5. Clara
CLARA
I grabbed the deer head off the wall, nearly tipping over from the weight of it.
Who knew these things were so freaking heavy?
I teetered with it to the door, adjusting here and there as I tried to fit it through the damn doorway, until finally, I made it.
The antlers scratched the wall on the way down the hall, but that mattered little to me since the whole house was getting a makeover.
Finally, I made it to the back door and hefted the thing as high as I could, tossing it on the ground.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Ben came running over, his voice filled with horror. “Woman, what in the hell are you doing?”
“Cleaning house,” I grinned.
“Fine, clean the house. Clean the whole damn thing, but my bucks stay on the wall!”
I thrust my fists on my hips, glowering at my husband. “Benjamin Parker, I will not look at those beady eyes for one more minute!”
“You don’t have to! Just close your eyes! Problem solved!”
“I can’t very well close my eyes when I’m painting.”
“Painting?” His face twisted in confusion.
I may have forgotten to inform him of my plans.
“Or writing.”
“What the hell are you gonna write?”
“A book,” I grinned. “It’s going to be amazing.”
“Since when do you write?”
My smile dropped into a scowl. “Since today. Well, probably next week since I still have to paint the room.”
A frown appeared as he thought it over, then realized what I meant, and that frown quickly turned into a scowl. “Now, hold on a minute—”
“You hold on a minute, Benjamin Parker!”
“Would you stop last naming me?” he snapped.
“I need a place to write—”
“That’s my den,” he shouted, pointing toward the house.
“And it’s about time you learned to share. I’ll be taking over.”
“That’s not the definition of sharing.”
“No, but you are sharing the room with me, as in, giving it up for a better use than afternoon naps!”
I turned on my heel and walked inside, ignoring his shouts that quickly followed.
“You don’t just get to make all the decisions around here!”
“Why not?” I asked over my shoulder. “For thirty years, you have demanded, cajoled, and persuaded me into doing everything your way. Well, I’m tired of it. This is the Age of Clara!”
“The age of what?”
I spun around just as he nearly collided with me. “The Age of Clara. It’s my name. It should be easy to remember.”
“But—”
I took off down the hallway again, straight into the den where I grabbed another deer.
“Be reasonable!”
“You be reasonable,” I snapped, grabbing the deer by the antlers and tugging. “For years, you have run this house like you’re the only one in it.”
“Is that what you think has been going on?” he muttered under his breath.
“Just because I run the way the house operates does not mean I’ve had any control over how it’s decorated, who gets what space, or even when I get to use a room!” I grunted as I tugged on the damn antlers. “And let me tell you another thing—”
“Would you stop before you tear the damn antler off?” he growled, shoving me aside to grab ahold of the deer. “My father shot this buck.”
“Yes, and he loved the poor thing so much that he ate his entire body. I don’t see why that means we have to display his head. It’s really revolting.”
“Because it’s a prize!”
“It’s a head! And let me tell you something, mister,” I said in a low voice. “If we’re allowed to display heads around here, then you better be prepared for me to display your head when I decide to run you through!”
He smirked at me, that cocky way he always had. I used to think it was sexy and charming. Now, I wanted to smack it off his face.
“And just how are you going to ‘run me through’?” he mocked.
“Oh, I’ve been thinking about it for thirty long years. Trust me, when I decide to get rid of you, no one alive will find your body.”
And with that, I got back to work tearing the damn head off the wall while he contemplated the fact that I’d been planning his demise for so long. Should I feel bad about it? Maybe, but I was a woman, and living with a man for so long had really done a number on me.
“Clara, I think you’ve gone a little crazy. If you’re going through some mid-life crisis, do it the way normal women do it. Buy some new clothes.”
I spun around so fast, he actually took a step back. “Buy some new clothes?” I hissed, my voice low and deadly. “Are you actually suggesting that my happiness lies solely in the purchase of new clothes?”
“Well—”
“At least my mid-life crisis is productive. Yours consists of lounging around the house all day with chips all over your clothes as you watch reruns that are over fifty years old!”
I wasn’t sure how he reacted to my comment. After I said it, I got back to work and ignored his stomping as he left the room. I was done tiptoeing around my husband, bowing to his every whim. Maybe that worked when we were younger, but I wasn’t the same woman I was back then.
After two hours, I had the room cleared out, and it was time to start painting. I’d picked up a soft green that I felt would really go well with the woodwork. There were only two walls to paint, but I knew changing the color would make a world of difference.
But before I could start painting, the valance and blinds had to go.
I tore them down, leaving no chance of them ever being repurposed.
But I didn’t stop there. I marched through every room in the house, ridding all the windows of the hideous decorations I had lived with these past thirty-plus years.
Once they were down, the house was so much brighter, the rooms less drab.
But it would take a hell of a lot of work to make this into a house I loved.
Carting all the fabric and plastic downstairs, I quickly realized that if I was going to get rid of all the stuff I hated, I was going to need a dumpster.
There just weren’t enough trash cans in the world for everything I wanted to eliminate.
But what we had would have to do for now. I could live with everything else and take it one room at a time.
After spreading the plastic over the room, I tied back my hair and put a handkerchief over it to protect it from splatters. Then I got to work, carefully painting every edge and around the outlets before finishing the walls. When I was all done, I took a step back and beamed with pride at my work.
For the first time in thirty years, I did something for myself with no thoughts for anyone else.
And it felt good.
“Talk to her,” Ben said just outside the room as I scooted my desk over a half inch.
Beaming with pride, I ignored the whispers outside the room and pulled out my brand new iMac.
It was purple, and I loved it so much. I’d never had a computer of my own, let alone one so pretty.
The girls tried to convince me to get a laptop for its convenience, but that would just mean that Ben could shove me out of my new she cave.
