Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Clementine
I’ve got a pen between my fingers, and I tap it against the desk in my cubicle over and over again, staring at the gray wall without seeing it. I should be thinking about work, because God knows there’s enough to do, but I’m thinking of what I’m gonna say to Hunter when I go over there tonight.
Okay, let’s do it doesn’t quite seem to capture the gravity of the situation, and neither does I considered this and I think having sex would be fine and not too damaging, or this can’t go worse than last time, so let’s get it on!
I think I might be bad at this, and I’m still wondering what the hell I do when Jennifer’s head appears around the cubicle, and she smiles a dangerous smile at me.
“You’re making me crazy,” she says through her teeth.
I stop tapping.
“Sorry,” I say.
“How’s that budget going?” she asks, glancing at my computer screen.
I haven’t used it in so long that the monitor went to sleep.
“It’s going great?” I say, jiggling the mouse and praying that a spreadsheet pops up on the screen, not something else. Jennifer glances at it.
It’s the spreadsheet. It’s half-done, but at least it’s not something else.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ll get it done in time, I just...”
My ex-boyfriend showed up again, my parents are getting divorced, and I just found out that my mom cheated on my dad and it feels a little like my whole world is inside a kaleidoscope, rearranging itself as some asshole kid turns it around.
“I’ve had a lot on my plate the last few days,” I say, finding a more professional phrase.
Jennifer just nods.
“I know,” she says. “Clementine, let me know if you’re feeling overloaded, okay? I can have someone else do some of the grunt work.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”
It’s nearly September, and for some reason, a lot of federal and state grant applications are due September first. That means we’re rushing to put together proposals and budgets, dreaming up ways that renovating the picnic pavilion at the Alpine Lakes campground promotes diversity among the youth who visit the park.
I quit staring at the wall, and for the next ninety minutes, I stare at a spreadsheet. By the end of the day I’ve managed to make a graph, even if my mind keeps wandering to very different pursuits.
The cubicles are buried in the center of the administrative building, in a mostly-windowless room, so when I walk past a window to the bathroom, I’m surprised to see that it’s raining hard.
I stop and watch for a moment, and the sky blinks white with lightning, followed a few seconds later by thunder.
I’m glad it’s not my week outside, backpacking and repairing trails. As much as I like nature, being indoors sure is nice sometimes.
When I get back to my desk, Jennifer is looking at my chair.
“Oh, there you are,” she says.
“I went to the bathroom,” I say, like I need to explain where I was or something. She just waves a hand.
“I was actually wondering whether you’d mind driving some stuff over to the firefighters in the dorm,” she says.
“Mike’s worried that the power’s gonna go out, and we took all the emergency supplies out when we renovated, and they got here before we put them back.
It’s just flashlights, lanterns, that kind of stuff. ”
Mike’s the Head Ranger here, Jennifer’s boss.
I almost say sure, I was going over there anyway, but then I realize I don’t really want to have a conversation about why I’m going over there, because it’s not like that’s simple.
“Sure, no problem,” is what I say.
“Thanks,” Jennifer says. “He’ll help you carry the stuff out.”
By the time I get to the firefighters’ dorm, next to my house, the storm is going full force. I can’t drive much more than twenty-five miles an hour, rain sheeting over the windshield, lightning flashing through the sky every couple of seconds.
I like storms, but this is a big one. Mike’s right — there’s no way the power isn’t going to go out when the wind blows a dead tree over onto the power lines or something. I don’t envy the guys who get to fix that.
I park the SUV, pull the hood of my raincoat over my head, then take a deep breath.
Flashlights first, then talk to Hunter, I think. My stomach flips over inside me, but I grit my teeth, grab the keys, open the door, and then run like hell to the dorm.
No one answers the front door, but the rain is so loud on the tin roof of the front porch that they probably can’t hear it. I just push it open and go inside.
The front door opens onto the living room, where a couple guys watching TV look up at me in surprise. Hunter’s not one of them.
“Hey,” says Daniel, one of the guys I played baggo with on Saturday.
“I knocked, but the rain’s too loud,” I say. “I brought your emergency supplies. Flashlights and candles and stuff.”
“You need help bringing it in?” another guy, this one a little older, asks. He stands from the couch, and so do all the rest.
Shit. I’m pretty sure I met him briefly when I was here before, and I’m also pretty sure I don’t remember his name.
“There’s only a couple of boxes,” I say. “I just need one or two people to help.”
