"I hope so," Claire breathed, the feeling overwhelming her until today. "Anyways, let's forget about that." She tried to enjoy the graduation party that she only attended out of Gena's conviction.
The two had just graduated from college, a week ago.
"I can't believe we're done with the school shit," said Gena, beckoning for a drink from the bartender.
"I know, right?" Claire sighed, staring at her glass as if it was something interesting. And suddenly she looked at Gena with a bright, hopeful smile. "I wonder what awaits us," she uttered.
All she's hoping for is to bury the emptiness in her heart. Was there anything out there for her? Should she take a vacation or something? Claire couldn't decide, for she had a lot to think of now that the school was over.
"Hey." Gena snapped her fingers, disrupting Claire's trance. "What are you thinking of?"
Claire chuckled. "I want to feel alive, Gena," she said, making Gena frown bemusedly. "Even a little bit I want to feel like I'm really living."
"What?" Gena grabbed her tequila from the bartender.
"Never mind, it's nothing to stress about," Claire said dismissively. "I'll just go home now, I'm very tired. I'll see you tomorrow, huh?" She yawned while saying this.
"Sure," Gena uttered.
Claire didn't waste more time at the party; she immediately hopped into a taxi and rode back home. Today had been a bit emotional for her, and partying was the least of her needs.
The taxi pulled over in front of her house.
"Thank you," she told the driver, and immediately strode towards the gigantic gate.Her house was a large two-story: electric fence and enormous gate made it utterly modern. Walking inside, Claire was welcomed by a well-trimmed garden, a vast swimming pool, and a pair of swings that always visualized her childhood.
A soft smile escaped her as she made her way inside, thanking the heavens that her stepmother wasn't on the loop to ruin her evening further. She was probably cooking her deadly potions somewhere, Claire thought, for she always considered her a witch.
Feeling emotionally exhausted, Claire kicked her golden heels, and then peeled off the white strapless dress she was wearing. She climbed on the bed right away, as though afraid to catch a cold. She just texted Gena about the time of their departure, and closed her eyes to rest her mind.
The next day, just as agreed, the two began their journey. They arrived in Montesby around one in the afternoon. It was a beautiful town with attractive natural scenery, where the green met the blue. The sea and the vegetation were hand in hand adorning the place. Claire smiled with mirth as they stepped out of the taxi right in front of the beautiful beach house.
"Claire?" An old man regarded her in awe. "What a surprise, my girl! You have gotten so tall that I nearly forgot you." He was around seventy or so.
"I will take it as a compliment, Grandpa. How are you?" Claire returned happily, her smile brighter as the golden sunlight nourishing her blonde hair.
"Very fine, my child," he said, throwing a curious glance over Claire's shoulder.
Gena was watching them without a word, smiling.
"Um . . ." Claire moved aside wittingly. "This is my best friend, Gena. And Gena, this is my grandfather," she introduced them.
"Nice to meet you, young lady." The old man smiled with politeness.
"Same." Gena grinned.
"Well, why don't you come in? I'm sure you must be hungry, right?" he said urgently, leading the way inside."You bet I am," Gena muttered.
A while later Claire was taking a little walk with the old man, hand in hand. She hadn't been here in ages, and the only reason she decided to come this time was to finally find peace for herself; after spending a long moment despising her late father.
The burden of hatred was too heavy to carry around for longer.
"What took you so long?" The old man asked tenderly, his steps slow.
Claire had no definitive answer for that. Maybe she was afraid?
"I was just waiting for the perfect time, I guess," Claire answered in a small whisper.
Or maybe she wasn't ready to accept some facts in her life, she thought to herself.
"Do you still resent your father?" her grandpa asked carefully, and Claire swallowed hard. "You can cry if you want to, and curse him out loud if you want to. But your father never forgot about you, trust me.
"I don't know about that." Claire laughed bittersweetly, trying hard to fight the pricking tears. "If he did . . . he wouldn't have left me believing otherwise."
"Not true, Claire. All he wanted was to prepare a better future for you," her grandfather insisted.
"Future?" Claire scoffed with incredulity. "What future is there if I'm now all alone?This is not what I wanted, Grandpa. I wanted a family!" She sniffed, her anger exploding. "I just wanted to go home and find people who would hug me, ask how my day was, and whether I'd want to join them for dinner. But he denied me that! He had the chance to do it but he didn't! All he cared about was his work!" She allowed the tears to swim in her eyes, and slowly slid down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, my child." The old man pulled her for a hug, and she completely melted in his warmth. "It will be fine, you'll see." He patted her back softly, allowing her sobs to pass."I'm only here so that I can finally let go of all the anger, and start afresh," Claire said as they pulled apart, sniffling. "I want to be free. I'll let go of all the hatred so that I can live my life without resentment."
"I understand, and that's very wise." He smiled proudly. "So, does this mean you're ready to take what he's left you?"
Claire blinked, but immediately recalled the meaning.
