The Girl Made of Clay

by Nicole Meier

  She held her tongue.

  Charlie and Acer came bounding in through the back sliding door, the stench of sweat preceding them.

  “I came back to take Sam to school,” Charlie panted. He mopped his forehead with his arm.

  “Okay, great.” He was being considerate. “I wasn’t expecting that. But thank you.”

  Charlie bent low and tipped his head under the chrome faucet. Letting the water run, he plunged his mouth into the stream and made giant gulping noises. Sara wrinkled her nose.

  “No glass?”

  “Nope! Haven’t got time.” He popped up and grinned. He was awfully happy all of a sudden. Must be the exercise. She told herself it was, because considering anything else, like perhaps another woman, was too much to take on at the moment. Allowing herself to follow that train of thought would surely send her spiraling. No, she told herself. Don’t let your head go there. Charlie was not her father. He didn’t make a habit of collecting women. But that still didn’t mean he hadn’t met someone special. Sara was too afraid to ask outright. It might be worse to know than to not.

  “You ready to go, Sam-the-Man?”

  “Yes!” Sam jumped from his chair and grabbed his bag. Scrambling out the door, Acer followed him out to the car.

  Charlie turned to go.

  “Maybe when you get back we can have breakfast together?” Sara hadn’t intended it to sound so much like a question.

  “Oh shoot. I can’t,” he said. A sheepish look overcame him. “I actually got a call from my boss while I was out. Seems some kind of flu has spread among the pilots traveling in the Northwest. They need me to come in. Just for a quick trip. Shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

  Sara swiveled, her face smarting as if she’d been slapped. “You’re flying this week?”

  “Yeah, I depart in a few hours, actually. Crazy, I know.”

  She hoped Charlie would take time off. What happened to his concern about their relationship?

  And then another thought dawned on her. Was this why he’d returned from his run so happy? He knew he got to run off and meet someone else? A trace of nausea materialized.

  She’d been a complete fool.

  “Charlie—”

  “I know, I know,” he said, backing from the room. “Terrible timing and all that. Truly. It sucks. But what can I do? Work needs me, and I said I’d go. Three days. I promise. Then we’ll sit down and talk. You’re pretty busy with your dad anyway. You won’t miss me at all.”

  She had a sinking feeling it might be the other way around.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  TR

  On Monday morning, four days later, TR found himself being hustled through Sara’s house and deposited into the front seat of her metallic-colored SUV. Doors slammed and the motor roared to life before TR could even get his bearings. What about coffee?

  But he knew better than to ask. Sara was in a snit.

  For one thing, the husband was back. Charlie had arrived the previous night, dropping his bags in the entryway and padding on stocking feet down the hall. Unable to sleep, TR listened as the master bedroom door clicked shut. Low murmurs and an exchange of a few harsh words followed. The door squeaked open and shut several more times before the house was finally silent.

  Rolling over to glance at the time, TR had read 11:00 p.m. He’d lain on his back, studying the creamy stucco pattern of the guest room’s small ceiling, and guessed at what was going on at the opposite end of the house. Sara must have given Charlie hell. She’d been pacing the floor since dinner, expecting him to surface. It had taken hours.

  Now they were all paying for it.

  He overheard Sara curtly informing Charlie she’d be gone for the day. Arranging for their son to get to school on time was her husband’s responsibility. There was some bitter back and forth, but TR pretended not to eavesdrop while he searched around for a jacket. The dog followed anxiously at his heels, as if he, too, wanted to avoid the tension.

  “Everything all right?” TR tried to quell his uneasy feeling as he asked, having a hard time adjusting his seat belt. Silently cursing, he tried to ignore the uncontrollable flaring pain in his right hand.

  “Mm-hmm.” Sara pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. She tossed her purse into the back seat and thrust on a pair of sunglasses. Clearly, she was pissed off. Faster than he could blink, her foot pressed down on the accelerator, sending suburbia into a distant memory in the rearview mirror.

