When I'm Gone (9 page)

Chapter 16-September 5, 2001 (Claire)

“.....I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I finished and looked into his green eyes. Fire burnt passionately in them and he cupped my cheek with his hand. I froze and swallowed loudly.
He wouldn’t, I thought right before he pressed his lips to mine. Startled, I let out a gasp. Then, without thinking, I melted against him, my body fitting against his perfectly. I looped my arms around his neck and he wrapped his around my waist. I kissed him back with abandon and freedom.
I loved the way his lips moved against mine; they
was
firm but soft. A tear slipped down my cheek and before I could stop them, they were flowing down my face. I shuddered and he froze, tasting the salt water on his tongue. He pulled back; I could feel him studying me
.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern masking his voice. I nodded and murmured my reply. “What did you say?”
“Just hold me,” I said a little louder and tried to muffle a sob. I pressed my face into his chest, letting myself get lost in his spicy scent. As I sobbed, I snaked my arms around his waist and kept him anchored there. He loosened his grip on me, but didn’t let go.
If only he knew.
“Claire.” A voice interrupted my dream and I flicked my eyes open. A guy was sitting beside me, fingers resting against my cheek. As my vision became clearer, I could see the guy’s black mop of hair and his frightened green eyes. Michael.
“Huh?” I groaned and straightened up. I noticed I was sitting on the couch and there was a large blanket wrapped around me. I shivered even though it wasn’t cold and grimaced as I popped my neck.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice frantic. I laughed hoarsely at the question.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I questioned. Michael shifted his gaze to his hands which were somehow intertwined in mine. I took my hand away and tried to get him to look me in the eye.
“You were screaming in your sleep,” he stated. I covered my mouth with my hand and stared at him in horror.
“I was?” I tried to remember any screaming in my dreams. There wasn’t any.
“Loud. And you said Alex’s name multiple times along with ‘dad’.” He searched my eyes before handing me a cup of coffee.
Black.
“How did you know what coffee I like?” I asked suspiciously. He laughed and shook his head.
“Alex told me,” he said and pushed himself into a standing position.
“What time is it?” I looked around for a clock, forgetting that I hadn’t put one in the living room yet.
“Around six in the morning,” he told me. I groaned and took a sip of the coffee. The bitter taste washed down my throat and I felt more awake than I had a few minutes ago.
“God, that’s early,” I commented.
“No kidding,” Michael replied. I glared up at him and stood up.
“Why are you still here?” I accused walking around him to my room. I heard him follow behind
me.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay after the museum last night,” he paused. “I guess we both fell asleep.”
“Where’s Alex?” I inquired pulling a drawer out from my dresser. I grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top and shuffled into the bathroom.
When I came out, Michael was back in the living room sitting on the couch. I sat down beside him, warming myself with the steam from the coffee mug.
“Where’s Alex?” I repeated and looked over at him.
“He left about five to go exercise,” he explained and smiled at me. At that moment, I could still feel his lips on mine. I shook the thought from my head and shifted a little bit away from him.
“Oh, okay,” I said and took another drink from my coffee
.
“God,” Michael groaned and took the mug from me. He set it on the coffee table and took my face in his hands.
He crushed his lips against mine and I almost lost all coherence. His lips moved with mine as if they had a purpose. They were just as I remembered them; soft, but firm. I locked my arms around his neck and he snaked his around my waist.
I don’t know how long we sat there kissing, but sooner than I wanted, I pulled back. Michael opened his eyes and watched me warily. I leaned back and swiped at a tear running down my face.
Michael caught my wrist and pulled it towards him. He used his finger and traced the
outines
of the music notes inked onto my skin. Then, he took my hand and pressed his lips into my palm.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to enjoy the moment. Suddenly, my eyes flicked open and I snatched my hand away. I tucked it against my chest and rocked back and forth.
“Claire,” Michael whispered in agony. I shook my head and stood up. I started to pace back and forth in front of him muttering under my breath.
“I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I can’t do this,” I moaned. Michael shifted so he was facing my and grabbed my waist as I passed in front of him. He turned me so that I was facing him.
“Can’t do what, Claire?” he asked. I shook my head, unable to speak. “Claire, you have to talk to me.”
“ I can’t do this....us,” I explained quickly. I could tell he was confused by the sadness in my eyes.
“Why not?”
I could hear the disappointment in his voice and I tried to stay strong.
“It’s a long story,” I said. He laughed; it was short and mocking, unusual for him.
“I told you, I like long stories,” he shot back and pulled me towards him. I collapsed on the couch beside him, my breath hissing through my clenched teeth. “I have time.”
