When I'm Gone (4 page)

Chapter 6-August 22, 2001 (Michael)

I took in a deep breath, and tightened my hold on the bouquet of flowers I was holding. I glanced at the little note card written in Anna King’s loopy script. On it was Claire’s name and room number.
Ding.
The elevators opened and I stepped inside looking for the correct floor number. I smiled, my eyes landing on a bright nine. I pressed it, and waited impatiently for the elevator to start rising.
“Come on,” I sighed gruffly, glancing at my watch. It was 11:36. I had 44 minutes.
Ding.
The doors reopened on a new floor and I stepped outside. The faint smells of medications and latex drifted towards me and I looked down on the card again. Room 917
.
“Do you need help sir?” a light voice asked me. I turned to my right and saw a pretty nurse watching me. She was wearing a slight, suggestive smile on her lips and her blue eyes bored into mine.
“No thanks,” I said and turned away. I started to walk down the hall, pausing every now and then to look at a sign.
After a few minutes, I finally found her room, decorated with a nine by eleven inch painting. As I walked closer, I could see that it was a collage of multiple things all hand painted on the rough canvas.
On the top right corner, a family was smiling and holding hands. The kids, an older sister and younger brother, looked nothing alike, but were smiling all the same. One of the girl’s hands was reaching down and soon faded away to where a picture of the mom from the happy family was walking away. The street turned into a large black heart, broken and poorly stitched up. I traced the outline of it, following one of the stitches into a large grey eye, dotted with silver and blue. The eye was crying and was wonderfully painted. I glanced down, looking for a signature, when to my own surprise, Claire’s name was written in gorgeous calligraphy in the corner
.
“
Hm
,” I muttered to myself and tore my eyes away from the painting. I knocked on the door, low and tentative, hoping not to wake her.
When nobody answered, I pushed the door open and softly stepped inside. I heard the erratic beeping before anything else. I looked around the corner and saw Claire asleep in the bed, snoring lightly. My lips tugged upwards into a soft smile and I walked further inside.
To my left, was a table where I sat the bouquet down along with a short card that I had written the night
before.
I turned back around to face Claire.
Her lips were graced with a soft smile and even though her eyes were closed, I could still see that beautiful grey. Mournfully, I forced myself to not reach out to stroke her cheek. Her skin had a slight rosy glow to it, brightening her tan
.
“Oh, Claire,” I whispered in anguish. I longed to hold her hands, to place my arms around her waist, to kiss those soft lips.
I turned away, aggravated. When I did, I noticed a sketchbook, lying on a small table next to her
bed. I picked it
up,
surprised by the expensive leather that was covering it.
I sat down in the empty arm chair next to the window and opened it up. At first, there were only amateurish sketches; ones of dogs, cartoons, and household items. After flipping through the first twenty pages, I got to these drawings of this woman. They weren’t colored in but they were beautiful all the same.
The woman was tall, graceful. She had long dark hair, and according to the shading, bright, attentive eyes. She was always smiling and in almost every picture she was standing with her arms opened wide, inviting you to come to her.
After I got past the pictures of the woman, the sketches got more elaborate and better looking. I smiled, flipping through the pages of the sketchbook, realizing that I was getting to know Claire better.
“Who are you?” A defensive voice sounded from the bed. Startled, I looked up and saw Claire staring at me with distaste. She opened her mouth again. “Answer me. I asked you a simple question.
Who.
Are.
You.”
“
My name’s Michael,” I offered setting the book down and standing up. Fire flashed in her eyes and she scowled.
“Why are you here?” she growled. I held my hands up trying to get her to back down.
“To make sure you are okay,” I answered truthfully. And to see your beautiful eyes again, I added in my head.
“But, I don’t know you.” Her voice was tight but feral.
“I know,” I started, “and I’m sorry. I will just be leaving now.”
I picked up my roses and card and started for the door.
“Wait,” she called out. I stopped and looked at her. “I want to know the truth. Why are you here and who are you?”
I walked towards her and handed the roses to her, a peace offering. She took them, inhaling deeply. I also handed her the card, which she took carefully and
and
set it on her lap. She watched me take in a breath and let out a haughty laugh.
“I’m waiting,” she said impatiently. I glanced at her, and she glared back.
“My name is Michael Herring and I am a firefighter.” I waited for a moment to gauge her reaction. Anger turned to confusion and then to recognition.
“ I
was the one who rescued you four days ago. I was the one who carried you out of the building and got you to the hospital.”
“Okay,” Claire said slowly, “but why are you here?”
“To make sure you were okay. Our station normally does this if the victims are sentenced to an extended stay at the hospital. How long are you staying here, by the way?” I tried to change the subject
.
“Another five days,” she said in a strained voice. “You don’t need to be changing the
the
subject either.”
Dang, she is
good,
I thought and stared at her.
“Your station always does this?” she asked incredulously. I nodded and she thought for a minute. “What is your number?”
