9
How Can Something Explained as Evil Be So Beautiful?
~Noah~
A week later, I meet Claire outside her classroom door, and she greets me with a smile.
“Aunt Katy baked homemade macaroni and cheese last night. I missed it, so I’m eager to get there and have some before Abby eats it all.”
That causes Claire to giggle. “Abby is cute. But if she wants to eat all the mac and cheese, I don’t think you stand a chance against her.”
Claire has been to my aunt and uncle’s house a few times now. Sometimes I endure eating in the cafeteria with her and sometimes I leave her alone in the library while I go home for lunch, but sometimes I want those few precious moments when we can be alone, even during a five-minute car ride.
Mark and Katy love her, and Abby simply adores her. She spoils Abby rotten, so Abby loves when Claire shows up, occupying all her time with her dolls and new drawings she has to show her. Katy fawns over Claire. They could spend hours talking girl code if I wasn’t such a jealous bastard for her attention.
“No, I wouldn’t, would I? But I have you with me as a distraction. She won’t think twice about sharing her macaroni.” I grin.
She gives me a look of mock horror and slaps me gently on the arm. “You’re using me for macaroni and cheese?”
I laugh out right, loving how simply we fall into easy banter. “Guilty.”
“Now you’ll have to contend with me and Abby.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “There will be no mac and cheese for you.”
I try to pout like I’m hurt, but I can’t keep a straight face long enough, laughing again at our game. “Come on, angel; you’re going to deprive me of my mac and cheese?”
“Maybe.” She laughs now.
We keep up the banter until we are pulling up to the house, where Abby is already running toward the car. “Cware!”
Of course I’m not here when Claire is around.
“Cware! Cware! I pway dwess up like fawee! Wanna see my wings?” She’s wearing them over the dress Aunt Katy put her in this morning, spinning a three-sixty to show Claire before launching herself into her arms and giving her a big hug. Claire spins her around, making her squeal. “Let’s go pway in my room.” She wiggles her way out of Claire’s arms, so Claire sets her down, and then Abby is tugging at her hand.
We follow Abby into the house as I tell her, “Claire is being mean to me today, Abby. She said I can’t have any mac and cheese.” I give the little girl my pout as Claire gasps at me.
Abby looks at my sad face, and her own face falls before she looks at Claire. “Why No-ie no get mac and weese?”
Aunt Katy chuckles from her spot at the oven, already reheating my macaroni and cheese.
Claire shoots me the evil eye before she smiles at Abby. “Because I thought we were going to eat it all.” Claire tries to get Abby to side with her, but Abby doesn’t understand the game yet.
“But Mommy said No-ie begged for mac and weese this morning. That’s not nice not sharing.” Now Claire is getting the evil eye as Abby wags her finger at her.
Me and Katy laugh as I pick Abby up and start tickling her, telling her she’s right.
Aunt Katy walks over to Claire and gives her a hug. They exchange pleasantries, and then Aunt Katy is pulling the leftover macaroni out of the oven, and her and Claire put them on plates for the four us. I put Abby in her booster seat before getting up and making her a cup of milk. I pour myself another cup of coffee and get Claire and Aunt Katy a can of soda. Then we are all sitting around the table, digging into the leftovers.
“Katy, this is fabulous,” Claire gushes at her first bite, covering her mouth as she talks around the mouthful of food.
I grin at her. “Told ya.”
~Claire~
I place a couple dishes in the sink as Noah announces that it is time to leave. I quickly try to rinse off the dishes so we don’t leave a huge mess for Katy.
“I got this. You need to go,” Katy says as she comes up behind me.
“Thanks,” I tell her, drying my hands off on a paper towel.
“Ready?” Noah asks from behind me as Abby crashes into my legs, wrapping her arms around them.
“Bye, Cware. No-ie says you play with me next time!”
“I promise, Abby.” I turn to Katy. “See you soon.”
“Bye, Claire. Noah, I expect you and Kyle to rinse out the trash cans when you get home from school.”
Noah rolls his eyes after he turns away from her, his hand in mine, pulling me out the door. “Got it!” he calls back before muttering under his breath, “That’s disgusting. Kyle is alone in that one.”
I visibly shiver, agreeing with him. Cleaning out garbage cans is nauseating.
