FIVE
"Have you talked to any of the Stevens?" Gena asked Claire when she dropped by at her place.
It's been a few days since their weekend trip.
"No, and I really don't wanna get entangled with that family, Gena. I've decided to forget it all," Claire said, her eyes busy on the phone as she was lying on her friend's bed.
Gena's apartment was small, femininely furnished in purple and cream, a sleek modern touch of an interior designer graduate on its contents. She and Claire did the job.
"As you wish, ma'am!" Gena sighed, pushing herself towards the plush coach beside her bed. "Hey, why don't we go shopping? I think you need to stop thinking about the witch you call stepmom." She slumped down heavily, tugging her feet onto the couch.
"You're right." Claire loved shopping. Let it be grocery, shoes, clothes . . . as long as she'd get to stroll around the shops, seeing new arrivals, old displays, she'd automatically feel alive.
It was her best hobby.
The next stop was at the mall and both seemed enthralled at the idea of spending half of the day roaming around without a clear quest. It was their norm doing that together, laughing from time to time like giddy school kids.
"Darling, red is your color not mine," Gena rebuked when Claire showed her a tight, crimson evening dress for the upcoming wedding of her cousin or something.
"Really now? I thought you wanted something different." Claire returned it on the rack and began checking another. "Well, as much as I love red, I don't think I need one right now. My mood is black recently so I'm going black the whole week."
Gena laughed heartily. "That's why you need a good hunk, my love. We really should work on those untouched hormones so that all the tension gets out of your system." She was checking the shoes now.
A hunk? Well, maybe. Claire pondered.
It's been ages since she last felt a man's touch, let alone a good touch. Well, apart from her rescuer that night that left a confusing impact. She strangely kept reliving the memory of her head resting on his stout chest, his strong arms holding her firmly.
"Oh no, Claire Levy!" She shook off her mind, doing away all the lewd thoughts.
Gena raised an eyebrow at that, holding a pair of cream pumps. "Fantasizing about someone?" she teased.
"No!" Claire slid into the fitting room. Fantasizing? Hell no! She whipped her little dress off so as to try the new one. "Well, I'd love to see Bruno once again. He was so cool," she blurted loudly enough for Gena to hear.
"Bruno? Oh, the restaurant guy?" Gena was excited already, her voice teasing even from afar. "That's good. I'd love to meet him, too, because you're totally blushing right now. I can tell."
"Blushing? Don't be ridiculous." Claire huffed, laughing softly while unzipping a baby pink jumpsuit that had caught her uttermost attention.
It took a good while until several shopping bags were filled in their hands. Done with that, they decided to grab something to eat before thinking of their next move.
Landing a job was probably going to take a while, Claire thought, so why not enjoy the free time after a long hassle with school? They both had a consensus on this, taking advantage of the freedom.
The escalator slid smoothly as Claire kept thinking of her nearest future without a definitive color as of yet. It was going to be fine, she believed. She was going to get a job and move out of the house immediately.
With eyes stuck towards the other escalator that's heading down, Claire's gaze faltered at the sight of a very familiar guy that she probably knew by heart at this point. Navy blue suit filled some doubts, but his unique gaiety cleared them all.
It was Ryan.
"Do you know them?" Gena was looking at the exact same spot, intrigued by Claire's reaction.
"It's Ryan," Claire enunciated, her breath taken away. How unexpected! Indeed Lisbay was a small place.
"Oh really? Wow, he is hotter than I thought." Gena grinned, her eyes profuse towards him . . . Or them; for he wasn't alone. "Won't you go after him?"
"Why would I?" Claire snorted. "Let's just get the food and get out of this place."
"And who is that woman?" Gena asked, staring at the gorgeous brunette beside him, both smiling over something the lady had shown him.
"His girlfriend perhaps?" Claire quipped heedlessly. Gena eyed her more dubiously, inquiringly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Trying to read you, maybe? I just don't get it." Gena squinted her dark eyes, bemused. "Do you like that guy, my love? Even a tad bit?" Her grin was hopeful.
"Of course not!" Claire denied briskly. "I don't like him, Gena. I mean, I've only met him once, so how could I possibly like him? Don't be silly."
Gena shrugged. "Okay, if you say so."
