17. Blake
CHAPTER 17
BLAKE
I didn’t think Claire would be up for Sam’s barbecue, what with Oli and all the late nights she’d been working, but when I called to ask, she was already going.
“You think I’d pass up a chance at adult conversation? Plus, it’s been ages since we all hung out.”
“You and Sam and Joelle? Don’t you all work together?”
“Sort of,” said Claire. “But she’s up in derm, and Sam’s in the morgue. Our paths don’t cross nearly as much as you’d think.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? At least with the morgue?”
Claire laughed at that. “Are you nervous to see them? Not just Sam and Joelle, I mean, but y’know. Everyone.”
I’d been trying not to dwell on it, but yeah. Yeah, I was. Sam had gone all-in on rounding up the old crew, everyone close enough to make the drive. I’d been excited at first to see them again, but when I thought past “hello,” it all fell apart. I hadn’t seen any of these people in years, and the last they’d heard of me, I’d run out on Claire.
“It’ll be fine,” said Claire. “Sam filled them in.”
I wanted to believe her, but I didn’t see how it would be. I wasn’t fine with the way I’d behaved, cutting myself off from my whole life back here. I’d thrown a tantrum, was what I had done, like Oli might do when he’d had too much sugar. But Oli was three. What was my excuse?
In the end, I needn’t have worried. We rolled up on the party around four that Sunday, and we were about the last to arrive. The beer had been flowing since Sam came off shift, and the atmosphere was pleasantly rowdy.
“Oh, flashback ,” yelled someone, when we stepped out back. I peered through mesquite smoke to see who it was.
“Over here.” Someone waved, and I saw it was Jesse, a friend going back to our first days of med school. He’d lost weight since then, and shaved off his facial hair, but I still felt the years peel back, just as he’d said.
“Seeing you two together, I’m suddenly sweating.” He waved his beer at me, and then at Claire. “Feels like that dream where you’re back in school, and you’ve got an exam you haven’t studied for.”
“Oh, God .” Joelle cringed. “Don’t mention exams. I’ve got boards coming up, and my whole brain is fried.”
“No exam talk,” said Shelley — another blast from the past. She’d been in my study group for cell structure and function, and I still had nightmares involving her flashcards. “You guys gonna sit, or just stand there looming?”
I sat, and Sam came up and passed me a beer. He was smiling, I saw, but at Claire, not at me. He hadn’t looked once at me since I walked in the door.
“Hey, Sam.” Jesse grinned. “Remember the spider?”
Everyone groaned. “Ugh, not the spider.”
Claire glanced at me. “Spider? What spider?”
I gulped my beer. “Uh-uh. No spider.”
“Tell her,” said Shelley. I shook my head.
“Come on, now. No in-jokes. That’s not fair on Claire.”
Sam snorted at that. Claire smacked my arm.
“It’s only an in-joke if you don’t tell me. What, did you scream? Did you jump on a table?”
Jesse muffled laughter. “You could say that.”
“What? I did not. It was honestly nothing. This bunch of idiots?—”
“Who’re you calling idiots?” Shelley took a swipe at me. Claire shook her head.
“If you’re not going to tell me?—”
“I’ll tell you,” Sam said. He locked eyes with me for the first time that night, and he didn’t so much smile as he showed me his teeth. “This was way back when I first met Joelle, when she still had that place above the shoe store. We were all in her study nook, crammed in like sardines, when Joelle saw this spider.”
“This huge, hairy spider.” Joelle shuddered. I rolled my eyes.
“It wasn’t that big.”
“Shut up. It was huge . And it webbed down right in my face.”
“So she smashed it,” said Sam. “Like anyone would. Except for this guy.” He pointed at me. “ This guy went off on this long tirade, how spiders are helpful. How they eat all your flies. How it’s not fair to smash them for living their lives. It was so, so annoying.”
“The worst,” agreed Jesse. “Did he do that with you, Claire? Get off on those rants?”
I opened my mouth to insist that I didn’t, but Claire cut me off.