There’s four of them, and they’re all already putting on shoes and raincoats while I stand there. One of them, the older guy, winks at me.
“We need something to do,” he says. “Even if it’s just carrying some heavy things in the rain.”
I laugh, because even if I don’t need that much help, I’m not gonna turn down a bunch of burly firemen who want to lift heavy things for me.
“Thanks,” I say.
I just stand on the dry-ish porch, unlock the SUV with the remote key fob, let the guys grab the heavy plastic bins, and lock it again when the doors are closed.
“Just take these on through to the other common area,” the older guy says. “We’ll dry ‘em off and go through them there.”
We file back inside, the guys carrying the big plastic bins. I push the hood of my raincoat back and unzip it, turning to the guy whose name I’ve forgotten.
“Thanks for the help,” I say. “Is Hunter around?”
“Last I saw, Casden was playing board games in the kitchen,” he says. “You’re welcome to check.”
I hang my wet jacket up next to the door, take off my shoes, and walk through the house.
I’m hyper-aware of every movement I make, and hyper-aware that my hair is up in an ugly ponytail and rain-frizzed, that I’m wearing work pants, a cardigan, and polka-dot socks.
It’s not the most enticing outfit, but what am I gonna do, go put on a sundress before I say hello to Hunter?
As I come up on the kitchen door, I hear a girl shriek, then a giggle. It sounds like Mandy, and suddenly, I remember the way she laughed at his jokes on Saturday, the way she touched Hunter’s arm, and something inside me freezes.
Calm down, I tell myself. She’s allowed to laugh.
Then I walk through the doorway and stop.
Opposite me, Hunter is standing in front of an open closet, his back to me, and Mandy is on his shoulders, holding a board game in one hand. She laughs again.
“I got it, I got it, you can put me down,” she says.
“That’s easier said than done,” Hunter says, a smile in his voice.
I’m frozen in the doorway, just looking at them. He’s got his hands on her thighs, holding her steady as she wobbles a little, riding his shoulders.
I told you, a nasty voice in the back of my head whispers. And you thought people changed.
“Hey,” says Silas, sitting at the table. “You’re just in time to play Clue with us.”
“Hey,” I say, still staring at Hunter and Mandy.
They both turn their heads. Mandy’s smiling, but the moment Hunter sees me, his face falls.
Yeah, no one likes getting caught, that same voice whispers.
I clear my throat and force myself to take a deep breath, even though I feel like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.
“I brought over the emergency supplies you guys were missing,” I say, my voice sounding hollow to my own ears.
Outside the window, there’s a white flash as lightning goes off, then a boom so loud it rattles the dishes in the cabinets. The lights flicker.
“Just in time, seems like,” Silas says.
“There’s candles and flashlights and stuff in the other room,” I go on. I can’t take my eyes off of Hunter, Mandy on his shoulders, his hands on her knees, keeping her steady. “Just wanted to let you guys know.”
I feel like someone’s stuck a kitchen mixer into my stomach and turned it on. Part of me knows I’m being stupid, probably overreacting, but all I can think is this is exactly what it felt like before.
History’s repeating itself, just like you fucking knew it would.
“Stay for Clue!” Mandy says brightly, holding it up. “We just found it buried on the top shelf.”
I shake my head, doing my best to act normal.
“I can’t,” I say, already stepping backward. “I gotta go take care of some stuff at home, you know, laundry and Trout’s been there all day, and... water the plant... stuff.”
Mandy frowns, but I turn anyway.
“Clem,” Hunter says.
I just walk. I need to be somewhere else now, I need to be alone and not surrounded by people I barely know, in a house that’s not mine. If there were a hole I could crawl into I would, because I just want to be by myself, in the dark, where no one can watch me melt down.
I hear a soft thump, and then Mandy’s voice asking, “Is something wrong?”
“Clem!” Hunter says again, closer this time.
I ignore it. I hurry to the living room, but he’s right behind me in the hall, and he puts one hand on my shoulder.
“Clem, wait,” he says. He sounds half-worried and half-annoyed.
“No,” I say.
“For fuck’s sake,” he hisses, trying to keep his voice down.
Suddenly, there’s a crackle just outside, like the air itself is splitting apart, followed by a boom that shakes the floor.
The lights go out, and in an instant, it’s dead quiet, the electronic hum of everyday life gone. We both stop and look around.
“Well, we’ve got flashlights,” one of the guys in the living room says. I can hear him get off the couch and walk into another room.