Chapter 35
35
HUDSON
I’d gone a week without talking to Claire. It helped that I’d had long shifts that kept me working until all hours. There was rarely anyone on the elevator by the time I got home, and I’d gotten in the habit of using the stairs when I was leaving. Now I was into my second day off and I’d barely left the house at all.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see her. I did—desperately. But seeing Claire wouldn’t make things better. Claire couldn’t trust me, and what was I supposed to do with that? Only Claire could change that. There was no way to prove myself trustworthy if she didn’t want to believe me.
I didn’t regret going on the trip with her, though. I had, for a day or two, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how life-changing that trip had been. There was Claire, of course, but there was also Amy. Sammie. My mom and dad. Hell, Cranberry Falls. I had so many feelings tied up in that little community I’d never dealt with. And hearing Amy and Sammie say they didn’t blame me—maybe it shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. So much.
By 10:30 it was dark and I was beginning to worry my ass would atrophy and grow roots into the couch. And still, over and over, no matter how hard I tried to occupy myself, my mind drifted to Claire.
It’s astounding how many statistics you run into in a day.
Twenty percent of the mammal species on our planet are different types of bats
Only two percent of the world’s population is naturally blond
Six percent of people believe they could beat a bear in unarmed combat
It went on and on, and though I tried to ignore them the way I had most of my life, each took residence in my brain in a little file labeled Claire .
What I needed was fresh air. I pushed myself up off the couch, walking to my room and pulling on a fresh pair of sweatpants to replace the ones I’d been rotting away in. I laced up my shoes and grabbed a hoodie to fight the evening chill, then I walked out my door and down the hall. I hesitated at the elevator, but hit the button, because Claire would never be out so late on a weeknight.
The door slid open and it was empty, just as I suspected. I pressed the button for L to take me down to the lobby. I didn’t expect the elevator to jolt so suddenly, and I looked up at the little digital number just as the elevator dinged and the doors began to slide open. Four . My heart thundered in my chest, my eyes trained on the sliver of light that grew as the door opened.
But it wasn’t Claire.
I recognized the older man as the husband half of a Filipino couple who lived down the hall from Claire. I’d met their son last year, and he’d given me a great recipe for chicken legs marinated in 7-Up . I gave the man a polite nod and he smiled in return, settling into one corner while I scooted to the opposite side.
In the lobby I lifted the hood of my sweatshirt, in part because I knew it would be cold outside, but also because I wished I could block out the world. I pushed through the vestibule door a little too hard and it almost banged. I jumped to catch it, embarrassed, and a package caught my eye. It had been there when I came home Sunday night and there it lay, nearly two days later. I wondered if Claire had seen it and if she was livid.
The man from upstairs slipped by me, walking out the front door, but I stood frozen, staring at the box, wondering if I should grab it and find its owner. The name wasn’t showing, probably because it had already been picked up and put down so many times, and I shook my head, turning away and heading out the door to work out.
An hour later I returned, sweaty and tired, but no closer to clearing my brain, and found myself frozen in place once more, staring at the mysterious box. Finally, I approached, turning the box over with a single, delicate finger. For a moment I just blinked at it, but it wasn’t changing. Claire Davis. It was a package for Claire Davis. I picked it up, holding it gently like it was a little piece of her to take care of. Had she sent me a message? Did she want me to find her? She’d called the day after the wedding. I’d been meeting with Amy and hadn’t seen the missed call for hours. Then I stared at my screen, not sure what to do, before finally deciding she’d call back if she wanted to reach me. She hadn’t called back.
Impulsively, I picked up the box, slinging it under my arm and heading to the elevator. I pressed four as the doors slid closed, then watched the numbers begin to tick. One…Two… Three—what was I doing? It was almost midnight for chrissake, and Claire had to work tomorrow. I hit the button for Five and the elevator dinged immediately, lurching to a stop. I stood stock still, as if moving might draw attention to me, but the doors slid closed a moment later, and the elevator began moving once more.
Back in my apartment, I tossed the box on my console and headed to the shower, pretty sure I didn’t stand a chance of forgetting about Claire.