What if Jackie leaves Acacia Circle, and gets a new phone number and address that Claire can’t find? What if she disappears, drives off into the sunset and isolates herself even from Theo, and Claire never sees her again?
Claire can hear footsteps clicking on the pavement somewhere behind her, but she doesn’t turn until she hears her name called.
Thankfully, it isn’t Pete. It’s Martha. She’s hurrying across the street, looking at Jackie’s front door as if someone is going to come barreling out of it to steal her jewelry.
“Claire! There you are—why haven’t you called?” Martha says, pulling a shawl tighter around her shoulders against the cool air. “Everyone’s been talking. Is your mother all right?”
“My mother?” Claire says absently.
“Pete said you’d been away in Florida caring for her, and that you’d be back tonight. And here you are,” Martha pauses, her eyebrows raising. “In such…interesting clothes. You know it isn’t a costume party, right?”
Of course. Pete wouldn’t let anyone think something was wrong. She does feel somewhat guilty for not calling Martha to tell her what’s happened, but the idea of explaining and justifying her decision was exhausting. Now she doesn’t have much choice.
“I’m not back,” Claire says. She crosses her arms, grounding herself in herinteresting clothes. “I’m leaving.”
Martha blinks. She touches Claire’s arm lightly. “You’re going home? It’s nearly midnight. Can’t you wait a tick until the New Year?”
“I’m leaving Pete,” Claire says, more clearly.
The music from Jackie’s house seems louder in the ensuing silence.
“You’re…” Martha shakes her head, as if those three words are unintelligible. “Claire, that’s just wacky. I know you’ve been having little tiffs, but…”
“It’s not the fights. It’s every moment of our relationship since the day he asked me to the homecoming dance when I was sixteen,” Claire says, looking again towards the music. “You’re not going to convince me otherwise, Martha. I’m done with this.”
“You don’t really meandivorce, do you?” Martha whispers. “Did Pete step out on you? Is there some other woman?”
Claire can’t help it—she laughs. The irony of it is simply too much.
There is another woman, as it turns out. It just isn’t Pete whose eyes have strayed.
“It doesn’t matter why. I’ve told him about it already. I have a place to live, and a job,” Claire says. “And I imagine you and the others won’t want to associate with a divorced woman.”
“Well, I—I—” Martha stammers. Her cheeks have gone pink.
“It’s alright. You don’t need to explain yourself. I don’t fit into your life anymore when I’m not part of the couple across the road. And that’s okay,” Claire says, more gently. “Pete will remarry. Probably quickly. You’ll make friends with his new wife, and life will go on.”
“Why can’t you stay?” Martha says, shivering against the cool breeze. “I’m sure things will work themselves out. We just have to grin and bear it, right?”
It seems to float between them, that sentence. What used to be a bond that held them together has become a gulf. Martha is planted firmly on one side, and Claire is heading in another direction.
“Someday, I hope you find someone who appreciates you properly,” Claire says softly. “I truly do.”
Claire looks to Jackie’s house again. The party has only gotten louder. When she turns back, Martha’s eyes are shining in the light of the streetlamps.
“You’ve been…” Martha’s voice wavers. She clears her throat. “You’ve been a good friend.”
It’s probably the closest to acceptance Claire will get from Martha. A sudden surge of affection hits her, and in this last moment together she pulls Martha into a hug. It’s brief, but tight.
“Goodbye, Martha,” Claire murmurs.
Claire leaves her on the lawn. She’s being propelled by something intense to walk up the three steps to Jackie’s front door. She needs to see Jackie. Whether the door will be closed in her face again or not, Claire needs to know one way or the other where she stands. She needs confirmation. Closure.
The party is riotous. The air is smoky from the moment Claire pushes the door open. People are in various states of undress all around, and there are at least two strangely-contorted foursomes in progress in the conversation pit. The door leading to the bedrooms is swinging off the hinges with couples coming and going.
It makes her a little bit ill to think that Jackie might be off somewhere doing that, too.
Claire doesn’t recognize anyone this time, from either of Jackie’s previous parties. She doesn’t know a single person until she runs headlong into someone on her way into the kitchen. They’re evenly matched in stature, of a similar height, and Claire stumbles backward a little.
