A Story of Now (47 page)

“So, um, what time do you finish work today?” She clings to the edge of the counter as she asks.

Mia concentrates on whatever she’s doing and doesn’t answer right away. Then she looks up and hands the coffee to Claire. “At seven.”

“Uh, do you think…could…can I come and meet you then?” She takes her drink and clutches it tightly. Too tightly. The waxed cardboard starts to give under her fingers, and she relaxes her grip before she loses her drink or burns her hand. “If you don’t have plans already.”

Mia looks slightly flummoxed for a moment. Claire honestly can’t tell if it’s because she’s also shy or because she’s trying to think of a way out of it. Then suddenly, she nods. “Sure. Maybe at, like, quarter past, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.” Claire nods, earnest. “I’ll…I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. See you then.” Mia gives her a quick smile and goes straight back to work.

Claire marches out of the café as fast as she can. The heat of her embarrassment drains away, and the cool respite of relief quickly takes its place. She hurries back to her car, places the unwanted coffee on the passenger seat, and rests her head back against the seat. At least that part is over. And the radio silence at Mia’s end is over too.

The silence is what made her put herself right in front of Mia and to demand her attention. Well, it paid off. Maybe. She’ll know tonight. She still has no idea what’s going on in Mia’s brain, but at least now she’s got an opportunity to find out.

* * *

Mia’s waiting for her outside the café, leaning against the window with her bag on her shoulder. Claire pulls over and peers up at Mia through the open window, and another sickening clench of nerves stirs in her stomach.

Mia steps over, smiling, but she looks kind of apprehensive too.

“You want to go some place south side?” Claire leans toward the window. “It might be cooler by the water.”

“Sure.” Mia climbs into the car. She pulls the door closed and then turns and smiles at Claire. “Maybe nowhere too fancy, though. I’m not really dressed for it.”

Claire looks over. Mia changed into a new, non-work T-shirt and brushed her hair out, and it hangs around her shoulders. She’s made some effort. What does that mean?

She pulls onto the road and shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I don’t do fancy unless I have to.”

* * *

They sit in the busy front terrace of an old, crumbling pub across from the water. A light breeze comes off the bay, butting gently at the hot, still air of the day.

“How was work?” Claire nervously contemplates the menu but more for somewhere to fix her gaze than anything. She’s too edgy to be hungry.

“Hot,” is all Mia says and sips her beer.

“Is your grandmother okay?”

“Not really.” Mia rests her chin on her hands. “She had a stroke.”

Claire leans forward, mouth open. “What?”

“A minor one,” Mia adds. Her gaze meets Claire’s for a moment before she looks the other way. “She’s okay. But now, of course, the doctors say there’s the risk she’ll have another one. A major one.”

“That’s scary.”

“Yeah.” Mia nods, staring at the menu. Then she sits back in her seat and shakes her head helplessly. “Can you pick something? I can’t think.”

“Sure, of course.” Claire looks down at the menu for a moment but then decides she’ll just wing it at the counter. She goes inside and ends up ordering them both fish and chips. It makes some sort of sense because they’re at the beach. Well, across the road from it. When she returns with a handful of cutlery, Mia is chewing on a nail and staring out at the wide stretch of water.

“I’m really sorry, Mia,” Claire tells her.

Mia gives her a small smile and returns her gaze to the view. And Claire can’t think of anything else to say, so they sit in silence as the tables fill up around them.

“It was just so weird to see her in hospital, you know,” Mia suddenly says. “It’s so not like her. She’s
never
sick.”

“Really?” Claire thinks of her own grandparents who always seemed to be suffering from something in the years before they died.

“No, she’s crazy tough.” Mia smiles. “And not very grandmotherly.”

“What do you mean?” Claire leans her elbow on the table, glad that Mia finally decided to talk.

“I just mean she isn’t all doting and sweet like most people’s grandmothers. I stayed with her nearly every school holidays—my parents had this thing about getting me out of the city as often as possible—and she’d put me to work as soon as I got there. And she always spoke to me like I was a grown up. She’s kind of a botanist. Well, she wrote books about flowers. I grew up knowing all the Latin names for them instead of the usual ones.” She smiles. “It was kind of confusing. I’d be saying narcissus and hedera when other people were saying daffodils and ivy.”

