“Oh.” I shifted my focus to the artwork above the sofa, pretending to be fascinated by its soothing geometry.
“But maybe that’s not your thing.” Sylvie’s smile was reassuring. “A lot of people are strictly relationship-only.”
“Well…” I wasn’t sure I was ready to let this conversation go any further. But if I was going to keep spending time with Sylvie—and I wanted to—I’d probably have to endure it sooner or later. “It’s more that I’ve never actually done … that.”
“What, you mean had sex? Or a relationship?”
“Um, neither.” Maybe if I mumbled it, it would be less shocking.
“Oh, got it.” Sylvie’s reaction lacked the judgment I was expecting. “So are you ace?”
“Ace?”
“Yeah, you know—asexual? That’s totally cool. I know quite a few aces, actually.”
I’d never considered how I’d label myself sexually. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, I do feel attracted to people.”
“Guys? Women? Everyone? I like to keep my options open, personally.” Sylvie grinned. “Binary thinking has never been my thing.”
I sifted through all the crushes I’d had over the years—fictional characters, strangers on the subway, college professors, Tim. “I’m attracted to men, I guess.” Not exactly a revelation, but speaking the words seemed to stir a part of me that I’d purposely kept dormant.
Sylvie repositioned herself on the sofa so that she was facing me. “So what’s kept you from actually dating anybody? You’re a total catch—you know that, right? Smart, worldly, kind, perceptive, fun…”
The description flattered me—I always felt boringly subdued compared to Sylvie’s boundless energy.
“I just never really understood how to go about it,” I said, shrugging. “I know you’re supposed to just wait and let it happen when you least expect it, but I did that and it never worked. No one ever noticed me in that way.”
Sylvie’s eyes were kind without pitying. “I’m confident that many people have noticed you, Clover. Maybe you just need to open yourself to actually seeing it. And acting on it.”
“But dating is so confusing. I’ve always preferred things that you can study and learn, where there are set rules.” I could feel myself getting flustered. “Love isn’t like that—I just can’t get my head around how to do it.”
“How to do it? Well, that’s kind of the whole point. Nobody ever understands love—anyone who says they do is lying or in denial. We’re all just working it out as we go.”
“What if I make a mistake? Or I’m just really bad at it?” There was no backing out of this, so I may as well be brutally honest. “I’ve never even kissed anyone.”
“You’re never going to get good at it if you don’t put yourself out there and try.” Sylvie divided the last of the wine between our glasses. “Love is kind of like scratching a mosquito bite—painful and euphoric at the same time. You’ve just got to get out of your head and into your heart.”
I didn’t bother hiding my discomfort. “But it’s also kind of terrifying.”
“Of course it is! And that’s what makes it so worth it,” Sylvie said confidently. “You listen to dying people all the time talking about the things they regretted not doing, right? I bet you’ll regret not trying.”
I knew she was right, but then I thought about the one time I did try—or almost tried.
I’d listened to my heart instead of my head and I ended up regretting it.
24
It was pouring rain when I arrived at Claudia’s house at two on the dot for our third visit. A woman in a floral scrub top and a voluminous topknot the color of espresso answered the door.
“Clover, right? I’m Selma. Sounds like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” Her tone was efficient. “Claudia’s in the kitchen. She said to tell you to come on through.”
“Thanks—and nice to meet you, Selma.” I watched her pull on a navy windbreaker and recognized the emblem of the home healthcare service emblazoned on the left shoulder.
“I’m headed out to grab a coffee, but I’ll be back in about half an hour. She’s supposed to be eating the salad I made her for lunch—don’t let her talk you into getting her any junk food.”
“Got it.”
My footsteps reverberated as I walked through the townhouse, emphasizing the lack of presence, both human and object. The black-and-white photos on the wall reminded me of the lie I’d have to continue—I’d stayed up late last night cramming my brain with the fundamentals of photography.
Aperture. Rule of thirds. White balance.
My plan was to ask Claudia as many questions as possible and then just stoke the conversational fire as needed. Fortunately, I now at least had a prop to help me keep up the ruse. Even though Sylvie had very few possessions, one of them happened to be a moderately fancy digital camera. And she was more than enthusiastic about lending it to me.
“Are you kidding me? Borrow mine!” Sylvie had said when I’d asked if she knew anything about buying cameras. “I’m so hooked on this whole photography charade with the dying woman and her grandson—I’d be honored to play a small role in the saga.”
I found Claudia sitting on the breakfast nook banquette in the corner of the kitchen, watching the drizzle crisscross the window pane.
“My darling Clover.” Crinkles of delight gathered in her face. “I’m so pleased you’re here. Come, sit down.”
“Hello, Claudia!” I slid onto the banquette next to her. “I met Selma on my way in.”
“Oh, yes, Selma. All business, that woman. Always bossing me around about taking care of myself and eating my vegetables, as if I were a child.”
“I’m sure she means well.” Working with spirited, stubborn elderly folk usually required a certain level of assertiveness. No wonder Selma was brusque.
“I know, I know—she’s just doing her job.” Claudia winked. “But life’s always more interesting with a little bit of debate. I like to think of her more as a worthy adversary.”
I winked back. “Noted.”
“So, since the warden’s away, how about we have some fun?”
“What did you have in mind?” Better to remain neutral until I knew what I was agreeing to.
There was a nefarious glint in Claudia’s smile. “How about you help me bend the rules a little?”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been craving a little bit of a treat.” She nodded to a large ceramic jar on the floating shelves above the sink. “I had Maxwell, the lovely gentleman who comes to do my hair, hide some powdered doughnuts in there for me. Let’s indulge in one or two, shall we?”
I considered my options. Really my allegiance was to Claudia, not Selma. And it was my job to help make Claudia’s final days as pleasurable as possible, even if she didn’t know that.
I pretended to look around sneakily, as if there was a risk of us being caught—even though I knew Selma wouldn’t be back for half an hour.
“Count me in.”
* * *
After I’d safely squirreled away the empty doughnut wrappers in my pocket, we sat at the table in front of a makeshift still life comprising a fruit bowl and an ornate china teapot.
“I’ve never been one for these boring vignettes of inert objects,” Claudia said. “But this will help you learn how to shift the depth of field and focus in your photography.”
“What’s your favorite thing to photograph then?” I peered through the viewfinder, my thumb and pointer finger forming a C as I adjusted the lens.
“Human beings, of course,” Claudia said, like the answer was obvious. “They’re far more interesting than an apple or banana. Or a landscape, for that matter.”
“I bet it’s an entirely different skill, taking photos of people.” I put the camera down on the table. “Those portraits on the wall in the hallway are stunning. What’s the secret to taking a good photo of someone?”
Claudia’s eyes shone. “Patience.”
My mind retreated briefly to my birthday lesson in the park with Grandpa. I shut the sadness away and concentrated on Claudia.