A Flawed Heart (19 page)

“Happy birthday, Claire.”
I kiss
the sleep-lines on her cheek, and she leans into my body, wrapping her arms
around my neck. All I want is for Lydia to leave us alone.

“Thank you.”

Lydia pads over and tackle-hugs Claire.
I want to be irritated with her for taking Claire out of my arms, but it’s
obvious to me that my sister loves my girl as much as I do. Claire giggles, and
Lydia pulls her up off the couch.

“Let’s get out of here. Don’t you guys have a date tonight?”
Lydia asks.

“Yup.”

“Well, I have to help her get ready. We’ll come to your
place at six. Claire, how about I treat you to a birthday breakfast—girls
only.
Sorry, brother,” Lydia says taking Claire’s hand.

“All right, yeah.
You guys should
do that. I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” Claire says and smiles at me.

The early sunlight from the window catches the little bits
of red in her hair, and I take in her beauty. Lydia walks to the door, leaving
Claire and me alone long enough to kiss goodbye. Something about the way she
kisses me feels different. Her hands run over my chest and up into my hair, her
fingers grasp me with greed. The kiss holds passion, and I feel what’s in my
heart coming through Claire’s lips. It gives me hope and makes me think of last
night, and the way the word
love
sounded coming out of Claire’s mouth.

“See
ya
,” she says. Then, I’m left
alone in my studio.

Tonight I tell Claire everything—tonight I’ll show her how I
feel.

Back at my place, I sit on the fire escape all day and
practice the song I wrote for Claire. My stomach is on fire with nerves. I
strum my guitar and smoke while I wait. The sun is starting to set and there’s
a definite chill in the air, but the weather is nice enough. I put my Zippo
back in my pocket and take a long pull on my cigarette, letting the smoke slowly
roll back out of my mouth.

“Jason?”

I’m startled and turn around to see Claire standing in my
window. She looks fucking gorgeous, as always. Her hair is softly curled, and
she’s wearing a black, lacey top and a short, red skirt. I harden at the sight
of her.

“Hey, come here.”

She sits on the windowsill and gracefully slides her long
legs through the window and I bite my tongue when I see her black leather
boots. She sits down next to me and begins to fidget with her hands. I reach
out and take them in mine as I turn to her. Her skin is soft, and I notice her
nails are painted red to match her skirt.

“Can I give you your present now?”

“Jason, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I didn’t. I mean, I made you something, sort of.”

“You made me something? What is it?”

“Um, I wrote a song for you.” I pick up my guitar. “Can I
play it for you?”

She smiles. “You wrote me a song?” she whispers.

“Yeah.
I’ve been working on it for
a while now. So, do you want to hear it?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

I clear my throat, close my eyes, and begin to strum the
strings.

Adrift, and afraid

Never
living, just alive.

Your eyes made sense

Out
of this plague of mine.

Softly played strings

A song, unsung

Things I’ve never said to anyone

So
lost, so numb.

Take this sorrow and make it right

Take this darkness and make it light.

I think of nothing but Claire as I play, pushing all of my
love and gratitude for her through my voice and the strings.

Your touch, your skin,

An antidote, a remedy

For
all of this chaos and malady.

Your face, your voice

The answer, the cure

You took away the pain

And
made me feel sure.

Take this sorrow and make it right

Take this darkness and make it light

Never showed my true face

False,
and forced for so long…

I never thought I could find

Another soul so much like mine

Take this sorrow and make it right

Take this darkness and make it light.

I finish the song, open my eyes, and look to Claire’s face.
Her eyes look sad but she’s smiling. She opens and shuts her mouth several
times, like she’s trying to find the words she wants to say.

“That was so beautiful.
So amazing.
Thank you.”

The wind has blown a stray hair across her face. I reach my
hand up and brush it away with my fingertips.

“You’re welcome.”

Her eyes linger on mine for what feels like forever. I’m
desperately trying to muster up the courage to confess my feelings to her.
Claire,
I love you. I’m in love with you, Claire.
Just fucking
say
it.
The sound of a dog
barking wafts up from the street and pulls me back to reality. “I guess we
should get going. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

We get in the Charger and begin our drive to the city. I
keep Claire’s hand in mine. She seems so happy and content. Her window is
rolled down and her hair is flying wildly around her face. I have to remind
myself to keep my eyes on the road as we drive. We make small talk as I
accelerate over the bridge. We talk about Claire’s job, and she tells me about
what she’s been reading.

“What’s
your
all-time favorite work of literature?” she asks.

“That’s as hard as the favorite song question. Um, it would
have to be
Alone
by Edgar Allen Poe.”

She laughs at me.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry. That’s just
so
you.
‘From
childhood’s hour I have not been as others were, I have not seen as others saw’
—totally
perfect.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I laugh with her.

The brick buildings of Brooklyn fade into the concrete and
graffiti of Manhattan. The look on Claire’s face is priceless as we enter the
city—so much excitement.

“So, where are we going?” she asks, her voice elevated over
the music blaring from my speakers.

“To dinner.
You like Indian food?”

“I’ve never had it, but I’m sure I’ll love it.” She squeezes
my hand.

I wind through the streets of the Lower East Side, and
Claire is pretty much bouncing out of her seat. I circle the block of the
restaurant six or seven times before finally finding a parking spot. I open
Claire’s door and help her out. The car chirps as I hit the lock on my keychain,
and I grip her hand in mine as I lead her down the block to the restaurant.

The barkers in the street are shouting specials, offering
free dessert and wine, but I pay them no mind as I navigate past them and lead
Claire up the steps to my favorite restaurant in the city—Joy Moon.