He opens the car door for me, and I slide in then watch him as he comes around the car. He is so gorgeous, wearing another pair of faded jeans; a faded blue, soft T-shirt; and his jacket. His hair is windblown with drops of rain from the drizzle that just started, making the temperature much colder. Soon, the snow will start to fall. I give it until my birthday.
He glides into the car and starts the engine before turning to me, a big smile on his face. “You’ll never forget the mac and cheese, will you?”
I love him like this. So carefree and happy. His smiles are so rare, only given to me, Abby, and his aunt Katy. I start to wonder if he shares them with his mother, too, but then I remember his comparison to his mother and Signora Gelardi. Yeah, I don’t think he likes his mother much.
That leads me to wondering about his mom as puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the driveway. I know she’s a history professor, but that’s about it. I don’t know what she looks like, though Noah must resemble her, because his uncle has lighter features, and Noah is all dark. I want to ask him about his parents, but he is in too good of a mood to sour, so instead I play along with him.
“Definitely not. That was the best macaroni and cheese I’ve ever had. I have to make it for Dad. He loves cheese. You’ll have to come over and test it out; determine if it’s as good as your aunt’s.”
He raises my hand in his and brings it to his lips. “Count me in.”
I smile back at him as we drive back to school in comfortable silence. I want to ask about his parents, especially his mom. He’s never mentioned his dad, either, so I’m equally curious about him.
“What are you stressing about?” Noah breaks the silence, and I realize we are sitting in the school parking lot.
I bring my attention to him as he puts his hand on top of my own that I have been worrying, a habit of mine. “Nothing. Just thinking.”
I know Noah doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t pry, either. I love that about him; that he lets people have their own thoughts. He doesn’t share often, not with other people, so he won’t pressure someone else to do the same.
We stare into each other’s eyes for a minute. I could get lost in his. They are so dark brown, turning black the longer I stare into them. He drops his eyes down to my mouth in hunger. I have noticed that about him. His eyes are usually dark brown, the color of stained oak, rimmed in black. However, when he’s angry or … aroused, the black in his eyes engulfs the brown, demonic in its intensity. How can something explained as evil be so beautiful?
He wants to kiss me, and I want to let him, so I bridge the gap between us and caress his lips with mine. I think this is the first time I have made the first move.
I watch his eyes smolder as I sway my head side to side, gently, barely touching as I glide my lips across his, never really kissing, just … contact. His breath passes his lips, caressing against mine, and I close my eyes before pressing more firmly against his bottom lip. The sound of our jackets cracking, our breaths, and the gentle splatter of rain is the only noise heard.
I start to pull on his jacket to bring him closer to me, but he pulls away, making me lose contact with his jacket, his lips. I watch as he runs his hands through his still lightly wet hair, messing it up further. Then he looks at the dashboard clock, looks back at me, and then quickly looks out at the rain.
“Claire, I get so caught up in you that I quickly lose control … like the other night. I don’t want to do that with you. I want …” He stops midsentence, grabbing the door handle. “We need to get inside. Class starts in five minutes.” With that, he opens the door and leaves me to myself.
He stands against the wet car door for several seconds, taking deep breathes, I notice. When I still haven’t emerged from the car, he finally comes around and opens the door for me, taking my bag in one hand and my hand in the other, practically forcing me from the car. Then he shuts the door and presses up against cold, wet metal.
Noah kisses me like he kissed me last week on his bike, like I’m his reason for everything and he can’t go another minute without taking something from me that gives him life. He drops my bag to the ground and cups my face, tilting it at an angle so he can get to me better. I grip the cool leather encasing his arms and hold on tight as he sinks into me, breathing me in as I breathe myself out. The kiss doesn’t last long, but when he pulls back, I swear my vision blacks out in my peripheral and I see stars.
Noah slips his hands from my face, following a path until he comes to my hands. He grabs one before reaching over for my bag, and then he leads me into the school.
Once inside, I slip my hand out of Noah’s and reach for my bag.
“I’ll walk you to class,” Noah protests.
I shake my head. “I’m going to the bathroom first. I’m sure my hair looks like a nest from the rain.”
He relinquishes my bag, and I put it over one shoulder. Then he smooths my hair down. “You look beautiful.”
I smile at him. “Maybe that was a modest way to tell you I have to pee.”
Noah laughs, causing several people to look our way with curiosity. His laugh is so infections that I laugh with him. Then he pulls me into a hug, engulfing me in his tight embrace. I feel him press his lips to the top of my head before letting me go.