“You won’t want to hear it.”
“Claire.” I could hear the exasperation catch in his voice. “Try me.”
“You won’t be able to handle it,” I said. I was trying desperately to get him to drop the subject. Unlucky for me, it wasn’t that easy.
“Claire, you tell me right now. You are mine and I care about you. Let me in,” he pleaded. “Please, Claire. Just let me in. Let me know your life. I want to know you.”
“Okay,” I whispered, feeling defeated. “Here goes nothing.”

Chapter 17-September 5, 2001 (Michael)

“My mom was nineteen,” Claire started after taking in a deep breath, “when she had me. My dad was twenty-nine; ten years her senior. He was her college professor. When my mom found out that she was pregnant, she was genuinely happy. She said that she had always planned to keep her firstborn, no matter how old she was. After my dad found out, he proposed and they got married the winter before I was born. In March of 1976 I was introduced to life.
They found a little home in Atlanta, Georgia, thinking that they could do it. They thought that they could have jobs and have a family at the same time. But, by the fall of 1976, my mom had dropped out of college. She said that it was too hard with a newborn. She always promised she would go back after I got old enough. She never did.”
Claire paused and looked down at her hands. She fiddled with a bracelet around her wrist before continuing.
“When I was seven, everything was going fine. My dad was paying for everything and my mom had a part time job at a restaurant. Then, she found out she was pregnant again. My dad ordered for her to get an abortion. He said that they didn’t need another baby in the house. My mom disagreed and it was the first time I had ever seen my dad hit my mom.
But, my mom didn’t care and went ahead to have the baby. Later that year, my brother, Alex was born. I was so happy. I had someone to play with, other than my stuffed animals. I was told that I had to wait for Alex to grow up before I could play with him.
I was still a wild child even then. I
alway
broke the rules. So, almost every night I would crawl into his crib with him and sleep next to him. My mom would
alway
find me in there and scold me, but she laughed while she did it, so I knew it was okay.”
Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. I handed her the coffee mug and she took it graciously. She took a sip and smiled shyly at me
.
“When I was nine, the fighting started. At first it was little things, like how my mom was home later than she was supposed to be. Then it got down to the fact that my dad thought that my mom wasn’t paying her share for the house and everything. At night, I could
here
them arguing. It would start quietly until my dad started yelling at her.
It usually ended with a crash and my mom coming upstairs into my room. She would crawl in bed with me, tears coming down her face. Sometimes there was a new bruise on her face or her fingers would be crooked.
A few days after I turned ten, the divorce papers were signed and she was on her way to California. My dad, Alex and I stayed in Georgia, trading our old house for a smaller, cheaper one. I would then be the one to take care of my brother. I would feign sick so that I could be there for him when the babysitter couldn’t. Somehow, I was able to slip through middle school without getting caught.”
I watched as she took a few deep breaths. I could see that it was hard for her to open up. I wanted to tell her to stop but I knew she wouldn’t listen to me. So, I let her continue on.
“The beatings began after I turned 12. First off, it was because I was coming home a little late. It
would only be two minutes but he didn’t care. We were nothing to him. He would yell at me. Soon it
go
to the point where he would hit me.
Then to the point where he would beat me mercilessly.
One day, when I was 14, I had had a really good day at school. I came home at the same time I usually do and I was smiling for a change-a cute guy had asked me out. When I got inside, I realized my dad was on one of his
drunk
rampages. I tried to steer clear by going into my room to start on my homework. I was halfway through my work when my dad threw my door open and attacked me.
Micahel
, he....he,” she stuttered and then fell silent. I placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled warmly.
“Go on,” I urged, wanting to hear the rest of the story. I saw a tear slip down her face and she nodded silently.
“That night he raped me,” she whispered. I knew she felt my body go rigid. Fire burned dimly in my eyes. She watched me carefully, to see how I would react. I took my hand away and stood up.
“Michael.”
“
Give me a minute,” I managed through clenched teeth. I paced the room for a few minutes trying to calm down. Finally, I took a deep breath and sat back down. Claire placed a hand on my arm and left it there.
“You okay?” she asked. I
nodded,
my lips in a tight line.
“Go ahead,” I told her
.
“A few weeks after he raped me, I noticed something was missing. So I went to the doctor and found out that I was pregnant.” She watched my expression turn from anger to shock.
“At fourteen.
I couldn’t be pregnant at fourteen. So, I didn’t tell anybody and went to a free clinic to get an abortion. A couple of days later I was doing fine, like nothing had ever happened. I still have scar from it too.”
