Nope. Not this Clara. New, time-traveled Clara had boundaries. And, even better, she had a real, live friend doing awesome and amazing things that she wanted to celebrate! So, no dear readers, Clara did not click onto Alek’s Facebook page. She neither fixated nor pined nor lost herself in a Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers dance montage in which she wore a dress made entirely of Ostrich feathers.
Instead, after accepting Alek’s friend request, she clicked onto her friend Cat’s Facebook page. There she checked out photos of the new boutique and wrote encouraging and enthusiastic comments as the newest member of Cat’s Candy’s fanclub.
But the real reason that Clara had a twinkle in her eye that Monday morning as she pranced down the corridor was what she was about to do. The light at the end of the tunnel. She passed right by her cube in favor of Marjorie’s office.
Marjorie sat behind her desk, hair drooping already at 8:15 in the morning.
“Clara,” she bleated in greeting.
“Good morning.” Clara didn’t bother sitting down in the empty chair. Alive with energy, she preferred standing to deliver her news. “I quit.”
“Excuse me?” Not annoyed, just confused perhaps because she had yet to ingest enough caffeine, Marjorie looked up at her.
“I’m giving two weeks’ notice.” Clara laughed at the sheer, delicious thrill she felt tingling down her spine at the words. “I doubt it’ll take that long to hand over my work. I know Julie on program staff has been wanting to come over to compliance. We could pull her in this morning, see if she’s up for making the transfer and start that paperwork.”
“You’re quitting?” Marjorie finally began processing the information.
“Yup, I’m out of here. I don’t want to leave you hanging, so I’ll do everything I can to transition—”
“That’s wonderful!” The brightest smile Clara had ever seen grace Marjorie’s features lit up the room. “I’m so thrilled!”
“What?” Now it was Clara’s turn to feel befuddled.
“I dream of the day I can say ‘I quit!’ I’m counting the days to my retirement.” Marjorie gestured to a small sticky note affixed to the bottom of her computer monitor. 432, written in thick black sharpie ink.
“Oh! So that’s—”
“Work days, not counting vacation, sick and holiday, until I turn 55, take early retirement and move to Sedona!”
“In Arizona?” Clara remembered a friend of a former roommate had moved there to advance her studies in the Reiki energy healing practice. Apparently Sedona was home to several energy vortexes that generated positive flow. Or so she’d been told.
A coffee and a muffin in a neighborhood shop later and Clara had heard all about it. The condo Margorie was looking to buy, the health benefits of the dry, hot desert climate, and the time she could devote to her beadwork. Clara’s innocent question, ‘What’s beadwork?, alone, had prompted a 25 minute explanation of both the history and current, cutting-edge trajectories of beadwork. Apparently, lackluster Marjorie did have passion. All Clara could say was that Sedona, Arizona had better prepare itself to get beaded-up.
Clara left early that afternoon, laughing over how easily it had gone. And how funny it was that they’d spent the whole time talking about what Marjorie would do when she could finally quit, instead of what Clara would start doing Monday morning two weeks from then. Honestly, she didn’t know the answer to that question. All she knew was she couldn’t do CAHWCFC anymore, which seemed like as good a starting place as any.
She figured she’d start where she’d begun originally—with that fundamental desire to help kids. Back in college, that concept had seemed simple with rather infinite possibilities. Maybe she could start her job search by researching other organizations? Maybe she could try to learn from some people doing interesting things in the field, even see if she could take a few out for coffee and learn about what they did, how they got there? She figured it was worth a try. It might actually be fun.
She had some money, not a lot but enough for a couple months. That was the up side of becoming a depressive recluse who dressed in a limited and rotating wardrobe from Walmart; she’d actually saved a bit. So now she had the gift of time.
Stepping off the BART train, Clara felt the thrill of the open question ‘what’s next?’ As nervous as it made her, she also felt excited to walk into that uncertainty. She’d definitely spent enough time fixated on one, certain solution to everything. If Brad wasn’t the answer to life’s questions, well, maybe she had to jump in with both feet, muck around and figure it out herself.
