BEFORE THE TIDE(5)
882 Words
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
March 18, 2014.
The morning sun filtered softly through Clara’s bedroom window, painting the room in a pale golden glow. The house was quiet, her sisters had already gone to school, leaving behind only the faint scent of toast and the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen. For once, Clara was grateful for the silence.
She lay in bed, her chest rising and falling slowly. Yesterday’s weight still pressed against her ribs, though dulled now, like a bruise that hadn’t healed.
The sharp ring of the landline broke the stillness. Downstairs, Mrs. White dried her hands quickly on a towel before lifting the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Mrs. White,” came the careful voice on the other end. “It’s Annalise.”
Mrs. White’s face softened. “Oh, hello, dear. How are you?”
“I’m alright,” Annalise replied, hesitation in her tone. “We just… we haven’t heard from Clara since the incident. We’ve all been worried. I wanted to ask if we could come by.”
Mrs. White hesitated, glancing toward the hallway. Clara had barely spoken since returning from the doctor's office. Perhaps company might help.
“Yes, of course. I think that would be good for her.”
Relief brightened Annalise’s voice. “Really? Thank you so much, Mrs. White. We’ll come later today.”
When the call ended, Mrs. White carried the news upstairs. She pushed Clara’s door open gently.
“Clara?”
Clara turned her head on the pillow. A faint smile appeared, only to vanish just as quickly.
Her mother sat beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “Annalise called. She and Monica and some new friends want to visit. They’ve been worried.”
Clara’s throat tightened. Part of her wanted to refuse, to stay cocooned in the quiet. But another part, fragile and starved for connection, made her nod. “Okay.”
Mrs. White squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to say much if you’re not ready. Just let them be here for you.”
Clara nodded again, and her mother kissed her forehead before rising. “Rest a little before they arrive.”
Left alone, Clara exhaled shakily, staring at the ceiling. The thought of facing her friends scared her, but the thought of losing them scared her even more.
________
Miranda sat on her bed, absentmindedly flipping through the same page of a magazine she hadn’t really been reading. Her face was tight with frustration. Being grounded felt like the end of the world.
A knock at the door broke the silence, followed by her mother’s warm voice floating down the hall.
“Beyoncé! What a nice surprise. Come in, dear.”
Beyoncé’s laugh floated up the hallway. “It’s been too long, Mrs. Morvan.”
Footsteps approached, and moments later Beyoncé pushed Miranda’s door open with a grin.
“You look like a prisoner,” she teased.
Miranda groaned, tossing the magazine aside. “That’s because I am.”
“Well, lucky for you, I come bearing good news.” Beyoncé plopped onto the bed beside her, her energy filling the room. “Annalise spoke to Clara’s mom this morning. We’re allowed to visit.”
Miranda’s eyes lit up, only to dim just as quickly. “Great. Except I can’t. I’m grounded, remember?”
Beyoncé tilted her head, then stood. “Then we’ll ask your mom. Together.” Beyoncé tugged her into the hallway.
“Beyoncé—no! My mom’s not going to—”
But Beyoncé was already calling, “Mrs. Morvan?”
They found Mrs. Morvan sitting on the couch, her laptop open in front of her. She looked up as the girls appeared.
“What’s this about?” Mrs. Morvan asked, raising a brow.
Beyoncé clasped her hands, her tone earnest but respectful. “Please, Mrs. Morvan , it’s important. One of our friends has been going through something really difficult. We thought visiting her together might help so she won’t feel so alone. Miranda really wants to be there.”
Mrs. Morvan’s expression eased, the firmness in her eyes melting into concern. “So this is about helping someone who needs it…” She looked at Miranda, who nodded quickly.
Mrs. Morvan’s eyes shifted to her daughter. “Funny, Miranda. You didn’t tell me about a new addition to this friend group,” she said softly, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
Miranda fidgeted, heat rising in her cheeks. “I… didn’t think it mattered.”
Mrs. Morvan studied her for a moment, then sighed and closed her laptop. “It matters if it means this much to you,” Mrs. Movan replied. She let out a sigh, then finally smiled.
“Alright. You can go. But only because I trust Beyoncé to keep an eye on you.”
Miranda blinked. “Wait… seriously?”
“Go on, before I change my mind,” Mrs. Morvan said, though her smile betrayed her softness.
Miranda squealed and hugged her. “Thank you, Mom!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mrs. Morvan teased, ruffling her hair. “But don’t make me regret it. Be back before your father.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Morvan,” Beyoncé added, chuckling.
Beyoncé shot Miranda a smug look. “Told you I’d handle it.”
- Writer