Lying in her bed, later at night, Claire revisited her memory from the afternoon. So she met Ryan once again, she thought with a smirk. What a small world! And he had a beautiful girlfriend . . . Or whatever that woman was.
"Well, good for him." She successfully forsaken her thoughts with a deep sigh.
At the same moment the idea of opening that envelope she had received from her grandfather popped up. She stood gingerly and entered her walk-in closet. She pressed the combinations of her little secret chest and flew it open. The envelope was safely secured.
Holding it in her hands, Claire returned to her bedroom and plucked its contents. What lay inside were a few documents: the land deed, some bank papers, and a letter. Claire wasn't surprised at all, for she had known all along that it was monetary stuff.
Peeking through the papers, she couldn't help but fly back in time. She loved her father the most in the world. He was the best friend and the only thing she had, especially after the death of her mother when she was only six due to birth complications.
Claire hardly remembered her face.
But years later, her father turned into a workaholic. He would leave home early, and return very late. Providing material things for her was all that he could do best, but Claire needed more than that.
She needed his attention.
Tears threatened to fall but Claire snuff them away instantly while unfolding the letter. She sat down and finally began reading:
Dear Claire,
If you're reading this it means my time in this world has come into expiration. Don't cry, please. I'm terrible with words, right? No wonder I chose to be an architect and not a poet. My daughter, I know I'm not the best father in the world as you used to call me when you were little, and even saying sorry won't make up for it. But I am sorry. You are, and you've always been the best daughter to me and . . .
Tears rolled endlessly as Claire kept reading the letter. He was sorry for all the times he couldn't be there for her, that he was focused on preparing the bright future for her. Working was the only assurance he could think of so that she wouldn't have to go through the same struggles he had gone through
Claire had no idea what exactly she was feeling, but tears wouldn't stop cascading down and her sobs got severe. Her future. She eyed the other papers smiling fortune. She spent almost ten minutes wondering what she was going to do with all that money when her heart was all empty.
The next day Claire dropped by the attorney's office for documentation. She had to protect herself from that vile woman and the first stage was notarizing everything as her father suggested through the letter. She just couldn't gather why he didn't suggest their family attorney.
Maybe her father couldn't trust him at the last minute.
"Claire Levy?" A lovely woman in her mid-fifties regarded her as she walked in.
"Um, yes. I called yesterday and—" Claire paused, seeing a picture of her father, the attorney, and another man. She looked stoutly at her. "You . . . knew my father?" she asked, surprised at the time frame portrayed by the vintage color of the photo.
They were in graduation gowns.
The woman smiled. "Yes, Claire. Your father, my husband, and I were high school alumni. Oh, we were inseparable! They called us a notorious trio! Well, we came from the same village so . . . " Her voice trailed off despondently. "I'm sorry about his death."
"It's okay," Claire breathed, holding the photo frame with a smile. She then put it back on the table. "How come I haven't seen you before?"
"You did, but you were too young,” she said, "So, shall we begin? Unfortunately I have a hearing to attend but I'd really love to keep this sweet chat."
"Um, sure." Claire unzipped her handbag and fished the documents.
The meeting with Attorney Myers was somewhat emotional. Claire stopped by the coffee shop to invigorate herself. It was time to accept reality, she decided. Sipping her cold latte, the weather hot and bugging, Claire's mind was thoughtless for a change. Her eyes were outside through the window.
The street seemed busted, people moving on and about; a typical city life.
Claire sighed deeply, returning her eyes inside the coffee shop as a certain trio walked in and she wasn't far from the entrance. Startled, her eyes met someone unexpected . . . yet again. No, how can the world be this small? Claire muttered inwardly, wondering why she had to see him everywhere.
Feeling like she was getting overwhelmed with the odds, Claire sent Gena a text about it. Apparently it's what they usually did when something exciting took place even from a mile. She was also trying to distract herself while at it. Her phone buzzed a minute later and it was Gena's call.
"Hey, are you sure it's him?" Gena asked urgently.
"Of course it's him! With that woman and another guy. I'm leaving right now," Claire replied and stood up, grabbing her purse unceremoniously.
"Don't be stupid, just go and say hello," Gena suggested, laughing.
"Are you crazy, Gena Montero?" Claire was already at the exit, jostling her way past them, playing incognito.
