20. Clarence
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Clarence
The second Celeste’s mouth hits mine, the whole night falls apart.
I grab her shoulders and shove her back, but it doesn’t matter, because Charly’s already out of the car.
She’s standing on the other side of it with her keys in her hand, and the look on her face is one I’ve seen exactly once before.
The altar. The night her whole world came down in front of everyone. And I put it there again. I did that.
“Charly, wait. This isn’t what it looks like.”
“I know.” Her voice comes out too high, shaking, like she’s barely holding it together. “I know it isn’t. I just have to go. They called me in, there’s a thing at the hospital, I have to go.”
“Your phone didn’t even ring.”
“I have to go.” She won’t look at me. She’s looking at the ground, at her car, anywhere but me or the woman standing on my steps. “Just, you two catch up. It’s fine. It’s all fine.”
She’s not fine. Her hand is shaking around the keys and her chin’s doing the thing it does right before she cries, and I know her too well now to miss it. That’s what kills me. I come around the car.
“Don’t. Please don’t get in the car like this.” I reach for her and she steps back fast, out of reach. “Give me five minutes and if you still want to go after that, I’ll drive you myself.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” The laugh she tries for doesn’t come out as one. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter. Kiss whoever you want. This whole thing was just for show, remember? We’re not actually together. None of it was ever real.”
That one hits hard, because she doesn’t believe it, I can hear that she doesn’t, and she’s saying it anyway to put a wall between us.
“Please. That’s not true and you know it.
” It comes out of me before I can stop it, all of it, everything I’ve been holding down for weeks.
“It’s real. It’s been real this whole time.
We’ve both just been too scared and too caught up in everything to say it out loud.
But I’m saying it now. It’s real for me, Charly.
And I know it’s real for you too. Don’t get in that car. Please. Just talk to me.”
“No, you know what? It’s fine. It’s great, actually.
” She’s got the car door half open between us now, and her voice has gone light, which is so much worse than yelling.
“Your ex flew back from Paris to win you back. That’s so romantic, really.
You two have a lot of catching up to do, so don’t let me get in the way.
” A little laugh. “I’ll just be the girl who was dumb enough to think a fake engagement meant something. Silly me.”
“Charly, don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t turn me into him. I’m not Adam. I would never do that to you.”
“I know you’re not. You’re a good guy, Clarence.
You really are.” She pulls in a breath and puts on a smile that doesn’t get anywhere near her eyes, the one she probably uses on families right before she gives them the bad news.
“And honestly? I’m fine. This is fine. It was a fun couple of weeks, the plan worked, your ex is back, so it all kind of sorts itself out, doesn’t it?
No harm done. I’m a big girl. I’ll see you around. ”
It’s the fake smile that kills me.
Because I know what she actually sounds like now, and that’s not it. She’s not fine. She’s coming apart and painting over it, and that’s so much worse than if she’d just screamed at me.
So I step back. I let my hand drop.
Because I love her, and because every calm little word out of her mouth is another door easing shut in my face, and I have no idea how to stop it.
She’s in the car and gone before I can get another word out. Taillights swinging through the gate, into the dark, gone.
And I’m just standing there. In the exact spot where, an hour ago, I was happier than I’ve ever been in my life.
One hour. That’s all it took.
An hour ago she had her face buried in my neck and I was telling her I was crazy about her and meaning every word of it. Now she’s driving off sure I’m just another man who was going to let her down, the exact thing she swore off for good.
Everything I set up tonight, the gallery, the lights, the whole careful way I was going to show her who I actually am. Gone. Blown apart by one person who couldn’t be bothered to pick up a phone before she turned up and lit a match to all of it.
Then I turn around.
Celeste is still standing on the steps, watching the gate where Charly’s car just was, and when she turns back to me she actually smiles.
“Wow. She seems a little intense.”
“What are you even doing here?” It comes out low and mean, a voice I barely recognize as mine. “What was that? You don’t get to just show up at my house and kiss me like the last year didn’t happen. You left, Celeste. You walked out on me. Remember that part?”
“And I came back.” She says it like it explains anything, and she steps down toward me, closing the space I keep trying to put between us.
