Chapter 16 Clara
“T HIS IS REALLY, REALLY GOOD, Jack.”
He mutters a coy thank-you and continues to twirl spaghetti around his fork. I’ve always prided myself on being able to get conversation out of the shyest people. I don’t think Jack is shy, I think he’s just not used to having a conversation partner during dinner.
“Have you ever been to Italy?” I ask, ignoring the awkward gut feeling that’s telling me to stop embarrassing myself. “Wait, don’t answer that. I know you haven’t.”
“Good memory,” he says. “I’d like to go one day, maybe.”
“It’s beautiful and the food is amazing.
I like New York pizza, but Naples is another level.
” He nods politely, concentrating on his food.
He isn’t even being rude, but I feel like I’m dragging conversation out of him.
Sure, I could just shut up and eat, but who wants that.
“I think the Yankees are better than the Red Sox.”
There’s a harsh clang as his fork falls from his hand and hits his plate. Fiery lasers practically burst from his eyes as he looks at me in disgust. His jaw is so tight it might shatter. I can almost hear the words he’s biting back. I know they’re dancing on the tip of his tongue.
Truth is, the only Yankees game I’ve ever seen is the one Carrie goes to in Sex and the City . I don’t know anything about baseball, but I’ll become the team’s biggest supporter if it gets this out-of-practice man to make small talk with me.
Instead of releasing a barrage of statistics and abuse in my direction, he picks up his beer and takes a long drink. I watch his Adam’s apple bob. My fingers clench around my own cutlery in anticipation. I get nothing. I sigh loudly. “Really thought I was going to get you with that one.”
“I’ll get kicked off the emergency list if I curse at a guest.” Jack puts his beer back on its coaster. “I’m being boring, aren’t I?”
Yes. “No. It’s just going to be a really miserable time if we live in silence.”
“You were under the impression this was going to be enjoyable?” he asks playfully. “I’m kidding… And I’m sorry. I guess I’m out of practice. I’ve lived alone since I was eighteen and I can probably count the number of times someone’s been over for dinner on two hands.”
“You should host more often. You’re a really good cook,” I tell him honestly.
“What do you want to talk about, Clara?” He leans back in his chair and takes off his hat, smoothing down his hair before putting it back on again.
For possibly the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say next.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Silence. You’re telling me you don’t have a long list of questions in that head of yours? ”
The window creaks from the increasingly aggressive snowstorm outside. It only amplifies the fact that I’m not saying anything. “I’m overwhelmed by choice.” I chew on the inside of my cheek. Think about what I really want to know. “Isn’t eighteen a little young to live alone?”
He immediately looks like he regrets upgrading his grunt to real words. “Did you not move out for college?”
“Yeah, but that was college, it’s different. The freedom was only pretend.” I look around the living space again. “This is a real grown-up place. What made you rush to move out?”
I grab my near-empty glass and cradle it in between my hands. It’ll stop me from nervously tapping against the table.
“Living with my parents was frustrating. Well, living with my dad was frustrating is more accurate. I got tired of his constant overcommitting and underperforming. Tired of him bringing it home. We get along better when we’re not always around each other, so I moved out.”
“Do your parents live locally?”
He shakes his head. “They moved to Florida.”
It feels so strange to imagine them down there when Jack is so committed to this place. “Did you always want to take over the family business?”
“Well, my sister wasn’t going to do it.”
“Does your sister live in town?” I ask. “I don’t think I’ve met her yet.”
“Nope, Oklahoma. Moved to Boston because she hated living in such a small community and fell in love with a farmer in town for a friend’s wedding,” he says, scoffing.
“So you’re the last Kelly standing. Do you like your job?”
His eyebrow quirks. “I feel like I’m at a job interview.”
My cheeks flame. “Sorry, you’re just interesting. I like learning about you.”
“Yeah, I like my job.” I don’t ask anything else, letting the silence hang between us.
I think he realizes what I’m doing because he sighs in defeat.
“I’ve never considered what else I could do because I’ve been training for this my entire life.
I like being my own boss. I enjoy creating stuff, working with my hands.
It’s generally minimal drama… unless your designs get stolen. ”
We were doing so well. “At least you’re the second victim. I have to be stuck with the title of the first.”
I watch as the fun slowly drains from Jack’s face. Way to usher in the elephant, Clara. We haven’t talked about what he said, and the hint of regret in his eyes is enough to make me glad I brought it up. At the time it felt like a dagger, so if he feels uncomfortable, good.
“Clara,” he says slowly, my name rolling off his tongue like he’s said it a million times.
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in his hand. “What, Jack?”
“I’m sorry I upset you that night in the tavern.
I stand by what I said because you deserve better.
You deserve to be credited for your work.
Fuck the excuse that you were just a kid.
” He flattens his hands on the table, spreads his fingers wide, and takes a breath like he’s trying to regulate himself.
“But I shouldn’t have said it in front of people.
I shouldn’t have said it in a way that made you feel attacked.
I really am sorry. I didn’t do it to intentionally hurt you, I was angry for you. I’m sorry I was angry at you.”
Deep down, I never expected to hear an apology from Jack. He’s made it so clear that he only sees me as the corporate version of myself, and that corporate version is tied tightly to a company he hates. This feels like he’s finally beginning to see me for me, and an apology feels like a huge leap.
“You’re forgiven.” I finally put down my emotional support glass. Roll my shoulders back to ease the tension built up in them. “For now.”
“Appreciate it. Now I’d ask you about your job and family but I hope you can understand that I don’t really want to hear about the company.
” It’s the most tactful I’ve heard him be since I got here.
