Point Of Destruction

by Max Lockwood

  "You'll be sorry when my predictions come true.”

  Chapter Three

  Ignoring the irregular beating of her heart, Clara moved to the couch where her grandmother was still sleeping and shook her awake. It took a bit more shaking, and Clara would have been worried, but then she was moving, her eyes fluttering open. They glanced around before falling on her. She was confused for a few moments, looking unsure of where she was.

  Before she could grow frantic, Clara took her hand and made her focus on herself instead of looking around the room.

  "You're home, remember?" she murmured, keeping her tone soothing as she brought her other hand up to brush back some of the older woman's hair. "And I'm your granddaughter, Clara. Your name is Viola. Do you remember that?"

  She waited with her breath held, feeling relieved when she got a nod. When Viola came to properly and looked like she was trying to sit up, Clara helped her, resettling the blanket around her shoulders. Then she sat back on her heels.

  "Clara, did you just get back?"

  She smiled wanly. "No, I was here a while ago."

  "You could have woken me up sooner," Viola chastised.

  "It's fine, I didn’t want to bother you. I saved you some dinner so you could continue your nap." She went to push herself up. "I'll go get something for you."

  But a hand on her shoulder stopped her. "No, thank you, dear."

  She sighed. "You need to eat."

  "But I'm not hungry," her grandmother insisted.

  "Grandma, I insist. You should eat before you go up to bed."

  It was entirely possible she hadn't eaten at all the whole day. Clara trusted her sister, but she could get distracted, and their grandmother was growing forgetful. Clara always made sure she had a meal before she went to bed, though.

  At least she didn’t argue, allowing Clara to get up and go bring her back a plate of food. Back in the living room, the plate went to the coffee table, and then she sat beside her grandmother. She got a disapproving look, but then her grandmother sighed and reached for the plate. She didn’t eat, though. Actually, she looked bone-tired, and Clara didn’t think it was physical exhaustion because she looked like Clara felt.

  "I'm sorry, Clara."

  She arched an eyebrow in surprise. "For what?"

  Grandmother gave her a sad smile. "I'm sorry you have to take on so much work at the moment."

  Ah. She must have noticed Clara's condition. It made sense, when she could remember who Clara was, she was sharp. She'd been taking care of the both of them for years so she was used to the sisters' moods and reading their emotions even while they tried to keep them hidden.

  But Clara didn’t blame her grandmother—or her sister—for leaving most of the work to her.

  Grandmother could hardly help her condition. The onset of Alzheimer's was a surprise, one they were not properly equipped to deal with. They'd only managed to see a doctor once, to diagnose her, and that was it. But Clara had been doing her research and they'd been surviving. Her grandmother also had arthritis, which meant she couldn’t do much. Even if she had a job, she would be hard-pressed to actually do it.

  It meant it was more up to Clara to care for the family, but she didn’t mind it, no matter how tired she felt. Even though she hated her job, someone had to take care of the family, and Clara wasn’t just going to back away from the responsibility.

  So Clara forced her facial muscles into a smile, placing a hand on top of her grandmother's, gripping tight when she turned it around to clasp her hand properly.

  "It's okay."

  Grandmother didn’t believe her, but she blinked a few times, firming her lips in a way that meant she was trying not to cry. Clara leaned in to give her a quick hug before sitting back so she could eat.

  They sat in silence and Clara watched as her grandmother ate without another complaint, until she finished her meal. Clara took the plate with her back to the kitchen, and then came back with a glass of water for the older woman to drink.

  "Could you do one thing for me?"

  Grandmother smiled. "Of course. Name it."

  Clara could feel warmth spread in her chest. She knew she was lucky to have had their grandmother when their parents passed away, or who knows where they would have ended up, with Clara being a minor and Tessa and her special conditions. No matter what she asked, Grandmother would do her best to accomplish it. It lifted her burden every time she reminded herself the situation wasn’t as bad as it could have been, that there was still so much good in it. She had her grandmother, her sister—her best friend.

  It wasn’t always enough, but Clara could move forward with that alone. This time, though, she'd need something extra. She took a breath.

  "Can you handle Tessa for the evening so I can go out with Cooper?"

  Grandmother suddenly looked delighted. Clara knew she adored Cooper, and she was a little jealous he knew how to handle her grandmother better than she did on the bad days.

  "Of course, I can. Anything for my granddaughter."

