Chapter 4
CLARA
Iwas standing at the counter in Mom’s kitchen, peeling potatoes. Bailey the basset hound snored at my feet, always excited to see me but too tired to stay awake for long. He was a bit of sunshine on a difficult day.
Thanksgiving had always been one of my favorite holidays, but being fired less than a week before really put a damper on the proceedings. I had never dreaded going home for the holidays before, but that morning, I had.
My feet were dragging the whole time I showered, got dressed, and drove across town to my parents’ house. The drive had felt too short. I had considered driving around the neighborhood for a few minutes to delay the sad homecoming, but I had to face the music sometime.
They already knew the bad news, that I’d lost another job. My mother had cried with me on the phone and my father had sent me some silly pictures of ducks to cheer me up. But seeing them in person was tough.
Through all the sweet hugs and the warm welcome homes, I saw the pity in their eyes, silently saying, “Here’s our disappointing daughter who makes bad decisions. She’s lost her way again.”
I didn’t voice any of my feelings, though. Their holidays didn’t need to be ruined because I was struggling. I refused to spread my pain and spoil things for everyone else. I might be a loser, but I didn’t have to be a bummer, too.
Soon after, my mother had put me to work, presumably to help keep my mind off things. It had been a while since I used a potato peeler and I had already nicked my fingers a few times.
I can cross chef off my list of potential new jobs.
This was what my life had become. I should have been building giant nutcrackers for the Helios stage, watching the rat king and the nutcracker prince choreograph their big dramatic sword fight. Instead, I was in charge of the mashed potatoes.
Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I couldn’t help but feel the assignment came with a side of judgment, like I couldn’t be trusted to prep any of the more difficult dishes. “Give Clara the potatoes. She can’t fuck those up like she fucked up her life.”
I had suggested adding roasted garlic cloves to the dish, to liven it up a little, and my mother had looked at me like she regretted having a second child. I kept my bright ideas to myself after that and just followed the boring recipe we always used.
While the last few things were finishing up, I helped my mother set out the food on the dining room table.
Normally, they ate at the smaller table in the kitchen, but for special occasions, we all sat around the big table.
Mom pulled out her good plates, which were much heavier than the stuff they used on a daily basis.
Pink flowers and gold leaf circled the edges.
They were pretty, if a little old fashioned. Mom said they were a wedding gift.
We had a traditional Thanksgiving menu, with turkey, stuffing, yams, and of course my mashed potatoes. When we all sat to eat and I tasted them, the fucking things were lumpy and I had to hold back the tears threatening to spoil dinner even more than I already had. My appetite evaporated.
This was my favorite meal of the whole year and it might as well have been gas station burritos. I moved food around on my plate to give the appearance of eating, but very little went into my mouth.
Very little came out of it, too. Talking took too much effort. I didn’t have the strength to force cheer into my voice or smile, which were the polite things to do. Mom had worked hard on this meal and she deserved a nice evening.
Better to just shrink into myself and let the rest of the world forget about me. No such luck. The conversation turned and I was the center of attention once again.
Dad looked at me. “So your mother and I were talking. We were thinking you could move into the basement here. We can clear the junk out. Then you can move your furniture in there, turn it into a little apartment.”
“You should have been living here the whole time since you got back from California,” Mom said. “Rent is so expensive. And groceries? Forget it. Living here is the smart thing to do.”
I appreciated my mother was trying to blame the economy and not my poor life choices. She was sweet like that. It slightly lessened the sting of moving back home with my parents.
“Fine,” I said. “Make the basement into my spinster cave. Lock me away to hide me from the world.”
“Damn theater people,” Nic said, grinning. “Always so dramatic.”
“Easy for you to say,” I told him. “Your shop is doing well. Speaking of which, you don’t happen to have a job for your little sister, do you?”
“Sure, do you know how to fix a carburetor?” he asked.
I slumped in my chair. “I can’t even fix mashed potatoes.”
“Oh, stop, the potatoes are good,” Dad said. “I like them chewy.”
I smiled at that. My parents had always been supportive, even when they questioned my common sense.
As grim as my life was, with all my hopes and dreams crashing and burning, my parents were there with a safe place for me to land.
Not everyone had that, and I reminded myself to count my blessings instead of tallying up my failures.
“Thank you all,” I said. “It’s been a rough week and it’s good to be home.”