“Oh, baby. I know. I’m sorry, okay? But you know me.
You know how I get. I needed to go, I needed Paris, I had to figure out who I was.
And the whole time I was over there, all I could think about was you.
So I packed up and got on a plane and came home to surprise you.
” Her voice drops into that soft, sweet thing that always used to work on me.
“Aren’t you even a little happy to see me? ”
“Happy?” The word comes out like a laugh that isn’t one. “We didn’t talk for a year, Celeste. No calls. No texts. Nothing. You moved across the world and just went silent on me, and now you’re standing on my steps acting hurt that I’m not jumping for joy?”
“It wasn’t a whole year of nothing.”
“It was for me.” I drag a hand down my face.
“You broke my heart, Celeste. You actually broke it. And I went around telling everyone it was mutual, telling everyone I was fine, because that was easier than admitting you left and didn’t look back once.
And then some friend who was out there sees you and tells me you weren’t exactly on your own in Paris.
All those other guys. We were still calling each other, still saying we’d figure it out someday, and the whole time you were with other people. ”
“Who told you that?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.” Her jaw goes tight for just a second, the first honest thing I’ve seen from her all night. “People talk, Clarence. Half of what they told you isn’t even true.”
“Half of it being true is more than enough.”
She looks down for a second, but only a second. When she looks back up the sweet thing is right back in place.
“That was a different me,” she says. “I was lost. I was scared of how much I felt for you, so I ran, and I did dumb things, and I’m not proud of any of it.
” She softens her voice, the way she always does when she wants something.
“But I’m not her anymore, Clarence. I grew up over there.
I changed. I finally figured out what actually matters to me. And it’s you. It’s always been you.”
She takes the last step down so she’s right in front of me. Close. Close enough that I get a lungful of the perfume she’s worn the whole time I’ve known her.
“So are you going to invite me in or not?” Her hand starts creeping up my chest. “Come on. Let me show you. I still know how to change your mind.”
She goes up on her toes and tilts her face up to mine, and it makes me sick, because I’ve seen this exact thing a hundred times before.
It’s the move. The one that always worked on me.
And she’s pulling it right now like nothing’s changed, like there isn’t a woman crying in a car somewhere because of this.
I grab her wrist before she can get to my mouth and I push her back. Not gently, either. I’m past that.
“Stop it, Celeste. Don’t.”
She blinks, actually thrown, like me not folding is the one thing she didn’t plan for.
“Clarence, I’m just trying to talk to you.”
“No. You’re doing the thing you always do, and it’s not going to work.
Not this time.” My heart’s pounding but my voice comes out flat and even, and for the first time in my life I look at her and there’s nothing left in me but how badly I want her gone.
“Get off my property before I call the police.”
She opens her mouth and I don’t let her.
“We’re done, Celeste. We’ve been done a year. You just never bothered to ask. So go.”
For a second she doesn’t move. The pretty face cracks and what’s under it goes cold and flat and a little bit ugly, and then it smooths right back over, which is somehow worse.
“You’re really doing this.” She tilts her head, looking me over slow.
“For her. The nurse.” A slow smile. “You know what’s funny?
You think you saved her. You really do. Walking around in that big clean house playing the good brother.
” She pulls her coat around herself, taking her time.
“It won’t even matter what she knows. By the time I’m done, she’s not the one you’ll have to convince.
It’s everyone who ever wrote you a check. ”
The cold goes straight down my spine.
“Don’t,” I say. Quiet. “Whatever you think you’ve got on me. You go near any of it, near her, near the foundation, and I will end you.”
“I’m not going near anything. That’s the whole point.” She steps back toward the gate, easy, like she’s already won. “I don’t have to do a thing but talk to the right people. It takes care of itself.” She looks back at me. “You should’ve just let me in, baby. Would’ve been easier on everybody.”
“Get out.”
“You’re going to wish you had.” She says it soft, almost kind, and that’s what gets under my skin. “Both of you.”
Then she’s walking, slow, taking her time so I have to watch her do it, down the drive and out the gate and into a car I never even noticed parked on the street. I stand there until her taillights are gone and it’s quiet again.
***
The quiet is the worst part.