28. Clara
Chapter twenty-eight
Clara
I close the door and lean against it, chest heaving. I’m unsure if hurt or anger is the source of my tears. Probably both. But am I angry at Clark, or myself?
Probably both.
I send a text to check in with Syd as I run bath water with an extra-large pour of pumpkin spice bubble bath. She quickly responds.
SYD
Junior is fine, thank God. He asked the doctor random questions the whole time they were stitching up his forehead. Ten stitches take long enough to find out a doctor’s favorite dinosaur, cartoon, song, Bluey episode, color, food, and motor vehicle, as it turns out.
ME
Oh my gosh, that is the most hilariously adorable thing I’ve ever heard!
SYD
Yep. Doctor said he’d never seen anything like it. Leave it to Davis’ son.
ME
Glad he’s ok. Get some rest!
SYD
Thanks girl!
Minutes later, I’m soaking in the bath and questioning my existence.
Am I avoiding going after what I want by helping other people all the time? Do people not really want my help? How do I stop caring, stop helping? I enjoy helping. But maybe I should help less? Would people not want me around as much if I’m not helpful? Are there any good synonyms for the word “help” so I can stop thinking about that word this much?
I groan and massage my temples.
But also, why does Clark have to be SO GRUMPY every time I bring up the idea of a Christmas festival? Why can’t he take a step back and at least consider it? What does he have against Christmas? Or does he have something against me ?
I think back on everything Clark shared by the fire. It’s the most I’ve heard him talk, ever. Certainly the most I’ve ever heard him talk about himself. I was slightly shocked that he shared such personal feelings. I was so afraid of interrupting the magic of him being open with me that I stayed still as a statue. At least, until I couldn’t resist the almost palpable pull to trace my fingers along the lines of his tattoo.
After hearing him share tonight, I can understand why he’s so closed off, at least to a certain degree. He’s been hurt. I can’t imagine growing up without experiencing the love and approval of your parents. And then to lose your whole family so suddenly . . . who wouldn’t be messed up by that?
I close my eyes, and I can see Clark’s face lit by the firelight as he talked tonight. Do I want to help the town of Noel? Yes. But do I want to help Clark Noel even more? Definitely yes.
But if he doesn’t want help, what am I supposed to do?
Why don’t you focus on what you want and stop trying to help people who don’t need it? Clark’s challenge floats back through my mind, and I decide I may as well take his advice.
I drain the water, dress quickly, and sit down to write.