“Alright, alright! Geez, Pop. Stop shoving me.”
Jeff stumbled into the room, looking around sheepishly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Nice room.”
“I think so. Would you grab that plug thingy and bring it over?”
Jeff chuckled as he bent over and grabbed what I was asking for out of the bag. “This is a surge protector.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s going to hold all my plugs.”
He glanced at me curiously. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Not really, but I’m enjoying the process. Honestly, it’s been a long time since I got your father so worked up, so that’s a bonus.”
“I’m not worked up!” he shouted from the hall, proving my point.
“What made you decide to get this?” he asked, helping me set up my new computer.
“Well, I wanted to write.” I went and stood beside the large, open window and pointed in the distance. “I used to stand here before all of you were born, and I used to think about painting the landscape.”
“Um…you do realize that this is a computer and it doesn’t paint.”
“I know that, smartass. I used to have a lot of dreams, you know?”
“And then you had me and decided I was enough,” he grinned. “I get it. I tend to have that effect on women.”
“If you had that effect on women, you’d be married by now.”
“Well, it’s a work in progress.”
I plugged the cord into the back of the computer, then into the power strip. It was time.
With so much excitement rushing through me, I could hardly contain it. I felt around the back and pressed the small button, squealing when the chime I’d heard in the store echoed around the room, followed by the bitten apple appearing on the screen.
“It’s like Christmas morning,” I whispered.
“It’s just a damn computer!” Ben shouted, storming into the room, only to stop suddenly when he saw the beauty of it.
“It’s so much more than a computer.”
I couldn’t quite explain it, but it was like freedom at my fingertips. In all my years, I’d never truly gotten something that was just for me unless it was a vacuum cleaner or a new mixer for the kitchen. And while I loved those things, this was so much different. So much more special.
“Well, how does the damn thing work?” Ben grunted.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s magnificent.” Pulling over the chair, I sat down and followed the basic setup instructions until it got to the wifi. That was over my head.
“Move over, little lady. I’ll take care of this part,” Jeff grinned, taking my seat.
“It’s just a computer,” Ben muttered for the second time.
“It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”
I heard the scoff from behind me, but I was too enthralled in my new machine to pay any attention to him.
“You know, it’s getting on dinner time,” he reminded me.
“Uh-huh,” I murmured, watching as Jeff took me through display setups. “I can put in pictures? Like my own pictures and they’ll be on the screen?”
“Well, you have to upload the pictures first, but I can help you with that.”
“Yeah, he can help you,” Ben said, wandering over. “Maybe after you make dinner.”
“Now, what about this?” I asked, pulling out my brand new iPhone. “Can I put pictures on this?”
“You can take pictures on that,” Jeff chuckled. “Man, I didn’t realize you were living in the past.”
“Well, it’s not like anyone around here thought to get me a smartphone,” I said, narrowing my eyes at my husband over my shoulder.
“You never asked for one,” Ben spat.
“Either way, you kinda dropped the ball, Pop. She was still using a flip phone. How could you let her walk around like that?”
“What the hell does she need a smartphone for? And why am I responsible for getting her one? Clearly, she can get one on her own if she wants one!”
I shoved to my feet, my anger spiking as I stared down my husband.
“Yes, I can get one for myself, but you know what would be really great? Having my husband surprise me one of these days with a gift instead of forgetting about me every Mother’s Day, or leaving me to stuff my own stocking at Christmas. ”
“Santa doesn’t stuff my stockings?” Jeff gasped.
“You like doing that!”
“For the kids!” I argued. “They’re all adults now. Someone should be looking after me as well. Or does that only apply to husbands who can’t seem to do anything for themselves?”
Jeff hissed in a breath, shoving back from the desk. “You know, I think I have a better charger for you. At my house. Across the property. Where I’m not part of this,” he muttered, fleeing the room.
Once he was gone, Ben turned back to me, the anger on his face rolling off him like steam, but he had nothing on me.
“Alright, so I don’t do enough for you, is that it?”
“It’s not about whether you do enough. It’s the effort, or lack thereof, that’s put into your gift-giving.”
“Fine, you want to talk about gift giving,” he snapped. “How about this past Christmas? You didn’t do a damn thing for me.”
“I got you the new tool thingy you wanted!”
“The kids got that for me.”
“And who do you think picked it up, paid for it, and wrapped the damn thing? The only thing they did was take credit for it when it was unwrapped!”
He flinched back, spinning away from me. “Alright, but I gave you that card for Mother’s Day. Don’t say I never do anything.”
I barked out a laugh at that. “You mean the one that was still in the bag with the receipt, not signed, and not in the envelope?”
His jaw dropped open before snapping shut. “I put in the effort.”
“No, putting in the effort would have required you to take the card out of the bag, sign it, put it in the damn envelope, and hand it over to me. Handing me the bag doesn’t count as effort.”
“But I got you flowers!”
“Because the florist handed them to you and told you to bring them to me!” I shouted.
“When are you going to learn that everyone in this town knows everything? The moment you left the shop, five people told me what happened in there. Do you know how humiliating that is for me—to have everyone around me know just how lazy you’ve gotten over the years when it comes to even the smallest gesture? ”
The anger on his face quickly turned to shame, but instead of saying something like I’m sorry, he stormed out of the room.
Defeated, I sat down at the desk, my joy over my computer quickly vanishing.
I hadn’t meant to say all those things to him, but it had built up over the years until it all came rushing out.
I couldn’t have stopped it if I wanted to.
But instead of helping the situation, all I did was hurt him. Nobody liked having their flaws pointed out, especially by the one person who was supposed to love them through all of it.
Shutting down my computer, I headed to the kitchen to make dinner. The joy of the moment had passed. Tomorrow, I would play around with it. Tomorrow, I would do something for myself.
Tomorrow seemed a long time away.