Claire's Song (14 page)

            The bouncer is three times taller and wider than me with tattoos snaking around his neck and into his black shirt that reads "SECURITY." He's probably in his forties and has a close buzz cut with a handlebar mustache. He looks at Claire curiously for a moment, but stamps our hands and lets us through.

            Claire squeezes my hand as we step into the craziness. The place is packed, people jumping around and flailing to the music. The lead singer of the opening band screams out the lyrics, the crowd singing along with him.

            "You okay?" I bend down close to Claire and whisper in her ear.

            She looks up at me with wide eyes and I almost kick myself for bringing her here. I did it because I thought she'd like the next band. They aren't super famous, but they are pretty good and kind of a hometown legend. They're a punk band with a little scream-o thrown in.

            "I'm okay," Claire answers with a forced smile.

            We weave through the sweaty bodies and find a spot in the back where a blue light shines through the darkness. Claire's dark hair looks even more amazing in this light and I love the way she looks around the club checking out her surroundings. Most of all, I love that she's standing so close to me that I can smell her vanilla perfume. Her arms are crossed over her chest protectively and I wonder what she's thinking. After a minute she warms up and starts tapping her foot to the beat.

            The band ends their set and Silver Python takes the stage. The lead singer is a girl in her mid-twenties with fire engine red hair tied up in a knot on top of her head. She reminds me of Gwen Stefani. Claire smiles up at me, "Female lead singer? Awesome!"

            I can’t help but laugh. I figured she'd appreciate it, almost scaring me at how well I already know this girl who came into my life like a freaking tornado, tearing up everything I had put up to keep people away.

            "Well hello there," the lead singer coos and smiles at the audience as she grabs the mic. The rest of the band waves and then they start rocking.

            Claire loves it instantly. Her body sways to the music and as it speeds up, she starts bouncing slowly as if she can barely contain herself. Everyone's jumping around, I'm bobbing my head, hands in my pockets, but I can feel the contagion. The chorus is when things get crazy as Claire and I join the rest of the place in jumping up and down to the music. Claire's laughing, her eyes lit up by the blue lights and the strobe. She turns to me, grabs my hands and starts doing this silly dance I would never be caught dead doing. But it's Claire. And I think I'm falling for her, so I do it. I dance around with this girl like a complete idiot through every single one of Silver Python's songs. Bodies crash and crush into us, but we're not deterred. We're in our own world, completely oblivious to everything, to the pain that brought us together.

            The final song is a slow one and I'm loving the fact that the bass player picks up a violin. It's an acoustic song, the singer's voice channeling the ache inside her chest. Claire turns to me, with a huge smile upon that beautiful face of hers, one of her real smiles, one that's not just for show or to please.

            "I love violins," she sighs happily.

            "Me too, especially in acoustic sets," I grin because it feels good to be the person who brought that smile to her face.

            Couples in the crowd start to sway together, forehead to forehead, cell phones and lighters go up as the lights are completely dimmed, aside from the bright red EXIT lights. Claire is standing in front of me and I'm itching to put my arms around her, to hold her in this moment. She's got her hands down by her sides, swaying to the gentle sound of the violin.

            I touch her gently, one hand on the hip just to test it. She freezes for a moment, but then begins to sway again. Her hand comes up and lands on mine. My other hand comes up and I place it on the other side of her body. I don't hold her too close because I don't trust myself with her and more than anything else, I have to trust myself with this girl. She's different from anyone I've ever met. We move slowly to the music, her hands on top of mine, her back leaning against my chest, the top of her head brushing my chin. A smile breaks out across my face and I can't ever really remember feeling happy, but I know without a doubt that this is what it feels like.

            The song ends too soon and my hands drop from Claire's body. They still burn from contact with her skin and I wipe them on my jeans, but it's still there. She drives me insane in the best kind of way.

            Silver Python leaves the stage and another band comes on, this one is actually kind of crappy. Claire turns around to me, as if she can read my mind. "They suck, huh?" She says into my ear. She has to stand on her toes to reach me and her hand rests easily on my shoulder.

            "Wanna get out of here?" I turn to her, her face still close to mine. So many times I've had the chance to kiss her and so many times I've wanted to do it. But I want it to be perfect. She deserves it to be perfect. She deserves much more than a messed up homeless kid.

            Claire nods and we weave through the bodies again until we get to the exit. Once outside I feel like I can breathe again, nobody breathing down my neck. Yet I have to admit that I didn't mind Claire breathing down my neck. I'd gladly dance with her any time she asked.

            "Huddle House?" She asks as a grin splits across her flushed cheeks. The streets look like a ghost town in a western film. Everyone is at Midtown's or asleep, I guess.

            "I couldn't think of a better idea myself," I answer as I swing open my car door.

            Claire talks the entire way there, energized and completely different due to the music still pulsing in her veins. Everything about her is so bright and I wonder how people like Lindy Baker can be okay with dulling that.

            Huddle House is pretty packed, but we manage to find a booth in the way back that somehow makes us feel like we’re in our own bubble. Lately I’ve been noticing that it's like that any time I’m with Claire.

            “Thank you so much for taking me to see that band,” Claire says for the hundredth time while we wait for our food to come.

            She’s tearing at her napkin and biting her lip. Does she have any idea that she drives me crazy when she does that lip thing? I want to kiss her more than I did earlier and I can’t seem to think about a time before she filled up every ounce of my being, my world.

            “You really don’t have to thank me, not after all you and your parents have done for me. I’d be living in my car if it weren’t for you.”

            She stills and won’t look at me. The table is the most interesting thing in the world to her.
Look at me
, I want to say.