“And last time we talked about it, I upset you, so maybe let’s set a boundary so that doesn’t happen again. ”
I reach down and stroke Elf’s head. He’s been patiently waiting to see if I’ll drop anything on the floor since I sat down at the table.
“That’s okay, there isn’t much to say. My dad will probably hand everything over to my brother anyway and that’s far too depressing a thought to discuss over spaghetti. I prefer asking you questions.”
There’s a ghost of a smirk on his face. “Because I’m so good at answering them?”
“You are good when you try. What was Harry like? I walk past your store with his name on it every day to get coffee and I can’t help but wonder. In my head I imagine him looking like an older version of you.”
Jack digs in his sweatpants pocket and pulls out his cell phone.
He taps and swipes until he hands it over to me.
It’s a picture of a picture. Young Jack holding a saw proudly, over half his face covered by safety glasses.
Beside him a man who looks exactly like an older version of the man sitting in front of me, just like I suspected.
“He was a great man. Kind, patient, he’d do anything for anyone.
Nothing was too much hassle for him, he was always there when he promised he’d be.
Could fix anything you could imagine, no problem. It amazed me when I was a kid.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” I tell him, offering a soft smile.
“I wish. It was easy to him, as simple as breathing. Never let anything overwhelm him. But he died when I was thirteen. It was summer and Arthur’s air-conditioning unit was broken.
Granddad had a heart attack on the way back with the new part.
He was sick all summer, back and forth to the hospital.
He passed right before school started.” Almost twenty years later and it doesn’t look like it’s any easier for Jack to talk about. “I didn’t take it well.”
“My grandpa died when I was thirteen too. I’m sorry, Jack. Everyone who says time is a great healer is a big fat liar. It doesn’t get easier.”
“It doesn’t, you’re right. But I handle it much better than I did as a teenager.” Jack walks over to the refrigerator and picks up the water jug. He tops up our glasses and puts it on the table.
I take a sip. “I cut my hair into a pixie cut with kitchen scissors and got my nose pierced, what did you do?”
“Crashed my car into the gazebo,” he says flatly.
I nearly splash my water everywhere. “At thirteen ?”
“No, my anger just got worse over time. Acting out lasted years . I didn’t hit the gazebo on purpose though; I lost control on ice, it was my first winter with a driver’s license.
Nobody believed me when I said it was an accident.
Flo threatened to send me to military school if I didn’t get my shit together. ”
I shouldn’t laugh but I can hear it in my head. I shake the thought away and push off the smile threatening to happen. “Can someone who isn’t your parent or guardian send you to military school?”
Thankfully, Jack starts laughing. “I didn’t trust the military to say no to her. We made it safe and as not ugly as possible while the ground was frozen, then as soon as spring landed she had me repair all the damage I caused and put in a ramp for wheelchairs and strollers.”
“What an exciting spring break.”
“Seriously,” he says, chuckling. “Donald and Pastor Akinola helped me. They both had some experience renovating. The pastor from repairs he ended up doing himself because of limited church funds. Donald from soundproofing his house so the government can’t listen to him.”
I press my lips together, bouncing the question around in my head. “Your dad didn’t help you?”
“He said he would but he got sidetracked doing something for my sister. Flo tore him to shreds when she saw him the following Monday. After that she was my shadow. Couldn’t get away with anything no matter how hard I tried.
So I stopped trying. Spent more time in the workshop and less time hiding beloved Christmas treasures in the woods. Became a grown-up.”
“I feel like you missed a stage. No wild party-boy early-twenties Jack stories to tell?”
His teeth dig into his bottom lip, his head tilted to the side as he shrugs. “Nope. Fraser Falls isn’t a wild party-boy kinda place. And my parents decided to retire to Florida pretty suddenly so I didn’t have much time to try it out elsewhere. What about you? Any stories to tell?”
“ Tons. But none I’ll be sharing with you. I don’t want to ruin your perception of me by muddying the angelic impression I’ve already made.”
“Angelic,” he repeats like the word is in a language foreign to him. “Sure, Clara. That’s what I think you are.”
It takes us thirty minutes to load the dishwasher and clean up the dinner leftovers in the kitchen.
We’re slow and careful, dancing around each other in the small kitchen space.
I bump into him once. He brushes his arm against mine twice.
I wipe down the counters while he takes the trash out.
It’s worlds away from me collecting takeout from my front doorstep and battling to fit the excessive amount of packaging in my overcomplicated recycling system.
I’m putting the seasonings back in the cupboard when Jack returns, brushing snow off his shoulders. His hands are a deep red shade; he rubs them together as he nudges the door closed with his hip.
“Come here,” I say gently, holding my hands out to his. Surprisingly, he does. I take Jack’s cold hands between my warm ones. I quickly realize it’s doing basically nothing to help him, but he stands in front of me anyway, letting me try. “I should’ve put the oven mitts on you instead.”
His eyes travel across my face and down to our hands. “I prefer this.”
I clasp his hands, bringing them up to my neck slowly. I press them beneath my ears into my hairline. The contrast of his cold skin on my warm neck stings at first, sending a chill down my spine. I press my hands over his and watch as his eyes flicker down to my lips briefly.
I feel like we’re back in the woods, both not being the person to make the move, worried to rock the boat. “That helping?”
“Yeah.” His fingers flex against my neck so I lift my hands off. He removes his hands slowly, then pushes them into the pockets of his sweatpants. “It’s getting late. I think I’m going to head to bed. You can stay up and watch TV or whatever. I’ll show you where everything is.”
I nod and follow him, saying nothing. If I thought hugging was bad, Jack’s hands on my neck is much worse.