“Oh, yeah. All the time. Our first date, he schooled me on eating spaghetti , like my way of eating it was so déclassé.”
Everyone laughed. I fell back, defeated.
Sam smirked and leaned forward. “So, back to the spider. We all got to talking once Blake had gone home. Making fun of his, what was it? Catch and release.” He picked up a plastic cup and mimed catching a spider. “ It just takes two seconds to catch and release. But it means a whole lifetime for our friend, the spider .”
I shot Sam a scowl. “Is that supposed to be me?”
“That is you,” said Shelley. “That’s exactly you.”
I looked to Claire for help, but she was laughing, one hand raised up to cover her mouth. Sam caught me looking and went in for the kill.
“So we all decided some revenge was in order, to knock old St. Spider off his high horse.”
Jesse chuckled. “St. Spider.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ha. You guys are real funny.”
“We’re hilarious,” said Sam. “Or, actually, you were.” He grinned at Claire, smug as a tick. “So, me and Joelle, we built this huge spider. Like, out of… what was it?”
“Pipe cleaners,” said Joelle. “Black and yellow pipe cleaners, and a couple of pompoms. And we dirtied it up a bit, and shaped it, y’know…”
“All the leg-segments, the markings, the eyes. We sculpted this thing like the David .”
I buried my face in both of my hands. Sam nudged my arm to make me look up.
“You deserved it,” he said. “You wouldn’t shut up. You were like ‘save the spiders,’ and… really? Really? ”
Claire bit her lip. “So, what did you do? Throw it in his face?”
“Better than that.” Sam straightened up. “The next time we were studying, we set it up by the trash. Halfway between the can and the wall.”
“In the shadows,” said Joelle. “So he couldn’t see clearly.”
“And when St. Spider went over to throw out his cup, I pulled on this thread I’d tied to its leg. The spider went woup , and this guy?—”
“Shut up.”
“He went apeshit ,” said Shelley.
“I did not. Claire?—”
“Yeah, you did,” said Sam. “He screamed like a kid and he grabbed the whole trash can, and he didn’t just smash this thing. He beat it to fluff. He’s yelling die, die and he’s swinging this trash can, and we’re all just cackling . Catch and release, my ass.”
“I wasn’t yelling die, die ,” I said, when the laughter wound down. “I swear, it gets worse every damn time they tell it.”
“I’d have paid to see that,” said Claire, like she hadn’t heard me. I tried to act mad, but it was kind of funny, and Shelley was right. I’d lost my whole mind. In my defense, it was going on midnight, and we’d been studying since ten a.m. And that giant spider looked totally real. It jumped at my foot . Who wouldn’t have smashed it? I guessed that was the point they’d been trying to make.
“You’re not mad, are you?” said Claire, when I’d been quiet a while.
I smiled. “No, of course not. This just takes me back.”
“Me too,” she said. “The band’s back together.”
These guys had been my friends first, but now they were Claire’s. Or maybe both of ours — or they could be again. I hadn’t been certain they’d give me a chance, and I guessed the spider’d been sort of a test. That, or a penance before they’d forgive me. But now they were smiling, and the mood felt relaxed, and even Sam was meeting my eye. I could still see the hurt there, and sense the distance, but we’d taken our first step back toward friendship.
It was late by the time the party wound down, and when we got to our cars, Claire shook her head.
“I think I’m still buzzed.”
“I’ll drive you back.”
“No, I’ll need my car. Let’s go for a walk. There’s a café near here. You can buy me a coffee.”
We set off down the street in the dwindling twilight, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of having gone back in time. Claire had walked a lot back in our school days, and I’d gone along to make sure she was safe. It helped her think, she’d said. What was she thinking now?
“I missed this,” she said, once we had our coffees.
“Our late-night walks?”
“No. Or, not just those. Us. Our whole group.”
I took a nervous sip. “And us, you and me?”
Claire looked down at the sidewalk, then up at the sky. “Sometimes,” she said. “Why didn’t you…”
“What?”
She let out a sigh. “I guess there’s no point now, rehashing the past. We made the choices we made. No taking them back.”
