Chapter Eight

 

 

 

The chairs near the back of the room were empty, perfect for Matt’s mood in the morning. He claimed one, putting his back to the wall and sipping his coffee, discouraging his coworkers with the dark expression on his face from sitting near him. The morning meeting with his fellow architects had been painless, with several added congratulatory remarks on the school project and the dedication, but the positive start couldn’t quite pull Matt from his funk. Something just hadn’t been right with Claire. When they had been together, when she had been relaxed, he could feel the chemistry between them. The change in her attitude from that first night had been a welcome surprise, but as the cold distance had settled back into her eyes at the beach, he couldn’t help his confusion.

After a few good hours drafting a redesign of an old warehouse into a useable, open-concept workspace, Matt was tired when his cell phone rang with Claire’s ringtone.

“Hey there,” she greeted him after he answered.

Her tone seemed soft. He couldn’t be sure, but she sounded hesitant. Sighing, he kept his conversation safe. “How’s the workload going?” Matt asked. “Finding a new buyer?”

“Trying,” she replied. “But I’m close to climbing the walls. I’ve got to get out of my hotel room. I thought maybe I could convince you to meet me for lunch, and we can get that suit cleaned.”

Matt chuckled. “You don’t like the thought of owing me something, do you?”

“Not particularly.”

Her tone lightened, a fact that told him he’d made her smile.

“But I’m mostly counting on getting out of this room.”

“Fair enough. I dropped the suit off this morning, but we can pick it up this afternoon after some food. One condition, though.”

“Oh? What’s that?” teased Claire.

“You wear jeans. I’m driving.”

 

* * * *

 

Matt lounged in the hotel lobby after sending Claire a text on his arrival. The bench-style couch was hardly comfortable, but she had mentioned she would need a moment to finish getting ready.

The elevator dinged. Matt turned to see who disembarked and was glad to see it was Claire. When she turned to walk in his direction, though, he felt sucker punched. Like traveling back in time, he felt like the teenage kid in the bleachers, waiting for the ponytailed blonde to join him after practice. The T-shirt she tucked into her navy blue skinny pants was a little more polished than the mascot shirts she’d worn, but the smile and the ponytail were the same. Suddenly Matt was ravenous for something other than a meal.

“Ready?” she chirped. Matt noted that her smile didn’t quite match her tone. That faux show of teeth was back. He stood and peered at her closely.

“Hang on. You okay?”

The smile dropped. “Why do you ask?”

Matt’s gaze took in the suddenly wary expression, paired with the makeup that looked a little heavy on her eyes and the death grip she suddenly had on the straps of her over-the-shoulder bag. Gently he placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m just getting to know that smile. You don’t have to sell me on anything, all right?”

Her shoulders slumped with her exhale. “I guess it’s just habit. I…uh… I didn’t sleep very well.”

“And you mentioned working hard this morning. Food it is.” Matt smiled encouragingly and gestured toward the door.

Claire gave him a smile that looked much easier, and she walked beside him out to the street. He talked, hoping to give her a break from whatever problem she’d been working so hard on all morning, and he was rewarded with her increasingly genuine laughter and smiles. He opened the door on his truck for her, laughing with her when she grumbled about the height of the pickup.

They parked on the street and walked toward one of Matt’s favorite burger places. He pointed across the road at the dry cleaners as they passed. “So the lady who runs the place hates me.”

Claire laughed. “No,” she groaned. “You have a surly dry cleaner too?”

“Yup,” Matt asserted. “She grumbles at me whenever I bring stuff in from the emergencies I get called to.”

“Right, the first responder stuff. You mentioned that. The things you must have seen…” Claire looked up at him with an expression of admiration that Matt had to admit he liked.

“Just glad to help, you know.” Matt’s standard response seemed flat to him. Claire deserved more. “Actually, I kind of feel…needed. You know what I mean?” At her nod, he continued, “I wanted to help when the old neighborhood caught fire. I just didn’t know how. Now I do, and it feels good to be useful.”

