Same disclaimer, same song.
Oh and she's always dressed in white
She's like an angel, man
She burns my eyes
Oh and she turns
She pulls a smile
We drive her round
And she drives us wild
Oh and she moves like a little girl
I become a child, man
She moves my world
And she gets splashed in rain
And turns away
and leaves me standing
When Desmond moved into his house, he asked Claire and Charlie for help. They happily provided it, as well as four extra pairs of hands—Jin, Sun, Jack, and Juliet. He didn't really have enough furniture in his little apartment to require all of that help, so he added another mission to the day—shopping for new furniture to fill his little home.
The group went to the mall for this purpose. Desmond suddenly realized two things as he walked through the crowded shopping center with his friends. First of all, he was in the middle of a happy, laughing group; that was a situation he hadn't really expected to find himself in any time soon. Secondly, everyone in the group except for him was one half of a couple. He felt a little awkward as he realized this. He felt like the seventh wheel, if there was such a thing.
This feeling was soon destroyed by the others, who demanded Desmond's opinion on every piece of furniture they passed and freely offered their own. Soon he had acquired enough furniture to rid his house of its just-moved-in look. His favorite pieces included a red velvet sofa and heavy, antique coffee table. The store offered same-day delivery, so they decided to go out to eat, then go home to wait for the furniture van.
They settled on Mexican food, something with which none of them but Jack had extensive experience. He advised them on what to order, selecting a huge plate of enchiladas, tacos, and tamales for himself.
"I can't believe just being able to order food like this," Juliet sighed, laying her head against Jack's broad shoulder. Jack chuckled and reached up to run his hand across her smooth cheek.
"This food is very… ah…" Jin was much better at English, but he still ran across a few concepts he didn't know how to express. He spoke a word in Korean, and Sun smiled.
"He says it's spicy," she translated. Sun only had a couple of months left in her pregnancy, and she sat far back from the table to accommodate her growing belly. She didn't seem to be having nausea issues anymore—she was packing away nearly as much food as Jack, although she ate in daintier bites.
Charlie was eating chips and telling loud stories about his rock star past and the new tour he was planning. His words suddenly sunk into Desmond's brain.
"A tour?" he said out loud. "Will you be going too, Claire?"
She laughed, shaking her head. "No, I would have a few years ago, but I don't want to make Aaron travel that much. It's hard enough taking care of him in the house."
"Ah, I see," Desmond said, feeling stupid for butting in to ask that question. He had just felt a peculiar dropping feeling in his stomach at the thought of being in L.A. without Claire. He doubted that nearly as many of these friendly gatherings would take place without her here.
A few days later, Desmond woke up in his new bed, inside his fully furnished new house. He was enjoying his new home, except for the occasional feeling he got that he was rattling around in it. He liked being there, but he couldn't help but wish that he wasn't alone. He let himself imagine a scenario where Penny had lived, and had found him. A scenario where she woke up with him in his new bed, and made his little house a home.
He had been pushing back thoughts of Penny lately, hoping that if he lived as if she had never been, he could begin to believe it. He knew that it didn't work that way, but he couldn't help but try. Now, after the first bittersweet ache of thinking of her, he realized that it didn't tear him apart the way it used to. He used to feel physically weak with grief, still cold with the shock of the revelation. Now, he just felt sad. Just a little chilled, and sad.
If he examined his fantasy realistically, he knew that if Penny were with him, they wouldn't be living in his house. It wasn't really to her taste. She would have liked something bigger and newer, or else an antique mansion. She liked pastels and florals, not jewel tones. She would have never liked L.A. (Of course, he wasn't sure if he actually liked it or not. He felt rather like he was living in a bubble that just happened to be located in L.A.)
A few minutes after he woke, he was surprised by the sound of the doorbell ringing. He went to answer it, then smiled as he opened the door to reveal Claire.
"Claire, what are—"
"Surprise!" she cut him off. "I have a housewarming gift for you." She stepped to the side to reveal an object that had been hidden behind her—a smaller version of her own potted orange tree.
"I knew you liked my tree and I thought you might like having one of your own. I mean, the fruit is delicious, and it would look good in your house… and I know it sounds funny, but I thought it might be nice to have something to take care of… even if it's just a tree."
"Thank you, it's wonderful." His smile had remained and grown during her speech. "I'll bring it in. Where do you think I should put it?"
It turned out that she already had one corner in the living room in mind, and they quickly settled the tree there. It looked right at home.
"This is the nicest corner. There's this ray of sunlight right on it. I would do yoga sitting right here if this was my room." Claire sat next to the tree, and Desmond laughed.
"Go ahead if you want to. My corner is your corner."
She assumed the lotus position and closed her eyes. "Hey, do you know why yoga people say 'om'?"
No idea, why?"
"They think that it's the sound of everything in the universe. Isn't it interesting to think of the universe making just one sound?" She closed her eyes as though sobering herself, then burst out laughing. "I'm not sure that I can do it. I think it's a Hindu thing, anyway, and I'm not Hindu." She closed her eyes again. "Ommmmmm…"
Desmond felt like laughing at her pose and sound, but as he looked at her in the clear stream of sunlight, his feelings suddenly changed. All the light was caught in her pale golden hair, reflecting across her white tank top and tanned skin. Her face was calm, with just a hint, a mere promise, of a smile. As she hummed, he could believe that the universe made one sound, and that it was right that she made it—for in this empty time, in this new place, she was his whole world. He came to the sudden realization that he still had a world, a world among the living, even if he had given his heart to someone now dead.
Before he knew what he was doing, he knelt before her, took her outstretched hands in his, and kissed her pink lips. She jumped, startled, but didn't pull back from him. She just sat still, accepting, and then for a moment—or did he imagine it?—brushed her own lips softly against his. Then she leapt back.
"Desmond!" she cried.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." This is what he said, and he meant it, but he couldn't keep himself from leaning forward and pressing one more kiss against the corner of her mouth.
"Desmond, please, don't." She wrenched her hands out of his and cupped his face in her hands, sliding them back to tangle in his still shaggy hair. "If you do that I can't come see you anymore. It wouldn't be right, I mean, with Charlie." She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "I don't want to be without you. Please, don't do it again. And don't tell Charlie. I'm not mad, just please, don't."
"I won't. I'm sorry. Don't worry. It was just…"
"An impulse?"
"Yeah. Yeah."
"Well, anyone can have those, right?" She laughed, a nervous, unhappy laugh. "Don't worry. I should go."
"Claire…"
"I'm not mad. I'll come back. Just forget this, OK?"
"OK." He wondered how he ever could.
"I don't know if I can forget," she sighed, and his heart leapt. "We can pretend we forgot." She slid out of his room, leaving it empty, but still fuller than when she had arrived. That's how it always was, with Claire.
