Viola Avenue

by Pamela Grandstaff

  Claire’s mother had dark circles under her puffy eyes and looked twenty years older than she had just days before. Her bruise had now turned from purple to yellow. She was twisting a paper tissue between her hands and bits of it were falling in her lap.

  “I’m going back later this week,” Claire said. “The doctor thinks we should give him a few days to get settled before we both go.”

  “Because I make him so angry,” Delia said.

  “Yes,” Claire said. “You should use this as a break, and get some rest.”

  “How can I rest knowing he’s somewhere he doesn’t want to be, with people he doesn’t know?” Delia asked. “He’s scared, Claire, and he doesn’t understand why we’re doing this to him.”

  “You’re right,” Claire said. “All of that’s true. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do to leave him there, but in the end, I had to do it. We can’t handle him anymore. He’s going to hurt someone, and on my watch it’s not going to be you.”

  “I know,” Delia said, crying. “It’s just so awful. I don’t know how I can stand it.”

  “It feels unfair,” Claire said. “It’s really happening, though, so we just have to trust the doctors and do our best for him.”

  “Claire’s done the right thing,” Bonnie said, patting Delia’s arm. “It’s a sad situation, but you have no choice. Something had to be done.”

  Delia lay her head down on her arms and cried. Even though Claire felt like she didn’t have one more tear left to shed, seeing her mother weep made her feel physically ill.

  Hannah came in the front door, entered the kitchen, and said, “Claire, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  She seemed agitated.

  “Hannah,” Maggie said. “It’s not a great time.”

  “I know,” Hannah said. “But it’s important.”

  Claire pulled herself to her feet and followed Hannah down the hall to her bedroom. Hannah went in behind her and shut the door. She pulled a stack of letters out of the back waistband of her jean shorts and handed them to Claire.

  “Those,” Hannah said, and waited until Claire realized what she held in her hands.

  “Hannah,” Claire said.

  “No,” Hannah said. “Right now I talk and you don’t.”

  Claire sat down on the edge of her bed and started shaking her head. Just when she thought the day couldn’t get worse.

  “Do you have the letters Sam wrote back to you?”

  “What?”

  “I have read the letters you wrote to him, and I have talked to my husband about them, and now I need to read the letters he wrote back to you,” she said. “Right now, and I’m sorry about what’s going on with your dad but I need those letters. Are they here?”

  Claire gestured to the closet.

  “They’re on the top shelf; in the little cardboard suitcase with the bird print on it.”

  Hannah opened the door to the closet and stood on her tiptoes, but she couldn’t reach the decorative box Claire had indicated. Claire went to help her, and Hannah made an exaggerated side move so that Claire would not touch her.

  Claire sighed.

  She took down the box, opened it, and held out the bundle of letters, tied together with a blue satin ribbon. Hannah accepted the parcel as if it were a live, growling animal that might bite her.

  “Hannah,” Claire began.

  “No,” Hannah said. “Not now. I’ll deal with you later.”

  And she left.

  Claire felt light-headed.

  She felt her way to the bed to lie down, resting her forearm over her eyes to shut out the overhead light. A little later she felt someone sit down on the edge of the bed.

  It was Maggie.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I need to tell you a story,” Claire said. “And if you hate my guts afterward I’ll understand.”

  “I doubt that’s possible,” Maggie said, “but go on.”

  Afterward, Maggie sat quietly for a few minutes before she took Claire’s hand and held it between her own in her lap.

  “Scott lied for you,” Maggie said. “It was Sam who you skinny-dipped with.”

  “Yes, he did,” Claire said. “I told him after I came back.”

  “And nothing has gone on between you and Sam since you’ve been back?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I swear to you on my mother’s head,” Claire said. “It’s not something I want and he doesn’t either. He loves Hannah. It happened a long time ago, before they got together, and neither of us would ever do anything to hurt her.”

  “But now you have,” Maggie said.

  “What can I do?” Claire asked.

  “Don’t do anything,” Maggie said. “You take care of your mom and dad. When Hannah’s ready to talk to you she will.”

  “If she ever talks to me again,” Claire said.

  “We’re family,” Maggie said. “We’re the three little bunnies, remember? Men may come and go but we are forever.”

  “I remember,” Claire said. “I hope Hannah does.”

  Claire had fallen asleep, but woke up when she felt Maggie get up and leave, turning the light out as she went. Claire tried to sit up but felt too dizzy. She fell into a deep abyss of sleep, and when she woke again it was dark, and the house was quiet.

  She went down the hall to her mother’s room and saw that she was sleeping with the dog and two cats. The bigger cat opened one eye but then closed it again and curled up tighter in the space between her mother’s feet.

  Claire closed her mother’s door and went down the hall, where the kitchen light was on. Ed was sitting at the kitchen table, playing solitaire.

  “Hey,” he said when he saw her. “Can I get you anything?”

  Claire went around the table and sat down sideways on his lap. He put his arms around her and squeezed.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She nodded but then shook her head.

  “Not too sure?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” she said.