"I think so. It's what he wanted for me, right? I'll accept it now." She forced a smile despite finding it weird.
"Very well, that means you're a grown up now," her grandfather remarked, making them both laugh.
"I'll have to visit him. I'd like to do it right away," said Claire. "I believe a lot will change from today. I can feel it." She smiled optimistically, and the old man had nothing else to say, other feeling happy for her.
It was two in the afternoon, when Claire arrived at the cemetery. Nothing had changed, she thought. It had been four years since her father died, and that was her first visit since the burial. It felt terrible, but she had to do it.
Sighing heavily at the sight of several graves, scribbled with the names, dates, and lovely titles of someone's loved ones, Claire went straight to that of her father. It was in a great condition, green grass adorning it.
Swallowing hard, Claire placed a large bouquet of flowers on top of it, taking her sunglasses off. She slowly squatted down and ran a hand on the engraved words on the silver plate on the ground, her dad's name beaming.
"Hi, Dad," she uttered, smiling faintly. "It's me . . . your Claire." She pressed her lips together, fighting the tears.
She really wished that the dead could hear. She hoped her father could hear.
"It took me so long, huh? I know, I had no courage to face you. I just couldn't stand the sight of you anymore. You weren't the same dad I knew before; not that friendly one who loved me."She broke into uncontrollable tears, sitting down on the soft grass.
"I'm going to be an interior designer, just as I wanted," she proceeded. "But you are not going to see it. You didn't even see me wearing the graduation gown. As always, you didn't show up. You're so cruel, Mr. Levy."
Claire knew it was pointless blaming the dead, but she needed to vent anyway. She just blurted all that she'd kept inside. Minutes passed, and she felt better somehow.
It was time to say goodbye.
With a deep sigh, Claire decided it was enough, hence made her way out. Fine or not, she felt like something was off her throat, and that made her feel better. Oblivious of anything and anyone, she suddenly realized that she had an audience.
What the hell? She screamed inside.
"Are you feeling better now?" a male voice asked.
Claire swerved around. "Are you talking to me?" she asked the owner of the voice, frowning.
"Yes, you," he replied, and she looked at him, puzzled.
"I'm not sure if I'm supposed to receive that from a stranger, but thanks for your concern anyway," Claire replied casually, and turned to where she was heading.
"I'm sorry if I've offended you, I should've introduced myself first, maybe?" he remarked, his manners gallant. "Hi, I'm Bruno." His bashful smile would have driven any woman crazy; but not Claire.
All she wanted was to get out of this place that could never be a meeting place, and definitely a place to exchange pleasantries from a stranger. For heaven's sake, he could even be a ghost! She thought.
She paced a few steps towards him, nonchalantly, and stopped. "Are you a journalist, by any chance?" she queried. "Because I don't have any scoop for you, in case that's your issue."He better be a journalist and not a ghost, she kept thinking.
Bruno bursted out laughing, vividly amused. "A journalist? No, I just saw you in there and I felt concerned, that's why I couldn't ignore you."
"Oh, really now? How sweet of you, huh?" Claire retorted. "Well, you should stay here and do the charity job then, don't you think? Thank you for your concern, Bruno, but I'm fine."
"Ouch," he muttered, holding his heart as though highly wounded. "I'm sorry if I was rude, but you honestly looked devastated there. But well, I can see you are full of energy now, so I'll take my leave."
Eyeing him leaving, Claire felt somewhat guilty for lashing out without any grand reason.
"Wait," she urged.
"Yes?" Bruno quipped.
"I'm sorry. I'm not having a good day to be honest," she confessed.
"Apology accepted." Bruno beamed kindly. "And I'm sorry, I can tell you're having it bad."
"Well, thanks." She sighed, and they slowly continued to walk.
"I think I said my name, but I haven't heard yours yet," said Bruno while staring at her with a mischievous gleam.
"Claire," she told him softly.
"Oh. Such a pretty name." His voice was teasing with warmth.
"Um . . . thanks." Claire had no reason to stay sullen; her face brightened with an indulgent smile.
"So, are you new around here? I've never seen you before," Bruno proceeded."Oh, aren't you a know-it-all? How can you tell if I'm new or not?" she replied accusingly, and he laughed heartily. They were already outside the cemetery.
"Well, you can say that out loud," he bragged. "I know almost everyone around here, but this is the first charming face to meet the eyes."
"So that's how you get into them ladies, huh?"
"You're beautiful and funny," Bruno uttered, laughing. "Would you mind having a cup of coffee?" he flatly proposed.
"You're not flirting with me, are you?" Claire asked, and laughter escaped Bruno.
"Well, I'm just warning you, because I'm not easy to handle."
"I really had no plans to, but I guess I've changed my mind a second ago," Bruno replied, and she gasped incredulously. "I'm just kidding, Claire. I'm only inviting you for a coffee, nothing more."
"Cool, let's have coffee," she relented with a little smile.
