Claire, page 16
- Ͼ -
The next day’s trip home from the tram station was a grey one. Lisette walked under grey skies with grey thoughts about her houseguest. The influence of the pod seemed to be waning, the compliance protocols loosening their grip on Claire’s personality. She’ll be herself again soon, but then what? A virtual prisoner in my house until we get this all sorted out? Let’s hope not, for her sake. Not even the muffled thump-thump-thump of high-energy music that seemed to emanate from Ethel’s house could do more than momentarily distract Lisette as she passed. She hefted the bags from her lunchtime shopping trip in her right hand, felt their promising weight. They held gifts for Claire, gifts that Lisette hoped would aid in her efforts to bring Claire back to her right mind.
She entered the house to find Claire had been at it again, cleaning and organizing the kitchen. Sounds from upstairs told her the happy homemaker was upstairs and moving towards the stairs to come down in greeting. Dashing quickly to hide her purchases in the hall closet, she went to the kitchen where she discovered that Claire had set a box on the counter with the result of her culinary inventory. In it were an alarming number of items that were well past their sell-by date, most unopened and unused. She wondered if Claire had noticed that they all had been there since before she and Lisette parted ways. It bothered her to see this box of little failures, gathered like a jury in its gallery, awaiting her defense. She brought them out to the trash bin before she and Claire sat down to eat.
After dinner they settled into the lounge to watch a movie, a rather dreary crime thriller that had the both of them rattling off a steady stream of sarcastic comments and wisecracks at its bad acting and improbable script. By the end they were laughing outright at its over-the-top surreal climax and the villain’s camp parting lines. As the credits rolled they sat in blissful silence, each recalling a dozen nights like this from before their breakup, when simply being with one another was all they would want or need.
Lisette finally broke the spell by standing quickly. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.” She darted out of the room to the hall closet, returning quickly. “I was out and about today, and I thought, well, I got you these.” She held out the two big shopping bags bearing the imprint of a local department store with a pleasant and hopeful air.
Claire took the bags with a look of wonder and sat on the chaise. Reaching in to the first, she drew out a large, white mass. It unfurled into a mackintosh of a glossy white material, with a waist-cinching belt and voluminous cowl. She contemplated the gift a moment before giving Lisette a quizzical look. “Lis, it’s very nice, but I’m currently quite waterproof.”
“I know that, silly. Open the other one.”
With a shrug Claire set aside the coat and pulled from the second bag a pair of knee-high rain boots, bright red, peppered with white cartoon duckies. They were too cute not to draw a chuckle from Claire, who looked at her friend with a “What were you thinking?” glance.
Lisette sat in the chair. “I know, I couldn’t help myself. But when I saw the coat, I thought it could be a way that we could go out together and not worry about it.” She grew a bit quiet. “I want you to have a life, Claire. I don’t want you being cooped up in this house for the next how many years. Yeah, I know it’s not safe now, but we’ll settle all that sooner or later, and when we do you’ll be free to go out again. But it might be a while before they can get the suit off you, so…” She gestured at the presents. “The coat has a big hood, comes down like a monk’s cowl. No one will see your face, and they’ll think your hands have gloves. I mean, okay, we’ll be taking a lot of walks in the rain, or maybe at night –“.
“Lis”, Claire interrupted. Her expression was one of frustration at all the restrictions her predicament laid upon her, of the absurd steps her friend had taken to ensure her a modicum of normality. But that frustration was soon expelled with a sigh as Claire looked around a bit, then back at Lisette, a mix of sadness and gratitude warming her gaze. “This is all very sweet of you. Thank you.” She stood up; taking the coat in hand, she slid into it, drew the hood up and held the lapels closed. “How do I look?”