That night, tucked comfy on her couch, Jedi the cat glaring angrily at her from the hardwood floor, Clara made some notes. A foundation in San Francisco paired foster kids in middle school with college mentors. A Silicon Valley tech company had started a summer program for high school kids in poverty, giving them the chance to create, launch and market an idea in a real product development cycle. A whole bunch of places provided scholarships, opening up possibilities and opportunities. So much to start exploring.
Now, near midnight, she yawned, stretched, and decided on a little Facebook. Yes, she did click over to Brad but just to check and make sure he’d made it back to reality unscathed. There he stood, handsome in a tux, athletic on a ski slope, and in love with his wife as they headed out on the town. With a sign of relief, Clara smiled, wished them the best of luck, and clicked back to her home page.
Where a window popped up. A new message. From Aleksander Novak.
Clara’s heart skipped a beat.
“How are you?” Alek asked. Innocuous. No big deal. Clara took a deep breath and racked her brain for a normal response. Something that didn’t say “Remember when we were standing at that lake and were about to kiss?” It felt like it had just happened to her; to him, ten years had passed. Who knew if he even remembered it any more?
“I’m great! How are you?” she wrote back, cool as a cucumber.
“Doing well. Are you in the Bay Area?”
Clara wondered for a minute if he remembered she was from the Bay Area, maybe remembered all of their conversations as clearly as she did. But then she realized her Facebook profile listed San Francisco as her hometown. Thank goodness she’d removed a whole bunch else from the site, namely photos of Jedi the cat, of her wearing her cat on her head, and status updates from playing hours and hours of Zynga games.
“I’m living in Rockridge,” she replied.
“I’m in Berkeley.”
“I saw that article on you. Congrats!”
“I don’t know how they talked me into wearing a lab coat in that cover photo.”
Clara laughed. She couldn’t help tease him a little bit.
“You’re a rock star for solar energy.”
“Ha ha.”
“It’s good to hear from you,” she wrote.
“Same here.”
That was it. Short and sweet. So sweet.
Heart still beating, Clara let herself go onto his page. It wasn’t stalking if you’d actually just messaged with the person, right?
There it was. A photo, front and center, of him with a gorgeous young woman. With long, flowing, glossy raven hair and full, lush lips, she wore a strapless red dress. They stood close, his arm around her back, both of hers wrapped full around him.
Tatanya Evans. Her name appeared in blue underneath the photo, almost begging Clara to click through and look at more evidence of her gorgeousness. But, no. Restraint, Clara reminded herself of her new middle name.
Interesting, though, that Tatanya and Alek didn’t share the same last name. It could mean that they weren’t married. It could also mean that they were married and she simply didn’t take his name. Squinting her eyes, Clara leaned in for a better look. Were either of them wearing a wedding ring?
With a loud snap, she smacked that laptop closed. Stop. The. Madness. She put the computer down and headed straight into the bathroom where she began vigorously applying a cleansing apricot facial scrub. She didn’t do
that any more. She didn’t stalk people via Facebook. The new Clara lived and let live.
Good for Alek, she made herself decide as she washed off her face. Standing arm in arm, Alek and that gorgeous young thing radiated love and happiness. And why not? He’d had it rough as a kid, worked hard all his life. Now he got to enjoy the benefits. Good. For. Him.
With great determination and fortitude, she tucked herself into bed. And after much tossing and turning and deliberate not thinking of Alek which led to some thinking of Alek which prompted forcible replacement of thoughts like sheep for counting and limitless ocean tides sweeping along the shore, she finally fell asleep.
During the next two weeks while she was technically finishing up work at CAHWCFC, Clara really devoted her time to reanimating her life. She hit the trails for some increasingly longer runs. She went out dancing with Cat and some friends of hers. And she began her campaign of wining and dining any interesting person in her field who’d give her the time of day.
