“I figured.”
“I think I have to go now,” she said shoving the paperback novel in her book bag.
“Lunch isn’t over yet,” Evan pointed out.
“I guess not,” Clara replied. She looked down at her partially-eaten food. She was still hungry, but there was no way she was eating in front of him this closely. Absolutely no way.
Evan reached over and plucked a tater tot from her tray. “You mind?” he asked as he popped it in his mouth.
Clara shook her head.
“I noticed you read a lot,” Evan observed.
It was true. Clara did read a lot. Reading was her favorite hobby, a form of escape. With reading she could be anyone, anything, and for the time she was absorbed in her stories, her social anxiety disappeared. She was brave and adventurous and clever. Like Beatrice.
“Does Beatrice read like you do?” Evan asked.
“Yes,” Clara replied. “Maybe not as much. But yes.”
“I figured she did. She sounds very smart. And you can’t be smart unless you read,” Evan said.
Clara nodded. She didn’t know what else to do.
“I should read more fiction,” Evan went on. “I read a lot of manuals and textbooky stuff. It’s kind of nerdy. I guess I’m a bit of a nerd.”
He paused for a minute and smiled at her showing his perfectly straight white teeth. She instinctively ran her tongue over her own feeling the slight crookedness of her left incisor folded a little over her front tooth. She remembered a dentist once referring to it as a “kicked lateral.” She didn’t like the way that sounded as though somebody kicked her in the teeth and then laughed about it.
“I should read more fiction,” he repeated. “And I work at a bookstore.”
Clara stared at him. He popped another one of her tater tots in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
“Maybe you could recommend some books to me?” he suggested after a moment. “Do you mind?” he asked picking up her milk.
Clara was beside herself. She thought she shook her head.
Evan took a long sip then placed it back on her tray. She watched him lick his lips.
“Don’t worry. I don’t backwash.” He grinned at her and stood up. “Clara, I’d like very much for you to recommend some books for me to read,” he said looking at the cafeteria clock hanging above them. “Fiction,” he clarified. “Will you do that for me?” He looked down at her, his cat eyes cutting into hers.
She was certain that he was being serious and teasing her at the same time. In that moment something floated down her chest to rest in her belly. Something shimmery and warm that made her excited. And terrified.
She nodded.
“Okay then,” Evan said. “I’ll be seeing you, Clara,” and he walked back to his table.
Clara was conscious of two things: first, the intense longing she felt to put her lips on her milk carton where his had just been, and second, the low voices passing by her that said, “He drank her milk!” The bell rang and she didn’t move. She knew she couldn’t. She shook so violently that she was afraid to pick up her tray and walk it over to the trash. She knew she would drop it by accident.
When the cafeteria cleared, Clara thought it was safe to get up. She walked her tray over to the receptacle, positioning it over the bin’s opening, and watched regrettably as the milk carton slid out of sight.
***
Clara sat on the couch that evening balancing her checkbook. Her bank account was dismal. She paid her cell phone bill and water bill leaving virtually nothing until her next paycheck. And she’d have to wait a week for it. She felt the rising panic and tried to force it down. She would ask for more hours at work. She was a good worker and was confident her manager would give them to her. The bulk of her next paycheck would go to the electricity. The property tax kept creeping up into the forefront of her mind, but she pushed it down. She couldn’t worry about that right now. Electricity was the most important thing.
She thought of Beatrice and her dog-walking plans. She really did not want Beatrice working, but she almost felt she had no choice. Fifteen extra dollars a week could go a long way in getting their electricity back on faster. Still, Clara felt ashamed that she could not do it on her own.
“Clara?” Beatrice asked, walking around the couch to stand in front of her sister.
“Yes?”
“You promised me that you’d let me know today if I can walk the dogs.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Clara asked. She closed her checkbook and looked at her sister.
“Well?” Beatrice said. She twirled her golden locks around her fingers and waited.
“Would you have fun walking those ladies’ dogs?” Clara asked.
“The most fun of my entire life,” Beatrice responded.
Clara smirked. “Are any of the dogs bigger than you?”
“Nope. They’re all small dogs.”
“Are they well-behaved dogs?” Clara asked.
“The best in the whole world.”
Clara considered something. “Bea, you know you’d have to pick up their poop.”
“I’ve been saving our grocery bags,” Beatrice replied.
“And you’ll only walk them in their neighborhood?” Clara asked.
“Of course!” Beatrice said.
Clara knew that Beatrice would be safe. Oak Tower Trail was a nice neighborhood complete with tree-lined streets, wealthy residents, and a neighborhood watch. She wasn’t really concerned for Beatrice’s safety. She just wanted her to be happy.
“The second you say that you’re tired of walking dogs, I don’t want you to anymore.”
“Clara!” Beatrice screamed and jumped on her sister.
“Oof!” Clara grunted feeling Beatrice’s arms go around her neck and nearly choke her.
“I love you, Clare-Bear!” she squealed into Clara’s neck. “And I’ll give you the money every Friday. I promise.”
Clara’s heart gave a small jolt. She felt the instant guilt of having her sister work for money that she had to turn over every week. Beatrice would become resentful, and rightly so, and suddenly the plan didn’t seem all that great.
“Bea?” Clara asked.