Clara

Doesn’t matter what time of day it is, goodbyes suck.

Morning.

Noon.

Night.

I watch his car drive down the street until I can’t see it anymore. Cruise is heading to the penthouse to change clothes before he meets with his family at their compound—his word, not mine. He was given a strict dress code, which he must adhere to. I made him promise to send me pics. I love a great suit on a hot guy. And no one is hotter than my boyfriend.

After getting dressed and grabbing my bag, I head to Baynard Prep to serve my time. I love the grounds of this school and the facilities, but I don’t feel of much use here. The kids are so privileged that I don’t feel like I make any difference in their lives. I was drawn to teaching to help others, but truly, I’m not much help here. Fortunately the day doesn’t drag.

Midday, I receive a text from my mom: Can you babysit Toby for a few hours today? I was asked to fill in to lead the kindergarten graduation. I know it’s last minute, but I need the money and Toby will have a meltdown if he’s not fed on time.

I understand the feeling. My stomach is growling and between the hunger pangs and Cruise leaving, I want to melt down too.

Me: No worries. I’ll come to the school and pick him up after my class.

Mom: Thank you.

That was a quick reply.

With a granola bar I found in my purse shoved in my mouth, I park and rush across campus only to be surprised with a pop quiz. As soon as I finish, I turn it in and head back out. Checking my phone, I find a missed call and text that came in a half hour ago from Cruise making me smile and feel disappointed. I want to hear his voice but I don’t feel right calling when he’s with his family. He has enough to worry about than me being clingy.

Cruise: There’s a delay. Eat without me and I’ll come over after we land.

I stop when I reach my car and return his text: I can’t wait to see you. I’ll wait up.

It doesn’t take but fifteen minutes to reach the school where my mom is frantically setting up chairs while Toby is teeter-totting around with one shoe on and one off. “Hi,” I say walking into the cafeteria where the ceremony will be held.

Wiping her brow, a big smile appears. “Hi, sweetheart. Thank you for helping me out of this pickle.”

“No problem.” I set my purse down and run up behind Toby who hasn’t spotted me yet. He turns around right when I’m about to tickle him and I say, “Boo!”

I’m greeted with squeals of delight as he runs into my arms. Picking him up, I swing him into the air just above my head and back down so he lands on his feet. “You are getting so big.”

He laughs and runs away, wanting me to chase him while mimicking me, “Big. Big. Goo.”

I squat so I’m eye level with my little blue-eyed cutie. “I think you mean goose. Duck, duck, goose.”

Seeing him for the first time after telling Cruise, my secret feels different. I feel lighter, less of a liar. For the first time, I can look at Toby without feeling guilt, or shame. I did nothing wrong. I gave him life. Me. Me . . . what an amazing thing to be responsible for, to be grateful for. Cruise has opened my eyes, and now seeing my son, I feel nothing but love and pride.

I feel my mom’s comforting hand on my back. “Are you doing okay?”

“Closer than I’ve been in a long time.” I give her a hug. She was just as relieved as I was when I told her everything with Cruise was fine. I doubt she’ll ever know his hand in her husband’s murder, and I’m fine with that. When I step back, I pull my purse onto my shoulder, and say, “I think we should talk about things concerning Toby soon. Not tonight. I know you’re busy, but soon.”

She doesn’t appear surprised like I imagined she would be. She isn’t offended or defensive in her body language. A gentle smile is there, warming me that I’m not crossing a line, but I am making her proud. “We can do that. We can talk about Toby and the future. When you’re ready, I’ll be here for you.”

“You always have been. Thank you.”

“You kids are the best job I ever had.”

“The pay was awful.”

“But the benefits are great.”

Toby is running around without his shirt and banging on his chest like Tarzan, delivering just the right dose of reality.

With a loud sigh, she says, “In the meantime, thank you for taking him. I should be at your house by eight.”

I track every step he takes, flinching when he falls, smiling when he dusts himself off. He’s a handful, but he’s my handful . . . I mean, my mom’s. This time I sigh, contemplating if what I’m doing is the right decision for him or a selfish one for me. I go with my gut. “Maybe he can spend the night?”

My mom continues to un-stack the chairs and line them up row by row. “If you don’t mind, that’d be great. I could use the sleep after the long day I’m having.”

I appreciate that she keeps it casual though we both know it’s a big step, a big change for all three of us. “Yeah, you sleep. I’ll take him tonight and you can come by in the morning. I don’t have class until ten.”

“Perfect. I’ll come get him at nine.”

“Great.” We share more than a knowing look. We share a moment that we both know has been a long time coming, but needed to arrive when the time was right.

She wrangles Toby and we find his shirt and missing sock and shoe. Once he’s dressed, she kneels in front of him, and says, “Go with your m—with your Clara. I love you, baby.”

Her cheek is covered in spittle from raspberry kisses, but she doesn’t complain. She just hugs him tight and smiles before standing up in front of me. “Love you.”

“I love you. See you tomorrow.”

“See you two then. Have a good night.”

With Toby as my backseat copilot secured into his car seat, I check on him in the rearview mirror. “You want to go to the store with me? We can get some yummies.”

He claps in excitement. “Nummies.”

“Yes, nummies.”

When Cruise is home, we grocery shop or he has something delivered. Without him to cook for, I fall back on an old fave—mac and cheese. The comforting blue box of a childhood lost before its time.

At home, Toby and I play I’m Gonna Getcha and I chase him around while the water boils. Once the food is ready, I sit on the couch, and place him on the floor in front of the coffee table, our bowls in front of us.

