“Just a moment,” Anita calls, busy reaching on her tiptoes for a stack of canvases on a top shelf. It reminds Claire so starkly of her first impression of Jackie, reaching fruitlessly for a box of cereal, that the hollow space in her chest aches.
Is Claire cursed to forever be haunted by Jackie Callas at every turn?
Claire hurries to grab the canvases for her. When Anita turns to thank her, Claire finds herself wrapped in a tight, motherly hug—for once, with Anita standing on a stool, they’re of a similar height.
“So?” Anita says, breaking into one of her beaming smiles. “Did you manage to paint again?”
Claire winces. She hasn’t picked a brush up since she stopped speaking to Jackie. “I can’t stay for too long today,” she says instead. “Pete is picking me up in the afternoon, once he’s done golfing.”
“Pete, schmete,” Anita says, waving a careless hand as she hops down from her stepladder. “He can wait.”
“He thinks I’m at the library,” Claire admits.
Anita pauses, halfway through moving the stepladder behind the desk. “Oh. This is a clandestine operation, then?”
“I was hoping you might give me some more advice.”
Anita wastes no time. She hurries to the front window, flipping theopensign over toclosedand locking the door. “Come on. Back to the studio.”
Claire chews at her thumb as Anita unlocks the studio door. Anita gestures for her to sit on the sagging old couch, but Claire can’t. Instead, she paces. She’s practically wearing a track in the carpet by the time Anita sits down. Her own paintings are looming down at her from the storage shelf as she struggles to find the right words.
“Claire, what’s going on? You’re running around like a racehorse,” Anita says. She follows Claire with her eyes, her wrinkled brow furrowed.
Claire wrings her hands. The effort of maintaining a calm façade all morning while her mind races has exhausted her. She needs to tellsomeoneabout her doubts. Her conversation with Theo only tied the knots tighter. She needs just one person to either tell her it will all be alright, or to talk her out of this insanity. Anita was a confidante in her youth. And who else does Claire have?
Abruptly, Anita stands. Her expression is one Claire has never seen before—it’s soft, and serious. She steps into Claire’s path, stopping her in her tracks, and takes Claire’s hands in her own.
“Claire. Has something happened?” she says gravely.
The answer should be automatic—of course not. Everything is wonderful! But Claire bites down on it.
What’s the honest truth? That she’s miserable? That she’s just realized she’s a homosexual? That every good thing she’s managed to claw out of her life disappeared when Jackie closed the door on her?
Tears spring to Claire’s eyes.
“Oh, chickadee,” Anita says softly.
The tears come full-on as Claire sinks down onto the sofa, and Anita follows.
“I’m sorry,” Claire gasps, graduating quickly to sobs as her Anita’s arms close around her. “I’m—so sorry to come to you like this.”
“It’s all right,” Anita murmurs. She strokes Claire’s hair, giving comfort even while she’s entirely in the dark as to why Claire needs it. All the unhappiness of the last six months is spilling out at once, and poor Anita is simply the rock Claire is clinging to. “You’re all right. Just tell me what’s happened.”
It takes Claire a minute or so to get herself together. She takes the tissue Anita offers, wiping furiously at her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I—shouldn’t. Things are fine,” Claire says, blowing her nose loudly. “I shouldn’t complain. I have a nice house and a husband who provides. We’re starting a family. I have nothing—nothing to—”
Claire’s voice breaks in another sob.
Anita looks oddly pensive as Claire weeps into her lap. She hands over a fresh tissue, stroking Claire’s back in a rhythmic motion. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Claire doesn’t have the energy to hold it back anymore. She talks into her hands, hoping that by muffling the words they won’t come across so harsh.
“I’m not happy,” Claire says, with a surety she now feels utterly confident in. Her voice is warbly, but the conviction is true. “And I think I want to leave Pete.”
Theo was right. To say it out loud is like a sigh of relief that runs through her whole body. She can’t take it back, now. She can’t ruminate any longer in the prison of her own mind. She’s spoken it into existence.
Anita’s response is blessedly pragmatic, just as Claire hoped. She keeps rubbing those circles on Claire’s back. She doesn’t even sound surprised. “May I ask why?”