            “Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in a really, really long time,” Claire finally peers up at me, that shy smile spreading across her face. She stops for a minute as the waitress puts our food on the table. Claire stares at her huge plate of hash browns and French toast. Finally she continues, “Sometimes after bad things happen, do you ever wonder if you’ll ever have fun again?” She’s poking around her plate waiting for an answer. Her question hits too close to home.

            I think about my old life, about the old me, the football player who picked on kids just like who I’ve become. I think about the trophy girlfriend who was brainless and robotic. I think about Lindy and how low I was to even go there. After Dad left without saying a word to me, I thought that maybe we would be okay. Then came the trailer park. Not just any trailer park, but a busted, run down crack house neighborhood full of people who get high every day, always looking for their next hit. My pride was wounded, but even then, I thought maybe I could do this. Then came the rumors at school, being called a rapist, having my face punched in by the very guys I once called my teammates. My resolve to live began to chip away slowly every day. Every day a little piece of myself was lost until I was down to practically nothing. I felt nothing, not even the times my own mother beat me or her boyfriend of the month would kick me in the ribs while I was down. I felt nothing until Claire Watkins sat in that seat next to me, studying me with interest, rather than the disgust that most students wore like a second skin.

            Claire shifts a little, finally eating her food. She looks up at me, waiting for me to answer.

            “Yeah. Yeah I used to feel that way, but now things feel different,” I say honestly.

            She nods and talks around her food, still bouncing from the concert, “Right? Tonight was so fun, just what I needed.” She sighs and sits back against the booth, her eyes shining. “Maybe you’re just what I needed.”

            Her face turns ten shades of red and everything freezes. Did she really just say that? I’m sure my mouth is hanging open, so I quickly snap it shut. I want to tell her that I feel the same about her, that everything about her drives me insane, makes me want to be a better man. But there’s a voice warring inside of my head, telling me to leave her alone, to let tonight be what it is and walk away. As I stare at her crimson stained cheeks, her perfect pink lips, those wide green eyes watching me in suspense, I make a decision that I’ll try my hardest to stick to.

            “Yeah, we gotta get going after this, huh? Curfew and all that.” I smooth away the tension lines in her face with my words, although I don’t miss the way her shoulders sag at my response.

            After I pay the bill, we get in the car and are headed back to town when “Friday I’m in Love” comes on. The fragile smile that I’ve grown to love spreads across Claire’s face as she reaches for the radio knob. She turns it so high that it’s blasting through our eardrums, out into the cool night air.

            “I love this song!” She screams. She immediately starts singing the words at the top of her lungs and doing this crazy, little dance where she swings her arms over her head and her black bob moves against her face.

            Laughter erupts from my chest at seeing her so wild and free. I saw a glimpse of it at the club, but now I see that she was holding back. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m singing right along with her. The windows are rolled down so Robert Smith’s vocals are serenading everything, while we're screaming, laughing, and acting like idiots. When I look at her, laughing like that, I want to change things. I want to stay here for her, but I know I can't.

            When I pull the car into the driveway, I know this is the end of something. I can feel the finality of my decision. Tonight was quite possibly the best night of my life and I haven’t even kissed this girl yet. Her parents are up watching television when we get inside. They ask us how our night went and do the whole parental routine that I never really had. After they go to bed, I walk Claire upstairs and I want to press her against the door, to kiss her just once, just so I can know what it feels like. But I don’t.

            “Thank you again, Ryder. I had fun,” Claire says as leans against the doorframe of her room, playing with the hem of her cardigan.

            “Me too, Claire. Thanks for going. I figured you’d like that band.” I run a hand through my hair, because I'm fidgety and don't know what else to do or say.

            She nods with a tiny smile. Before I know what she’s doing, she’s launching herself at me, arms around my neck, holding me tight. She stands on her tiptoes and suddenly I'm sinking, drowning in her vanilla perfume. My arms go around her instinctively. I just do it and don’t even think about it, because the truth is, I want to hold her. I really do.

            “I did like it. I loved it,” she pulls back just enough to look at me and then disentangles herself from my embrace. I stand there, stunned and alive, so very alive, as she smiles at me and backs into her room, quietly shutting the door. Jimmy Eat World filters softly beneath the door and I take it as my cue to leave.

            Sadness settles like a weight on my conscience and I feel guilty for what I've done, what I’m doing. I can’t think straight; Claire’s got me all screwed up, so I do what makes me feel better. I go into my room for the little black bag and carry it the bathroom along with that ratty towel. The razor is new and sharp but does nothing to dull the pain.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CLAIRE

I can’t stop smiling. My face hurts from it, actually. It's been so long since I’ve smiled this much. I plug in my white Christmas lights that stay up year round and fall back on the bed, a heap of complete happiness. I turn and look at Jamie’s picture, his bright eyes and suave smile staring back at me, watching me. Guilt starts to creep in, but I quickly turn and face the wall. I promised myself tonight would be nothing but happiness and freedom. Plenty of time for the rest later.

Ryder seemed relaxed for the majority of the night, although he seemed moodier than usual when he left me at my door. The look in his eyes made me launch myself at him and to be honest, I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted to hold him, to fall asleep with him and wake up to him, just to make sure that he was okay. That’s all I really wanted.

            The night was restless because I wanted to see Ryder again. It’s been awhile since I actually looked forward to waking up. When I practically hopped out of bed the next morning, Mom had already left for the gym, but Dad was sitting at the table drinking coffee.

            “Morning sleepyhead,” he grins at me over the rim of his coffee cup. He leans away from the newspaper and gives me his full attention.

            “Hey,” I give him a big, wide and toothy smile. I honestly can’t help it.