39. Claire
thirty-nine
“Oh my God,I’m sorry I’m so late! I said I’d be home for dinner!”
Penelope barrels through the door of the attached garage like a bull in a China shop, bags swinging from her arms, her hair in disarray. I glance up from my Kindle and grin tiredly.
“Not a problem. Dinner is on the island if you’re hungry.”
I indicate to the casserole I’d made for us when she said she would be home in the early afternoon. But I ate hours ago, and honestly, I was only staying up to see that she made it home okay. I’m ready for bed.
Nathan and I did nothing but read and eat and fuck in a fluid cycle. He said that he wanted to get me back for the “old man” comments. Well, prove himself he did. I don’t think I slept a wink—until I insisted that I had to make it home to cook for Penelope and me. He responded by eating me against the front door, not satisfied until I had to walk bow-legged to my car. As soon as Penelope texted that she was going to be later than expected, I ate and passed out on the couch, waking a few hours later to an empty house.
“You’re a friggen saint. I’m famished.”
She drops her bags where she stands—in between the kitchen and the living room—and bolts to where I’ve left a place sitting along with the covered casserole dish. By the time I fold the blanket I was using and mark my spot in my Kindle, she’s already digging into dinner.
“Seriously, Claire. I did not ask you to move in so that you could stop feeding your siblings and do it for me instead. I promise.”
I laugh, albeit tiredly, and sit next to her at one of the backed stools at the island.
“I know you didn’t. I had to eat. I made enough for two.”
It’s partially the truth. Penelope isn’t charging me rent, and that guilt started to eat at me the moment I woke up from my mini-coma on her living room couch.
“How was your first weekend on your own? I hope it wasn’t too weird being in a new place without me.”
I immediately flush, tension racketing my body as I formulate a way to say, It wasn’t too weird considering I didn’t actually stay here at all.
When I’m speechless for far too long, Penelope stops eating, her gaze sidling over to me with her fork halfway to her mouth and her cheek bunched with casserole. It’s so quiet in this kitchen, you could hear the page turn on my Kindle.
I swallow. “It was good.”
She nods, so slowly I hear the crackle of her stiff bones.
“How about you? How did everything go with Connor?” I ask, needing the attention off of me immediately before I scream, I let our boss bang my brains out and might go take a bath with Epson salts so I can walk tomorrow at work!
But then, something curious happens. Penelope turns red—as red as the curtain of hair on her head.
Interesting.
She finishes chewing, her swallow audible.
“It was good.”
“Good,” I nod.
“Yep. Good.”
There is a silent understanding that while both of us are clearly fibbing about our weekends, those secrets are meant to remain locked up. Luckily, my phone buzzes on the countertop, diverting my attention. For a moment, I’m both thrilled and worried that it’s Nathan—it wouldn’t be a good look if she caught him texting me at almost ten-p.m.
My heart drops.
It’s Zoey.
We didn’t part on the greatest of terms.
Zoey
You haven’t even been gone for a full weekend and mom can’t keep our schedule straight.
Claire
Sorry, kiddo. What happened?
Zoey
Don’t apologize. I’m just keeping you in the loop. Michael was late to soccer because mom was out late with friends and slept through her alarm. He didn’t get the start, and she went full Karen on the coach. She only stopped when he threatened to sit him the next game.
“Everything good?” Penelope asks.
I nod, relief filling me at the fact that Zoey doesn’t seem angry, then shake my head. “It’s Zoey. Apparently all hell is breaking loose without me.”
Zoey’s thread continues, as she seems to passive-aggressively delight in our mother’s incompetence, as she thoroughly details how badly Mom messed up dinner.
“She’s getting what’s coming to her, then.”
I end the conversation with my sister, asking if she wants me to take her to cello on Wednesday to avoid disaster, to which she replies, No thanks, I kind of want to see what happens. I laugh, and let it trail off into a sigh. A knot settles in my chest. I don’t know how to feel.
“You okay?”
“Yes and no,” I shrug. Penelope wraps her hand around my shoulder and I lay my head on hers. “I feel guilty.”
“I’m not going to tell you how to feel, but I am going to remind you that this is not on you anymore. Change is hard, Claire. But that doesn’t take away the goodness of it.”
I sit with that truth, wondering about the damage I’ve done to my five siblings in leaving. They don’t deserve any of this.
I go through my night routine if only to ground myself in reality. Despite the exhaustion that rang through my body all day, I’m suddenly wide awake. Anxiety and fear and guilt run on separate hamster wheels in my head. I can’t concentrate enough to read, but can’t close my eyes either. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, Nathan’s name illuminating the screen. My heart tugs between falling and jumping.
Nathan
I hope you had a good rest of your day. Can I see you early tomorrow morning? In the parking lot maybe?
Suddenly, my eyes are falling closed. Like he is both my reassurance and my reason to roll out of bed at the crack of dawn.
Claire
Yes, please. I would love that.
I’m getting us Dunkin.
And before you say no, send me your order.
I get a Please don’t spend money on me in the middle of typing, and giggle. I can imagine the divot forming between his brows, above the bridge of his glasses.
Claire
Stop pouting.
Nathan
Defiant girl.
Claire
I’m just trying to caffeinate and feed you!! Don’t be difficult.
Nathan
Backtalk too? Are you looking to be punished?
I send him three side-eye emojis, then And what if I was?, then giggle. I marvel at the way that I went from near panic to fluttering eyes and hope for the morning.
Nathan
I’ll have to keep a tally, then.
Unfortunately, while I would love to keep this going, I am exhausted.
Claire
Samesies. *someone* spent the weekend sapping me of energy.
I set my alarm for extra early, then text Penelope from across the hall that I have an early meeting, and ask if she wants anything from Dunkin’ while I’m at it. As I move to shut down my phone, it buzzes in my hand one more time, and I simply can’t resist. I’m glad I don’t. Because the Sleep well, sweet Claireis exactly what I needed to wipe the guilt from my conscience and allow me to do just as he asks.