“Kind of perfect for you, really.” Claire takes a sip of her drink and gives her a sly grin. “Geek speak.”

Mia concedes a smile at Claire’s tease. “It was the same with Dad. He says he grew up being able to name any flower seed just by looking at it.”

“Wow.” Claire shakes her head. Her own grandmother taught her how to blanket stitch and to play ‘Frère Jacques’ on the piano, neither skill she ever used again.

“You know, she doesn’t even let me call her nana or grandma.”

“What do you call her?”

Mia smiles. “Her name. Only ever her name. Rosa.”

“And your grandfather?”

“I never knew him. He died when Dad was seventeen. In a car accident.”

“That’s awful.”

“It was for Dad.” Mia leans forward and plays with the pepper shaker. “He lost his sister and his father already. And now he’s scared he’s going to lose Rosa.”

“Of course he is.” Claire stares at Mia. And Mia’s scared too. She can tell. She reaches out and places her hand on Mia’s arm. Mia starts at the sudden touch.

“I’m really sorry, about your…about Rosa.” Claire quickly removes her hand and blushes, not sure if she just gave Mia a fright or if Mia doesn’t want Claire to touch her. Either way, she can’t help but feel as if she’s done something wrong.

“Thanks.” Mia reaches over and squeezes Claire’s wrist briefly. And Claire knows it’s to make up for whatever just happened.

The waiter strides over and slings their plates on the table with a cursory smile.

Mia sits back without touching hers. “You know, it’s just hard to watch her stuck in a bed when she’s so used to looking after herself, tramping around her incredible garden with the dogs, wearing her big garden boots, and working all day to scare off snakes with a shovel.” Mia grins and shakes her head. “She doesn’t spend a minute of daylight inside. Then she just comes in at night to write.”

“She sounds pretty cool.” Claire takes a chip from her plate, an effort at the charade of eating.

“She is.” Mia nods and picks out a piece of tomato from her salad. Then she puts it straight back down.

“I hope she’ll be okay.”

Mia stares at her food. “Me too.”

“And you too,” Claire adds. “I mean, that you’ll be okay too,” she clarifies, blushing.

“I am.” Mia sighs. “It’s just sad realising she’s getting old. It’s like I didn’t notice or something. And now I have.”

Claire nods. “Both my grandpas died before I was twelve.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Claire stirs her straw in her drink. “My mum’s dad from cancer when I was seven, and my dad’s dad of a heart attack when I was eleven. I remember my mother saying to my father something about they arrived early to ‘that age’ where their parents are starting to die. Can you ever imagine getting to
that
age?”

“No.” Mia shakes her head, eyes wide. “I really can’t.”

CHAPTER 59

They’re getting closer to Mia’s flat, and Claire grips the steering wheel a little harder and urges herself to speak into the deadening quiet that reigns between them since they got into the car. They’re both fully aware, she’s sure, that the unspoken words between them are still obstinately unspoken.

And Claire, for one, cannot—will not—let that go. She cannot finish this night, this charade of normality, and return to another prolonged silence from Mia. And she
cannot
go back to her own resulting insanity. And Claire knows it’s up to her to say something because she has no way to know just how willing Mia is to let another opportunity to address what has changed between them slip by.

She reaches over and slowly turns down the music. “Mia?”

“Mm?” Mia stares out the window as the night slides by outside the car, encased in her own thoughts, whatever they are.

“You know that thing, not that long ago, when we were naked and…stuff?” Claire tries to say it lightly, to throw it out like a joke. But the minute it’s out there and makes contact, she feels the slight stilling of the air and how Mia’s stare out the window shifts from relaxed to deliberate.

“Yeah?” Mia finally says in a small voice.

“What happened with that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Quietly determined, Claire turns onto Mia’s street and stops the car across the road from her flat. She keeps her hands firmly on the steering wheel, looks straight out ahead of her, and takes in a deep breath. “I mean, I know you went to see your grandmother and maybe it’s just because of her being sick and everything, but that was before, and now you’ve been home for days, and I haven’t heard from you. And I don’t really know what’s going on with you, I guess…” She trails off, not sure how to say what she really wants to say. “Like, if you’re trying to avoid me, I’m
sorry
?” She suggests, helpless. “Maybe I’m just being too in your face? I don’t know.”

