Chapter 23 #3
But they aren’t Jackie.
As the night goes on, Claire’s thoughts drift to Jackie so often that it feels like she’s in the room.
She sees women with dark hair or olive skin, and her throat tightens.
She sees women coupled up on the dance floor or kissing at the edges of the room, and wonders what it would be like to be here with Jackie on her arm.
Dancing. Drinking. Laughing together, like they used to.
All at once, the force of missing Jackie hits her square in the chest.
Jackie introduced her to this world, put her in clothes that felt right, awakened something in her that she can’t turn her back on, and now they haven’t even spoken in months.
What is Jackie doing right now? Is she still drinking herself into a stupor?
Or is she moving on? Has she found someone else to occupy her, like Susan Wilson?
Does she still have Claire’s painting hung in her office?
Suddenly, as Claire’s thoughts take a turn for the morose, the music stops. A red light above the bar starts to flash, and the energy in the room shifts.
“Shit,” Theo hisses. He grabs Claire’s arm tightly, pushing her in front of him towards the back of the bar.
“What?” Claire says, stumbling a little when he pushes her harder. Her drink slips from her fingers, spilling all over the sticky floor. “What’s going on?”
“Cops,” Theo says tersely. “We have to go. Now.” The crowd has started to push and shove; the bartender is forcing her way to the front of the crowd, towards the police that Claire can now see are spilling through the door. The lights keep flashing.
“Why are the police here?”
Theo doesn’t answer. He’s got a fist bunched in the back of her shirt, pushing her forward, but she digs her heels in.
The police have pushed their way into the club now.
The officers at the front are grabbing patrons left and right, pulling handcuffs from their belts and patting people down.
The performers on the stage, dressed mostly in skirts or dresses, are being yanked down to the floor.
The bartender is arguing with the police at the door, blocking their way into the club.
Near the bar, Theo’s friend LeAnn pushes at an officer’s shoulder while he pats down someone that looks a lot like Theo did on Halloween.
The officer shouts to a colleague, and quickly LeAnn is pushed face-first against the wall with her arms twisted behind her back.
Her face bunches up in pain. When she turns it away from Claire, her dark hair and stature bring someone else to mind.
Claire sees not LeAnn, but Jackie. Jackie with a black eye, a busted lip, and a maddeningly persistent refusal to explain how she was beaten up.
Even Claire is surprised at her own strength when she tears away from Theo, making a furious beeline in the opposite direction.
All the rage and helplessness she felt that day seeing Jackie beaten up is propelling her forward at full speed until she barrels into the police officer shoulder-first, sending him flying over a barstool and into a group of three other cops who are struggling to cuff the bartender. They scatter like bowling pins.
The hit reverberates painfully up her shoulder, but it comes with a rush of adrenaline.
It doesn’t make up for not being there to protect Jackie, but it feels good.
It feels right to help LeAnn. She’s never thought to do anything to a police officer besides thank them, but right now she feels like she could take on every cop in the place.
LeAnn turns around, flexing her shoulders back into their right place, and when she sees Claire she breaks into a grin.
“Look at you. My hero!” LeAnn grabs Claire’s face, planting a firm kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, sweets. Let’s get outta here.”
Theo appears at Claire’s elbow. He’s more insistent now, and LeAnn follows them towards the back of the bar. There’s a door near the bathrooms that looks like a supply closet, but Theo rips it open to reveal a large storage room.
Claire spills into it with LeAnn on her tail. All around them are crates of alcohol and boxes of tiny straws, and there’s another door nearby that looks to lead to the back alley outside, but there’s a big padlock on it.
“Why are the police here?” Claire says again. Her heart is pounding—she can hear shouting from behind the closed door.
Theo doesn’t answer. He looks to be searching for something, peering into crates and moving things around.
LeAnn plants her back against the door. “Hey, help me hold this closed?”
Claire anchors her shoulder against the wood. Something slams into it on the other side, but the handle doesn’t turn. “Theo? Shouldn’t we –”
“Shut up for a second,” Theo says. He doesn’t sound angry, though—he sounds scared, for the first time since Claire has known him.
