I hear the exhalation of relief. "I'm so sorry, Gustov. Sorry for getting you wrapped up in my disaster of a life last spring."
"Not your fault, Clare. I made my own choices. I was in the middle of my own disaster."
"The reason I'm calling, well, is to see if maybe you'd like to have dinner tonight. I've been in San Diego visiting my aunt for a few days and I leave in the morning. I'd like to see you and apologize properly."
None of this sounds like the Clare I knew. She's speaking clearly, talking to me like a normal person. I can tell that she's being honest with me. She sounds vulnerable. She sounds ... nice. I'm a sucker for nice, and I also can't hold a grudge, so I answer, "Sounds good. You want me to pick you up?"
"No, I'll pick you up. That's part of the whole apology thing." She laughs, and I notice that it's not the high pitched, grating giggle I remember from before. It sounds more mellow, like a low, relaxed chuckle.
"Yes, ma'am." I give her my address and we agree on seven o'clock.
I'm tugging on my Catfish and the Bottlemen T-shirt when there's a knock on my bedroom door. "Gus, you in there?"
I open the door and Pax is standing in my doorway with a grin on his face that's half awe and half terror. I hold back a smile. "What's up, amigo?"
He motions with his thumb over his shoulder behind him and whispers, "There's a girl here for you."
I glance at the clock on my nightstand, six forty-five. "Huh, she's early."
The mixed look's still in place on Paxton's face, though awe's winning out now. "Do you have a date?"
I shake my head. "Nah, no date. Just a ... " for some reason I stumble on the word, because I don't really know what Clare is. "Just a friend. I haven't seen her in a while. Just getting some chow with her, that's all."
He shakes his head slowly. "She's hot, Gus. Like a fifteen on a ten-point scale."
I laugh because the kid never would've said anything like that a few weeks ago when he arrived here.
"She looks good, huh? Maybe I'd set you up with her if you weren't jailbait." I wink.
"I'm eighteen in a couple of weeks," he argues.
"Dude, you couldn't handle a cougar like that. You keep your eyes on the prize with Mason."
He smiles and his cheeks go crimson at the mention of his new high school crush.
I slip on my socks and Vans and walk out to the living room with Pax following closely behind. Clare's standing next to the sliding glass door looking out at the ocean view. I don't say anything for a minute, just letting her enjoy the scenery. Getting lost in calm and beauty is a gift.
If I didn't know this was the Clare from before, I wouldn't believe it now. Her ultra-thin frame is curvier, softer, and instead of being marketed for sex, it's tucked away discreetly inside a pair of jeans and a simple white T-shirt. Her dark hair shines in a simple cut that falls just short of her shoulders. I clear my throat to get her attention. "S'up Clare?"
She turns at my voice, and the face that greets me looks years younger and happier than the one I saw months ago. Her skin is clear, almost glowing. She looks fresh, like layers of everything bad and negative have been stripped away along with the heavy makeup and seductive clothing to reveal this new person hiding underneath. "Hi, Gustov."
"Gustov? Do people really call you that? I thought Scout was the only one who called you that." It's Pax. He's still a shadow behind me.
I laugh. "It is my name, Pax."
He's embarrassed. "I know. I guess I just thought everyone called you Gus."
I nod. "Most of them do. Or douche canoe, that nickname's popular, too. I'll answer to almost anything. Just ask Franco."
Clare smiles. "That's true. How is Franco?"
"He's good. He's building an old motorcycle now that we're home for a while. It's keeping him busy." He's obsessed with the bike and it's taking all of his time, which is good. I'm glad he's keeping busy with something he loves.
"Good for him." Clare looks around the room and smiles. "Your mom has a beautiful home. What a magnificent view." She glances back over her shoulder out the window.
"It's pretty amazing. We're lucky."
She nods her head.
"Pax, you wanna tag along and get some grub?"
He clams up and shakes his head. On the inside I can see him trying to play it cool, but on the outside he's giving off a different message. He looks like he's going to faint.
"Okay, soldier. Hold down the fort while I'm gone." As Clare and I decide where we're going to eat, Impatient walks through the living room from her bedroom toward the front door. She's dressed to run, which is strange because she always runs in the morning.
She doesn't say anything. Pax stops her at the door. "Scout, where're you going? I thought we were going to eat dinner? You made lasagna."
She looks back and her eyes pause on Clare and on me before they land on Paxton. "I'm not hungry. You go ahead, though." Her face is pale, her pink lips are closed in a frown, and there's pain in her eyes. Her voice sounds terribly sad. Sad like everything in her world is crashing down around her and she has no control over it. Sad like she desperately wants life to go one way, but instead it's going another. I know that kind of sad intimately. And when I blink she's disappeared out the door.