  TR wondered if he should be afraid.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” He didn’t particularly want to do this, but it seemed like the proper thing to say. The way his daughter’s chin trembled, he sensed she was about ten seconds from losing it. His eyes skimmed the road. The car sped up. For good measure, TR tightened his seat belt even though it aggravated his still-healing wounds. There’d been too many emergency room visits already.

  A wise person would offer something sage to comfort his anxious daughter. It was bothersome to see her so upset. If she wanted to aim the anger in his direction, he could take it. He was a grown-up. He knew the part he’d played in her unhappiness. But then something dawned on him. The actions of his past were disturbingly familiar to those of Sara’s husband. With a sickening feeling, he realized they’d both left.

  Did Sara see things through the same jaded lens? Did she now group Charlie and TR together as the type of fellows who abandoned their families?

  TR swallowed against rising shame.

  “You know, sweetheart,” he ventured cautiously. “Sometimes folks don’t know what they’re doing until it’s too late.”

  Silence.

  “What I mean is, sometimes the choices people make are about themselves, and they forget for a minute how it’s going to affect those around them.” His own guilt over leaving his family came to mind. But he continued an attempt at an explanation. “The harm isn’t intentional. Am I making any sense?” He cast her a sidelong glance to check if she was listening. A threadlike vein pulsed at her temple. Her jaw visibly tightened.

  Shifting, he made another attempt. “What I’m trying to say—”

  “I know exactly what you’re trying to say, TR!” she spat. The narrowing green of her eyes bore down on him. The car pitched forward.

  TR’s hand instinctively shot out to the dashboard, bracing as she carelessly ignored the road. “You want me to give permission to Charlie for disappearing all the time. You want me to understand that men are lured out into some great temptation, some big wild adventure, while the women have no choice other than to stay home and wait around. You want me to be okay with my predicament. You’ve always wanted me to be okay with this. Well, to hell with you, TR. Because I’m not!”

  The car veered erratically across the yellow line. TR jolted in his seat as the tires edged over the median. Sara snuffled and swiped angrily at tears. TR sucked in his breath. She was losing control. His heart hammered. This frantic daughter of his was going to be the end of him.

  “Sara!” His voice cracked as he hollered.

  It felt like eons before she reacted, like she couldn’t see beyond the fury. He gulped and delivered a pleading glance. Thankfully, she corrected the wheel just as an oncoming truck laid on the horn.

  “Sorry.”

  TR exhaled. But his muscles remained rigid.

  “Do you want to kill me? Is that it?” Agitation pulsed as two bandaged palms flapped in the air. “The fire didn’t do your old man in, so now you’re going to finish me off with the car?” A fragment of fear jarred itself loose along with the accusation. TR instantly wanted to take it back. The fire wasn’t Sara’s fault. He knew this.

  Sara snorted. “Oh my God, TR.”

  Her face screwed up, and then she let out some kind of howl. Was she laughing or crying? He couldn’t tell. Maybe she was losing her mind. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? The world revolves around the great Thomas Robert Harlow! God forbid something threaten your perfect party of one.”

  He realized now s
he was mocking him. He dropped his hands into his lap and pivoted away, offended. “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  TR pushed his nose in the other direction and tried to conceal his wounded feelings. His daughter clearly didn’t understand.

  The car bumped along. Both of them refused to acknowledge one another.

  A band of greenery stretched along outside. The road began to taper and bend. Buildings gave way to miles of coniferous trees mixed with mustard-colored aspens and an occasional meandering stream. He’d missed this, being out in nature. Being inspired by his surroundings. The ability to walk into his studio on a whim and freely paint or mold something, the freedom to create what moved him.

  But despite his inability to connect with her, he’d given it all up to be with his daughter. Despite the painful struggle of relying on her care, despite the awkward reunion and having to continually eat crow, he was grateful to be near his long-lost child again. It was a gift.

  Especially after the sins he’d committed. And the truths he had yet to tell her.

