Page 4 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

Four

Clarissa

E lbow deep in sanitizer, Clarissa reached into the glass pie tower. On the tips of her toes, she jammed the cleaning cloth into every nook and cranny.

When they’d sold the last fresh pie that afternoon, she seized her opportunity to clean it. She’d rolled the sleeves of her turtleneck past her elbows, exposing the end of the burns on her left arm, but she didn’t care. Except for the workers, Jeff and Eugene were the only ones there.

“I think you got it.” Sylvia came up behind her, making her jump and bonk her head. “Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, again. Where is your head today?”

“Nowhere, I’m just tired.” She took a clean cloth and started drying off the shelves.

In truth, she’d been looking out the corner of her eye for him all morning. It was stupid. She had no indication the good Samaritan would return today. Furthermore, she had no reason to want him to return. He was nothing more than a stranger she encountered once. Nothing more, nothing less. She’d probably never see him again.

It was best this way. She was no good at relationships, and she didn’t have room for one now anyways. All her energy and money had to go into taking care of Rachel.

“I think it’s good,” Sylvia pressed. “You should go in the back and clean up, you smell like bleach.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Clarissa said. Sylvia ushered her into the kitchens as the front door jingled.

Clarissa didn’t look to see who it was. Instead, she dumped the bucket and went straight to the employee washroom. She scrubbed her hands three times, washed her face, and spritzed her perfume.

There, she should be less bleachy now. As Clarissa went back into the dining room, Sylvia bounced up to her.

“You have someone in your section,” she said. “I already gave him a menu.”

Him? As in one him, not a group? Peeking over Sylvia’s shoulder, Clarissa blushed.

The good Samaritan sat at the far booth on her side of the diner. No doubt Sylvia sat him there on purpose.

Today his red hair was damp from the misting rain. He wore an evergreen and brown flannel; she tried not to notice how it stretched over his broad chest and bulging biceps.

Grabbing a clean mug and the pot of decaf, she went over to him.

“Welcome to Donna’s Diner, what can I get for you?”

“You remembered.” He smiled at the orange-capped coffeepot. “I’m flattered.”

“Part of the service is knowing our regulars.”

His smile widened. “Does two visits qualify me as a regular?”

Clearing her throat, she looked down. His hands were folded atop the table. They were wide and looked strong. She wondered if his hands would feel warm and calloused if she touched them. How they might feel against her sensitive skin.

Clarissa averted her eyes to the pot of coffee as a heated flush crept up the back of her neck. What was wrong with her?

“Did you need some time to look over the menu?” she asked.

“Not necessary, I know what I want.”

Was it her imagination, or was there a double meaning to his words?

Setting down the coffeepot, she pulled out her pad of paper. Against her better judgment, she looked directly at his face.

Her heart skipped a beat, and then it sank. He was staring at her arm. She’d forgotten to pull her sleeves back down. Pursing her lips, she glowered at her pad of paper and steeled herself for the invasive questions and rude comments. They didn’t come.

“I’ll take another vegetable omelet, please.”

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Hash browns.”

“Comin’ right up.” She stalked back to the counter and put in the order.

Yanking her sleeves down to her wrists, she caught the eyes of Jeff, Eugene, and Sylvia.

“What?” she snapped.

“Nothing,” Sylvia said innocently.

“So, who’s the new customer?” Jeff asked.

“No one.” Clarissa scowled.

“Sure doesn’t look like no one,” Eugene said.

Ignoring them, she busied herself with non-essential tasks behind the counter. Anything to keep her gaze, and mind, off the man sitting in the corner booth. Clarissa muttered to herself while she worked. This was stupid. She was an adult, and an adult has the right to some sort of privacy and anonymity in her own life.

Yes, the man was terribly handsome. Yes, he returned to the diner, yet again, for no good reason. Yes, she’d been hoping to see him, but it didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t because she didn’t want it to. It wasn’t practical, and right now, ‘practical’ was her middle name.

She had Rachel to think about. To afford a home care aide, she needed to start picking up extra shifts. Clarissa had more important things to think about than handsome redheaded strangers who were kind, and selfless, and looked like a lumberjack from a dirty calendar.