She also finally bought Jedi a fluffy cat bed. At first, he avoided it as if insulted. Slowly, though, he seemed to be adjusting to the comfort, all the while warning Clara with his glare, “Don’t get any ideas. We’re still not friends.”
And, yes, she did a bit more messaging on Facebook.
It happened about a week and a half after the first time. The best part was that she hadn’t been looking for, waiting for, hoping for it. OK, well, hoping for it she admitted. But not in the glued-to-the-screen eating pints of ice cream and wearing a cat turban kind-of a way.
The second message happened when she was on Facebook getting back in touch with, of all people, Jessica. Once it had occurred to her to search for Jessica Safford in Ithaca, Clara didn’t know why she hadn’t done it sooner. There she was, still in Ithaca, studying environmental science at a local community college. She’d friended her and the two of them messaged a bit. Jessica had a boyfriend and was working part time at the park!
And then, the window popped up.
“Hi” A message from Aleksander Novak.
“Hi” Clara wrote back.
“What are you up to?”
Was it too weird that she had just been messaging Jessica from Ithaca? Like her life hadn’t moved on at all? Maybe dwelling too much in the past? She decided to opt for the more normal and also true:
“Just back from a run.”
“Been out on a trail lately?” he asked. Could he possibly remember that conversation they’d had about trail running 10 years ago? Surely not. It was just the type of question you might ask anyone in the trail-happy Bay Area.
“Out on one today. And my dad and I did a great hike in Tilden Park a couple days ago.” She pressed send, then cringed. How dorky, out with her dad. Then again, that’s who she was. She straightened her shoulders and lifted herself up.
“I love Tilden.” He didn’t sound put off.
“Me too.” Clara could remember his face as he talked about trail running in Ithaca, how he’d suddenly looked happy and almost easygoing. Almost. He always had that intensity in his eyes. She put her hand on her stomach and could nearly feel the butterflies.
This was so silly. He’d probably last hung out in Tilden Park with his hot girlfriend. The day she’d gone hiking with her dad in his walking trousers and outback hat, Alek had probably spent the day with his wife and kids. Clara had deliberately NOT rifled through his photos, so for all she knew he had albums filled with pics of little ones.
“I’m flying to London tomorrow,” he wrote.
They had so much in common. Clara gave her thumbnail a good bite. She didn’t write back, “Really? I’m soon-to-be jobless and slowly rebuilding my life after a couple years of crippling depression.” She kept that thought to herself. Instead, she opted for:
“Wow, fun.”
“Conference. Meetings. Networking. Another conference. Berlin and Prague, too. 3 week trip.”
“Going to see some family in Prague?” she asked.
“Hope to.”
“Enjoy.”
“Thanks.”
Clara stood up and got herself a glass of water, cursing her hand for shaking. He’d mentioned he was going out of town. But he didn’t say anything about getting together when he got back. The school year must be over at UC Berkeley. Did he do much teaching? Mostly research?
She took a sip of water. She needed to calm down. So they’d sent each other a few messages; what was the big deal? The exchange couldn’t have been more casual. Present-day Alek was a highly-networked, successful scientist/entrepreneur. He probably had 19 simultaneous conversations going on at any given moment through a variety of mediums, closing deals, mentoring students, making discoveries, advancing his career. She was merely another Cornell alum; texting with Clara probably held as much significance for him as swapping business cards at a conference. So what that Clara felt like George Clooney had just asked her to prom. George Clooney had not actually asked her to prom, nor was he bloody likely to, and a healthy, balanced young professional such as herself clearly saw the distinction. At least that’s what she told herself as she firmly grasped onto the horns and rode into her non-fantasy but increasingly nice real life.
The week Clara finally Got Out of Jail Free, the doors of CAHWCFC at long last happily closed behind her, she visited her sister Shelly. That made the third visit in two weeks. She believed it set a new record.