Lisette stood up and stepped forward. “Here, let’s do it up proper.” Claire lowered her arms as Lisette fastened the several buttons down the coat front, then took the belt and cinched it tight around Claire’s waist. The coat was more fitted that Lisette had expected, its knee-length silhouette combining with the contrast of white coat against black suit in an eye-catching combo while the hood cast all but Claire’s mouth in shadow. Wow, and here I thought this would make her less attractive. She stepped back and nodded in approval. “Looks great! Go look in the mirror.”
She did, stepping over to the corner and doing a bit of a twist to see how it draped. When she turned again to face Lisette her mood was a bit brighter. “It does fit well, doesn’t it?” Lisette nodded happily, then became worried when she saw a tear fall from the corner of Claire’s eye. She stepped forward and clasped her hand. Claire responded with a sniff and a smile, her fingers interlacing those of Lisette, ebony and alabaster.
Claire wiped away the tear. “Sorry, I’m being silly again. It’s just, well, this is the first bit of real clothing I’ve put on since this all started. It’s...it’s the little things, you know? I want to put on a comfy sweater, or style my hair. Instead of dressing like a frogwoman all the time." She lifted a hand, ruffled a lapel. “Wearing this, it feels so, so normal. I want to be normal again, Lis. I want to put on a coat because I want to, not to hide from everyone else. I want to walk out that door and go where I want and not give a damn who I see or what they think. I want to be like everyone else.” Lisette could do nothing but silently draw Claire close and hold her while her tears gently dropped upon the lapels of her new raincoat.
Her weeping subsided, Claire looked up at Lisette with glistening eyes. “But I am what I am now, aren’t I? It’s all black-and-white. There are no shades of grey here. This is me, this is my life. I have to accept it.” She laughed a bit. "Maybe I should take up SCUBA diving, or get a job at the aquarium."
"I'll buy you some flippers." She leaned in and ran a hand gently on Claire's cheek. "You are dear to me, no matter how dreadful your fashion sense may be." That set them both to giggling.
"Oh, I dunno. It’s not all bad. Saves hours in the morning, deciding what to wear."
Lisette was mock-thoughtful. "Really? Hmm, maybe I should try it, then."
A faint chime from upstairs brought a glum look to Claire’s face. It was her pod, signaling its Drone that it was ready to receive it for the evening’s session of rest and refurbishment. “Time to tuck myself in”, she said with resignation.
Lisette was mindful of the pod’s compliance protocols, muted as they were. “You don’t have to go right away. It’s only saying that it’s ready.” She mustered her enthusiasm. “Maybe we can watch another movie or something.”
Claire shook her head a bit, stepped back from Lisette’s protecting arms. She slowly removed her new raincoat and hung it in the closet, setting her new duckie boots below it. Before she went upstairs she turned to Lisette. She managed a wan smile. “Thanks again for the gift. Maybe it will rain tomorrow night?”
Lisette returned her hopeful look. “Maybe.”
Claire nodded a bit, then walked up to her closet, leaving Lisette to sit in her chair and contemplate the road to Hell and its pavement of good intentions.
- Ͼ -
The game was afoot, but Niall was judging himself a poor player. He sat at his desk, staring at an entry in one of the many daily activity reports gathered by Capriccio. This entry was an anomaly. It logged an update by a pod for all data and protocols related to the CLR Series 34 hours after the disappearance of "Jane Doe" - or, as Niall now knew her, Claire de Burg, their unwitting Donor. The download request had come from an anonymous address. Must be new, hasn’t needed maintenance yet. No contract. And the location URL is scrambled, rerouted. A regular customer would never obscure a pod’s location. It slows service and hinders our response in an emergency. It says that right in the manual. Niall was certain this was a signal from their missing quarry. Who does that? Who has she gone to for protection? Whoever is hiding her knew to do this. But, who had the resources, the know-how? Damn, I wonder if she's gone to one of our competitors. Bet they'd love to have her show up on their door. Or maybe, the Mob? This is getting worse by the day. The only consolation was that, wherever she had gone to ground, it was a fixed point. She would be returning to that pod every night. Niall wagered that Claire would stay in the greater Metro area where she had contacts and knew the turf.