  “Quite all right,” he said. “Scott kept me informed, and you had your hands full taking care of everyone else.”

  “You remember that stuff I told you about me and Sam writing to each other when he was overseas?”

  “I do.”

  “Hannah found out about that today.”

  “How’d she take it?”

  “Not well.”

  “You and Hanna are pretty tight; she’ll come around.”

  “That’s what Maggie says.”

  “Maggie’s often right.”

  “You want to stay?” she asked.

  “Tommy’s home alone,” he said. “I better not.”

  “I understand,” she said. “I need to be here with Mom.”

  “I understand,” he said.

  “We are the understandingest people in this town,” she said. “In this state, even.”

  “Maybe in the country,” he said.

  Claire kissed him on the forehead and then got up.

  “Alan’s funeral is tomorrow,” Ed said. “May I accompany you?”

  Claire nodded.

  “I have class tomorrow,” she said.

  “Me, too,” he said.

  “You know,” she said, “I thought I really wanted this teaching position, like, more than anything else in the world, and now that I have it, I don’t want to do it.”

  “You have a lot going on right now,” Ed said.

  “I think I knew right after the first class, actually. I was so excited to create the syllabus and make all my lists of supplies and assignments, and it was fun reliving my school days in L.A., but I don’t think I like the actual teaching. I’m like Maggie and the bookstore. The idea was exciting, but the actual job is not right for me.”

  “What happened?”

  “The students are so mean to one another,” Claire said. “They’re vicious; it’s like a room full of anonymous Internet commenters and
I’m the moderator.”

  “You’ve just forgotten what school is like.”

  “I immediately turned into this domineering dictator,” she said. “By the end of the day I was scheming against the other teachers. It’s not healthy for me.”

  “You’ve only been at it for a few days,” Ed said. “It will get better.”

  “Did you like it the first day?”

  “I loved it,” he said. “I think I’ve found my calling, actually.”

  “Yep; nope,” Claire said. “I don’t feel like that.”

  “Give it some time,” Ed said. “It may grow on you.”

  “Life isn’t like that for me,” Claire said. “I used to be pretty impulsive, but I always knew pretty quickly when I’d made a mistake, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

  “You think teaching is a mistake?”

  “Yes, I do,” Claire said. “I think I’ll finish out the semester and then resign.”

  “Whatever you decide, I’ll support your decision,” he said. “We’ll just have to keep looking for your calling.”

  “I think I had that already,” Claire said. “I think I did everything I wanted to do and proved everything I needed to prove working for Sloan, and now I’m ready to retire.”

  “You’re kind of young to retire,” Ed said.

  “I don’t mean sit in a rocking chair and knit,” Claire said. “I think I’m ready to just be for a while. Volunteer at hospice, and help out in the family businesses when I’m needed. Mostly I want to make sure my mother has an awesome life for the rest of her life.”

  “That’s a wonderful vocation.”

  “I can still give you some thrills now and again,” she said. “I haven’t forgotten you.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “Can we be married and accomplish this?”

  “Absolutely,” Claire said. “Making you happy makes me happy.”

  “Then I will make sure you have an awesome life, too,” he said.

  “Sounds like a good deal,” she said.

  They shook on it.

  Hannah was sitting on the front porch swing, watching the stars sparkle in the black sky over the dark hills to the east. She heard Sam come down the inside stairs from the second floor and across the squeaky wood floors to the screen door, which groaned on its hinges as he opened it.

  “You staying up all night?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” she said. “I drank too much coffee and now I’m wide awake.”

  He sat down in the porch swing next to her and pulled the quilt over so he could share it.

  “We okay?” he asked.

  She leaned over and he put his arm around her.

  “You know, after reading her letters to you,” Hannah said, “I imagined this huge big love affair, and you two still making a fool out of me on a daily basis.”

  “I can see how that could happen.”

  “But after reading your letters to her, I can see your side of it. I’m not just trying to convince myself, either. I let Maggie read them and she agrees.”

  “I’m always relieved when Maggie’s on my side.”

  “Poor Claire, though,” Hannah said. “She read a lot more into your letters than was there.”

  “We were both miserable,” he said. “She was happy to flirt with me and I was glad to have a friend to write to. Sometimes just being kind to someone lonely and miserable is too difficult for them to process, and they think it means you’re in love with them. ”

  “Like your female vets sometimes do.”

  “I always set them straight,” he said. “You never have to worry about that.”

  “Tell me again why you didn’t set Claire straight when she came to see you at Walter Reed.”

  “Well, for one thing I was doped to the gills on pain meds,” he said. “I don’t even remember her being there. The nurses told me afterward that my girlfriend came to see me and I thought they meant Linda. I never received that last letter, the one that came to the hospital. If I had, I would have let her down gently. I wouldn’t have let her pour her heart out and make an offer to take care of me and not respond.”

  “I wonder why she didn’t follow through.”

  “She probably figured it out, and was embarrassed.”