  TR hadn’t meant to cut Sara from his life. In fact, at the time, he didn’t believe that was what he was doing. But he’d been a restless father, and at thirty-nine years old his creative spirit had summoned, and so had the high-end art consigners with large checkbooks. Joanne was growing too clingy, sucking the wind from his sails. He’d thought if he could just go away for a short while to focus on his newly important career, things could be realigned.

  But he’d been weak. A charmed lifestyle had opened up for him, and he couldn’t deny its glittering invitation. TR had run willingly right into the center of the spotlight. As time marched on, he neglected to look back. And Sara, he sadly realized, had suffered deeply.

  Like a cruel twist of fate, here was Sara’s own husband slipping from her too. It was tragic, really. History was repeating itself without her consent. And did that little boy, Sam, feel now as his mother did then? That the men in their lives left them behind?

  It was difficult to swallow past the tightness in his throat. Deal with it, he told himself. You deserve to feel sick. Just think of how Sara must feel.

  But there was something else too. The nearer they got to the coast, the worse it became. Because as much as TR yearned for his oceanfront home, he had no intention of facing Marie’s wrath and the heavy disappointment of Bo. Things had ended on such a hurtful note: Marie intended to leave the relationship, claiming she was unhappy. Bo closing off, sadly embittered by one too many disagreements with TR over the past four years. The fire had been a mistake, a giant one. But TR didn’t like to admit his mistakes.

  Not yet anyway.

  He stole a glance at his unsuspecting daughter. Now was not the time.

  TR must have dozed off while deep in thought, because the next thing he knew, they’d arrived at the red-and-white-striped drop-off zone of the hospital.

  Right, my checkup. He grumbled at the thought of more doctors. Too many prying clinicians for his taste. He was beginning to feel like a specimen in a lab.

  “TR?” Sara said gently. His shoulders relaxed a little. He liked it when she softened.

  “Yes?”

  “Everything all right?”

  “Sure. Fine.” He traded a lie for the sake of peace.

  She nodded only once. Her features remained neutral. “Okay. Well, we’re here now. We made good time. I have some errands I need to run. I thought maybe you could do this appointment on your own?” She was asking permission, but TR knew she’d do what she wanted anyway.

  “Sure, fine. Whatever you want.” He readjusted himself and reached for the handle.

  “TR?” A note of concern could be heard over his clumsy exit.

  “Yes?”

  “I, um . . . Nothing.” She shook her head. A strand of strawberry hair fell from the loop of her hair band. Miniature lines around her eyes suddenly appeared more prominent than he remembered. Darkened half moons hung below them. She must not be sleeping.

  Whatever sentiment was about to cross her lips fell away. “Your appointment is on the second floor. There will be a check-in desk when you get there. I’ll be back in an hour. How about you find a seat in the lobby until I return?”

  “All right, then.” He signaled a goodbye and hobbled through the entrance. The car’s motor hummed and faded behind him.

  Once he was inside, a fluorescent corridor resembling a long tunnel stretched out before him. Why were the walls in these places always painted an unappealing shade of green? He’d never been a fan of hospitals, and look how many he’d visited lately. All the sights, sounds, and smells of it made him jumpy. It was the last place he’d wanted to be. But seeing as Sara dropped him with no other means of transportation, he currently had little choice in the matter.

  Scanning the area, he located color-coded signs for the various medical wings. It appeared he was standing in the yellow section of the building. His doctor worked in the blue section. He was on the entirely wrong end of the building.

  “Great,” he muttered. “Drop a guy off as far away from his destination as possible, why don’t you?”

  As he wound his way through the labyrinth in search of the correct elevators, fresh pain spiked, and perspiration clung to his brow. TR thought of Sara. Instead of being there to support his arm and guide him in the right direction, she’d left him to his own devices. On purpose.

  He dabbed at his hairline and trudged onward. A shaky hand reached over to slide along the wooden handrails that ran the length of the walls. With every new step, his legs took on the sensation of heavy ropes. Winded, he paused to catch his breath. He hoped he hadn’t much farther to go.