Finally he reaches into a crate of tequila bottles, his hand rattling around while the noise behind the door gets louder, until he pulls out a tiny key.
In a practiced flash he unlocks the padlock, and pulls Claire and LeAnn through the open door.
Immediately he’s off down the alley at a sprint, and Claire tries to match his pace in her too-big shoes.
She can see red and blue flashing lights at the opposite end of the alley, behind them.
A man’s voice shouts, but Theo grabs her elbow and pulls her hard to the left as soon as they reach the street.
Claire bowls someone over, scraping her hands against the sidewalk, but LeAnn grabs her arm and pulls her to her feet again to keep running.
“How did you know where that key was?” Claire pants, once they’ve weaved a few streets over.
Theo slows his pace down to a jog. The back of his shirt is stained with sweat, despite the cool night air. “I used to hook up with one of the bouncers.”
“Why were the police there?”
“They raid the gay bars. Usually it’s not until the end of the month, when they come to collect their money,” Theo says darkly. “I thought we’d be safe tonight.”
“Their money?” Claire says. Theo is still jogging, and Claire finally slows to rip the loose shoes off her feet—hopefully the double socks will keep her soles relatively safe. “Shouldn’t we have stayed to help your other friends?”
“Normally I would. But I doubt you want to spend your first night of freedom in lockup,” Theo says. Once it’s clear that they aren’t being followed, he slows to a quick walk with Claire hopping to keep up.
“None of them are in drag tonight,” LeAnn says, her heels clicking frantically to keep up with the pace. “If they get caught up, they’ll be out by morning.”
Claire stumbles, one shoe on and the other off. She knows, of course, that homosexuality is a legal grey area. But she’s never seen so many people being so open about it and consequently punished. “Drag?”
“They arrest anyone wearing the wrong clothing. The queens and the butches, usually,” LeAnn says.
Butches. The word is just as foreign as drag, but it settles somewhere in Claire that doesn’t feel unnatural. For now, she tucks it away.
The trolley ride home is less comfortable than the one they took to the bar. LeAnn leaves them after a few stops, headed back to her own place, but she gives Claire a grateful squeeze before she hops off the car.
Once they’re safely inside Theo’s apartment, sweaty and sore, Theo pulls out a chair for her at his tiny kitchen table. While she sits down, he opens a cupboard and produces a bottle of vodka.
“This is part of it,” Theo says heavily. “I didn’t mean for you to see it this early, but this isn’t an easy life, hon. We’re all deviants. You have to decide if being yourself is worth it.”
Deviants. Claire frowns, toying with the necklace Theo gave her. It’s a long string of wooden beads, with a large amber pendant. “Have you ever been arrested?”
Theo pours two shots, pushing one towards Claire. “Our existence is a crime. They’ve got nicknames for me at the station.”
She can’t stomach the idea of more alcohol right now, so she pushes the shot back at Theo. “Has Jackie?”
Theo takes his shot, and then Claire’s. He makes a face, and coughs. “Yes.”
“What for?”
“Being at a gay bar during a raid. Homosexual conduct. Once for assaulting an officer who was trying to arrest me for wearing a skirt.”
“Is this why Jackie pushed me away?” Claire says. “She was trying to protect me from this?”
Theo sets his elbows on the table, leaning forward to massage his temples. His eyes are squeezed shut. “That’s part of it.”
The frank answer is a little surprising. Claire glares at him, poking his shoulder. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me that? Why wouldn’t she? That changes everything.”
“It’s her business.”
“But—”
Theo raises his head. He looks Claire in the eye, and he claps his hands together loudly. “Okay. I’m going to say this once, and whatever you do with it is up to you. Agreed?”
Claire frowns. “Alright.”
“And you never tell Jackie that I told you this. Agreed?”
“Yes, fine,” Claire says impatiently.
Theo takes a breath. He rolls his neck and pours himself another shot.
“Jackie never quite forgave herself for all the sneaking around and lying she had to do with Val, and now she’s convinced that she corrupted you,” Theo says.
