I should.

  Ryder sits on the edge of my bed. He’s looking at me with sad eyes, silently pleading that I don’t do this. But I have too, because in some ways, I’ve changed.

  “Definitely tonight, Ryder. Don’t you get it? I didn’t ask Jamie, didn't go after him because I was too self absorbed or whatever to notice. Now I’m asking you because you seem weird, like really weird and I want to know what’s going on,” I say as I cross my arms over my chest. “And not to mention you look like crap,” I add, thinking of his rough eyes.

  A mirthless laugh spills from his lips and he rubs his hands over those tired eyes before looking at me again. “Thanks, babe,” he cracks.

  “It’s the truth. Now what’s going on? Is it your Dad?”

  I see his expression change and I know immediately it’s not that. But will he lie and tell me that it is? Did I just give him a one way pass to get out of this mess?

  “Yeah, kind of,” he says.

  I want to scream. I want to find out what the deal is with this gig? But I don’t. Instead, I let him have this one. But I will figure it out.

  “I thought I almost lost you when he came. I thought he’d make you move,” I answer.

  He shakes his head, “You won’t lose me like that.” Like that. My stomach twists in knots. Seriously? What does the even mean?

  “Okay…” I start as I sit next to him on the bed. This situation doesn’t seem to be getting any better, no matter what I do or say.

  Ryder shakes his head again. “That sounded worse than I meant it too,” he clarifies.

  “No, I mean, we’re only eighteen and we haven’t even been together for that long. It’s stupid to think that we could last forever, so yeah, I get it.” My voice has completely taken on a defensive edge.

  “Claire,” Ryder barely breathes my name. My entire body responds even though I don’t want it to. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

  I whip my head up towards him, “You can, so why can’t I? I know nothing lasts forever. I know better than anyone. If so, Jamie would still be here.”

  “And where would we be?” Ryder asks.

  It’s a legitimate question. Where would we be? Would we even be at this point? Jamie was my entire world, everything, always. Our relationship was the epitome of dependence.

  Ryder gives me a long look and then hangs his head. “Never mind, Claire. We’ve both got our secrets and let’s leave it at that.”

  A shift is in the air, tension crackling and waiting on bated breath. I don’t want it anything to change, although this feels off, ominous. I’m so desperate for nothing to change, not when I just got used to the new normal.

  “Lay with me?” I ask.

  I get a sad look from Ryder as he brushes his hair back from his eyes. My eyes zero in on the leather bands around his wrists, the ones he never takes off.

  “Okay,” he relents as he scoots back against the headboard.

  I lay on his chest and my hand goes to the leather band. Ryder’s entire body freezes as I do this and then his hand takes mine, curling his fingers around it and moving it away from his wrist.

  “You wear those when you sleep?” I ask, a yawn coming out along with it. Suddenly everything has made me tired and I yearn to escape for a little while, to fend off the shift for as long as I can.

  “Yeah,” Ryder answers absently and that’s the last thing I remember before I drift off to sleep.

  “Claire Marie Watkins! Get up this instant!” An angry voice vibrates through my head, sounding like a pissed off Mama bear. I roll over and feel Ryder’s chest, I feel him moving and my eyes open, struggling to wake up, to realize what’s going on. My mother, yes, the pissed off Mama bear, is standing at the foot of my bed, wearing a scowl to accent her business attire. Her hands are on her hips and she’s staring at me and then she looks at Ryder, who is slowly stirring and sitting up with me.

  At first I’m sure this is a dream, because I can’t remember much else. I take in the scene, both of us in our pajamas, my angry mother, and then everything comes back to me.

  “Aw, hell,” I say out loud.

  “Excuse me, young lady?” My mother snaps and I swear Ryder stifles a snicker before he hops out of the bed.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Watkins. We were just sleeping, I swear, that’s all.”

  My mother looks at him and studies him for a minute. “Right, of course.” She moves a wayward strand of hair from her eyes before she continues, “But I still don’t think this is appropriate. I figured something was going on, but…but this can’t happen.”

  “What, Mom? Sleeping in the same bed?”

  My mom looks like I’ve slapped her. “Of course not! You’re both still in high school and you have separate rooms. Don’t make his arrangement a problem, Claire,” my mom says, the threat lying there beneath her voice.

  “Should I go?” Ryder asks as he stands there awkwardly looking between me and my mother like a tennis match.

  “Yes, might as well get dressed for school, but Ryder?” My mother calls after him, he’s already halfway out the door, eager to escape the dysfunction that’s currently on display. I could see the issue if we were lying there naked, but geez. “This can’t happen again, okay? It just can’t.”