Once more, she still had issues with being touched. Sure, she’d had boyfriends in the past and she wasn’t exactly the virgin Madonna. But it was difficult. Being bare, allowing herself to be so vulnerable with someone—it wasn’t easy after everything that happened.

She usually got tipsy before she had sex, sometimes refusing to take her clothes off … It was awkward. With everything else going on in her life, she didn’t have time to fix her intimacy issues.

“Order up!” Adam said.

Clarissa took the plates automatically, then paused. Setting them back down, she pulled a bottle of hot sauce from under the counter, stuck it in her apron pocket, and picked the plates back up.

“No one likes his food spicy, does he?” Jeff asked.

Ignoring the comment, she marched to the table. As she set the food down, she risked a glance at his face. It was warm and inviting, making a small part of her melt inside.

“Do you need anything else?” She retrieved the hot sauce from her apron.

“No, you gave me everything I needed. Thank you.”

Nodding, she went back to the counter.

“Sylvia, I need to go in the back and talk to Donna. You got the front?” she asked, walking toward the office.

“Sure thing, Claire.”

She rapped her knuckles on the office door, and Donna sang out from inside.

“Enter!”

Donna’s gray beehive sat precariously atop her head. Reading glasses with a beaded chain perched on her nose. Her desk was littered with stacks of receipts and a ledger, a well-abused calculator at her hand.

“Hey, Donna.”

“Hello, Clarissa, what may I do for you?”

“I was wondering if I could pick up any extra shifts,” Clarissa said.

“Just this week?” Donna asked.

“No, I need more hours overall.”

“I see.” Donna frowned. “Sweetie, you’re already working over sixty hours a week.” Donna removed her glasses, her face taking on a motherly look. “Is everything alright, dear? At home, I mean.”

“Rachel is … she’s not worse but I’m getting worried about her. I want to try and hire a home aide.”

Donna nodded, put her glasses back on, and shuffled her papers. “Well, I can’t give you more waitressing hours, but Marissa was asking to cut back her hours. Do you know how to bake?”

“Bake?” Clarissa asked.

“Pie specifically.”

“Yeah, I know how to bake pie.”

“Good, in that case, you can start taking some of her hours. Can you come in tomorrow at four? I’ll have her show you where everything is and start your training.”

“I’ll be here.” Clarissa perked up. “Thank you, Donna, I really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing. Anything to keep my girls from hookin’. That’s a dirty business that is, not worth the cash. If you’re really down and out, titty bars are better.”

“I’ll—ummm, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good girl.” Donna smiled and turned back to her calculator.

On Clarissa’s way back to the counter, Sylvia blocked her path. Her forehead was creased and her mouth puckered.

“You didn’t ask her to throw him out, did you? I was just messing with you; if you really don’t like him, it’s okay, I’ll stop. But don’t get the poor guy tossed out over it,” Sylvia said.

“What? No, I wasn’t talking to Donna about him .” Clarissa blanched.

“You weren’t?”

“No, I asked for more hours. I’m coming in tomorrow morning to train under Marissa. My life doesn’t revolve around this guy. I’ve got other things going on, ya know.”

“Oh.” Sylvia’s eyes softened but the crease in her forehead remained. “Is it Rachel?”

“Yes, and no. It’s complicated.”

“Are you … is everything alright? I just mean, if you ever need anything, you can always ask me.”

“I know, thanks, Sylvia.”

Sylvia thought she understood, thought she could empathize with Clarissa’s situation because of her father-in-law. But the truth was, he lived across the country with her extended family where a whole troop of relatives were taking care of him. Clarissa was alone. As good as Sylvia’s intentions were, she really didn’t have a clue.

Clarissa went back out and started cleaning the counter out of nervous habit. Then she refilled Jeff and Eugene’s coffee mugs. Switching for decaf, she went over to the booth. The good Samaritan watched her intently, an unreadable emotion thick on his face. It was almost sad, laced with worry and unasked questions.

“How is everything?” she asked, topping off his drink.

