Clara laughed coldly. “We don’t have tea.”
“Well, I could warm up some milk for you,” he replied, and thought it was the dumbest suggestion he’d ever made.
Clara looked at him flatly. “I don’t need warm milk. I’m not two. What I do need is a hot shower and my bed.”
She jumped up from the couch and stood over Evan, waiting for him to leave.
“I think I’ll just hang out here tonight,” he said casually.
“Well, I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” Beatrice said. Hope dripped from her words.
“Completely inappropriate,” Clara said. “And your parents would go crazy.”
“They think I’m staying over at Chris’s house,” Evan replied.
“Please, let’s have Evan stay over, Clara!” Beatrice pleaded. “We can pop popcorn and watch a movie!” And she wanted to add, “And I won’t have to be here alone with you.”
“It’s a school night,” Clara said.
Beatrice looked over at Evan. “Clara, it’s Friday night.”
Clara tensed. She quickly thought back through the day and realized that Beatrice was right. It was Friday. She remembered Meredith’s words, how Fridays were the best because the weekend stretched out in front of you waiting with all kinds of promise. It was the beginning, she said. The beginning of something special. But all of the days were starting to meld together for Clara, no one more significant than the other. No rest, no carefree weekends. Always work or school.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Clara said. She decided the best thing was to ignore the fact that she had forgotten which day it was. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
She knew Beatrice and Evan were talking about her. That’s what people do when someone around them starts to crack up—they talk about it. They want to be helpful, but they mostly want to gossip about it because it’s new and exciting and scary. And people love a good story. Clara imagined the conversation as she stripped her clothes.
“Your sister has gone crazy,” Evan said.
“Does this mean you’re breaking up with her?” Beatrice asked.
“Oh, no no,” Evan replied quickly, thinking he’d never had sex with a lunatic and that he’d like to give it a try.
Clara snorted with laughter, and she heard a tiny, tentative knock on the bathroom door.
“Are you okay, Clara?” Beatrice asked. Clara could hear the other statement underlining the question: “Please don’t use the razor to slit your wrists. I should have taken it before you locked the door.”
“Beatrice, I’m absolutely fine,” Clara said. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle another loud laugh.
There was a pause.
“We’re going to start the movie when you get out,” Beatrice said through the door.
“No no,” Clara replied. “Just start it now. It’ll take me awhile anyway. I’ve got to shave.”
She could hear the sharp intake of Beatrice’s breath. Or she thought she could.
“Okay, Clara,” and Clara was left alone.
She turned on the shower and waited for the water to reach a hot, steamy temperature before getting in. Her body broke into goose bumps as it slowly acclimated to the heat. She stood with her head lowered, letting the water soak her hair, drawing it forward around her face in heavy clumps of seaweed.
She thought about cutting her hair. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with the mass of it. She thought about a pixie cut like Katy’s, but then she wouldn’t know how to style it right. And she might end up looking like a boy. What would it be like to be a boy?
She thought about Evan just yards away from her. He’d already seen her naked, but she still felt weird taking a shower with him in the next room. She knew he wasn’t thinking one sexual thought about her. He was more concerned about the letter opener. Why did she have to freak out over a letter opener? It was so important at the time, she was sure of it, but now it seemed silly. She would pretend it never happened.
She thought she heard a voice on the other side of the shower curtain and froze. The shampoo ran down into her eyes, but she didn’t dare wipe at it. She strained hard to listen. More voices, and they were having a conversation about her.
I guess she’ll go stay at that children’s home on the north side of town.
They’ve been wanting to move that thing. No one wants an orphanage near their million dollar houses. Can’t trust those kids.
They have problems, but can you blame them?
Perhaps her sister will fare better and get into an actual foster home.
She deserves to. She’s cute and sweet, unlike the other one.
“Stop talking about me,” Clara hissed as she pulled back the shower curtain. The room was empty, but she heard them. She knew they had been there. They must have left quickly, and she wondered if they locked the door behind them.
She went back to washing her hair. Maybe they were here, in her head instead, and she scrubbed vigorously, hurting her scalp, trying to erase the sound of the voices with her fingertips. She rinsed her hair and convinced herself that they ran out of her head and down the drain, disappearing forever. She paused and listened, but she heard nothing. Just the constant stream of water shooting from the showerhead.
She walked to her bedroom wrapped in a towel. She threw it carelessly on the floor once she closed the door and stood over the vent feeling the heat run up her legs and in between them. She thought it felt odd and delicious and warm and wanted to keep feeling the heat tease her body. Her nipples grew hard and she felt a little ashamed letting her body be a plaything for the central heating unit. She wondered what was wrong with her, unable to move from her spot even when she heard a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” she called huskily.
“It’s Evan. Are you dressed?”
Clara looked down at her nude form.
“Yes. Come in,” she heard herself say. Did she mean it?
Evan walked in, then quickly closed the door and locked it once he saw her standing naked.
“Clara!” he gasped. “You said you were dressed!” He went about searching for something to give her to wear.