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“I, uh, I told him to watch her,” Jenny repeated nervously.
She was worried that Claire was going to snap. It was a sound
worry.
Claire was just standing there, staring into bowls in the
middle of the
night. She couldn’t order her feelings back
where they belonged or pretend that they weren’t there, and it
was making her crazy. Disordered. Different. She wanted to
know what it was like to just let go, to tear herself open, and
just feel.
She knew. She knew it would be hell. She still wanted it
anyway.
“Watch her,” Claire repeated woodenly. “Is she okay?”
Jenny shrugged. “Yeah. She seems to be alright.” There was
something on her face, a flash of something like a spark,
extinguished immediately, but Claire had seen it. Jenny
grabbed for a bowl and inspected it. “Eggs,” she said. “You
know, now that I think about it, an omelette would be nice.
With meat. And peppers. Onions. Tomatoes. I haven’t had one
in ages.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“If you’re cooking, I’m eating.”
Claire hadn’t whipped up those eggs for an omelette, but
now the idea appealed to her. Cooking for someone who
wanted to eat what she made. Who ate it and was astounded.
Appreciative. Who exclaimed that it was the best thing they’d
ever tasted. She couldn’t do much, apparently. She couldn’t go
and get Haley back. She couldn’t stop herself from making a
mess of her life. She could make an omelette. Maybe Jenny
knew that. Maybe she was trying to throw her off or give her