  I sigh a big loud sigh, loud enough to sound like I’m fi
ve. Mom shoots me a look and I shrug in reply.

  “Yes ma’am,” Ryder says and disappears.

  “What are you doing Claire?” My mother asks, as soon as he’s out of the room.

  I get up from my bed and start rummaging through my closet for something to wear. “I’m getting ready for school,” I answer abruptly.

  My mother moves next to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Claire. He’s not Jamie. Okay? You can’t simply replace him. This is about much more than me finding a boy in your bed, which believe me, is not the highlight of my morning either. This is about you finally coming out of the funk you've been in. Your therapist says you’ve been improving, but she still thinks you’re not dealing with the issues, that you’re just shoving them down. Don't do that to Ryder. Don’t do that to you.”

  Tears are threatening to spill from my eyes at the mention of replacing Jamie with Ryder. Is that what I’m doing? I stand there frozen.

  “Claire, baby,” my mother whispers.

  I turn and her arms are wide open. I fall into them easily and allow myself to cry in front of her for the first time since Jamie died. She smoothes my hair, kisses my forehead. “I love Ryder, too, though,” I cry, the tears coming faster.

  She holds me tighter, “I know you do, baby. I know you love him and he loves you too, anybody can see that much. But you can’t use him as a band-aid, as a way to get you by, do you see? You’ve got to be over Jamie first…”

  “I’ll never get over Jamie’s death, never. He took a piece of me with him that day, Mom. I’m just trying to live. That’s all. I'm trying and it’s so hard,” I cry. I cry because I miss Jamie, I cry because I love Ryder, I cry because something’s not right with him and he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me. I cry because my mom is comforting me like I’m a little girl again and I realize how much I've missed her.

  “I know, baby, and I know I haven’t helped you deal with it like I should have. I guess I was so worried that…that something would happen to you that I just pretended that everything was okay. It’s okay to miss Jamie, it is. What I’m saying is that Ryder’s a good boy, Claire. Be good to him, be fair to him.”

  As I look at the pictures of Jamie my fragile heart twists and threatens to break. Of course, I feel like I’m being fair. I love Ryder. I do. And he knows Jamie will always have a piece of my heart.

  “Now get ready for school,” my mother says, giving me one more squeeze before leaving the room. I don’t miss the fact that she's wiping her eyes, too.

  I throw on the next thing I see, not even caring if it matches. My eyes are swollen and puffy, but it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Ryder’s in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed with his head in his hands. He looks so defeated.

  “Ryder?” I ask.

  He looks up at me, his gaze searing straight into my soul. “Everything okay?” He asks, his voice cold enough to send a shiver down my spine.

  “I guess. Mom’s not kicking either of us out,” I try to joke. I don't even get a smile in return, not even an obligatory pretend smile. Ryder nods and grabs his backpack from his bed.

  We walk outside and get in the car, neither of us saying a word, even when we get to school. Ryder’s out of the car and walking ahead of me and I feel so lost. How did everything fall apart in a matter of hours?

  RYDER

  I wasn’t trying to hear it, but I did. I heard their entire conversation. It’s not exactly hard when our rooms are so close together. And no, I’m not that big of a prick to be jealous of Claire's feelings for a guy who’s dead, a guy who was her best friend. What her mom said struck me—that she’s shoving crap down instead of dealing with it. I see that in Claire. Her mom is worried that Claire's using me to get over Jamie, to push the real issue away. I don’t necessarily think that’s the case. I know Claire hasn’t grieved Jamie properly, actually I think anyone with two eyes can see that, but I heard her say that what she felt for me is different, that she loves me. That’s what's got me all twisted up inside. Claire cares for me just as much as I care for her, something I was afraid of. It’s hard to imagine anyone loving me. I’m seeing all this emotional turmoil and I’m afraid I’m just going to make Claire worse. I knew it was a selfish move to let myself have her, but I couldn’t die without knowing what it’d be like to have Claire love me, to spend my days with her.

  A lot of crap is going on in my mind and I want my razor more than anything. Maybe then my mind would quiet down. I’m worried about seeing my Dad again. I'm supposed to meet him for dinner tonight at one of the restaurants we used to frequent. On top of that, I'm worried about Claire picking up on my plans. She's asking me questions and picking apart my words when I slip up. I don’t want to fight with her, not when we have less than a month left together.

  It’s killing me to walk away from her right now, to hear her trying to keep up with me. Finally, she grabs my arm and swings me toward her.

  “No way are you doing this to me. I let Jamie, but I’m not letting you,” she hisses, her voice the most serious I’ve ever heard it.

