Still wearing Meredith’s sunglasses, Claire’s face was downcast. Meredith couldn’t resist. She removed the sunglasses and lifted her friends chin, revealing tears streaming down Claire’s cheeks, overflowing her unfocused eyes. “You spoke,” Meredith whispered. “I heard it. Oh God! Claire, tell me I didn’t just imagine that!”
The silence grew. With each second, each minute, Meredith’s excitement diminished. She was so upset about the meeting and losing this connection to Claire, she must have imagined the whole thing. Finally, she reached in her pocket, produced a tissue, and wiped Claire’s tears. The sky was now closer to dark than light. Surely, someone would reprimand Meredith for having a patient out past dark. She smirked again, it won’t matter—I’m getting fired in two days anyway.
Lightening her voice, Meredith continued her monologue. The apology was done—she’d talk—because, until they fired her—that was her job. “Let’s get you back to your room. I’m sure they won’t be very happy that I kept you out so late.” Waiting for Claire to turn around, she continued, “I’m sure I’ll hear about it.”
Securing Claire’s elbow, Meredith felt her tremble. “Claire, are you cold? I’m sorry. Let’s get you back.” While Claire stayed steadfast, Meredith remembered the night of Claire’s accident. She’d been out at the lake, and it got dark. “Oh shit, I’m making this worse. You’re fine—no one will be upset with you. Don’t worry—there won’t be any problems—no accidents.”
“Stop.” Claire’s whisper was so low that Meredith had to strain to hear her above the sounds of the country night. Keeping her eyes downcast, Claire continued, “I lived it.” “I don’t want to hear it.” “I want to hear the good times.”
It was against protocol, but what the hell—at this point, what harm was there in breaking another facility rule? Throwing caution to the wind, Meredith wrapped her arms around her long-time friend and cried. The sobs of earlier, the anguish over the last six years, the fear of losing her job—everything came out.
Slowly, Claire’s arms encircled Meredith, and she whispered, “Shhh, I’m sorry.” “Please don’t cry.”
The absurdity of Claire consoling her hit hard. Meredith’s tears turned to laughter.
At first, Claire thought she was imagining it. Then again, she wasn’t sure what was real. Tony’s visits were becoming less frequent. The bland room with one window was becoming more real, and she didn’t want it to be. With Tony, life was filled with colors of varying intensities. This reality was not only colorless, it was lifeless. She yearned for more time with him and longed for his touch; however, day in and day out, the drab room and the people who talked about nothing filled more and more of her hours.
Sometimes she’d focus and see her sister. It was Emily—although, she looked much older. Then again, so did Claire. The people with plain faces and colorless eyes often combed her hair into a ponytail. It was the hairstyle of a young girl—Claire didn’t feel young. The reflection she saw—if she focused in the mirror—didn’t look young. As a matter of fact, her hair was wrong. There was a time it was blonde—because, he wanted it to be. Now the highlights weren’t blonde, they were white. How could she possibly have graying hair? The last thing she remembered was...
That was so difficult. She tried to remember. In that room they took her to, they asked her to look at pictures. Sometimes those pictures would trigger something. When that happened, she tried with all her might to keep the emptiness out. Sometimes she’d cover her eyes or her ears.
There were other times where they asked her to do simple tasks like picking up things and putting them in the right places. They didn’t tell her what was right. She didn’t know if it was acceptable to ask, so she avoided their tasks until they insisted. Claire didn’t like to hear people tell her what to do, especially if they sounded upset. Finally, one day, she picked up the miscellaneous items and put them in the small little compartments. Instead of releasing her from the room, they came up with more things for her to do.
The constant that Claire began to anticipate was Meredith’s visits. It was only recently she realized who the woman was. After all, even with saying her name, the context was wrong. Why would Meredith Banks be feeding her? Then Claire realized—it wasn’t meant to make sense—it just was, and Meredith did what no one else would do—she talked about Tony.