While waiting for her friends she ordered a martini and thought about her ensemble: a pair of slacks and blouse from Neiman Marcus and a pair of Dior pumps from Saks. Truly, she was allowing the press to get to her. She wanted to look like Mrs. Rawlings… to quiet their attack. Suddenly, she worried she was being photographed from every side.
Last night, when they talked about getting together before Claire left on her trip, Claire suggested eating at home. She even offered to cook. She liked cooking and contributing to the household duties. Her life in Palo Alto was a beautiful meeting of her previous two, not as tedious as her day to day survival in Atlanta, nor as opulent as her life in Iowa. It was real and comfortable – a perfect restart.
However, her friends insisted on going out to celebrate her impending vacation. They knew the press thing bothered Claire but argued she needed to be free to live her life, without worrying about other’s perception. After a deep sigh, Claire agreed.
Lost in her thoughts, Claire didn’t see Harry until he was right before her with his hand on her shoulder. Looking up to acknowledge him, she noticed how nice he looked, wearing a sports coat and button down shirt. His hair was even gelled and combed back in an attempted style. Before she could speak, he bent down and kissed her cheek. She felt warmth flow from her face to her insides as he took a seat across the small table.
“Well, hello. That was an interesting greeting.” She mused.
Harry’s blue eyes sparkled, illuminated in the low light of the restaurant. “I noticed how nice you look. Is that a new outfit?” Then he leaned a little closer, “And, that you’re being watched from a table to your left.” He reached for her. “Don’t look, it’d be too obvious. I thought I would give them something to write.”
“Maybe we should go somewhere else.” Claire really wanted to say, I want to go home.
“This won’t last long. We can leave, if you want, but I think your plan to make yourself visible is working. You shouldn’t run from it now.” He squeezed her trembling hand.
Claire looked at his serene expression and took comfort in his calmness. She exhaled, “Thank you, for being such a great sport about this.”
“Well, like I said, I’ve never been a celebrity before.”
“And, how do you like it?” She couldn’t help notice the twinkle in his intensely blue eyes.
“I’m getting used to it. Just this morning, the barista at Starbucks recognized me and gave me free coffee.”
Claire giggled, “Are you serious? I’m supposed to be the penny-less person. Why don’t I get free coffee?”
“Well, I’m not exactly destitute. But,” he mused, “I won’t turn down free java.”
The waiter came and took Harry’s drink order. When he asked if they were ready to order, Harry turned to Claire, “Do you know what you want? Or, do we need some more time?”
Claire turned to the waiter, “I believe I’d like a little more time, please.” She slowly picked up her martini and took a long sip, suddenly unable to make eye-contact.
Harry saw her sudden change in mood, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s really stupid.” She said as she sat her drink back on the linen tablecloth. Peering above the flickering candle she saw his concerned expression and gained strength to continue, “I know I don’t talk about my life with Tony very much. Maybe I’m not sure how I feel. But, from very early on, actually the first time we ever went out, he ordered my meal. He ordered my drinks, everything.”
“Well, some men do that. Did you like it?”
“Not at first. I mean, he never asked me what I wanted. Even on that first date. How could he possibly know what I liked? Then later, I guess I got used to it. Other than the first time, I never questioned it.” Claire became transfixed by the flame of the candle, flickering in the center of their private haven, moved by some unperceivable breeze.
Harry didn’t know if he should encourage this conversation. It seemed to make Claire sad. However, it was the first time she’d opened up about any personal aspect of her life with Mr. Rawlings. He pushed, “Why?”
Claire looked up from the orange and blue glow. “Why what?”
“Why didn’t you question it? I mean if you didn’t like it, if you wanted to order for yourself, why didn’t you tell him?”
Claire exhaled.
Harry watched as her eyes and face which were deep in thought, slowly took on perfect features. He recognized what she was doing. She was becoming the pretend Claire, the one who kept others at arm’s length and said everything perfect.
“It’s very complicated. Let’s just say, no one tells Anthony Rawlings what to do or how to do it.” She picked up her menu, “So what do you think sounds good?”
“I think it all sounds good. You should order whatever you want.”
The smile Harry spotted behind the large leather bound menu, made his chest thump with pleasure. It wasn’t the pretend one.