CHAPTER FOUR: ICE CREAM SUNDAES
"May I take your order?" Asks the newest addition to The Dot, a pimply teen neither Clare nor Eli had recognized, probably from West Brook.
"Um…" Clare bit her lip, then recoiled, realizing it was definitely not the best idea. Her lip was throbbing and she gently put her fingertips against the swollen flesh. Eli knew just what would make her feel better. No one could resist smiling with a mouthful of ice cream sundae.
"One large ice cream sundae, extra cherries, extra chocolate sauce."
"That'll be right out."
"I-I haven't had an ice cream sundae in years," Clare giggled.
Eli smiled, her giggle was the most beautiful sound in the world to him, "I'm sorry about earlier," he said, "and I am sorry I got you detention."
"It wasn't your fault," Clare placed a small, paper napkin on her lap, "I was just having a bad day and I didn't mean to be short or take it out on you. I am sorry I was avoiding you earlier."
Eli bit his bottom lip for a second before saying, "My parents divorced when I was twelve. It was tough on me. They both are kinda screwed up – I mean, we all are, but with them…it's worse. There's something not right in the way they think. They mean well, I know they do, but it just…sometimes they don't always make the right choices…choices that effect me and my brother, Shawn."
"Shawn?"
"He graduated high school two years ago and works down at the auto-parts store. I live with him now. Without him, I wouldn't…let's just say, I don't know where I would be. My parents…they um…they liked to take out their frustrations on me. Especially my dad…"
Eli rolled up the sleeve of his leather jacket, revealing a series of red, dotted scars along the inside of his right arm. They were welted and puffy, nasty looking things. Clare gasped, the breath snatched instantly from her lungs.
"W-what are those?" She asked, her eyes wide, unsure if she truly wanted to know. But then again, she had to. This was Eli. For some reason, she wanted to know every freckle, every scar, every store. She wanted to know every inch of him. Every word of his story – every period and question mark and pronoun and adverb. She wanted to know it all.
"Cigar burns. I was kind of an…an astray for me dad sometimes. Don't worry, Blue Eyes," Eli laughed it off, as always, "I've been through worse. Trust me. This was nothing."
"Eli…"
"Shh," he rolled his sleeve back down, "I know parents can be difficult sometimes…sometimes without even meaning to be. My parents…I love them…they just…they just aren't always able to show it back. Mom divorced dad after he started on her. Apparently it was okay when it was Shawn and me, but with her, she couldn't take it. I lived with Dad for awhile because she pretty much gave up all guardianship of me. When Shawn graduated, he got custody of me. It was a nasty court battle, but I am so glad he won."
"Wow," Clare honestly didn't know what to say. She was so glad her life wasn't so complicated…or was it? She reminded herself of last night. Was her dad slowly going to become like Eli's? Cruel and devious and cunning and heartless? What kind of father would use his son's arm to put out his cigars? Her mind flashbacked to one of her favorite eighties movies. John Bender's dad used to put out cigars on his son…for spilling paint in the garage. What had Eli done that his father thought warranted that kind of punishment?
And Eli was so unlike Bender. Eli was kind. He had beautiful, kind, loving eyes. They weren't dark or cold. They hadn't been blackened by hate, by cruelty. He still had love, even love for his parents. Clare became instantly memorized by him.
"I wanted to tell you because…because I want you to know that…you can talk to me about anything, Clare…anything at all…and I would get it."
"Thank you," Clare smiled a small, unsure smile. She couldn't meet his gaze. Thankfully, their sundae arrived quickly. It was just as Clare had imagined – four scoops of vanilla ice cream, smothered in chocolate sauces, whipped cream, and dotted with about ten maraschino cherries, "This looks…amazing!"
Eli laughed, "Good. Eat up."
Together, they dug their spoons into the creamy dessert, and devoured it slowly, loving the time they had together more than either truly wanted to admit.
Clare could feel all her worries slowly began to melt away, like the slushy bottoms of the ice cream scoops. She felt like laughing.
"Eli," she shook her head, condescendingly.
"What?"
"You've got whipped cream all over you!" She giggled.
"What? Where?"
"Right…there!" Clare dipped her finger into the whipped cream and spread it on the tip of his nose. She scooted back to examine her work and giggled even more.
"Ooh, you're asking for war, Blue Eyes!"
"Bring it, Whipped-Cream-Nose!"
Eli chuckled as he dipped his hand into the bowl, and withdrew a handful of whipped cream, which he proceeded to fling right into Clare's face.
"ELI!" She squealed.
"What?" He chuckled again, "You asked for it, babe."
Suddenly he turned bright red, as did Clare.
"Babe?"
"Uh…"
"Don't think talkin' sweet to me is gonna get you off the hook," she quickly recovered, "you're a dead-man, Goldsworthy!"
A few minutes later, the two found themselves stranded outside of The Dot, the owner glaring at them angrily through the glass door.
"I can't believe you got me kicked out of The Dot!"
"Hey," Eli said, feigning insult, "you were the one who started it, Blue Eyes. I merely acted out of self-defense. You couldn't honestly expect me to sit by and let you so…viciously attack me!"
"Viciously? I didn't throw whipped cream in your face."
"Yes you did."
"After you threw it first."
"Maturity isn't your strong suit, is it, Saint Clare?" Eli grinned that crooked grin of his that made Clare's skin prickle with tiny, cursed goose bumps.
She was about to say something in return, when her cell phone began to ring. She quickly retrieved it from her backpack and glanced at the screen.
"It's my dad," the color from her face drained and the blood within Eli's veins began to bubble, "I-I better answer it." She flipped it open and answered with a cracked, "Hello? Sorry Dad, I had to stay after to help Mrs. Cunningham with the…the history project. She needed my help with putting the…assignments…on the website. Yes, I am headed home now. I'll be there in a few minutes…yes I know…I'm sorry. I'll be there in five…Daddy please. I said I was sorry. I needed to…Daddy stop…I needed to help…"
Eli frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets as they headed back to the hearse. Once inside, Clare hung up the phone and placed it shakily onto her lap. Her face was pale and Eli could sense the butterflies in her stomach. Something was wrong.
"I am guessing I am taking you home?" Eli asked.
"Yeah," Clare nodded, her voice squeaking.
"Clare…"
"Just…just drive. Please, Eli."
"You can come stay with me…" he offered gently, but his attempt was to no avail.
"You know that isn't an option," Clare flushed, "besides, I will be fine. He is just upset that I didn't let him know where I was. He was just worried. That's all."
"Well I'm worried."
"What do you have to be worried about?" Clare let out a small, nervous laugh.
"You."
"I can fight my own battles, Eli," she shook her head, "and I'd appreciate it if you would just…just stay out of this. It doesn't concern you Eli. It's not about you."
"When you look as frightened as you do now, believe me, it concerns me."
"Eli…"
"Just…call me. Call me as soon as you can. Let me know that you're alright."
"Okay, big brother," Clare rolled her eyes.
"I mean it, Clare. You call me."
Clare felt her stomach summersault over his concern, "Alright," she nodded, "I'll call you as soon as I get the chance. I promise."
"Good," Eli nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. It wasn't until his knuckles began to throb that he realized he had been practically strangling the steering wheel.