With little else to go on, he tapped the screen and began sifting another report as he muddled over the day’s events. A trip to Claire’s apartment had proven frustrating. She had not been home - no surprise there - and her landlady had been blunt and evasive until Niall stumbled through a lie about following up on some cancer research. That had produced a name, “Lisette”, but nothing more except a halfhearted promise to pass along his concerns when Claire returned.
He absentmindedly fiddled with the white fob that had been left in the exam room. “Where are you, Claire?” he asked the air, clicking the remote. As there was no response to his query or his action he had to assume she was not hiding under the desk or in the office closet. “Whose closet are you hiding in, then?” He could do little but wait patiently for the next rattle at the door.
- Ͼ -
The next morning found Claire staring out the window at a grey and threatening sky. It was definitely going to rain in the next few hours. It wasn’t that she disliked the rain. She was hardly made of sugar, and even if she were her new skin made for a waterproof wrapper. But she had hoped to finish prepping the garden beds for the plants she and Lis had selected from a local nursery. Whether the weather would clear was unclear. With a sigh she decided to work inside the house for a spell. Just as well, she thought, I’m still a bit drained from my little adventure out there two days ago. Guess I’ll give the beds a rest.
She had seen Lisette off for work with pleas that she stop somewhere on the way home and pick up something she could put in her Drone shakes to improve the flavor. “Cocoa powder, perhaps, or some nutmeg. Hell, at this point I’ll settle for vinegar and cayenne.” Claire wondered if they could adjust the pod to turn off her sense of taste, then thought better of it, fearing how it might lessen her sense of smell. I’ll need it again some day, she thought a touch glumly. Some day.
Her continuing urge to clean every inch of the house, courtesy of some residual pod programming, was giving her the itch to tackle Lis’ study. She had left it out of her initial cleansing blitz out of respect for Lisette’s privacy. This was her inner sanctum, her office away from the office. When they were dating it had been the one place Claire could not go without permission. She remembered it being the cleanest and neatest room in the house, a model of organization and precision, where every item had its place and was in its place.
The dusty jumble that Claire found upon opening the office door was as far from its prior incarnation as had been the garden. Claire was certain that this was the room that got the least attention of all. No doubt it had something to do with Lisette’s new filing system, consisting as far as Claire could tell of grabbing handfuls of documents and tossing them to and fro whilst dancing to Cossack music. “At least in the garden I could throw away the mess”, she said aloud to the room. As it did not reply she assumed it was safe for her to begin without fear of it coming to life and attacking her.
Better start with something that won’t upset her work. She scrutinized the room until her gaze fell upon the closet at the far corner behind the desk. There. She walked over and, half expecting to be buried in junk like some bad cartoon, turned the knob and opened the door. To her disappointment she was not attacked by an avalanche of hat boxes and fishing gear. In fact, the closet was almost empty, save for a cube-shaped cardboard box sitting on the floor. Claire stood a moment and contemplated this unexpected scene. All the stuff strewn about this room, and this is all she puts in here? The pride of place it occupied drew Claire’s curiosity. She had to know its contents.
Seconds later Claire had set it down on the carpet in front of the desk and was rummaging that battered oak antique for something to slit the tape holding the box closed. She settled on a pair of scissors and was about to use them when she paused. For a moment she felt a bit like Pandora, that opening the box and setting loose what lay inside would change things forever. But the moment passed and she steeled her resolve. Carefully she cut the tape at its edges, then drew a point down its length. The box flaps sprung open a bit as if their hidden contents were pushing to get out. Claire returned the scissors and, kneeling before the box like some supplicant exposing a holy relic, opened it.
Her attitude was not far from the mark, for what greeted her inquiry first was a romper. Her romper, in fact, the faded blue top she had always kept here for the morning after her overnight stays. It had got lost in the commotion that day when she and Lisette had broken up. When Lis broke up with me, she corrected herself. And there it was, carefully stowed away. She gently lifted it from the box and held it to her face, taking in its scent, rubbing it on her shoulders. The feeling wasn’t as she remembered it, the suit was in the way. But still she hugged it and the memories woven into it close.