  “I wish you would have told me,” Hannah said. “I don’t care about the skinny-dipping thing in high school, not really. You know the kind of stuff Hatch and I got up to.”

  “I prefer to imagine you were the president of the Future Nuns Club of America.”

  “Hah, you wish.”

  “I thought it would be embarrassing for Claire if you knew she had a crush on me, and it seems like a pretty arrogant thing to claim,” he said. “That’s all I thought it was. She’s never once mentioned it since she’s been back.”

  “I believe you. Oddly enough, I don’t want to burst her bubble,” Hannah said. “I think I’m going to let her believe it was a star-crossed-lovers-type thing and that you’ll always have a place for her in your heart.”

  “However you want to handle it,” Sam said.

  “I think I’ll have to be hurt for a little while and then thaw out gradually,” Hannah said. “I don’t want her to feel like a fool, or think we made fun of her.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said.

  “Now, about Linda,” she said. “Her I’d like to see roast on a spit in hell.”

  “I turned down the money.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Hannah said. “You take that hussy for all she’s worth, and if you have to wink at her to get it, you get in there and you wink, my man.”

  “You are the darndest woman, Hannah Louise.”

  “I’m the darndest wife and the love of your life,” she said. “And don’t you forget it.”

  “How could I?” he asked. “Can we burn the letters now?”

  “I already did,” Hannah said. “I wish I were madder, cause then we could have makeup sex.”

  “Give me a minute and I’ll think of something insensitive to say.”

  “I’ll give you two,” she said.

  Chapter Ten

  When Claire arrived at class on Friday, everyone was there but Teague.

  “Where’s Teague?” she asked.

  “He left school,” Mercedes said.

  “He’s not coming back,” Porsche said.

  “Fled the scene of the crime,” Jean Claude said.

  “Is this about that party last semester?” Claire asked.

  The students exchanged looks but no one would speak.

  Jean Claude covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head.

  “They can’t talk about it,” Sophie said.

  Claire looked at Sophie.

  “I heard he transferred to another school,” Sophie said. “That’s all I know.”

  “I can’t tell you what happened,” Emily said, “but I can tell you that rape culture is alive and well on this campus.”

  “Shut up,” Porsche hissed at her.

  “That’s right, Porsche,” Emily said. “The conspiracy of silence has an ideal acolyte in you.”

  “We weren’t there,” Emily said to Claire. “But we heard all about it.”

  “This is very triggering for me,” Anna said.

  “Sorry,” Emily said.

  “Let’s do what we’re here to do,” Claire said.

  Claire was having trouble focusing on any one thing for longer than a minute, so she assigned the class to pair up and make each other look like characters from Cats, and then drifted among them, offering tips and encouragement. She was so relieved when class was over she could have wept.

  As the students gathered their things and checked their phones, the car twins waylaid her before she could escape.

  “We have a question,” Mercedes said.

  “You’ve been to Hollywood; you know what it’s like,” Porsche said.

  “Do you think we have what it takes to make it?” Mercedes asked.

  “Be brutally honest,”
Porsche said.

  “We can take it,” Mercedes said.

  From her peripheral vision Claire could see the other students listening in, now interested. Claire had been anticipating and dreading these exact questions, and had debated how to answer. The only brutal honesty she could share was her truth, her jaded perspective based on her experience and observations, and it was pretty ugly, but to lie to these young people seemed a disservice.

  “If you’re a talented actress or actor,” Claire said. “If you’re ambitious and relentless and willing to work hard, then everything else is just luck.”

  “And if you’re beautiful,” Mercedes said. “I need a nose job and a chin implant.”

  “I’m getting bigger boobs as soon as I graduate,” Porsche said. “My mom promised.”

  “If it’s just about that why bother getting a degree?” Victoria asked.

  “Good looks and sex appeal can be important,” Claire said.

  “Does a degree even matter?” Porsche asked.

  “Some people go straight to auditions without any formal training, and some people get great educations first,” Claire said. “Anything that makes you a better performer is good.”

  “It also helps to have a powerful relative in the business,” Jean Claude said.

  “That’s true,” Claire said.

  “What if you don’t have any of that?” Sophie asked.

  “It depends on what kind of career you want to have,” Claire said. “Many people have long, successful careers as character actors. Best supporting actor Oscars often go to character actors.”

  “That’s me,” Sophie said. “Doomed to be the sassy best friend, and then if I’m lucky, eventually the overbearing mother or naughty grandma.”

  “I want to be a movie star,” Mercedes said.

  “I want Sloan Merryweather’s career,” Porsche said. “What did she do?”

  Claire thought about Sloan, the product of a horrific childhood, now at the apex of a career that began in a strip club and whose upward trajectory included prostitution and extensive plastic surgery, none of which were common knowledge.

  Claire was under no obligation to keep any of that confidential, having recently escaped signing a confidentiality agreement by luck and stealth. Still, even though Sloan had never shown her more than an ounce of loyalty that wasn’t self-serving during her twenty years of dedicated service, Claire could not bring herself to betray her former employer.