I walk in the direction of the bathroom without looking back, aware that he could be watching me and conscious not to make a fool of myself.
The bathroom is empty when I enter, the bell ringing overhead. Oh well. I go to a stall and do my business when I hear someone storming in, slamming the bathroom door open before slamming a stall door open. Then there is the sound of retching.
Sympathy for whoever it is comes over me. I finish up my business, wash my hands, and then wet some paper towels before walking over to the stall where the person is vomiting again. When the toilet flushes, I slowly push open the door and pause at what I find.
Chelsea is sitting on the floor, crying as she wipes her mouth off with the back of her hand. Her other hand is covering her waist. Her crying stops as soon as she sees me, and she adopts the hated look that she reserves only for me.
“God, you’re the last person I want to see me like this,” she comments.
I hand her the wet paper towels, and she snatches them out of my hand.
“The feeling is mutual,” I tell her. “But I’m here, helping, so take the kindness.”
“I don’t need your help,” she seethes. “I need your ex-boyfriend to man up and take responsibility for what he did to me. But noooo. I tell him I’m pregnant and he’s the father, and he walks away from me. God, how could I have been so stupid? I’m on birth control. We used condoms. Well, guess what? It didn’t work!” She laughs maniacally. “Even better, the condom broke! I mean, shit! Who the hell gets pregnant the one time the condom breaks while on birth control?” She stands up now, getting in my face. “I’ll tell you who. Me!
“Is this karma, Claire? Is this what I get for being a nasty bitch to you? Is that what you’re thinking right now? That because I wanted to take everything you have that I got what I deserve? I knew Troy was in love with you, so I had to have him.” She points down to her belly. “I have him now, all right. I have his kid, and now he’s stuck with me! But noooo! I tell him and instead of being there for me, he just walks away and won’t even talk to me!”
Tears pour down her face while I stand there, fear gripping me. Fear for Troy. Fear for his baby. And yeah, even fear for what the future holds for Chelsea.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” She starts hitting me, but she’s crying so hard that her hits are feeble. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt a little. And I let her because this girl has always hated me, though I never understood, and she needs to get this off her chest. I shush her and coo that everything is going to be all right; empty words, but meant to relax her. They do, and she pulls out of my embrace, leaning against the bathroom wall with her arms protectively over her belly.
“And I saw Noah first. He came to my party. But he didn’t want me. He pawned me off on his stupid cousin. No one wants me, not the way they want you. Why? What do you have that I don’t? I’m the pretty one, the popular one. But it’s you who gets all the attention. And you don’t even want it!
“Every guy I’ve been with, I’ve caught ogling you. Why, Claire? Why can’t one guy like me better? Why can’t I be someone’s world, like how Noah looks at you? Shit, even James looks at you. And you know what? Turns out that he’s gay!” My eyes must reveal my surprise because Chelsea starts nodding. “Yeah, he uses me so his parents won’t find out—taking me to school dances and couple functions. I found out after homecoming. Messed up, isn’t it?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer; she’s on a tangent and needs to get a lot off her chest. “Even more messed up that a gay man has the hots for you.”
She shakes her head now, still glaring viciously at me. “Just go. Leave me here. I don’t want you looking at me like that. I don’t need your pity.”
“Is there someone I can get for you? Nikki? The nurse?” I have to help this girl. Chelsea is only seventeen, and now she’s pregnant. I wouldn’t wish that on any girl, especially one who doesn’t have the support of the father. I’m going to have to talk to Troy; convince him to man up and protect Chelsea. If she really is having his baby, he needs to be there for her.
“Just. Go.”
There’s nothing else to say. There’s nothing I can do to make this situation any better, at least not from this end. So, I leave. I leave her sobbing as she leans over the bathroom sink, one hand clutching her waist.
Babies are supposed to be happy occasions. They are supposed to bring their parents joy. Birth is supposed to be a new beginning, an end to the old, a new chapter in lives. Births are supposed to be a sign of hope, of things to come, of togetherness and connecting.
I know differently. I know babies can also bring fear, and the want for a different path in life. I learned with my own birth that some people mourn it, loathe it. Some people run from it. They run from their babies because they can’t stand the responsibility of nurturing another life form.
I hope that Chelsea isn’t like my mother. That she will grow from the experience and learn compassion from it.