“Excellent,” he said.

“You need anything else?” she asked.

“Yes, actually.”

She stared at him, waiting.

“Do you have time to sit with me?” He gestured to the empty seat across him.

She hesitated. Sitting and talking to a customer wasn’t out of her norm; she did it with Jeff and Eugene all the time. Sometimes Ethal from the old ladies’ book club snagged her and asked her opinion on books. But this man wasn’t gay, nor was he a lonely grandma reading spicy books—if anything, he was worthy of being on the book cover, and that had her all in a tizzy. But surely she could have a polite conversation with him without getting inappropriate. She could at least try. If not, she’d get Adam to toss him out on his ass. With that decided, she perched in the booth.

“I’ve been thinking. You don’t like giving your information out to strangers, which is understandable,” he said.

“But?” Her voice wavered.

“What if I don’t want to be a stranger anymore?”

She startled. His gaze was warm and unwavering.

“My name is Thomas Sinclaire, Tom for short. I’m the eldest of three siblings, my sister’s name is Maria Hernandez and my brother’s is James.”

“I see,” she said. What the hell else was she supposed to say? And why was his last name so familiar?

“I’m also an uncle,” he beamed. “Or soon to be, that is. Maria and her husband, Samuel, are expecting. After my father retired last year, my brother and I took over the family business, Sinclaire Lumber.”

Oh my God, he was a lumberjack! He also ran the local business that employed half the town.

“I confess, James is much better at the business aspect than I am. I prefer managing the day-to-day of the plant and the workers. My sister’s a lawyer, she advises the family business as needed, otherwise she has a private practice out of her home.”

“Why …” She frowned. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“I told you; I no longer want to be a stranger to you.”

“I see.” She didn’t.

“Was that enough information to buy your name? If not, I can certainly provide more.” Thomas inhaled as if he was about to start rambling again.

“Clarissa.” She cut him off. “My name is Clarissa Roberts.”

His eyes smoldered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Clarissa.” He offered his hand across the table.

Not thinking, she extended her own. He took it. Instead of shaking it, he brought the back of her hand up and brushed his lips over her knuckles. His hands felt even better than she imagined. His skin was blazing, or was she just blushing? If she hadn’t been sitting down, she would have crumpled to the floor in a swoon.

She put her hand in her lap, her turtleneck was suddenly too warm against her skin. She swallowed. How the hell was she supposed to follow that ?

“Clarissa, I already know where you work.” He gestured to the diner, smiling at his own joke, then looked at her expectantly. Was she supposed to be talking? She seemed to have forgotten how. When she continued to stare at him like she’d been dropped on her head, he pressed on. “Why don’t you tell me, do you have any siblings?”

“No.” The word was curt and cold. Pursing her lips, she came back to herself. Why was she being so rude? Was it rudeness or was she uncomfortable in his presence?

It really didn’t help that her mind kept wandering back to the dirty lumberjack calendar she’d conjured up, and her traitorous vagina was encouraging the fantasies. Trying to get her mind to behave, she racked her brain for something to follow that statement up so the conversation could continue. “My family is … small.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” He smiled, clearly pleased she’d chosen to keep talking. “I personally come from a very large family, so it’s hard for me to imagine anything else. But if you care for each other as family should, then I’d say it’s just the same.”

“I care for my aunt very much. She’s my everything.”

“Does she live in town?”

“Yes, we live together,” she said.

“How long have you lived with her?”

“Since I was four and a half.”

His eyes became sad again. “I can see why you’d be close to her.”

“Yes, well … it is what it is.” She shifted in her seat awkwardly; this was getting too personal. Jumping to her feet, she blurted out, “I’m sorry, but I need to get back to work.”

“Of course.” He smiled, but she thought she saw a hint of disappointment flicker across his face.

“Sylvia can ring you up.” Clarissa took the coffeepot and left.

Putting the pot away, she grabbed Sylvia’s arm. “Ring him up, will you?”

“Sure thing, sweetie, you okay?”

“Fine, I just need to take a quick break.”

