Page 56 of Implode

“Can’t be worse than being harassed by Penny when she discovered the sheet cake in the fridge on her quest to find something to drink.”

Claire covers her mouth with her hands. “Damn.” Her words come out mumbled as she giggles. “Oops.”

“You don’t look that sorry,” I tease.

“Oh, I’m not sorry at all. You deserved everything you got.”

“I did. I really did. And I’m really sorry for my part in helping to orchestrate your breakup with Maxwell.” I watch as her eyes shift from humor to seriousness. “I’m not sorry you left that asshole. However, I’m sorry for the ways in which I influenced the decision. I convinced myself that you would be better off without him, and that if he didn’t do something monumentally stupid, he would have just manipulated and guilted you to stay.”

A trail of tears travels down Claire’s cheeks. “Sometimes when you’re in the thick of abuse, it takes getting out for you to realize just how bad it was.”

“Something tells me you are referring to more than just Maxwell.”

Quiet fills the room, and I continue rubbing Claire’s feet while she floats to another place. Her eyes darken, and I can tell that her breathing changes. For several minutes, we just sit. Sometimes in the calmness, things start to become clearer. Whatever she decides to share with me will be a gift. It has obviously devastated her.

Claire’s throat clearing breaks the silence of the room. “I know you want me to talk about Virginia…”

“I do,” I admit.

“I honestly just want to forget I even went.”

I need to be patient. I need to get her to open up on her own time.

The doorbell rings, and I excuse myself to retrieve the food. Returning to the living room, I place the bag down on the coffee table and pull out several containers of food. The restaurant included paper products and serving spoons, so I dish up a variety plate for each of us.

I take Claire’s mug from her hand and place it on a coaster. “There’s plenty of food, so eat up,” I encourage, handing her the plate I made.

Claire is munching on macaroni and cheese made with bacon and savoring every bite as if she hasn’t eaten in days. She made an odd soup comment earlier and maybe she really is starving. That thought alone causes my insides to twist with—

Anger?

Pain?

Heartbreak?

“Sometimes talking about the pain makes it easier to move past it,” I suggest, desperately wanting to know what is bothering her so I can try to help. I am a fixer—a problem solver by nature—but right now I am grasping at straws.

“I know I put on a smile and try to always be positive, but I just can’t do it anymore. I’m tired of going through life acting like everything is alright.”

I squeeze her feet and run my hands up her calves in a soothing manner. “I’m here to listen.”

Claire clears her throat, while her eyes droop from the weight of the words I pray she’ll share.

“Growing up, everyone thought I was privileged based solely on the designers I would wear and the house I lived in, and to some extent I probably was in comparison. I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, but no one to feed me with it. I was always on my own. I didn’t have much reason to go back to Virginia, but my mom is going through a divorce. The house I grew up in has sold, and I needed to go back to clean out all of my shit. I just never expected to get there and be alone. She made it sound so urgent, so I booked the first flight I could find out of Portland. I wasn’t looking forward to going back, but I never expected to find my childhood house as deserted as it was. My mom wasn’t even staying there anymore. When I arrived, I had to find the spare key hidden outside and let myself in. Everything was dusty and drab.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” I whisper, trying to avoid losing control over her information dump. I keep listening and rubbing at her feet, trying to relax her enough to keep talking. I need her to talk and tell me everything. Every detail.

“It was like my mom didn’t even care that I was visiting. Never bothered to come stay with me. I shouldn’t be surprised because looking back that is basically how I grew up my whole life. But I guess as a kid, until you start visiting other family’s houses and seeing how the rest of the world lives, you think that what you are thrown into at birth is how life is supposed to be. I just thought it was all normal, until I learned what could have been. And the cruel realization that you have been neglected and unloved and treated like a burden is a lot for any child to endure.” Claire looks off into the other side of the room. “No child”—she sniffles—“deserves to ever feel like they are unwanted.”

I lean forward and wipe a tear from Claire’s cheek that keeps falling. Who procreates and then does this to a child? I want to go to Virginia and raise hell. How can someone be so oblivious to the damage they can cause another life?

“So, I was all alone for the night, which I guess is better than being with someone who has no respect for me. I slept on the floor, since I no longer had a bed. It was so late when I arrived, and I didn’t have transportation, so I sucked it up and ate nasty soup out of a can—” Her words come out choked, as she shudders at the memory.

I try my best not to react. I want to fucking react. But I keep myself in check. I reach for Claire’s hand and rub gently, trying to get her to keep talking. The more she shares, the more she can hopefully let go.

“Anyway, this morning my mom shows up and then the real fun begins,” she responds sarcastically. “Bored yet?”

I want to tell her not to do that. I don’t want her to use humor or act like this whole situation isn’t a big deal. Because it is a big fucking deal, and I feel murderous inside over it.

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