Claire’s smile softened. “Always such a good guy, Matty,” she said with a hint of pride in her voice as he opened the door of the local brewpub for her.

They grabbed a table in the noisy lunchtime rush and ordered quickly. When their food—a basic cheeseburger for him and a surprising double bacon burger for her—arrived, Matt turned the tables. “All right,” he started after a couple bites. “So where are you living in the big city now?”

Claire froze mid-chew, once again leaving Matt with a sense of suspicion, then she resumed and swallowed. “I’m near the Mag Mile,” she replied simply.

“So, close to the place you’re selling?” Matt recalled the mention of the condo being near Michigan Ave.

“Yes.” Claire dabbed her lips, then continued to answer in clipped sentences. “It’s a very nice neighborhood.”

“So tell me about it,” Matt encouraged, before taking another bite of his own sandwich.

She paused before that smile showed up again, making Matt wonder why. “I’d just sound like a realtor, I’m sure. It’s been recently remodeled, has floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and dining area, two bedrooms, two baths, um…a view of the lake, twenty-eighth floor…” Her list trailed off. “It’s nice.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment. Matt could feel that frustration he’d been feeling earlier start to creep up, and he wasn’t going to stand for it. “Claire, why can’t you talk to me about what you do and where you live? Every time I ask, you close up.”

She stared down at her plate, picking the remainder of her burger apart. “There’s just nothing to tell, Matt. I don’t live an exciting life.”

“That doesn’t matter, Claire. You’re not here to entertain me. I just missed you, so I’m wondering what you’ve done with your life since you disappeared.” Claire’s gaze shot up to his, panic reading in her eyes. Matt ground his teeth together, regretting bringing his past pain up this way. “I got over it. Really, I did, but you’ve got to know it hurt, Claire. You didn’t say a word that day. I had to hear it from your mom when I went to find you two days later. What the hell happened?”

Claire fidgeted in her seat. “It was a job. They wanted me, but I had to sign all these papers and one of them was a confidentiality thing. It was no big deal.” She seemed to retreat into herself, curling her shoulders in and edging back from the table.

“Okay,” Matt hedged. He couldn’t help but track the tension and anxiety in her eyes. “And that’s it? You’ve been working for ten years? Never moved, didn’t go to a show, haven’t dated anyone? There has to be something, right?”

“I’ve dated.” Claire’s admission was quiet. “No one special. Dinners, drinks, nothing exciting.”

Matt leaned back in his chair, sighing in defeat. “Okay, fine. We don’t have to talk about your life, Claire, but…I guess I’ll just say that I’d like to. That I’m still here.” After another moment of uncomfortable quiet, Matt signaled for the check. “Ready to head back?” he asked.

Claire nodded and the meal ended with curt small talk between himself and the waitress. Claire stayed mute, stepping gingerly behind him. Irritated by her reticence, Matt found himself striding purposefully ahead toward the laundry shop. He mentally kicked himself as he reached it and realized he had marched too quickly, leaving Claire behind. In the time he took a few calming breaths, she caught up, and he murmured an apology. She nodded, preceding him into the store to the chime of the bell on the door.

“One moment!” came the heavily accented call from the back room.

As they stood together at the counter, Matt could hear the quick patter of the voices he was familiar with coming from the curtained doorway. He still struggled to understand, but knew this was the best laundry in the town, and he couldn’t justify taking his business elsewhere. A movement caught his attention, drawing his gaze up to the curved security mirror in the corner. Claire’s lips had turned into a soft smile.

“What is it?” Matt asked, looking down at her amused expression.

The smile dropped. “I…um… Well, I can hear them talking. It’s sort of funny. I guess someone’s screwing up the silks.” She listened for a moment again. “Is there a…strip club in town now?”

“Oh. Yeah, there is. It opened—” Matt paused in shock. “Wait. You know Korean?”

