Brisk fall air wafted through the front door of The Dot as yet another Degrassi student came in, causing the short, fine hairs on Clare's bare arms to stand on end. She should have known leaving her jacket in the passenger seat of her boyfriend's car was a bad idea, but their usual after-school hangout's warm, cozy atmosphere had convinced her otherwise. When he saw her shudder, he immediately shrugged off his own jacket and passed it to her from across the table. Clare accepted it, wrapping it around her shoulders and giving him a shy smile.
That smile was more than enough of a thank you for Eli. Every time he gazed into those big, blue eyes looking back at him, it was a blissful reminder that she had given him a second chance— and that she was all his. Likewise, he knew he belonged to her, which was more than he could ever wish for. He felt his heart lighten and his cheeks grow warm as he reluctantly averted his attention back to the story he'd been proofreading for her. Though he didn't know it at the time, being assigned a writing partner was one of the best things to happen to him.
"No vampires!" he exclaimed with exaggerated astonishment, teasing Clare for her customary genre. "Instead, we have an exquisite narrative symbolically centered on a young woman's necklace. Well, done, Edwards."
She looked away, blushing, and picked up the delicate cross hanging around her own neck, twirling it between her thumb and forefinger. "I strayed from the guidelines just a bit," she said, still staring down at her feet. "It's not entirely fictional."
With a final once-over, Eli slid the paper back to her. "I won't tell. But I must admit," he added, leaning back in his seat, "I'm curious to see how Edmund Greene ever got out of his romantic slump. Your last piece sort of left me hanging."
Clare rolled her eyes as she stuffed her English binder into her messenger bag. "It's almost 4:30, I'm supposed to be home by then." She stood up from the table.
"Alright." Eli quickly jumped up to meet her, easily slinging an arm around her. She gripped the inside of his jacket, bracing herself for the cold. Together they left behind the smell of fresh coffee and hum of mindless chatter and stepped out into the cloudy November day.
"Right on time," Mrs. Edwards commented as Clare got home after exchanging goodbyes with Eli. Her mother sat at the dining room table, fingers clicking on her laptop with a steady rhythm.
"Yeah, I was at The Dot," Clare said, already making a beeline to the staircase.
"Who with?" her mother asked, as if she didn't already know.
"Eli."
"Mmm." Clare halted then. She knew that this barely audible noise meant that the conversation was not yet over. After a few beats, her mother added, "You've been spending a lot of time with that boy, haven't you?"
"Well, yeah, mom. I mean, he is my—" her chest still fluttered when she mentioned the word, "boyfriend."
Mrs. Edwards clicked her tongue, and her daughter slowly moved back to the table where she sat. "I think I'd like to meet him," she said. Clare was a little surprised, yet pleased. Her mother wanted to at least make an attempt to meet Eli, something she'd never done with Darcy's boyfriend, Peter. Then again, Peter never had the best reputation with the PTA.
"Okay, when?"
"Bring him over for dinner tomorrow." She then closed her laptop and started making her way to the kitchen. "Speaking of which, what do you want to have tonight?"
Clare shrugged. "I don't know. What does dad want?"
"Your father won't be joining us for dinner tonight." Her mother scanned the refrigerator, and then pulled out a pot of leftover chili. "Working late again. Does this work?" Clare nodded before heading to her bedroom.
Now that she thought about it, Clare hadn't seen her father at all since two days before. He had been working late a lot lately and normally left the house before she even woke up in the morning. Hopefully, he'd be able to make it to the dinner and meet Eli. She placed her hand over the cross that hung around her neck, silently praying for all to go well tomorrow.
The next morning, Clare's alarm clock went off an hour earlier than usual. Without pressing snooze even once, she slid out of bed and crept downstairs to find her father. She had to be sure he was going to be home for dinner that night, and the only way she could was by hearing it from him herself. A knot formed in her throat as she found all the lights in the first floor of her home unlit, the rooms still and silent.
Heart racing, she ran back to her parents' bedroom and peeked in to find her mother still snoozing on her half of the bed. The other half— her father's— was still as neatly made as the night before. Had he already left and made it on his way out, or had he never even come home last night? Defeated and confused, Clare lay back in her own bed, remaining there awake for the next hour.
Eli scrunched up his face overdramatically as Clare licked the palm of her hand and smoothed his hair down. She was giving him one last inspection on her front porch before meeting her parents inside. "How do I look?" he asked with a little smirk. He found her neurotic tendencies endearing.
"Perfect," Clare told him with a grin, the smell of potatoes au gratin once again tickling her nostrils. "You really didn't have to bring anything." She gestured to the covered casserole dish in his hands.
"Never show up to a dinner party empty handed." He winked.
It was show time. After taking a deep breath, Clare opened the front door with one hand while gripping her cross in the other. Please let him be home, please let him be home…
"Mom? Dad?" She called as she stepped over the threshold and onto her cream, carpeted floor. Mrs. Edwards— alone— emerged from the kitchen.
"Hi, honey!" she said, taking off her apron and kissing her daughter on the forehead. "And you must be Elijah?" she asked, offering him her hand.
"Eli," he corrected with a bright smile. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Edwards."
"Likewise." Eli saw as she noticed the potatoes.
"My dad made these," he said, offering them to her.
"Oh, wonderful! Just put them on the table, everything else is ready."
Eli did just so, and the three took their seats around the table, which was set for three. Clare's head was spinning, thousands of possibilities racing through her mind.
As the salad bowl was being passed around, Clare blurted, "Where's Dad?"
"Same as last night, Clare. Working late," her mother said tightly and shot her a warning look.
"No he's not, mom. He wasn't home this morning. Did he even come home last night?" She remained silent. "TELL ME."
"Clare," Mrs. Edwards hissed. "Eli, could you excuse us for a moment?" He nodded, his expression blank— he did know some of what had been going on in their family for the past few months.
Clare followed her mother into the living room, where she turned to face her daughter with her fingers pressed to her temples. "Your father and I," she said softly, "are trying to work some things out right now.
"Where is he?" her daughter repeated her question.
Mrs. Edwards sighed. "A hotel in the city. He's… going to be there awhile."
Clare squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off tears. "Why didn't you tell me," she whispered. Her mother gently touched her shoulder, which is when she backed away and screamed, "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" With that, she was flying up to her bedroom, where she yanked the stupid gold chain off her neck and flopped onto her bed.
Tears were running hot down her cheeks, and she could feel her heart beating in her ears. How long had her father been staying in a hotel? Had things really gotten that bad between her parents? And how couldn't her mother tell her something this vital? After they'd had that talk all those weeks ago, she thought they'd agreed to be open with each other. She'd been wrong all this time.
Eli slowly opened the door to Clare's bedroom, of which he'd never been inside. All he could focus on was her sitting on her bed on the far side of the room with her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. He started toward her, but on his way, noticed something glistening on the hardwood floor: a delicate golden cross adorned with tiny diamonds, its chain pulled off and thrown a few feet over. He thought back to the piece of hers he'd read at The Dot the day before— The diamonds were her rock, despite their size; the cross, her armor. As long as it was close to her heart, she knew she was safe.
He sat beside Clare on her bed, carefully stringing the chain back through the pendant. Gently, he wrapped the necklace around her neck and fastened it. Without saying a word, he leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck where the chain's clasp fell, then nestled his forehead in her hair. When he felt her sob, he wrapped his arms around to the front of her stomach, taking her hands in his. Only then did he murmur, "Shh, it's going to be okay."
And for just a moment, Clare almost believed it was.