Claire’s mind races. If she says that she knows Theo through Jackie, she has no doubt that Dorothy will make sure their continued friendship makes its way through the neighborhood and back to Pete. She’s never been good at lying on the spot.
She’s so grateful when Theo intervenes that she almost hugs him there in the middle of the street.
“I’m her interior designer,” Theo says smoothly. “She and her hubby are considering a remodel.” He turns to Claire. “I knowwe discussed a green color palette, but based on the exterior, I’m thinking we might veer more towards a rococo style. How do you feel about white and gold?”
It’s a smoother lie than Claire could come up with so quickly. Luckily he’s dressed nicely—his maroon shirt has a loud paisley print on it, and doesn’t have a single wrinkle. He’s taller than Claire expected, too. She’d first met him in a bathing suit reclined on a pool chair, but at full height he must be well over six feet.
He cocks his hip with a smile, waiting for her answer as Dorothy steams.
“We can discuss it,” Claire says, quickly leading him towards the house by the elbow. Dorothy’s eyes are fixed on where Claire’s hand is touching his arm. “Dorothy, I’ll see you at book club?”
“Ta-ta, Dottie,” Theo calls over his shoulder.
Claire is sure that half the neighborhood will know what happened by the end of the day, but Claire’s tolerance for the suburban politics of Acacia Circle has waned lately. As long as it doesn’t threaten her friendship with Jackie, she couldn’t be bothered anymore. If Dorothy’s husband happens to mention this to Pete, Claire will just tell him that she was looking into designing a nursery, and Theo was who the design firm sent.
Theo follows her into the house, looking around judgmentally as Claire shuts the door behind them. “You really could use a remodel, you know. The décor is very 1956.”
“My husband doesn’t like change,” Claire says. She leads Theo to the kitchen, putting the kettle on and arranging two cups. “Thank you for coming up with that story. The only lie I could think of was that a neighbor down the road was having her lawn re-sodded again. The crew was mostly colored last time. But that wouldn’t explain how we know each other.” She pulls the sugar down from a cabinet, dropping a spoon into the jar. “HopefullyDorothy believes you’re a designer. That’s possible, right?” When she turns back to him, Theo’s expression has changed.
“Yes. But it’s more believable that I’m the help,” he says.
Claire’s stomach sinks. That familiar feeling of stepping wrong in a conversation is worse than ever before, and her pearls are between her fingers before she knows it. “That’s…not what I meant.”
“It’s really impossible for you people to imagine me doing anything besides underpaid manual labor,” Theo says. He laughs to himself. “Couldn’t be seen with someone like me any other way, could you? Not in this neighborhood.”
“No,” Claire says. “No, that’s not—that isn’t it. It’s not about—” she swallows hard. The kettle is starting to whistle, and she takes it off the heat. Her tongue is in a tangle. “Oh, I’ve put my foot in it.”
“It’s nothing I wouldn’t expect from a Suzy Homemaker,” Theo says. He smiles, but it’s tighter than it was before. More guarded.
“That’s not all I am,” Claire protests.
“And I’m not a laborer,” Theo says bluntly. “Yet your first thought to placate your little friend waswandering workman.”
“I’m sorry,” Claire says again. “My husband doesn’t like my friendship with Jackie. I was worried that if I told Dorothy the truth, it would get back to him. She’s a blabbermouth. And you salvaged the situation. I really am grateful.”
Theo’s lips purse together. Claire has no idea what he’s thinking, but he hasn’t stormed out yet, at least.
“I’m not always sure what to say around you,” Claire admits. “I’ve never known anyone like you before.”
“A Black queer?”
Claire hopes she’s managed not to flinch. Though Theo is using it to describe himself, it still feels vulgar. “Yes.”
“I know better than to expect anything but the same old rules in this hellhole,” Theo says. “Say whatever you want. We were never going to be friends, were we?”
“But I’d like to be,” Claire says.
One of Theo’s thick eyebrows arches delicately. “I don’t make a habit of befriending people who look down on me.”
“I don’t,” Claire says. When he raises his other eyebrow as well, she sinks down into a chair. Her stomach is now in a state of uneasy flux. “Do I?”
Theo says nothing. Claire taps her pearls against her teeth until it feels like they’re reverberating in her brain. Does she look down on Theo? She was uncomfortable when they first met, but she’d put that down to jealousy over his friendship with Jackie. But she said what she said, and didn’t think twice about it until Theo said something. Is she any better than Dorothy?
“You’re going to be the talk of the suburb after the stunt you pulled today,” Theo says.
Claire crosses her arms across her chest, squeezing tight until the anxious feeling subsides a little. “Probably.”
“Does that bother you?”
