She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror and could only make out the charcoal gray coloring of her cheeks in the darkness of the room, but she knew the red was still there. She splashed her face again. And again she knew her cheeks were still flushed.
She bent her head over the sink and screamed as loudly as she could. She let out all of her air with that scream and then did it again. And again until her throat went raw. She felt the warm tears trickle down her cheeks, flushed an angrier red now, and she splashed water over them once more.
She looked at her dripping face in the mirror. “I’m fine,” she croaked, but she was shaking her head when she said it.
Chapter 7
Blessed relief finally came. A crisp, cool morning that made Clara feel hopeful, and for the first time in weeks, not awaken caked with sweat. She got out of bed and went to the window, pushing it up and feeling the instant chill on the breeze as it drifted inside her bedroom. She also felt hopeful about their debt. Because of Beatrice—sweet Beatrice!—they were well on their way to covering the cost of the outstanding electric bill. Clara was confident that by mid-November, they would have lights. And heat.
She got dressed and went through the house in search of dirty laundry. She tried to go to the laundromat early Saturday mornings right when it opened to avoid the crowd. It was not her idea to spend hours there waiting for machines to open. Plus, the people who frequented the mat were strange, and she preferred to get in and out as quickly as possible.
She headed into Beatrice’s room and hunted around for anything that looked like it needed washing. Once the basket was full, she made her way to the front door. She opened it to find Ms. Debbie standing there, her hand balled in a fist and poised, ready to knock. Ms. Debbie noted the basket in Clara’s arm and shook her head.
“Not right now, Clara,” she said, pushing her way into the house. Clara backed away from the door and set the basket down. She was about to address her neighbor when she heard a truck pull up in front of the house. Ms. Debbie stood in the doorway as though she were expecting something. Clara was unsure why, but she felt safer standing at a distance, far on the other side of the living room.
A man walked up to the front door and began a pleasant conversation with Ms. Debbie. Clara heard the words “church” and “charity” and thought that the two together didn’t sound half bad. In fact, she liked the way they sounded. She had the brief, exhilarating thought that donations were coming their way. A month and a half ago she would have scowled, would have been too proud to take anything from anyone, but she had learned in her desperation to be humble. To be poor and to beg. She walked up to stand next to her neighbor at the door.
“I’m watching the girls while their mother is away,” Ms. Debbie explained, her bulky frame taking up most of the doorway so that it was impossible for the church representative to see inside. Her lies were silky smooth, and Clara wanted to hug her for them. “I know Ms. Greenwich would show you all the gratitude in the world if she were here. It is so good of you to think of this family. These are such good girls!”
“Well, you know as well as I that the church loves to give all year round. Not just at holidays. We want you to know we care about you,”—he looked at Clara as he said this—“and Ms. Greenwich is always welcomed to service with her daughters,” he concluded looking at Ms. Debbie.
“So kind,” Ms. Debbie replied. “I’ll let her know.”
Clara smiled sweetly. The church representative chucked her under the chin then turned to the truck parked on the street in front of the house. He waved and two men emerged. They walked to the back and started unloading paper bags filled with groceries. Clara’s mouth watered instinctively at the thought of all that food. Something her precious money didn’t have to buy because there were still nice people in the world who wanted to do nice things for others.
She didn’t notice the men as they made their way up the concrete walkway. She was in the middle of a conversation with the church representative. But then she heard the familiar voice and her heart exploded.
It was him.
She froze in fear. She thought that maybe she could turn invisible if she held perfectly still. Don’t move a muscle, she thought desperately, and watched him climb the steps to the front porch, face fixated on something in the bag he held. He placed it by her feet and only then looked up. His eyes met hers, and she could think of nothing to do or say. The humiliation permeated every part of her body making her eyes well up with unwelcome tears. I’m nobody, I’m nobody, I’m nobody, she thought frantically believing she could push the words onto him silently. She thought absurdly that she could make him hear them and believe them, not recognize her, or at the least, not care.
He smiled down at her, a smile that said, “It’s okay. No big deal.” She wanted to return a smile, but she suddenly felt her heart fill up with malice. She turned her face away, hot with shame and resentment. She couldn’t bear being so close to him, couldn’t bear the thought of accepting charity he carried in a brown paper bag up the porch steps for her. She excused herself and went inside to hide behind the curtain covering the living room window.
She pulled the curtain aside, making sure to conceal her face as best she could, and watched as Evan walked away from the house towards the truck. Her eyes stung as she watched him climb into the passenger side and fasten his seatbelt, then stare back at the house taking in the details of the worn and rotted siding, the unkempt lawn, the chipped paint on concrete steps leading up to a dilapidated front porch. She thought that he was taking mental notes. Notes that would remind him to never speak to her at school again.
***
“Hi Clara,” he said approaching her the following Monday. She looked from left to right. “You’re the only Clara I’m talking to,” he said, and then chuckled. She shrugged and gave him a noncommittal smile.