“I tried to,” I said. “Or at least, I was going to.”
Claire stopped so abruptly her coffee sloshed over. “What do you mean?”
I’d spoken without thinking, caught in the past. Now I cleared my throat. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed. “No, what did you mean?”
I tried to think how to put it so it wouldn’t sound like I blamed her. I didn’t, at all. She’d protected herself.
“Blake? Answer me. What did you mean?”
“I was going to apply for a change-of-specialty waiver. Switch over from trauma to rehab medicine. I could’ve stayed here that way, but…”
“But what?”
“But you wouldn’t talk to me or answer your phone. Your landlady told me to quit hanging around. I guessed you were done with me, so I went ahead.”
Claire gaped at me, stunned. “You would’ve stayed?” She crumpled her cup. “Then why didn’t you— why didn’t you pull out before? I mean before match day? Or before my birthday? You had a whole month , you could have gone for your waiver.”
“I hadn’t thought of it then.” I looked away. “I was still thinking, I don’t know, we’d do long distance. I thought, hey, it’s us. It’s you and me. We’ll work it out somehow.”
“You lied to me!”
I recoiled from the force of Claire’s sudden shout. “I know,” I said.
“Why would you lie? If you’d only been honest, you might’ve been right. We might’ve talked. Worked something out.”
I swallowed, tongue-tied. Gulped the last of my coffee.
“Didn’t you trust me?”
“What? No! No, yes . I trusted you, yes, but I thought…”
“You thought what?”
I pressed my lips together, trying to marshal my thoughts. “I was scared you’d react just like you did. Scared you’d decide I wasn’t worth it. So I put off telling you, and I put it off, and the more time went by, the more scared I got. I knew you would leave me. I?—”
“You couldn’t know that.” Claire dashed at her eyes. Tears gleamed in the streetlights. She turned away from me, shaking her head. “What kind of a person do you think I am?”
“A good person,” I said. I reached for her arm. She flinched away, so I pulled back. “Good people leave sometimes. They move on, give up. I saw it a lot, you know, growing up.”
Claire stiffened. She made a low sound in her throat.
“Remember I told you about my one foster mom? The one who promised she’d pay for my college?”
“And then she stiffed you, but I’m not like?—”
“She didn’t stiff me,” I said. “Her husband ran off. I’d never have wanted her to break her back paying. But I thought she’d still keep me, still want me at least. But I came home one day and my bags were all packed, and Miss Tina — my caseworker — was sitting out front. Good people give up, Claire. They leave. They move on. Things get hard and the sight of you, they just, they can’t take it. Then, it’s goodbye. It’s nobody’s fault.”
Claire inhaled sharply. She turned back. “Nobody’s fault? You don’t send your kid back.”
“I wasn’t her kid.”
“Did you call her Mom?”
I had called her that. I’d thought she’d adopt me. I’d told all the kids at school she soon would. I closed my eyes to shut out the past. Next thing I knew, I felt Claire’s arms around me, hugging me so tight I couldn’t breathe.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Not— not your fault.”
“Leaving you was. Not hearing you out.” She stepped back, eyes glistening. “I loved you, you know.”
“I loved you too.”
“Sometimes I think, I think I still…” She leaned up and kissed me. I felt the earth tilt. I’d been needing this, craving this, more than I knew, her warmth. Her closeness. Her skin against mine.
“Let’s go,” she said. “Your place is close, right?”
We didn’t even go back to pick up our cars. We half-ran the couple of blocks to my place, and stumbled inside already entangled. Claire had her hands up under my shirt. I had mine in her hair, soft as I remembered, and her lips were as sweet, her kisses as sultry.
She clung to me as we shuffled back down the hall. The bite of her nails made me groan, wanting more.
“I missed you,” I whispered.
“Me, too. Missed this.” Claire arched up against me and nipped at my lip. The light shock of pain made my spine tingle. I picked her up easily and tossed her on the bed, and she laughed and reared up and pulled me down with her. I wanted more than anything to take my time. To make this, here, now, last the rest of my life. But Claire tugged at my shirt.
