“We can do whatever you want,” Evan replied.
When they returned from the store, Beatrice pulled out a stack of old board games from the bottom of her closet and told Evan to choose. He decided on Scrabble knowing she would annihilate him, thinking that was exactly what she needed to feel better. They played Scrabble until three in the morning, eating an assortment of chocolate candies, popcorn, and potato chips, and stifling laughter so they wouldn’t wake Clara.
“Any better?” Evan asked as they cleaned up the game pieces before going to sleep.
“What do you mean?” Beatrice replied searching the front closet for a blanket for Evan to sleep with on the couch.
“Your Friday night. Was it any better?”
“Loads better. Thank you, Evan,” Beatrice said smiling, handing him the blanket and disappearing to her bedroom.
***
Clara dreaded entering the classroom. She had not seen Evan since Friday night. She worked the entire weekend, and he was busy as well. Neither called the other. She could remember only bits and pieces of that evening, and those were enough to mortify her. She didn’t know how to apologize or if she even should.
She woke Saturday morning to find Evan already gone. Her head didn’t feel fuzzy anymore. She had a clear picture of her house and her future. She walked over to the kitchen table and opened the envelope—the second, and last, delinquency notice for the property tax nestled inside. She knew they would come and take her house away, and the fact that she stood staring at the notice devoid of any fear confused her. She should be terrified, scared out of her mind. But she wasn’t. Not at that moment. It was desperation without fear, if such a thing could exist. She knew what she had to do. She got a glimpse of it last night and realized that she could be that woman. It was deep within her, the animal, and she could conjure it again. She would have to if she wanted to survive.
She tensed on her way to her seat. Evan was already there waiting for her. He smiled shyly, and she returned her own.
“Clara—”
“Just listen,” she interrupted, and he closed his mouth. “I don’t know what was wrong with me Friday night. I guess I had a bit of a meltdown. And I’m sorry you had to witness that. I shouldn’t have been sexual with you. It was wrong, especially with Beatrice there. I mean, it would have been wrong even if she wasn’t there. I didn’t feel right, and I shouldn’t have done it.”
“I shouldn’t have done what I did, Clara,” Evan said. “I’m so sorry. You were just so sexy and I couldn’t resist. It’s a lousy excuse, but there it is.” He waited for her response.
“I think maybe I have a hard time in the winter months. I just get a little sad.”
She felt guilty for lying so blatantly. Being “a little sad” does not elicit the psychosis she experienced in the bathroom. It does not turn a shy virgin into a vixen. It does not scream about a nonexistent and inconsequential letter opener. She wondered if she could trick Evan into believing that she was simply sad because of the weather. He was smart, but then he might want to believe her. She never considered the idea of losing him because of her depression.
“I understand, Clara,” Evan said. He searched her face. He thought that she was back to normal, or maybe it was just his wish superimposed on her so that he was seeing the Clara he wanted to see.
She had nothing else to say, really. She was exhausted and asked if she could read her book for a few minutes before class. Evan nodded, watching her from the corner of his eye just in case.
***
She left school that afternoon. She drove to Franklin Avenue and parked in a vacant spot on the south side of the street. She turned off the ignition and got out of the car. She walked to the end of the street turning a corner until she spotted them. She knew they would be there in broad daylight, tucked within the deep recesses of the back alley, talking in low whispers to the few men who stood around them. The nighttime would drive them out of the alley, on to the main drag where dozens of vehicles would roam up and down the street until the occupants within spotted something they liked. Maybe they would think she was old enough. Maybe they wouldn’t care.
She watched the women for a time. They cocked their heads to the side coyly, and Clara mimicked them, practicing. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled demurely. It drew a cackle from one of the ladies. She didn’t know they saw her.
She sprinted back to her car. She felt ashamed, awash with guilt. Her heart was filled with dirt, and she wondered how to clean it. She didn’t think there was any way to clean it out, not if she wanted to keep her house. She closed herself in the car and took a deep breath. She would come back, she decided. Another night.
Chapter 18
It was a typical January night, cold and uninviting. Beatrice was spending the night with Angela. Clara sat in the living room staring at the empty fireplace. She would need to get ready soon. She wouldn’t use the warm water he paid for. She just couldn’t, not to prepare herself for what she planned to do tonight. She had to keep Evan separate from it, and then she could convince herself that it really didn’t happen. That it was a bad dream she would wake up from in the morning, feel odd about for a few hours, and then get over.