“Excuse me?” It was like she had asked what sign I was. A
virgo
or a cancer?
“You
know,
your station number...or whatever that number is on your coat.” She rolled her eyes and grimaced
.
“38,” I answered and watched her smile wickedly
.
“So, if you visit everybody that has an extended stay, did you visit that little kid you saved six days ago?” Her grin widened when confusion covered my face
.
“
Who?”
I flipped back to six days ago. I tried to remember what fire that was
.
“Six days ago, there was a fire in a tall brick building. There was a little girl about four floors up, screaming for help. I watched as you put your oxygen tank on. By the time you reached her, she had to be burnt severely. So did you go and visit her?” She leaned back on her pillows with a smug look spread over her sweet face.
“I didn’t go to visit her-”
“Ha! I knew it! You are here because you-” she interrupted me and
and
I shot her a look.
“But my teammate did,” I lied quickly. She frowned and studied the card still in her hands
.
“Okay,” she said in a defeated voice.
“Okay?” I repeated. She nodded and I took a look at my watch. It was already 12:10
.
“Whatever,” she retorted and glared up at me. “Something is very wrong with you.”
“Well maybe you’ll figure it out soon enough,” I said and smiled gently.
“You wish,” she said with a harsh laugh. “I will never see you again.”
“You hope,” I added. She stared at me in astonishment. “You never know when an opportunity will present itself.”
“Oh, how I despise you,” she shot back. I was the one who laughed that time. I slid my hands in my pockets and watched her studiously.
“You might be wrong about that,” I managed between chuckles. Her eyes were in slits as her face turned red. “Now, I have to go. Bye, Claire.”
With that being said I strode out of the room, ignoring her protests. I walked past the young nurse who was calling out to me and entered the stairway. After walking down a few flights of stairs, I eased down, until I was sitting on one of the steps.
“You were right, Andrew,” I said to myself. “Opposites do attract. Even though she is nothing like me, my heart is still pounding in my chest.”
I smiled and pulled myself to my feet, starting down the stairs again.

Chapter 7-August 27, 2001 (Claire)

Clearing my throat, I glanced down at the hand-written note clutched in my fingers. I looked back up at the sign on the building, making sure I was in the right place.
“
Twenty-second street
,” I wondered aloud. The large brick building loomed over me, bigger than it seemed. I pressed on the button for the owner. The speaker crackled to life and I could faintly hear a lady’s voice shouting on the other end.
“Who is it? Who’s there?” she shouted. I swallowed my laughter and pushed the speak button
.
“Hi. Mrs. Trinity?” I asked.
“This is her,” the lady said sharply.
“My name is Claire and I was wondering if apartment 2B was still up for rent.” I rushed to get my words out, stringing them all together into one sentence. Mrs. Trinity let out a throaty laugh
.
“
Of course, dear.
Let me buzz you in.” Instantly, her voice was warmer and I could detect a smile as she said it. There was another crackling sound and I heard the click of the lock on the door. Pulling it open, I walked inside and found a larger lady sitting behind a window to my left. She smiled at me; a few of her teeth were missing
.
“Mrs. Trinity?” I guessed, walking towards her. She nodded
.
“You must be Claire,” she laughed and stood up. I took a step back as she came out of the little room. As she gave me the once over, I was doing the same to her.
Her graying hair was pulled into a tight bun and her pale skin was wrinkly and looked rough to the touch. She had bright eyes, that never seemed to sadden
.
“So, about that room?” she offered. I
nodded,
glad to get back on topic. She led me to an elevator and pressed a button that had an arrow pointing upwards.
Ding.
The doors opened and we stepped inside. Mrs. Trinity looked at me again and I smiled shyly. She laughed and I forced out a giggle myself
.
“The apartment is three bedrooms, two
bath
. It has a large kitchen and living room. It also has an extra room that the old tenant used as an office, but you can use it for whatever you like,” she explained as the elevator doors opened again. She led me down a hallway to a door, emblazoned with a black ‘2B’. When I took a step inside, I gasped.
The apartment itself was gorgeous. It was furnished completely and the walls were a beautiful maroon. I walked into the living room and set my purse down
.
“Why don’t I show you around?” Mrs. Trinity said. I nodded, speechless.
--------------------------------------------------
“It’s perfect,” I said as we walked back into the living room. I grabbed my purse and smiled contently.
The bedrooms were larger than the ones in our old apartment and were all furnished completely. The ‘office’ was large, bare, and had a hardwood floor. I decided that it could be the art room for Alex and me.
“I thought you would like it,” Mrs. Trinity touched my arm gently and I looked at her. I was
starting to like her more and more. Throughout the hour we were together, I had gotten to tell her why I was in New York. I also learned about her; how she was an orphan as a child, but went to be a fabulous business woman before retiring to work at this apartment complex.
“The only question I have is about the price,” I sighed. Her mouth was set in a flat line and she seemed to consider this
.
