Claire

I Think She Likes Me?

I looked over to check on Claire and found she had got up, sitting and staring out the car window. As always, her eyes portrayed a cloudy mix of many different emotions. I was still drowsy from having just woke up, but I was easily able to focus on Claire. Her fingers tapped on her cheek once in awhile, though sometimes she would raise her hand to scratch at her head. I pushed myself up and crawled over to sit next to her. She was a bit surprised by my appearance beside her, but smiled at seeing me again.

“Thank you for earlier.” Her voice came out of nowhere and was very calculated, as if she’d been planning on saying it forever. She didn’t waiver in what she was saying; she just stared forward and uttered it, though there was a genuineness to it that convinced me she was being true.

“I hoped you’d like that.”

“I loved it, all I’ve thought about since then was Princess.”

“What about her?”

“Just how sweet she was, and how cute. Plus she was so nice. Dogs are really cool, they’re really playful, I think. I don’t know, I haven’t spent a lot of time with one, but I’d like to! I feel like if I ever had a bad day, Princess would be there to cheer me up. That’s not a quality many creatures carry.”

“Dogs are really good about providing emotional support.”

“Have you had a dog?”

“No, but my friends have, and there are lots of stories about dogs that actually save their owners lives.”

“There are? How do they do that, they’re that smart?”

So began our conversation on dog stories. First, I told her about the dogs that have retrieved help for their owners after accidents and injuries. She was impressed, but then I moved to telling her about all the things we train dogs to do. We talked about police dogs, drug dogs, hunting dogs, herding dogs, and any other dog job I could think to mention.

“So, someone could teach Princess to take down bad guys?”

“Well, not exactly. Different breeds have different specialties.”

“What jobs can Princess have?”

“She would probably be a show dog.”

“What’s a show dog?”

I explained the idea of dog shows to Claire and her mouth gaped.

“Lots of people bring lots of dogs to a big arena? That sounds heavenly, Ben!”

Nothing was more heavenly than time spent with Claire, but a dog show would probably be a close second. I explained the way people walk their dogs on leashes and give them cute dog tags. She seemed to think the idea of picking out a collar was simply wonderful, and I grinned as I told her about the wonders of doggy fashion. Her expression was hard to read, but I have to believe it was one of wonder.

“Like, doggy dresses?”

“Yep!”

“And hats?”

“Yep!”

“What about sweaters?”

“Of course!”

“And shoes?”

“Those too!”

She gasped, “Bows?”

I nodded, and she clasped her hands together and rolled back so she was laying down. Her mind was wandering and I found it nearly impossible to look away. As she stared at the top of the van, I decided we should make a bit of progress and climbed up to the front seat. It was still fairly light out, so it seemed silly to waste the daylight. I did have some worries about my van being identified in the daylight, but I put myself at ease. The chances seemed slim, though, because Miguel wouldn’t tell anyone anything and my brother would feign innocence. He understood where I was coming from. Besides, I’d rather be recognized in the day than wrecked at night.

While we drove, Claire would occasionally pipe up and ask more about dogs. We talked about their diets, and she was surprised to hear they ate meat. She protested that they were far too cute and cuddly to be carnivores, but came to accept it in the end. Our views on the world were different to a point it was almost hard to compare, but at the same time, we aligned well. I had always wanted a partner that could teach me something. Someone from another lifestyle would have fit the bill, but Claire was from another world. It was fantastic. At some point along the drive, she fell asleep, and it was that way until the sun had already set.

That night, we lay under the stars in a random parking lot and talked about what life was like being so far down under the sea. There, they never saw stars, and there was hardly a day or night. Her adventures had led her toward the surface enough times that she had experienced both of them briefly, but the idea of being on a set schedule - one where you sleep during a certain part of the day and remain awake for the other part - was foreign to her.

“So, at night, almost everyone is asleep?”

“Yeah, mostly. Some people work third shift - that means they work all night long.”

“But everyone else is on a different schedule?”

“Pretty much.”

“What about their kids? Do people on third shift not have a family?”

“Not everyone prioritizes their family. Not everyone has a choice to, I mean.”

“That’s sad. I wish you could see what it was like in the ocean.”

“Well, you could tell me, at least?”

“Yeah… well, in the ocean, everyone sort of makes their own schedule. There’s always someone up and doing something. Hardly anything in our corner of the ocean goes unnoticed. That’s why it’s nice to get away, too. But… hey, wait. If everyone is asleep or working at night, does no one look at the stars?”

“Not really. Not many people do, a lot of people get lost in the noise of the city. Well, in the city, you can hardly see the stars, I’ve heard. Light pollution, or something. But not many people look at the stars at night, anyway, they’re working or sleeping or partying or just laying in bed.”

“Huh… I guess that makes us pretty special, doesn’t it?”

“Claire, you’re a mermaid, how much more special can you get?”

She laughed. “Ah, I suppose you’re right.”

She drew herself in a bit closer to me and we looked up at the stars. For awhile, I gave her the names of the constellations. The Little Dipper was her favorite, and she asked me questions repeatedly about astrology. Before I knew it, we were onto the zodiac signs. When she found out that some people assigned entire personality traits by birthdays, she was intrigued. “Tell me my star sign!” she cheered.

“Alright, when is your birthday?”

“August 24th!”

“You’re a Virgo. Oh, Claire, your birthday is so soon! We have to celebrate!”

“We don’t have any coral, though.”

“What? Coral? This is land, dear, we celebrate with cake!”