Clicking on the TV, he wants cartoons and I give in since it’s too early to see Cruise.

Another hour passes. The dishes are cleaned. Toby has been bathed and is now busying himself with scribbling on a piece of paper. His personality is reflected in the crazy, colorful scribble. He’s a wild child and just like the drawing, I love it. After we hang it on the fridge, I settle him on a pallet on my floor, worried he might fall off my bed if I let him sleep on the mattress.

Before I turn out the lights, I look over at my nightstand. Picking up the little brown bear with one eye, I show it to him. “Mine,” he says, snatching it from me before I can argue differently.

“Yours,” I reply, tapping him on the nose.

Snuggling with it, he rolls to the side and closes his eyes. I lean down, taking in the scent of his innocence and praying he always holds on to it. “I love you,” I whisper, then turn out the lamp beside the bed.

I tiptoe out, but leave the door cracked open and the hall light on for him. And for me.

When I return to the living room, I click on the news and wait for the story to come on. There are lead-ins before the commercial breaks to make sure you stay tuned when they come back. It’s salacious, even when Cruise is paraded in front of the rally. In the short thirty minutes I’ve been watching, they’ve called him a party animal, wild, out of control, and the Cristley adopted son. Not once have they just called him their son.

It’s so dumb. Those terms aren’t him at all. I take offense on Cruise’s behalf. If they knew him, really knew him, they’d know what a big heart he has.

I turn up the volume when the Cristley segment finally comes on. The report covers Senator Cristley’s life from his not-so humble beginnings to his standing in society to this day. Beatrice is interviewed and then each of the kids in the order of their age from eldest to youngest. It’s good to put faces with names, like Paige, and his brother Matty, but I’m not interested in their stories. I’m interested in the youngest Cristley. Cruise, or as they call him, John.

He answers every question with integrity and ease, until he thinks the segment is over, but they pop in a random question while the cameras are still rolling.

When he talked to me about the kidnapping, he was convinced it was to get to Alex, but on TV, he shifts before answering.

This reporter is a bitch, and I’m not even regretful for calling her out for her horrid behavior. Cruise would be proud.

As for the reporter, I’m fully annoyed. She’s trying to not only hack up her prey on live TV for entertainment purposes, but his reputation in the process. I’m angry for him. He’s much nicer than me. Wait. What did he say?

They cut to a commercial and I flick the TV off. I want to be irritated by how she referred to him at the end of the segment, but how can I when he said such sweet words?

Irrevocably in love.

With me.

Me.

That has to be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.

I reach for my phone and text Cruise: I’m irrevocably in love with you, too.

The three dots wave on the screen and then a message from him pops up: I don’t like to lie. I should have told you first. In person. I’m sorry I said it on national TV before telling you.

Me: You’ve told me in every kiss since that first kiss. In every touch of your fingertips. In every look we’ve shared. The air around me shifts when you’re near. So you’ve told me. I’ve felt it without the words.

Cruise: If you’re trying to seduce me, it’s working.

While I’m laughing, there’s a pause, and then the dots appear followed by text: I’m told it’s already a sound bite. Our love is already a sound bite. Grrrr.

Me: I have something for you to bite. #wearingwhiteundies #irrevocablyinlove

Cruise: I like where this is going. I also like you #wearingwhiteundies and being #irrevocablyinlove with me

Me: Me too. #irrevocablyinlove with everything about you.

Cruise: We’re leaving the station, but call me. I need the rescue after sitting next to Fredrick most of the day.

Laughing, I respond: Will do. This time I’ll be your hero.

Cruise: You already were.

Before I get a chance to type anything more, my phone rings. Vaughn flashes on the screen and I set it down like a hot potato on the coffee table and stare at it, debating what to do—answer it or not? Guilt sets in because he never calls me. What if something’s wrong?

What if it’s not?

“What if there is?” I pick up the phone on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Clara? I need you.” He doesn’t sound drunk, and he doesn’t sound normal. This is how I imagine someone who’s panicking sounds.

“What’s going on, Vaughn?”

“Where’s Toby?”

The question is easy to answer so my heart rate starts to settle into its regular beat. “Why?” Still wearing the same skirt and shirt I wore to work and class, I stand up and push it down as I walk around the coffee table. “What’s wrong?”

“Where the fuck is Toby, Clarissa?”

“He’s with me. Why are you mad?”

“Because I thought something happened to him. I’ve been fucking freaking out over here for the last hour.”

My annoyance peaks. “He’s fine. I’ve got him. You don’t need to worry. Just go on about your night. He’s sleeping here tonight.”

“Bring him home. Now.”

“No. I’m hanging up.”

“Don’t fucking do it, Clarissa. Bring him home. He needs to be here.”

“Why? He’s fine here. Sleeping. Let Mom have a night off, for Pete’s sake.”

“Why are you doing this? Why now?”

Closing the curtains in the living room, I peek out. “What? What am I doing? You should be grateful to have him out of the house for a night.”

He groans, but I can hear his rage, the sound muffled but discernible. “Please, Clara.”

“He’s fine here, Vaughn. It’s one night. You’ll see him tomorrow.” I hang up and set the phone on the coffee table as I go into the kitchen for a glass of water.

Vaughn needs to be dealt with. He’s out of control and dangerous. Surely he won’t go near Mom while Toby’s gone. I want to text her, but I don’t want to worry her. She’ll be okay. I refuse to worry her. He won’t hurt her.

I’m glad I have Toby here for the night. My wild child and sweet baby.