“Too many buttons.”
“Just rip it off.”
I was joking, but Claire jerked hard on my collar. It bit in a moment, then the buttons popped off. Claire’s eyes widened like she couldn’t quite believe she did that, and we both laughed. I leaned down and kissed her. She worked the rest of my buttons one at a time, and pushed my shirt back so it slid down my arms.
“New scar,” she said, and touched my chest.
“War wound.” I winked. “Pumpkin carving disaster.”
She traced the curved scar where the knife had gone in. “Mean pumpkin,” she said. “Hope you made a pie out of it.”
“Pumpkin pie, huh? Makes me think of Thanksgiving.”
Claire’s smile was half-sad. “I always think of you then.” She ran her hands up my back and through my mussed hair, and held my head steady to look in my eyes. For a long time, she studied me like she was afraid she’d forget me. Then she kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my lips. She caressed my bare back and over my hips. I wanted to beg her never to stop, but I couldn’t find the breath for it, so I kissed her instead.
Being with her felt new and familiar at once. She still moaned just the same when my lips brushed her neck, but now when I moved down, she pulled me back up.
“No, no, right there. Mm, yeah, that’s good.”
She was more demanding, more loud than before. More unrestrained in pursuit of her pleasure. I loved it, and I told her so.
“Tell me what to do.”
“Undress me,” she said. “Slow. Make it last.”
She had a green dress on, buttoned down the front. I did as she ordered, unbuttoned her slow. Peeled the light fabric off her an inch at a time. I kissed where she told me to, nibbled and licked. Sucked her pink nipples through the lace of her bra. When she raised up her hips I pulled down her panties, and trailed heated kisses up her inner thigh. She stopped talking then, and clenched her fists in the covers. Bit her lip hard and threw her head back. I teased her, running my tongue up and down, circling it deftly around her clit.
“Quit teasing,” she moaned.
I grinned and kept going. She groped for my hair. I pinned her hands by her sides and teased till she begged, then teased her some more, till she trembled all over. I teased till her breath came fast and she busted out cursing, and only then did I go where she wanted. I hummed as her hips bucked and her body went tight. Her heels drummed on the mattress, and she gasped out my name.
“Get up here,” she said, when she’d caught her breath back. She pulled me up to her and pushed down my pants. My cock sprang free, and she reached down to stroke it.
“I didn’t bring anything,” I said.
She jerked her head at the nightstand.
I rummaged out a condom and she rolled it on, checking it over just to be sure. Then she pushed me back and sat on my lap. I moaned as she rode me, not caring who heard. I held her tight to me and buried my face in her neck. Breathed in the summery scent of her hair.
“Pinch me,” I said. “So I know you’re real.”
She pinched me hard on my wrist. I nipped her earlobe. Our rhythm turned frantic, jerky with need. I pitched over the edge almost without warning, vision exploding with a sky full of stars. I felt her go too, tensing against me, her nails digging into the meat of my arms. She murmured my name, and I shouted hers. We collapsed together across the crushed sheets.
“I should go,” said Claire, when she’d caught her breath.
I grabbed her finger. “Don’t go.”
“No, I’ve got Oli.” She untangled herself from me, but didn’t sit up. Her shoulders shook with sudden laughter. “Oh, shoot. Our cars.”
“Mm? What about them?”
“They’re still outside Sam’s.”
“He won’t notice,” I said. “And if he does…”
“What?”
I yawned, feeling sleepy. “He’ll think we were drunk and we took a cab. And even if he does suspect, who cares what he thinks?”
Claire sat up reluctantly. “I can’t stay,” she said. “But this — this was nice. I’m not running away.”
“I know. You’ve got Oli.” I sat up and kissed her. “Call when you get home?”
“You’ll be sleeping.”
“Call anyway. So I know you’re okay.”
“You’re sweet,” said Claire. She stood and got dressed, and I watched, half-awake. It felt like a dream, but in a while she would call me, and I’d ask if she might want to go out again. And after that, after that, who knew what came next?