***
For the next two weeks Claire and I talked every night on the phone. Unfortunately, the plant put me on night shift and overtime for the first few weeks so our schedules never meshed so we could see each other. The only spare time we both had to talk was during my first fifteen minute break around midnight every night. I always apologized to her for calling at such a shitty time but she swore it was absolutely perfect. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I actually looked forward to going to work because I knew I’d get to hear Claire’s voice. Drew, who worked directly across from me on the assembly line, got entirely too much pleasure out of watching me rush to a quiet corner of the plant to make the call. The first time, he asked me where I was going and when I didn’t answer, he followed me the entire way, shouting to every single person that I was calling my parents to tell them I was coming out of the closet. A well-placed punch to the nuts curbed his desire to do that ever again, but people were still coming up to me and patting me on the back in congratulations.
For fifteen minutes every single night, Claire and I talked about nothing and everything all at the same time. I told her about growing up with two older brothers who confirmed my belief in the boogey man and had their friends call me and tell me they were Santa Clause and that I would never get another toy again if I didn’t clean their rooms while wearing a pair of their underwear on my head.
Claire told me about her parent’s divorce and her decision to live with her father, who I hadn’t even met and already feared. He went to a birthday party the previous weekend and when trying to break up a fight, some guy said to him “What are you going to do about it grandpa?” Claire’s dad knocked him out with one punch and said “THAT’S what I’m going to do about it, asshole.” Claire tried to convince me that her dad was a giant teddy bear, but where I come from, you’re not afraid to meet a teddy bear in a dark alley at night for fear that he’ll scalp you and tattoo his name on your ass.
I regrettably told her about Tasha and the reason for the breakup. I even spilled my guts to her about how I didn’t know if I ever even really loved Tasha and was just biding my time until the right person came along. I didn’t tell her more about the one-night-stand from college that Drew brought up at dinner that night and she never asked about it, thankfully. Even though it was easy to talk to Claire about Tasha, it seemed wrong to talk to her about the woman I’d dreamed about for five years. Claire was sweet and smart and funny and I didn’t want to taint any of that with a stupid dream. The more I talked to Claire and got to know her, the more it became clear that she could be the one I was waiting for. I felt like the majority of the time we talked more about me than we did her and when I pointed that out, she just laughed and said there wasn’t much to tell because her life was so boring. Still, with each phone call I learned something new about her and I was willing to spend as long as it took to know everything there was to know about her.
Finally, after fifteen days of hovering in corners at work away from the loud machines to listen to Claire’s softy, husky voice as she lay curled up in bed under the covers talking to me, I was going to see her again. The plant finally gave me a Saturday off of work and I was more than happy to spend it checking out Claire and Liz’s shop (fine, Claire’s ass). Claire had sent me a few pictures on my cell phone in the last week and from what I could tell, they were making enormous progress on the place. In reality, I didn’t care if I was meeting Claire in a garbage dump; as long as I could be close to her I would be happy.
At ten that Saturday morning, I pulled up in front of the address Claire gave me for the shop. I sat in the car for a minute, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. I probably got around three hours of sleep last night. All I did was toss and turn, thinking about seeing Claire again and being close enough to touch her. I’m not gonna lie though, the thing that gave me the sleepless night was the quote she used absentmindedly on the phone the previous night. It was the second time she’d used it around me and no matter how much I tried to push it from my mind, that stupid nagging though about her popped back up. A lot of people have seen the movie Heathers. And really, "fuck me gently with a chainsaw" could be a very popular way to say "holy shit" nowadays.