For a long time after that, we forgot about the zodiac signs and moved onto our dreams as adults. She told me about wanting to be a teacher, but not wanting to stay in one place long enough to teach for a year. Maybe a saleswoman, she suggested, wandering the ocean and trading shells for stories. She was turning seventeen. As excited as I was to show her a land birthday, I thought I felt an ache in my heart that came from her parents. If they were still out there in the ocean, they were probably getting worried sick and wondering where their little girl was. I would take care of her for them; when she returned, she would have stories to tell. Just as she liked it.

“When is your birthday, Ben?”

“Oh, my birthday? Uhm, oh, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does! It does, to me! How old will you be?”

“I’m turning eighteen, next, but like, in a long time.”

Her face suddenly became serious as she turned to me.

“How long of a time?”

“Like a year! I basically just turned seventeen!” I laughed, but it sounded pained.

Somehow, Claire was convinced by my responses and relaxed. I wondered if it were easier to just accept my lies or if she thought I was being truthful. I vowed not to expend my energy on it and we sat quietly for awhile. Then, I felt little hairs against my thumb. I looked over to see goosebumps across her arms. Most teenage boys wait for this moment; the moment where they can do what every hero does to every romantic interest. I, however, was slightly dreading it. I wanted to give her my jacket, but what if she began to smell like dusty backwoods Florida and lost her touch of ocean water?

I decided Claire’s comfort was more important than the air she carried about her, so I slipped my jacket off and tucked it around her. At first, she watched my hands in confusion, but soon shot her arms through the holes with a look of delight. “It’s fuzzy!” she announced as she lifted the hood up to cover her hair. Shiny pieces of gold licked at my torn up gray hoodie, but the grin on her face made the sight almost seem natural. She had that way about her. No matter the circumstance, it made sense. I smiled.

“Thank you, Ben!”

“You got it, Claire.”

We decided it was time to retreat to the van, so I secured her in my arms and walked the short distance back. I hopped in the back with her so that we would be able to talk more; we didn’t necessarily feel the need to go to bed, but it was becoming a cold night. The wind had picked up a bit and her hair had got tangled. In the car, Claire began to ask me about birthdays.

“So, you’ve had lots of birthdays now, right Ben?”

“Maybe not lots, but seventeen, yeah.”

“What’re land birthdays like?”

I thought for a minute. I couldn’t decide if she was asking for a generalization - what birthdays are supposed to be like - or an anecdote of what my land birthdays have been like. I didn’t want to seem a fool, so I tapped my chin to pretend I was pretending to think. She laughed. I joined in the slight laughter, too, buying me time to think. I decided to tell her just about how a normal birthday is. I leaned back and acted casual.

“So, a few weeks before a land birthday, the birthday boy or girl starts to decide who their closest friends are. Or, if they like popularity, make a list of everyone they know. Then they choose a venue, and then they invite their friends to come to the venue. A lot of kids have sleepovers-”

“Hey, I don’t want to stop you, because I’m interested in what you’re saying, but I’m more interested in what your land birthdays have been like.”

I chose the wrong option. I figured it better to try the safe option first, though, and only resort to this if prompted. But, I was prompted, so I nodded and began to craft my next sentence.

“My birthdays, uhm. They really haven’t been too interesting.”

“What do you do for them? You must do something, right? Your parents do something for you or something?”

“No, I usually spend my birthdays with my brothers or alone. Usually I spend part of it with my siblings and then I spend the other part by myself outside. Being outside is more comforting for me than having a party with people I hardly know,” I chuckled at my introverted comments. “I don’t know. That probably seems weird. Birthdays just aren’t huge for me?”

“Why aren’t they big for your parents?”

“Remember those third shift workers I told you about earlier?”

She nodded.

“My parents are two of those third shift workers. We don’t really see each other because of it, and I guess I know they’re only doing what they have to. I mean, there are eight of us kids, and that’s a lot of kids to support, but I wish they were around sometimes. It feels like they’ve abandoned us but they’re really keeping us afloat, I guess.”

I paused.

“I’m sorry, you were just asking me about my birthday. Yeah uhm. No, I don’t do much for my birthdays.”

A silence followed that was long enough to convince me I had ruined everything. Claire seemed to be thinking hard about something - probably how weird I was compared to everyone she knew. She was probably comparing me to boys she’d met before, and wondering if all humans were so weird.

“I don’t get why you’re so sorry all the time. I do like to hear you talk, y’know.”

“You… do?” I blushed, and I knew it, but also knew there was nothing I could do.

“Duh, that’s why I always talk to you.”

I smiled and she did too. I looked away for a moment, entirely unsure of what to say, but when I looked back, I realized no words were needed. I eased myself into a comfortable silence much unlike the ones which had come before it. There was no concern here from either one of us. We just smiled at one another, glanced around, and smiled again. Our eyes danced for awhile before I noticed a drag in the tempo. Namely, her eyelids appeared to be growing heavy as her blinks got longer and longer. I gave a small laugh.

“Let’s get to bed, Claire.”

“Alright, but can you do me a favor?”

“Sure thing, what’s up?”

“Could you sleep back here with me tonight?”

“You want me to?”

“Yes please.”

“Then yeah, I can do that.”

I arranged our pillows and blankets so that I was still close to her. A massive amount of cushion beneath me made up for the difference between the bottom of the van and the high edges of the kiddie pool. She smiled and put an arm around me, dragging me in closer. The side of the pool made my shoulder bend funny and my neck was at a weird angle. Physically, it was the most uncomfortable I had ever been, yet I was transported to another realm of comfort at her touch. My head spun and my heart pounded.

“Good night, Ben.”

“Good night, Claire.”

I had the best sleep of my life that night.