“That if she hadn’t influenced you, you’d have kept on in your happy little suburban bubble, and now she’s coaxed something out that will make your life harder. She feels guilty.”
“But I wasn’t happy,” Claire says.
Theo takes the shot. He doesn’t wince this time. “Most women aren’t happy. They just don’t have the gall to do anything about it. Valerie isn’t happy with her husband, either, but she chose him in the end. Jacks can’t imagine anyone choosing her, so she leaves first, and she stays away.”
Jackie doesn’t expect to be chosen. Claire’s first instinct is indignation—that Jackie didn’t even give her the chance to make that choice, and instead chose to hurt them both. But it makes a certain kind of sense. It took Claire time to come around to how she feels, and identify that she’s—
Claire almost laughs. Isn’t she proving Jackie’s point, by not even being able to comfortably think the word? And Claire knows that she’s not going back to Pete, but Jackie doesn’t.
Actually, Jackie might not even know she’s left in the first place. Would there be any indication from the outside? They already weren’t speaking, so how would Jackie know that Claire isn’t just spending more time indoors?
“Do you think she still wants me to choose her?” Claire says.
Theo stands up. He digs through a box near the couch, pulling out a few blankets. “Sorry, that’s the end of Theo’s Sharing Circle. It’s time for me to clock out.”
“Come on, Theo,” Claire says. She catches a blanket when Theo tosses it at her. “Help me.”
“I’ve already told you far more than Jacks would be comfortable with,” Theo says. He throws a pillow onto the couch, flicking off the overhead light. “Go to sleep, Claire.”
Claire tries to do as he says. She tosses and turns for hours.
She thinks of her mother, wishing Claire had chosen an easier path.
She thinks of what her life was just a few weeks ago.
Maybe that life should have been easy, but it wasn’t.
This, even with the danger and the fear, is still easier.
There’s a joy here like she’s never known before.
Sleep comes eventually, but not for long.
Claire’s early schedule is still engrained in her, and she’s up by seven thirty while Theo still snores.
While he sleeps, she tidies his kitchen and does the dishes.
She gives the place a dusting. She wanders to the windowsill, where several framed photos sit—two of them feature Jackie.
By ten o’clock Theo is still asleep, and Claire’s wandering leads her to his telephone. Her fingers punch seven familiar numbers on their own.
“Hello,” Jackie says, after six rings. She sounds tired, and not just because it’s early. It’s a haggard kind of tired. Even so, just hearing her voice is almost enough to bring tears to Claire’s eyes.
Silence crackles over the line. Claire knows she needs to say something, anything at all, but nothing is coming. What could she possibly say? What words are enough to sum up the last few months of her life?
“Hello?” Jackie says again, with a hint of impatience.
Claire can feel the threat of her hanging up the phone, and finally a single word crosses her lips. “Hello,” Claire murmurs.
Claire strains to hear anything besides Jackie’s sharp inhale. The phone line buzzes over the frantic beating of Claire’s heart.
“Claire?” Jackie says softly.
Claire nods, before realizing that Jackie can’t see her. She’s gripping the phone receiver so hard that her hand shakes. “It’s me.”
Jackie is breathing heavily. Claire is on the edge of a knife, and she blurts out the first thing that crosses her mind.
“I miss you,” Claire says.
“Claire…” Jackie says. It’s muffled, for some reason. Like she has her face in her hand.
“I have so much to tell you,” Claire says. “Can we talk? Please?”
“Fuck. Don’t do this to me,” Jackie whispers. “This is hard enough already.”
The sound of it snaps Claire’s heart in two. “Please just let me talk,” Claire says. She feels frantic, suddenly. Her voice cracks. “I think I know why you pushed me away. And it’s okay, I—I left—”But the line has already gone dead.
She’s not sure how to get Jackie to hear her out, if not over the phone. Would a letter work, or would Jackie just leave it unopened? Should she march to Jackie’s door, and risk being caught by Pete or Martha and forced to come back to Acacia Circle before she has her separation paperwork in order?
She calls Jackie once more, but it goes straight to her answering machine.