My parents got up to give me a hug and even Nic reached over to ruffle my hair. My appetite returned after that and the rest of the meal was much more pleasant. I agreed to move into the basement and promised not to adopt a bunch of cats.
Yet.
When dinner was finished, I said I would take care of the dishes. Mom deserved to kick her feet up after an amazing meal. After taking out the trash, Nic walked into the kitchen with a swagger, grabbed a towel, and stood beside me to dry the dishes as they came out of the sink.
My big brother bumped me with his shoulder. He had stopped playing football after high school but he was still the size of pickup truck. The gentle nudge rocked me on my feet.
“How are you doing for real?” he asked.
I kept my eyes on the plate I was cleaning. “I’m drowning.”
“It’s just a rough patch,” he said, taking the plate from me. “You’ll get back on your feet.”
“I feel like a failure.”
Nic’s meaty paw landed on my shoulder and he turned me to face him.
“Let’s get one thing straight: Losing your job wasn’t your fault.
That mess in LA wasn’t your fault either, but one thing at a time.
You had nothing to do with the Helios closing.
Some architect fudged the math a century ago and now the building needs to be fixed.
The theater would have to close even if you never set foot in the place. It’s just bad luck.”
I summoned a weak smile and nodded at him. “Let’s hope some good luck comes my way for a change.”
“It has to.” He laughed. “You know, I can probably find some paperwork or filing for you to do at the shop. Not fulltime or anything.”
“Thank you, but that feels too much like charity. I’ll find something.” I dunked Mom’s fancy butter dish into the soapy water. “Jessie said I should go sub at her school.”
“Hey, now there’s an idea,” he said. “That’ll keep you going until spring.”
“It’s not steady. I can pick up days when they’re available but it’s not enough to support me.” I shook water off the butter dish and passed it to Nic.
“You’re not seeing the bigger picture,” he said, drying it.
“By all means, tell me what I’m missing.”
He placed the butter dish with the other mostly dry stuff. “Moving back home sucks but it also means any money you make is all yours. Start building up that savings. I don’t know if you still want to go to New York, but that place ain’t cheap.”
“You’ve got that right,” I said, scrubbing one of Mom’s nice plates gently. “And of course I still want to go. Losing my job at the Helios just confirms I can’t rely on it. If I really want to design sets, I need to go where the work is. And that’s Broadway.”
“You’ll get there,” he said, wrapping a beefy arm around my shoulders and giving me a squeeze.
“Easy, I can’t breathe,” I said, giggling. “But thank you. It’s a relief knowing you all are here for me.”
He let go of me and shrugged. “That’s what family does. We take care of each other. If it was my life in the shitter, you’d be there for me.”
I wasn’t thrilled with his brutal description of my current situation, but his heart was in the right place, and he got credit for that. My life was in the shitter. I was confident I could turn my luck around, but at the moment, things weren’t going great.
Nic tossed his towel on the counter. “I’m going to head out. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Where are you going?” I let the water drain from the sink and wiped my hands. “You’re not going to hang out with Mom and Dad?”
“They’re already napping on the couch in front of the TV. I’m going to see an old friend I haven’t seen in a while.” His grin reminded me of him when he was younger.
“Is Luke in town?” I asked, my heart suddenly galloping.
Nic paused, then nodded, giving me a nonchalant shrug. “He called me and wants to get a drink. No big deal.”
We both knew it was a big deal. Luke rarely ever came back to town. He was busy being on TV all the time. From what I understood, Nic and Luke kept in touch, but Luke’s schedule was so packed he didn’t have time for friends.
I wondered if Luke ever got lonely. I also wondered if he ever thought of me the way I thought of him. It seemed unlikely.
“Anyway,” Nic said. “We’ll be at Tipsy’s. It’s the only place that stays open on the holidays.”
I almost asked him if I could go with him but I stopped myself. Catching up with him would be fun, right up until the subject of my life came up. The moment he asked me how work was or what I’d been up to, I would be forced to relive my embarrassment in front of the hottest boy I’d ever known.
That was a hard pass from me. I couldn’t handle any more emotional ups and downs tonight.
“You guys have fun,” I said. “Tell him I say hi.”
“Will do.”
After he left, I took Bailey for a walk around the block, still trying to feel useful. A cold front had come in and I regretted not bringing a coat.
Just one more thing I hadn’t seen coming.