“It’s $831 for a month,” she said. I bit my lip, wondering how that was going to work.
“I’ll take it,” I said suddenly, surprising even myself. Mrs. Trinity stared at me for a moment before turning away.
“Okay,” she agreed and led the way out of the apartment.
Once back on the first floor, she went to her little room and found a stack of papers She handed them to me, along with a pen
.
“You need to fill out these forms before you leave,” she said with
a
apologetic smile. I shrugged and took them from her. She pointed to a cluster of chairs in the opposite corner from her. I smiled graciously and walked over there.
I sank down into one of the chairs and set the stack of papers on my lap. As I started to fill them out, I let my mind wander.
Michael Herring.
The name entered my mind and I tried to immediately push it back out. However, it stayed there, branded in my mind like a stupid jingle.
“Stupid fire fighter.
Stupid rescue.
Stupid roses,” I muttered angrily. I found myself pressing down with the pen harder than necessary. Relaxing my grip, I tried to continue writing, slowly and with better composure.
Michael’s bright hazel eyes came back to me, full force. Groaning inwardly, I let myself think about how much I despised that man.
I doubt that his station really visits every person they rescue, I thought to myself. He just wanted an excuse. He is probably a big jerk who messes around with girls before throwing them away like a used tissue.
God, how I hate him.
Although, I haven’t heard from him a five days.
Maybe he decided I wasn’t worth it.
Yeah right, another part of my mind argued.
He was cute, though. He had that whole ‘bum’ look going to him.
Shaggy, black hair.
A hint of a beard on his chin.
The crumpled clothes.
I sighed and tried to push these thoughts from my mind.
“Why do I care so much?” I asked myself. “It’s not like I like him.”
I shuddered violently at the thought. As I started to finish up the application I heard Mrs. Trinity talking to someone on the phone. Careful as not to be obvious, I slowed my writing, wanting to eavesdrop.
“Yes
Mikey
,” Mrs. Trinity
contiued
. I saw her smile into the phone. Pausing, she looked at me and I shot my eyes down, blood pooling in my cheeks.
The ‘
Mikey
’ on the other end said a few things and she laughed
.
“Actually, you will never believe what happened today?” Her voice
rose
a notch and excitement
masked her usually flat tone. I stood up and walked towards her. She smiled at me and gestured for me to wait a few minutes. “I sold the apartment today. You know? 2B?”
A low voice on the other end was also excited and I could tell it was a man’s low tone. Mrs. Trinity glanced at me again with another smile.
“Yes. Her name is Claire...” she trailed off and confusion masked her face
.
“Barnes,” I offered and shrugged.
“Claire Barnes,” she told
Mikey
and he said a quick reply. “Okay
Mikey
. Uh-huh. Okay. Bye-bye.”
She hung up the phone and held out her hand. I gave her the application forms and frowned.
“When do you want me and my brother to move in? I really need to get everything here before the seventh. That’s when school starts for both of us,” I explained quickly. She nodded and tucked away the papers in a manila folder.
“Whenever you want is fine with me. Another one of the tenants,
Mikey
, said that if you needed it, he would help you move in. He is strong and really good looking.” I smiled at her and laughed.
“Mrs. Trinity-”
“Oh, please call me Joy,” she said.
“Okay then,” I started. “Joy, I have only known you for about two hours now and you are already trying to set me up?”
“Don’t be silly,” she scolded, but I could see a little twinkle in her eye. I stared at her while she gave me an innocent smile.
“Well, I will be back tomorrow to start moving in. Tell
Mikey
to be ready out front at 11 tomorrow morning,” I said and hitched my purse higher on my shoulder.
“Okay, bye Claire,” she called out as I walked out the door and into the blinding light.
------------------------------------------
“Claire, you will not believe this,” Alex shouted as he ran into his room. I was seated on the floor packing his things into boxes once again. I looked up and saw him clutching a packet of paper in his hand.
“I’m pretty sure I will,” I assured him. He handed me the packet and I glanced at the heading. It was from the school where Alex was going to go to and where I was going to teach.
“Okay, flip a few pages to page four,” he said and I did as he told me. When I got to the page, I noticed a schedule of his classes.
“Okay...” I still didn’t get what he was trying to tell me
.
“Look down at first period on ‘A’ and ‘B’ days.”
I scanned the list quickly and when I reached first period, I had to do a double check. My eyes wide, I looked up at Alex who smiled widely.
“Told you that you wouldn’t believe it,” he said smugly.
“There is no way-” I started
.
“That you could be my art teacher?” he finished for me. “I think there is a way because it is legit.”
“Well, you better be good in my class,” I warned him. “That means no endless flirting with girls, okay?”
“You wish sis,” he laughed.
“That’s Ms. Barnes to you, now,” I commanded.
“Whatever. Good one,” he shouted over his shoulder as he walked out of the room. “Good one, sis.”