7

Claire Bassett

I walked through the propped-open door to our office complex.

Susie peeked up over her computer and smiled. “Hi, Claire. Love the sweater.”

“Thank you. How are you this morning?” What a delicious false sense of normalcy. Three days each week for eight hours I could forget. I would stroll along the brick walkway, greeting folks with casual talk. People didn’t know, so there wasn’t an unspoken awkwardness hanging over every word.

Until I stepped in my car to return home.

Then it all flooded back to me. That awful day when brakes screamed, sirens shrieked, and tears flooded. Three weeks later came the succinct, gut-wrenching note. Would there ever be a time when I walked through a day without the knowledge that Andrew lived somewhere out there, beyond my reach?

I reached my cubicle in the back corner of the office complex. Not many people stopped by my desk, mostly professors leaving some job for me to do. I reviewed my to-do list for the day and sequenced the tasks—file syllabi, work on supply inventory, and run a bulk mailing to the post office. As I worked, I drank in the smiles from Drew and Isabella captured in the framed photo on the side of my desk.

To avoid unwanted questions, I didn’t display a family picture. Instead, I filled the other empty space with a plaque of quirky plant life and a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote: The earth laughs in flowers. Andrew and I had purchased it from a souvenir shop on our honeymoon in Key West. He used the word quirky for the cubism flowers fashioned in brilliant hues. Then I flashed a quirky grin to match. The plaque served as my remembrance of him. I could peek at it and remember our laughter.

“Morning, Claire. I missed seeing you yesterday.”

I turned my head toward the voice. Jonathan Payne took a seat in the chair beside my workspace. We had forged an early bond since both of us were new to the university, although he taught and I served as a part-time, tucked-in-the-back-of-the-room errand girl.

“Hi there. Oh, I don’t work on Tuesdays. Remember, I’m three days a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot.” He pointed toward my cork board. “Hey, I feel honored. You have a picture of me above your desk.”

I had printed a website page that showed photos of all faculty in the Department of Education so I could begin to match names and faces when someone came in to see me. “I have a copy with all the faculty above my desk. You’re one of many.”

He placed his hand over his heart. “You wound me. Does that mean I’m not special?”

I laughed at his antics. “You’re all special. What can I do for you today?”

He broke eye contact and fingered the buttons on the cuff of his sleeve. “I wanted to see if the schedules are ready for the spring semester.”

“Uh, I don’t have anything to do with schedules. Stephanie does all of that.” I placed a question in my tone to indicate he should have known that. Schedules were always a big deal for the whole department.

“Oh, sorry. Temporary brain freeze.” He flashed a delightful, boyish smile that melted his features into a charming youthfulness. He hummed or whistled while walking with the fluidity of an athlete, and he had the ability to make me laugh. Levity was so rare these days. I savored those moments, enjoying the taste of it again.

I cut him some slack, although everyone knew who created the schedules. “I’m with you. It’s hard being a newbie. Too much to remember.”

Glancing at my children’s pictures, he settled back in the chair, making no move to see Stephanie.

“Your little girl reminds me of my niece.” He began to tell me about the impetuous four-year-old named Hannah. A master storyteller, Jonathan brought laugher throughout the exchange. I found myself joining in and talking about Isabella and Drew. After about fifteen minutes, I stole a glance at the clock and at the paperwork in front of me. I wasn’t paid to socialize, even with faculty.

Jonathan must have seen me peek at the clock, because he did likewise, glancing at his watch. “Goodness, it’s almost noon. It’s beautiful outside. Why don’t you grab your lunch and join me down in the courtyard?”

He stood as if it were a settled decision. The pulse in my neck throbbed. I started to decline but hesitated. I had to eat my lunch somewhere, and it would be refreshing to get some sunshine. I took a deep breath, my muscles tensing. Relax, Claire. It’s only lunch with a colleague in a public place. Just someone to talk with while we eat. “Sure. I’ll be right down.”

Thankful that Jonathan didn’t wait for me, I arched my back, stretching away tension. I reminded myself what this was and wasn’t. We were colleagues who happened to be a man and a woman, a fact that shouldn’t matter among friends. I slipped my jacket over my arm and opened the desk drawer that held my thermal lunch pack. As I stood, my hand brushed against the colorful flowers blooming on the plaque. The earth laughs in flowers. I shut my eyes, took a deep breath, and walked to the elevator.

The cool air and brilliant sunshine created a perfect fall day. A smell of cut grass drifted in the breeze—the scent of fresh and new. Jonathan waited on a bench seat. Scanning the arrangement, I could choose to share the bench or sit across the walkway from him which would prohibit comfortable conversation. What to do?

Jonathan solved my problem before I reached him. “Let’s go on over to that table.” He pointed toward a concrete structure with surrounding benches. “I didn’t think you’d see me if I waited there.”

I breathed a silent thank you. We sat at the table and each opened our packed lunches.