She locked herself in the employee washroom, wrapping her arms around her chest and trying to concentrate on breathing. Her head was spinning and her chest felt tight. What the hell was wrong with her? Was she such a mess that a simple conversation with a nice man made her fall to pieces?

Yes. Yes, she was.

* * *

Clarissa worked an extra hour to make up for leaving early the previous day. Then she stopped by the auto shop to drop off another hundred dollars on her car bill. That left her twenty dollars from the cash Eugene gave her the other night. She could use that twenty for some much-needed groceries, and prayed nothing unexpected would come up and her tank of gas would last through next week.

At the grocery store, she raided the clearance section, grabbing a fair amount of dried goods. Going through the rest of the store, she found a few staples on sale. She was pleased with her afternoon chores, but the time was making her anxious, she didn’t get home until after six in the evening.

“Hi, aunty, I’m home.”

“Hello, Claire, how was school today?” Rachel sat in her recliner folding laundry. “You’re home late, were you at your study group, the one for the SAT?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I stopped at the store on the way home. Do you want mac ’n’ cheese for dinner?”

“That sounds good.”

After putting the groceries away, she dug in the freezer until she found another package of hot dogs, freezer burned but still viable. Starting water to boil, she fiddled with the blue box of noodles and asked Rachel about her day.

“Oh, it was great, I did … I did something but I can’t remember what it was. Must not have been important then.”

Clarissa internally cursed herself. This wasn’t healthy for Rachel. She needed to do something different and soon. She wasn’t doing a very good job at this caretaker business. The second she got her next paycheck, she was going to call Eugene’s niece, Elizabeth.

Taping the card to the calendar on the fridge, she circled pay day in red, then wrote in all caps, ‘CALL.’

Clarissa was ashamed of herself for waiting this long to do it. Rachel took her in and put her whole life on hold to raise her when she needed it most. She deserved better from her now.

When the illness got bad ten years ago, she was more cognizant of the time. She got confused occasionally but she was still okay to see the neighbors, call her friends on the phone, and do her needlepoints. It wasn’t until recently she’d gotten worse. Sure, Rachel was still eating and drinking, but she didn’t seem to do anything else, and that wasn’t good.

After a less than satisfactory dinner, Clarissa took Rachel on a walk. It was shorter than yesterday due to the sun setting on them, but it was better than nothing. They talked about plans for their junior prom, Rachel thinking she was also in high school.

Back at the double-wide, with minimal guidance from Clarissa, Rachel did the dishes. Afterward, she showered while Clarissa did her nightly prep: cleaning, refilling Rachel’s water bottles, then making her a plate for lunch, a peanut butter sandwich with apple slices, covering it, and placing it in the fridge with a note reading ‘Eat Me.’

After a short deliberation, she made herself a sandwich too and wrapped it up for breakfast. She had to get up earlier than normal tomorrow and was likely to be less grumpy if she ate.

With her chores done and Rachel asleep, Clarissa rushed through her nightly routine, eager to lay down at last. Her body ached for sleep, but her mind reeled.

Worrying about Rachel and bills, she could hardly keep up with everything as it was; now she needed to find the cash for a home aide and more medical testing. Thinking about her conversation with Donna, she laughed. Maybe she should find a titty bar to work at.

Thoughts of the diner brought her mind to the good Samaritan, Thomas. The knowledge that he didn’t want to be a stranger to her anymore made her chest feel warm. Although she knew it shouldn’t.

Clarissa hadn’t changed her mind. She didn’t want to—couldn’t—date right now. She didn’t have the time or the capacity to. Her tank was already running on empty; physically, and emotionally. It didn’t matter how kind he was, how much she enjoyed those brief moments in his presence, how badly she wanted to see him again, because it couldn’t go anywhere.

Falling into a fitful sleep, she had vivid dreams. A picnic with a red-haired lumberjack. She listened to him talk about his life and his family. They shared their thoughts and dreams with each other over piles of fresh food. He kissed her softly, running his hand through her hair.

Somewhere in the kiss, a grizzly bear charged at them from the woods. The man ran forward and fought it off as it tried to attack her.