The barbeque her sister had hosted last weekend had gone great. Clara had brought ice, popsicles, beers and several other last-minute items. And she’d actually enjoyed herself. Her 14-month-old niece, Emma, thought a kiddie pool with 10 inches of water was just about the most awesome thing in the world. Until Clara turned the sprinkler on in the side yard. Then Emma and her little friends had really lost their minds. Clara had a ball holding hands and laughing and jumping and squealing along with them. Kids really knew how to have fun.
But that Tuesday, the first in June, her sister opened the door looking, well, like Clara had about a month ago. Her unwashed hair up in a scrunchie, she wore a stained sweatshirt three sizes too big.
This was Shelly, who never had a hair out of place. Growing up, while Clara had focused on sports and grades and essentially building her resume for the Ivy League, her sister had focused on hair, makeup, dating and socializing. She’d gotten pretty good at it.
“Um, how are you today?” Clara stepped tentatively into her sister’s house, which clearly hadn’t been cleaned much since the party. She believed she even saw the edge of a paper plate up on the fireplace.
In response, Shelly burst into tears. Emma, in front of the TV glued to a Dora the Explorer episode, took no notice.
“Are you OK? Why don’t you sit down?” Clara led her distraught sister over to the kitchen table. “What’s happened?”
Shelly let out a long groan. “I’m pregnant! Again!”
Clara brightened considerably, picturing another bright and bubbly niece on the way. “Congratulations!”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Her sister started sobbing again, burying her face in her hands. “Emma’s 14 months old. I just stopped nursing! How did this even happen?”
“You don’t want the baby?”
“Of course I want the baby.” Sloppy with snot and tears, Shelly grabbed a tissue, then let out a wail. “But I’m so fat!”
“Oh, Shelly.” Clara put a hand out over her sister’s, relieved once again. This conversation she knew how to handle. “You’re not fat.”
“I’m a house! Look at me!” Shelly gestured to her sweats. Of course, a mere week ago she’d presided over the party at her house looking fantastic in a black and white maxi dress and heels. But Clara let her sister get it all out. “I’m a whale! And I’m soooo tired.”
Shelly’s head flopped onto her hands on the table.
“Why don’t you go take a nap?”
“Easy for you to say! You don’t have a baby to look after. And a baby inside of you!”
“Shelly, I’m here to look
after Emma.” Clara stroked her sister’s hair back from her face, trying not to smile. She’d always secretly admired her sister’s lack of restraint when it came to emotions. While Clara bottled it all up inside, Shelly let it loose like champagne freed of its cork. “Why don’t you go lie down. I’ll give Emma lunch and tidy things up.”
“You don’t even want to be here!” Shelly wailed. “You’re just here because you pity me!” She gave her nose a great big honk.
“I don’t pity you. In fact, I’ve been green with envy over how great your life has turned out.”
Shelly looked up, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not proud about it, but I’ve been jealous,” Clara admitted.
“Jealous?”
Clara nodded.
“Of me?”
Clara nodded again. The confession seemed hard for her sister to process.
Shelly huffed and puffed her way up from the table. “What’s made you so jealous? Is it my certificate from beauty school? The fact that I’ve never left the town where I grew up? Or the extra fifty pounds I’m never going to lose now that I’m pregnant again!”
Hoo boy. Clara stood as well, she hoped in an expression of solidarity. “You look wonderful, Shelly.”
“It’s not fair! You got Mom’s boobs and Dad’s long legs. But I got Dad’s chest and Mom’s thighs!”
Clara didn’t know what else to do, so she went in for a hug. Shelly flung her arms around her, sobbing.
“You need to nap, honey,” Clara said again.
Shelly nodded, snuffling into Clara’s shoulder. “I need to nap,” she agreed.
“Come on.” Clara led her gently to her bedroom. “Let’s tuck you in.”
Facebook Jeanie Page 23