Andrew and I always gave thanks at mealtime. I closed my eyes and sent up a silent word of thanks.

“So, Claire, what do you enjoy doing when you aren’t helping faculty at the Rock?”

What did I enjoy? Had I enjoyed anything in the last year? I had to think back. I measured everything in my life in terms of before and after.

“Well, I enjoy cooking. And I used to do a lot of scrapbooking and paper crafts.”

“Paper crafts being?” He tilted his head.

Thoughts of the things I had created brought a smile to my face. “Cards, gift boxes, gift bags, tags, flowers. Once I made a full flower arrangement from tissue and crepe paper. Wait, I think I still have it in my photos.”

I retrieved my phone and clicked on the photo app. As I swiped through them, a knot caught in my chest as Andrew smiled at me through a thumb-sized icon. I paused only a moment before scrolling to find my flowers. Clicking it to enlarge, I turned it for Jonathan to see.

“That’s paper?” He widened his eyes. “No way!”

Pride crept into my voice. “Yes, sir. Everything except the vase and ribbon.”

White daisies with bright yellow centers interspersed with pink carnations and red roses. Green stems with tiny leaves and delicate green fern accented the colorful blooms. A soft green ribbon surrounded the tinted base to provide a finishing touch. The slow process to add such intricate details to each piece proved to be tedious work. Jenny had pleaded with me to make one for her. Three of her flowers were completed. But that was before.

The cloud in my spirit must have crossed my face. “So why the sudden sad look?”

I couldn’t talk about it. Wouldn’t. “So many of my things are tucked away in storage. I’m going through some temporary changes right now.”

Jonathan nodded, and I made an abrupt subject change. “So, what does Jonathan Payne enjoy doing when not teaching wannabe teachers?”

“You’ve already heard about my precocious niece, Hannah. I love visiting her and spending time with family. Hobbies? I’m an amateur photographer. Love camping, taking scenic pictures, and, when I can, pictures of wildlife.”

“Photography? I’d love to see some of your work.” Why did I say that? The words just blurted out. I can’t encourage a personal relationship here.

“I’ll bring some in to show you. Better yet, I’m headed to Lake Arthur this weekend to do some photos. Why don’t you join me, and we’ll make it a picnic? You can see how I set up a photo shoot.”

A heaviness settled in my chest. “Jonathan, you know I’m married?”

He hesitated before responding. “I heard you’re not together.”

Tears welled in my eyes. So, I had become the topic of whispered conversation. What else did he know?

“That’s also a temporary situation. I can’t go to Lake Arthur with you.” I spoke with decisiveness, allowing no misconception.

Jonathan nodded and appeared to be measuring his next words. “Are you certain about that? How long have you been apart?”

None of your business. I shifted on my concrete bench. My gaze darted, looking for a reason to escape.

I felt a touch on the back of my hand before he folded his hand under mine, holding it with gentleness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

It had been so long since a man touched me, other than familial hugs with Dad. My hand burned with the pleasure of resting in his while my heart swelled with guilt. I allowed it to remain for a few sweet moments before I lifted it from his. Then I touched his arm with a gentle pat so he wouldn’t think he’d offended me. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t trust my voice, and I wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Gentle eyes replaced his usual cheerfulness. “I’d like to spend some time with you and get to know you better. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. But be careful that you’re seeing things the way they are and not what you wish they were.”

An argument perched on my tongue, but he looked so sweet I couldn’t give the words life. I already missed the warmth of his hand.

“And may I keep asking until you’re ready?”

I was ready to shake my head, but he lifted his brownie to me like a peace offering. I broke off a tiny corner and ate it while he ate the larger piece. Our shared brownie, my unspoken assent.

~*~

That evening, with the kids tucked in bed and my parents dozing in front of the TV, I climbed into my tiny twin bed. Lying in the claustrophobic room, Andrew and Jonathan competed for my thoughts. I hungered for human touch. I caressed my hand where Jonathan had held it, the warmth of that moment flooding my mind, refusing to leave. A scripture flashed through, interrupting. “Take captive every thought.”

I sat upright, reaching toward the nightstand. Lifting the wedding picture from my drawer, I gazed into the happy faces for a few moments before loosening the back latch to retrieve the note. Not sure why, since I had memorized the words.

It had been opened and closed so many times the creases began to come apart, defacing Andrew’s scribbled handwriting. The words had not changed. It still didn’t say, I love you, I’ll be back, Wait for me. It still contained the brief cryptic message, I have to leave. I can’t handle this guilt.

Anger boiled to the surface. My hand clenched into a fist as it held the slip of paper. “Well, guess what, Andrew. I can’t handle the loneliness. I can’t handle not knowing if you’re dead or alive. Did you think about that when you walked out? If these were your last words to me, couldn’t you at least have said you loved me?”

I crushed the note into a ball and pitched it across the room.