  Clara leaned forward to kiss Viola goodbye. "I won't take long, okay? And neither of you have to wait up, I think Tessa's already gone back to her room."

  She gave a last wave before leaving the house and dropping her fake cheery demeanor. Tessa would have heard her, hopefully, and do what she needed to, so Clara would have the time for herself.

  Clara, however, didn’t go to meet Cooper. He lived a bit far off, though she could have walked over to his place if she wanted to, or called him to come pick her up. But even though it was what she really wanted to do, she wouldn’t. Because what she needed wasn’t her best friend trying to comfort her. Instead, she headed over next door and knocked quietly, checking the street in case anyone had noticed her.

  These visits had to be kept under wraps, for both their sakes. Besides, the last thing she wanted were rumors starting and getting back home. Her family had enough to deal with as it was.

  Her neighbor, Dante, answered the door with a baby strapped to his chest. It was a regular occurrence, one that no longer surprised her. It was still strange to see him and realize he was actually a good father. He was bouncing the baby girl as he let Clara into the house, glancing quickly around the street before closing the door and locking it.

  "I'm just putting the baby to bed and then I'll be with you," he promised, but he was looking down at the baby and not her.

  She didn’t bother with a reply and he didn’t wait for one. He headed up the stairs as she sat down on the couch and waited for him to return. He could take anywhere from a few minutes to an hour when the baby was extremely fussy. She sat awkwardly, looking around and trying not to move too much, though with how restless she felt, it was nearly impossible. She'd been coming here for a while, but what she couldn’t get used to was the waiting when she had all the time and space to think and she was trying not to. Because when she stopped to let herself think, her thoughts went down all the wrong paths.

  Her eyes bounced around the room, trying to distract herself as she sat on her hands to stop them from twitching, spotting a picture of Dante and his wife. It made her wince and glance away, take a breath and try to center herself again.

  Why did she even do this?

  He was married, and Clara, when she thought about it, was annoyed about how low she'd fallen. Besides, it wasn’t like she felt anything for him. Several times, she'd thought of stopping, and when she did, she kept wondering how it had all started in the first place. She hadn't set out to seduce a married man, hadn't expected to end up in an affair she didn’t even want and found unsatisfying.

  But it was a good outlet, so much better than other dangerous ones she could have found. He could make her forget, at least for a moment, and that was all she wanted.

  When Dante returned, he leaned down and planted a wet kiss on her mouth, before pulling back so he could sprawl on the couch beside her and took a moment to catch his breath. She resisted the urge to wipe her lips.

  "So, how was your day
?"

  He leaned closer, and again she resisted, this time the urge to pull away, or push him away. She skimmed over the details, knowing neither of them were there for small talk.

  "It was a day. I had a test and had to collect assignments, so it was a little livelier than usual."

  His wide palms touched her shoulders, then slid slowly down her arms, making her body shiver. She wasn’t sure if it was the good kind or not.

  "What about you? How's your baby been?" she asked in return as he unbuttoned her blouse.

  His smile was wry, his eyes focused on what he was doing.

  "She was a little ill this morning so it's been hectic for a while, but she's doing fine now."

  With small talk out of the way, he leaned closer to kiss and nip on her neck, and she dropped her head back so he had more room. Once he ran out of buttons, he reached inside her blouse to place his hands on her waist. He ran his hands up as he licked a trail down her throat, cupping her breasts through her bra and giving a light squeeze.

  Whatever she truly felt about these meetings, her body responded as it was supposed to. Her back arched, pushing her breasts farther into his palms, goose bumps appearing on her skin at the bare contact. She rubbed her thighs together, wishing he'd just get on with it.

  Like he read her mind, or just took her cues, he pulled away and stood up, holding a hand out to her. She pushed away all the thoughts that told her she should slap his hand away, get up off the couch and button up her blouse then run out. Because then she'd have to face her problems and deal with them instead of running away. But running from her issues was such an easy thing to do, painless for the most part. She took his hand and he pulled her up.

  "Come upstairs with me," he murmured, already tugging her behind him as he headed for the stairs again.

  "Okay," she agreed, going along with him, though without much enthusiasm.

  He didn’t call her out on it. This was all about mutual gratification, not what they were feeling, and that was why it worked for her, why she'd fallen to it in the first place and why it was so hard to stop.

  She tried to ignore the heavy feeling in her chest as she followed him up the steps, her hand still held in his.

  She was ignoring a lot of things for her peace of mind, lately.

  You can continue reading this story here.