  She’s staring me down, her backpack swung over her shoulder. I want to grab her and push her up against the nearest car and kiss her senseless. Even when everything seems to be falling apart or when life gets crazy, Claire's always there, always steady.

  “Why’d you let Jamie get away with it then? Why am I different?” I ask, my gaze heavy. I really want to know.

  Claire takes a step closer to me. Her hand reaches down to mine and clasps it. “Because I’m in love with you, you idiot. I’m stupidly in love with you, so much so that I can’t see straight. We’re going to fix this. I’ll fix it, if you’ll just tell me what to do.”

  I bring our clasped hands to my mouth and kiss Claire's hand. “Claire, you’re perfect. There’s nothing for you to do. This is all me, okay? I'm just stressed out about Dad, my Mom, the show, just things. I get moody sometimes and I’m sorry,” I tell her as I wrap my arms around her and hug her tightly. Could I ever really stay away from her?

  Her scent wraps itself around me and I swear I feel like I’m home.

  “It’s okay,” she mumbles into my chest.

  “I don't know how I ever deserved you,” I say as I kiss the top of her head and take her hand, leading her into school.

  The rest of the day actually goes smoothly, with school being a breeze. That worries me. Don’t get me wrong, it's nice and all that, but it’s also a sign that everything is about to blow up in my face, or at least that’s been my past experience.

  As soon as Claire and I get home, I go upstairs and change my shirt. The black bag is calling to me, like it always does. I look at the clock and then at the bag and back again. I’m feeling antsy and itchy, like I need it, like the razor is a drug. Claire’s in her room and I can hear Frightened Rabbit blasting from the speakers. I try to think of her, try to let her be the reason I don’t do this, but really, it’s the same situation as hers, just different methods of madness. I know I've got to be the one to say no to the cutting, because I want to, not because of someone else. And right now, I’m not strong enough to say no to it. I walk over to the bag, knowing I don’t have enough time for this, that I’ll be late for dinner, but I don’t care. Just as I’m grabbing the bag, I hear Claire's voice.

  “Ryder?” She calls from the door. It’s dark in here, the shades drawn, and the lights off.

  “Yeah?” I turn around and let the bag fall back into place.

  “Here,” she smiles as she extends her hand to me. My lucky pick is sitting in her palm. “Figured maybe you could keep it for a while.”

  I take it from her palm and flick it between my fingers. “But I gave it to you.”

  “I know, but I think you could use it today. I’ll get it back from you, don’t worry,” Claire says as she puts her arms around my neck. “Now, have fun and don’t do that thing you do.” She’s smirking at me now.

  “What thing?” I ask.

  “Let him talk. Don'
t shut him out just yet. See if he’s worth a shot, because he might be telling the truth, Ryder. I don't want you to miss out on the chance to have a family,” she says and then she kisses my lips lightly.

  She’s got a good point and she sees through all of the crap. That’s one of the many things I love about her. I slide the pick into my pocket and wrap my arms around her waist.

  “You’re right,” I smile against her lips. I want to stay here all day and kiss her, but I know I can't. I'm already running close as it is.

  Claire glances over my shoulder at the clock. “You better go,” she says as she kisses me again and disappears into her room. I hear the music blasting again and I smile, the black bag momentarily forgotten.

  The entire drive to the restaurant is filled with nerves, even with my lucky pick in my pocket and Claire on the brain, I'm still thinking too much. I hate my Dad, but at the same time I miss the guy and I wonder how different my life would’ve been had he not screwed around on my mom. Then I see the woman she’s become and I wonder if that’s who she’s been all along. That kind of crap just doesn’t pop up out of nowhere.

  My pulse thunders in my ears as I park next to the shiny silver BMW. Anger is the first thing that wells up in my chest, anger that my Dad is sporting a brand new BMW when Claire’s mom bought me the clothes on my back. Actually she bought me most of what I own and I tried getting a job to repay her, but she insisted that I focus on my schoolwork. Not too hard a thing to do when I’ve got less than a month to live. The memory of the rotting trailer comes back to my mind, the water pockets in the ceiling, the rats and roaches, the dirty mattress. I went from a nice two story home in the 'burbs to that and back again. Where was my Dad when that all went down?

  I sit and look at the restaurant’s sign, Glynn's Sandwich Shop. This is the same place Dad and I used to eat when he still cared, a place that used to be my favorite restaurant. But I haven’t been here since he abandoned me and there are a lot of memories inside those doors. The thought makes my chest tighten and it hurts to breathe. I think about the time I realized he’d left, that day I came home and he was just gone.