As her reveries subsided she looked into the box again and saw what the romper had been concealing. A number of small packages and bundles presented themselves. Most were wrapped in silver tissue and tied together with red ribbon. They seemed presents from a forgotten birthday. Claire was amazed at one bundle of papers not wrapped in tissue but held together with the same ribbon. It was a collection of notes, brochures and other papers of seeming trivia that all bore Claire’s handwriting for some reason or another. The top one was a note Claire remembered writing when she had to leave one day while Lisette was in the shower. Lis-Sorry, had to run to make my appointment. I’ll call later. Love, Claire. Others of its ilk were there as well, bundled and kept safe as if they were rare missives sent from a distant shore.
Claire next picked up a tissue-wrapped item and recognized it immediately for a small framed picture. She almost didn’t open it, but finally did so knowing what image the distinctive shape of that frame would hold. There it was, the picture of she and Lis in the garden that Midsummer’s Day, twin to the one on the shelf in her room. The question she had asked on the day Lisette had parted from her was now answered. She took a minute to collect herself before wrapping it once more and putting it back in its place.
Tucked against one inside corner of the box was the crystal phial Claire had given Lisette shortly after their Midsummer party. She had spent days at her workbench crafting a scent that would capture the essence of that perfect afternoon with her love. Lisette had fairly melted in delight on that first whiff of the phial and wore it every time they were together thereafter – every time, that is, but the last, the day they were parted. Now, only a tiny portion remained. Claire opened the phial a bit and breathed in. The memories it invoked flooded over her, nearly overwhelmed her to the point she had to pause and allow them to pass. Sealing the phial and replacing it, she longed for the day she might create it anew.
There was one item at the bottom that had not been wrapped, a small jewelry gift box. Claire lifted it out with a shaking hand. She knew what lay within the green box with its strange, water-splashed blotches. It was the locket she had given Lisette that Midsummer’s Day, the surprise present she had held back until all the guests had left. Inside was a picture of Claire and the inscription, Ever Yours.
Claire was overcome with her find. She kept it all. She kept everything. Here, in the heart of her house. Ever Yours, ever-present. Her tears had been flowing all too freely since she took refuge in this house, and now they came again, silently, softly, adding new water to old as they fell upon the tiny parcels inside. She saw the unassuming cardboard box and its contents as more than memorabilia. This was a box full of hope.
It took her another half-hour to find a matching roll of tape, then pack and carefully seal the cardboard box up again. Then, she went to make a phone call.
- Ͼ -
Lisette fell more than sat in her office chair as she rubbed the growing throb in her temple. The morning had started on a sour note, or three if one counted the voice mails individually. There had been a missive from her aunt Dina, a second from Dina’s therapist offering a free consultation for her “problem”, and a third from a voice dripping with self-centeredness that turned out to be Dina’s oral surgeon friend. She took what satisfaction she could from deleting them en masse.
That was the start of her day. It was now early afternoon and she had once again worked through lunch. Lisette had spent three hours in conference on the Sang case, gritting her teeth as her elderly client traded childish barbs and insults with his twin brother over the operations of their small chain of grocery stores. The thought that Pierre would be back tomorrow and she could finally enlist his aid in helping Claire had kept her focused. Still, she was at her wit’s end with them. These two don’t need a lawyer, she thought. They need a spanking. They need someone to tell them to grow up. She wondered if they could pay her enough to do it. At this point she’d consider doing it for free.
The so-called negotiations had her so distracted that she failed at first to notice the bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk. A dozen roses, red and white, were arranged in an Art Deco vase at one corner of the blotter. The crabby old men and their rutabagas were fast forgotten. She took the card from the bouquet and gasped as she read:
To the best friend I’ve ever had
Hope you enjoy these as much as I did delivering them