Claire shrugged. “A little bit.” She looked down at the counter. “I lived in a room above a grocery in Chinatown for a little while. The landlord wasn’t nice, hated being a Korean-owned business in Chinatown, but his wife was…kind to me. She sat with me when he worked sometimes or would invite me for dinner. I picked up a few things.”

“Wow. Now that’s a cool story.” Matt smiled as she looked up at him, but the smile faded when he noted the sadness in hers. “Hey…” he started.

The curtain opened, the metal rings scraping along the bar they were hung on. “Yea, how can help you?” the diminutive woman asked loudly.

“Hello,” Matt greeted. As the woman reached the counter, peering over her half-moon glasses, she scowled in recognition as he was accustomed. “Yes, it’s me again.” Matt glanced over at Claire with a small shrug.

As per the usual, the laundress began muttering to herself as she turned to gather his items. The gasp beside him focused Matt’s attention back to Claire. The sudden glimmer of tears in her eyes took his breath.

“Claire? Are you okay?” He spun her toward him, his eyes darting to see what could have caused the emotion. Did she cut herself? Was she sick?

“She— She’s—” The tears spilled. “She’s praying. It’s beautiful.” Claire turned to the woman and spoke haltingly in the language unfamiliar to Matt.

With her jaw dropped open, the woman froze in her tracks. The response was hushed. Matt watched the two women converse, his bewilderment growing with each exchange. The old woman beamed at Matt as she handed over his clothing. Claire sniffled as she paid the bill then, to Matt’s surprise, rushed out the door. Before he could follow, the Korean woman laid a hand on his.

“Good boy,” she said brokenly. He gaped at her, staring until she pointed urgently at the door. He turned and fled, needing answers.

He found Claire half a block down, sitting on a low wall at the parking lot near the truck. She stared across at a mural on the side of an old building, her hands gripping her purse so tightly he could see the whiteness of her knuckles. Unsure of how to start, Matt sat next to Claire in silence and waited for her to regain her composure.

“She doesn’t hate you.”

Claire’s whisper brought Matt’s eyebrows up in surprise. “Really? Wow.” He kept his eyes on the mural. “What did she say?”

“She prayed to Yeongdeung.” Claire took a deep trembling breath. “She said you always come in with dirt and rips and sometimes blood on your clothes. She thought you were a firefighter or police, so she prays to their wind goddess who keeps peace and safety in the village.” Claire turned to meet Matt’s eyes. “I told her you were a responder, a volunteer, and she said it didn’t matter. She doesn’t hate you. She says you’re an angel sent to protect us.” Tears glimmered in her eyes again. “I wish you could understand it. I wish I could explain it…better. The prayer is just so…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away.

The hushed calm descended again, making Matt realize he had never felt so humbled. His choice to help had never been for gain or for the good opinion of others. Not only had the woman at the laundry given him every reason to continue what he was doing, letting him know his contribution was valued, but Claire’s honest reaction to it showed she trusted him. That humbled him further, leaving them sitting pensively and staring at the brightly painted mural.

In solemn silence, too aware of the passage of time, he took Claire’s hand and they strolled slowly together to the truck. Occasional sniffles came from the passenger side, but once again Matt was left at a loss on how to proceed with this revelation.

They were parking in the hotel’s lot before Claire spoke. “This never stopped being home for you, Matt. People still see you as a brother, friend, a son.”

“Well, yeah, I guess you could say that.” Matt twisted slightly in his seat to try connecting with her. She seemed so affected by the encounter at the laundry that he hoped there was some way to help. “But people here think of you that way, too, Claire. It’s a small town. We take care of each other. It’s your home, too.”

Her eyes met his, a tormented pain swimming in the depths. “No, Matt. This isn’t home. I don’t have a home.”

She shoved the door open, jumped out then slammed it behind her, racing into the hotel lobby before Matt could fight his way out of his seat belt.