She lifted her tank top and I gasped at the pale lines crisscrossing down her flat stomach. They ran all along her skin and looked like they continued on her back. She ran a finger across one, wincing as she did.
“He would cut me when I yelled at him,” she explained. I leaned back and gasped in horror. The lines crossing her body spelled out the word ‘ugly’. I closed my eyes and grimaced.
“Oh my God,” I whispered in agony.
“He would spell it out over and over again with his knife. I got used to the pain after a little while.
Four days after getting the abortion, I turned 15. That afternoon I went out with my friends and went shopping and got our nails done. When I got home, my dad was waiting for me. He beat me, saying that I was worthless. I ran away that night.
I had already planned to run away, but after he beat me, I knew that my decision was the right one. That night, I packed the rest of my stuff away and left. My friend took me to the airport and I took a flight to New York City where I live now.”
She stopped talking for a minute to wipe at the tears coming down her eyes. She took in a shaky
breath and looked at me
.
“Claire, that’s-” She held up a finger and I stopped, watching her.
“I’m not finished yet,” she explained. I nodded sympathetically.
“Sorry,” I apologized and held my arms open. She slithered into them and rested her cheek against my chest. She took my hand and squeezed tightly, telling me not to let go.
“When I got to New York, I called my mom. I barely had any money and I looked like a mess with a newly made black eye. When she picked up, I told her everything. She listened quietly and when I was finished she told me one thing before hanging up. She said, ‘I’m going to help you.’
Later that week I was applying for a high school. She had sent all my papers to the principal, stating that I lived with my ‘aunt’ here in New York City. We
lied
through our teeth. And they believed it all. Two weeks later, I was a new student with a part time job as a waitress at a diner. I didn’t make any friends and stayed away from people as best I could.
Oh, they tried. They tried to be my friend, but I couldn’t let them. I couldn’t open up because I felt like I was going to be betrayed again.
I know it sounds silly, but I felt that if I disappointed anybody, then they would hit me or beat me. Because that’s what my dad would do to me. So, I was distant and did my school work and went to work right after school let up.”
“Where did you live?” I asked, interrupting her. She laughed coldly.
“
Here.
There.
Everywhere.
Usually, I slept on the streets.” She shrugged at my shocked expression. “I would have to get up before a cop noticed me though. My kind wasn’t allowed on the streets. I remember one week, this lady let me share her ‘home’. It was a couple of cardboard boxes and blankets, but I didn’t care. I was going to be warm that night.
The next morning, I left at sunrise. I knew not to get close to people.
Somehow, I made it through high school without any problems. I graduated with all A’s and had gotten a diploma. At the time, I hadn’t known what I wanted to do. I couldn’t go to college. I didn’t have any money saved up. So I took two years off, trying to get money to go to college. By then, I had a full time job at the diner and I had finally found a place of my own.”
“
Where?”
I had to interrupt again. She smiled weakly at me
.
“
This
run down
apartment.
It was dirt cheap and easy to access.
Although, it wasn’t the safest part of the city.
There were a few shootings and a stabbing on the floors around me.
Right after I turned nineteen; that was when the money came. My mom sent me loads of cash, telling me that she was a wealthy lawyer in California.
Her dream.
I used a lot of it to pay for college. I had wanted to be a teacher.
An art teacher.
So, four years later, I had a teaching degree and a new, better apartment. That’s where I lived before coming here. I found a job at an art high school and here I am today.”
She smiled up at me through her tears and I let out a sigh. Using my finger, I wiped a few tears of her face and ran a hand through her hair.
“I don’t see why you can’t do.....us,” I said.
“You don’t see why?” she questioned. I shook my head and she frowned. “I don’t want to be
hurt, Michael. My mom was hurt and she left. My dad beat her. They didn’t love each other. They just said they did. In the end, my mom left with nothing. And she left us there. She left us there. It was as if we didn’t matter to her.”
She realized that she was ranting and clamped her mouth shut. I cupped my hand around her chin and she looked up into my green eyes
.
“Claire, I will never beat you. That is wrong.
Truthfully and honestly?
I love you and I will never do anything to hurt you,” I proclaimed. Suddenly my eyes widened and I looked down at her. She was staring at me in bewilderment, but her eyes detected at happiness.
“Never.”
“
Hm
,” she murmured
.
“Where does Alex come into this?” I asked quickly. She froze after I asked the question and grimaced.
“Alex,” she muttered and sat up a little straighter, making it impossible for me to hold her.
“Oh, Alex.”