  A young woman ambled by. TR released his grip from the railing and nodded. No need to appear completely helpless. He wondered if he seemed this way to Sara. Probably not, considering she’d been encouraging him to do more for himself lately.

  A light flickered in his head.

  Of course, the evidence had been there all along. It was obvious. Why was he just putting it together? First, Sara had stopped changing the dressing on his injuries several days ago. She’d casually mentioned over extra refills of coffee that perhaps it was time TR attempted to do this for himself.

  You’re in much better shape than when I found you, she’d pointed out. The sudden suggestion had bewildered him. Was he?

  In addition to this, she’d started to leave out a depressing bag of cold bagels and a jar of peanut butter in place of the enjoyable hot breakfasts to which he’d grown accustomed. Feel free to help yourself was her flippant remark as she breezed in and out of the room. Looking back on it now, TR was pretty sure she’d put an emphasis on the words “help yourself.”

  At long last, he arrived at a bank of metal elevators. Taking a minute to quell his hacking, he punched the “Up” button and frowned. Several seconds went by without the glowing numbers ever changing floors.

  TR grunted.

  As he waited, a hunched-over woman in a ratty orange wheelchair appeared. Did she, too, have a daughter who’d ditched her in the parking lot with the car still running? The woman must have felt him staring, because she somberly acknowledged him over a pair of bottle-thick glasses. He opened his mouth to offer assistance, only to clam up when a harried gal rounded the corner and hung a paper pharmacy bag over the wheelchair handle.

  He glowered. Apparently, TR was the only one alone in this scenario.

  His index finger jammed the “Up” button as his thoughts went back to Sara. With rising panic, he understood that his daughter was preparing to kick him out.

  But this, TR thought, was a much more complicated proposition than Sara realized.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SARA

  She’d lingered out front until TR got himself through the hospital doors. The worrier in her wanted to jump out, to secure her father’s shaky arm in hers and guide him to safety. Instead, she’d forced herself to stay put. This was hard. It wasn’t in her nature to leave peo
ple in the lurch. Doing so supplied her with an acute sense of failure.

  But she’d needed to get out of there. For more reasons than one.

  Aside from encouraging TR to go it alone, Sara wanted a break. The drive over had been harrowing. She hadn’t expected that.

  TR had spent the better part seeking forgiveness; he’d even tried smoothing things out on behalf of Charlie. That was ironic. She assumed this was her father’s way of offering a mea culpa. And she supposed that she should be grateful he was acknowledging his mistakes, even in his bumbling way. How long had she ached for such an admission?

  But that wasn’t quite it.

  What TR didn’t know—and what she couldn’t bring herself to admit—was that Sara was afraid. She wasn’t merely afraid the men in her life were leaving. She’d weathered that storm before. She could probably do it again. The thing that terrified her most was that, as a result, she would turn into her mother.

  For Sara’s entire life she had never wanted to be Joanne. When TR vanished, her mother lost her identity. What took its place was a frightening range of bewilderment, confusion, and rage. A single event had disoriented Joanne forever. She’d placed so much emphasis on her partnership, her marriage to a larger-than-life personality, that when it dissolved, so did her sense of self.

  Sara swore she’d never let that happen to her, no matter the circumstance. Joanne had relied on men to make her whole. Never mind she had a young daughter to look after or the need to put food on the table. The sands of time stopped for Joanne when she ceased being someone’s wife. She’d given up on discovering her own aspirations, allowing whatever dreams she may have had to fall by the wayside. She’d transformed into a person Sara found difficult to respect, let alone love.

  But here Sara was anyway, despite everything she promised herself. At forty years old, she had a young child and a shaky marriage, and she had failed to follow through with her desire to someday become an artist. She wasn’t succeeding at anything. She was a wreck. Instead of staying home to look after Sam, she’d chosen to run. And just like Joanne, she was losing her marbles. The car had nearly gone off the road, for one thing. And her outburst with TR came from somewhere so deeply buried even she didn’t recognize it. What would come next? A complete emotional breakdown just like her mother?