"You are the crazy one," Gena retorted. "I'm hanging up," she said, sounding disappointed, and really hung up.
"Traitor!" Claire snorted.
Once outside, and far from his sight, Claire took a deep breath. It was as though she'd dodged a bullet. She had no idea why she was hiding from him, though, and it felt stupid for some untold reasons. Was she scared of him? She laughed maniacally.
But not for long did her game work, because she suddenly heard a voice calling after her, "Claire?"
Oh fuck!
She stood still, contemplating the sound of it. It was a masculine voice and freshly familiar. Her breathing went off when she turned behind slowly, only to see Ryan approaching her way, a smile on his face while whispering something on the phone.
"I'll call you later." Claire managed to grasp his speech that ended right away.
"Ryan," it was the only way she could prompt, watching him.
"So it's really you." Ryan smiled. "How are you?" he asked and stood right in front of her.
Was he really smiling? Claire wondered, finding it odd in comparison to the jerk he was in Montesby.
"Um, good. What are you doing here?" she asked.
What a stupid question, she thought.
"Grabbing coffee?" He eyed the shop instinctively. "I was actually taking a call and saw you here."
"Oh, I see. Well, how is your grandfather?" Oh, please let this get over and she can leave! Claire growled inwardly.
Why was he intimidating?
"He is fine, and I'm going there tomorrow. He would be glad if you’d visit him. I think he likes you," Ryan said suggestively.
"Can I?" she queried, astounded.
It almost sounded like an invitation of a kind.
"Sure." Ryan smiled again. "Here is my card, you can call me if you decide to go." He retrieved a business card from his wallet and gave it to her.
Call him? Claire gawped.
Ryan's attitude was strange that day. He was cool, different from the arrogant guy Claire met in Montesby.
For a moment she wondered if he wasn't suffering from Dissociative Identity Disorder, or perhaps it was just that his acting skills were of premium level.
The idea made her giggle while hopping into a taxi home.
Instead of going to Montesby with Ryan, as he'd suggested, Claire decided to go on her own. She wasn't feeling great, at all, after another fighting evening she had with her stepmother and perhaps an escape was what she preferred.
She pondered for a while, roaming around her bedroom while wearing a towel ready to shower, before giving Ryan a call. It was eight thirty in the evening. He was probably at home, right? She wondered as the rings proceeded.
And suddenly she heard. "Yes?" The voice was raw and majestic.
Jeez, was he in a bad mood? Claire took a deep breath, shuddering.
"Hello," she uttered carefully. "It's Claire. Remember me?" She rolled her eyes.
"Why not? How are you?" His voice turned cooler, and she could clearly imagine his smirk.
She sat on the bed. "I'm good. You? I feel like I've called in a bad moment," she said.
"A little, but it's not your fault."
"At work?" she inquired.
"Yeah. Home?"
"Yeah," she breathed, biting her thumbnail as she couldn't think on what to say next. Oh, the trip! "Um, I'm going to Montesby early tomorrow so I'll probably leave before you do."
"Okay," Ryan said flatly.
"Oh." It was a bit disappointing, hearing him saying okay so blatantly.
But then again, what was she expecting? "Alright, have a good evening."
"You, too." They hung up.
"What the fuck," Claire muttered; not knowing what was the matter with her sudden distaste over his indifferent answers.
The trip to her beach house was only two hours long. She took the bus to fully enjoy herself while gathering her thoughts over several matters. As always her grandfather was at home tending his garden of cherry tomatoes and carrots, among other things.
"Should I get ready to eat the harvest?" she teased, heading towards him.
He grinned joyously upon beholding her sight. "It will be good for your health, my child."
They both laughed.
"I'm glad you're here. I suppose you've opened that envelope and you're here for—"
"Grandpa! Can't I at least have a rest before we go into that stuff? We can do that later. Let me help you." She loved gardening with him, and she wasn't bad at it. "They've grown quickly. Are you sure they're organic?" she teased.
"Of course. You can try them and see," he retorted. Without waiting Claire plucked a tomato and threw it into her mouth.
Smiling, she realized it was wise of her to be here today. She was happy. And suddenly she remembered Bruno. Maybe she should pay him a visit, she thought, and it was immediately decided. She left in the early evening and headed straight to the restaurant.