She feels completely stupid now but decides to turn off the ignition anyway. It’s an unspoken message that she doesn’t plan to leave until she’s less in the dark about all this, even if it’s just to hear Mia say she doesn’t want to do this anymore, that sleeping together was a mistake. She deserves to be
told
that, at least. She turns to face Mia, biting her lip.

Mia echoes the move and turns slightly. She keeps her face pointed downward, avoiding Claire’s eyes. Her fingers worry at a small worn spot on her jeans. She has that apprehensive, uncertain look again.

Claire sighs. Why is it so difficult to erase that look?

Mia finally shakes her head. “You’re not in my face. I mean, I
want
you to be. I was just giving
you
space. I didn’t know…if that was…” She pauses again, lifts her hands helplessly, and then drops them back down to her jeans. “You know, just a holiday thing, something that stays up at the lake, or—”

Claire smiles in spite of herself. “We went to the lake, Mia. Not Vegas. Or Tijuana.”

Mia gives her a small smile. “You know what I mean.” She draws in a deep breath. “And it was so weird, after your parents showed up. And we never really talked about it. Anyway, I didn’t want to assume you were into this being more than just—”

An overwhelming burst of exasperation makes Claire sigh loudly. She clenches her fists on her lap.

Mia looks slightly unnerved.

But Claire’s too frustrated and too tired of this weirdness. “Mia, for crap’s sake. It’s just…” She turns and stares out the window. “Yeah, I know it was weird when my parents came up, and I’m really sorry for that, but it’s not like I haven’t tried to talk to you since.”

Mia continues to stare at her lap. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“And I don’t know how else I’m supposed to show you that I like you. I don’t.” Claire shakes her head, her gaze fixed on a lone man as he walks his dog down the dark street. “I really don’t. I got naked for you. I practically
dragged
you into my bed the next night even though you were being weird. And after we left, I called you. I messaged you, repeatedly—until my dignity wouldn’t let me any more. I stalked you at your work and made you come to dinner with me tonight.” She holds up her hands and raises her shoulders. “And I did it even though I have, like, zero idea what you’re thinking.” She pulls in another breath and grips the steering wheel. She feels much closer to tears than she wants to be. “And you know, I don’t do this. I don’t chase. And I don’t really even know how to have these kinds of conversations. I’ve never had to, but I’m doing it because you’re confusing the hell out of me.” She turns slowly back to Mia. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to—”

Mia leans forward and claps her hand against Claire’s mouth, halting the rush of words. “I know, I know, I’m
so
sorry.” She looks Claire in the eye. “And I’m really sorry I disappeared for a minute there.”

Claire grabs Mia’s wrist, pulls her hand away, and glares at her. “It wasn’t a minute, Mia. It was nearly a
week
.”

And Mia puts her hand right back over Claire’s mouth and leans in closer, eyes insistent. “I know, and I am really sorry. I was just…” She bites her lips and shakes her head. “I don’t know why I did that. I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if this was just…if this was something that was, I don’t know, real.”

Claire goes to say something, but Mia’s hand is still over her mouth. She holds up her hands again and raises her eyebrows at her.

Mia smiles and drops her hand. “Sorry.”

“Thank you. May I speak, Mia?” she asks, imperious.

Mia smiles repentantly. “Yes, you may.”

And now Mia’s eyes are shining again, and Claire isn’t even sure what it is she was going to say. She isn’t sure she cares either. “Actually, fuck it, I don’t want to speak.” Suddenly sick of the inexact, frustratingly impossible art of finding the right words to say about all this, she gently clasps Mia’s neck between both her hands and kisses her. Because if that doesn’t tell Mia this is real for her, she doesn’t know what will.

Mia instantly reciprocates. She leans into her, holding them in the kiss. Relief rushes through Claire as she wonders who the hell this version of herself is lately, this girl who keeps finding it in herself to do these incredibly bold things. She shocks herself with her willingness to put herself on the line for this girl, this beautiful but frustrating girl who sits across from her.