The restaurant is tiny, with low ceilings, and I have to
crouch down as we make our way toward our table. The smell of curry hangs thickly
in the air, and the walls are cluttered with strange decorations and blinking
Christmas lights. The waiter places us in a window seat and hands us menus. I
order a bottle of wine and help Claire pick a dish I think she’ll enjoy.

We eat and talk, drinking wine and gazing out the window
together at the New York night. I’m trying to keep my cool, but my palms sweat
as I gather up the nerve to say to Claire what I’ve never said to anyone else.
We finish eating, and she gets up to use the bathroom. I tell our waiter that
it’s
Claire’s birthday and I want him to bring out a dessert
for her. After she returns to the table and our plates are cleared, the waiters
approach us with a plate of mango ice cream with a candle in it. The
speakers
blast weird Indian techno, and the waiters sing
some crazy happy birthday song. Claire turns to see what’s happening and
immediately looks back to me in horror.

“Please say you did
not
do this.”

Fuck. I thought she
would like it. This was supposed to be
the
moment
. I can’t tell her I love her if she’s
embarrassed and fucking pissed at me.
Her face is beet red as she blows
out the candle and flashes a forced smile at the wait staff.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to do something special for you.”

“It’s fine. I mean, thank you. I’m just not used to that
sort of thing. It’s been a long time since someone sang happy birthday to me.
That was very sweet, I just didn’t expect it.”

Her eyes get misty and then I remember
why
Claire
hates her birthday
.
I planned out an insanely romantic moment
near the anniversary of her father’s murder.
Fucking perfect.
I feel like a goddamn idiot.

“You
wanna
go?”

She nods and I grip her elbow as we leave the restaurant. I
light a cigarette and pass it to her. We share it as we walk down the sidewalk
in silence, and I guide her through the streets to our next destination. There’s
a line outside the club we’re heading to. We cross the traffic-jammed street
and join it.

“What are we doing now?” she asks.

“We’re here to see Julian
Casablancas
,”
I tell her, mentally crossing my fucking fingers that she’s happy about it.

Her face brightens and she jumps up and down.
“Really?
I love him!” She seems a little tipsy from the wine
at dinner and I’m thankful this news has lifted her mood.

“I know you love him—you have all of his music in your iPod.
That’s why we’re here.
Happy birthday, Claire.”

She reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck, and she
presses her lips to mine. She kisses me with tenderness. I deepen it as I run
my hands through her hair and down her back. I slip one under her skirt and
squeeze her ass, not caring that we’re standing on a crowded sidewalk. She
moans at my touch and my cock gets rock hard. Our bodies press together and all
I can think of is how perfectly we fit. It’s only been a week since I’ve been
with her, but I can’t wait to get her in my bed again.

“Taylor? Is that you?” I hear someone call my name.

“Fuck! What the fuck?” I say as Claire’s lips leave mine. I
take her face in my hands, not wanting to look away from her or to end this
moment.

“Hey, Taylor!”

The source of the voice approaches and I turn to see some
old friends, Rich and Craig.

“Hey, man! How the
fuck are
you? I
haven’t seen you in forever.” Rich gives me a pounding on the shoulder, and he
and Craig look to Claire. Their eyes roam her body and I feel my fist clench. I
take a breath to suppress my jealousy.

“Rich, Craig—this is my
girlfriend,
Claire.” They
shake her hand, and avert their eyes.
Fucking right.

“You guys here for the show?” I ask, hoping the answer is
no.

“Yeah, we’re meeting some people inside. It’s great to see
you, bro.”

I cringe, knowing that Claire and I now have a fucking third
and
fourth wheel for what’s supposed to be a romantic date.

Thankfully, we only have to wait on line for a few minutes—and
once we’re inside, Rich and Craig make
themselves
scarce. I lead Claire up to the front of the dark ballroom. It’s crowded, but not
completely packed—hot and humid, but not uncomfortable. I position Claire in
front of me and take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her hair. She begins
to clap and squeal as Julian comes out onto the stage. He waves to the crowd,
and begins to sing.

Claire’s body begins to sway and rub against mine. I move my
hips with hers as we dance, and she sings along in her beautiful voice.
I
turn her around to face me and grip her hips. Her skin is covered in a light
sheen of sweat and her hair clings to her skin. I look into her eyes and sing
the chorus to her.

She smiles and kisses me—the same deep and hungry kiss we
shared before we came into the club—and my heart wrenches with the love I feel
for this girl. Our bodies sway with the music as we kiss, and the song ends. We
applaud, but Claire’s eyes never leave mine.

“Claire, I need to tell you something…”

“What? I can’t hear you. What did you say?”

The club is loud and crowded, and I chicken out. I lean into
her ear. “I said do you want a drink?”

“Yeah.
Can you get me a vodka
tonic?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” I walk toward the
bar, kicking myself.
Why can’t I just
fucking say these words to her?

The
crowd at the bar is six people deep. I wait my turn as the two bartenders take
orders as fast as they can. I’m starting to get anxious, leaving Claire alone
in the crowd for so long. I push myself closer to the bar and the bartender
comes right over, eye-fucks me, and takes my order. I feel someone tugging on
my shirt and turn around to see who the impatient asshole is.

“Jason? Oh my God, it
is
you!”

I recognize the beautiful blonde in front of me as my
ex-girlfriend, Heidi. We dated, but I broke up with her right after my mom
died, and haven’t seen her since.
Fucking perfect time for a goddamn reunion.