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Chapter 7
The day before Christmas Day Clara went out of her way to clean the entire apartment and she didn't stop before she had gotten rid of the last dusty corner. It wasn't her first Christmas in this place but the first one she would truly be celebrating. The radio was playing some festive swing song as she started placing the ornaments around the tree, the smell of it already filling up the room. Clara breathed it in deeply. Ever since the death of her mother Christmas had ceased to be something magical but this year Clara felt some of the magic returning, this year she'd be spending it with someone who actually seemed to care about her.
She put on her coat and scarf and made her way towards the grocery store. Since John had been so nice to her, arranging to have her motorcycle repaired for free, making her soup, getting her a Christmas tree and all the other small gestures she had decided that she would make him the best Christmas dinner he had ever eaten. Clara felt as if it was the least she could do to repay him and she was a good cook. It seemed like a safe bet to do him a favour.
When she entered the store she realized that of course all the big turkeys were already gone but Clara didn't mind too much. They were only two people and a small one would still do. Going through her shopping list she placed everything she thought she needed in her cart. For dessert Clara had planned on baking shortbread cookies, the only Scottish recipe she could find that she thought sounded edible. When she had done her research Clara had stumbled across something called Haggis and she had made a mental note to ask John whether people actually ate that where he was from.
After double checking her list with the contents of her shopping cart Clara headed towards the checkout and to her dismay she realized that Russell Petterson was sitting behind it. Clara loathed that man but she gritted her teeth and headed towards him. Without greeting her Petterson started typing the prices into the register.
"That's an awful lot of food for such a tiny woman," the old man said with a sneer, "Comfort eating?"
Clara cleared her throat and forced a smile. "I'm not eating alone," she replied coldly.
Petterson raised an eyebrow. "Hear, hear. Did someone take pity on you?"
Russell Petterson had been one of the first to cry out when she had started going on with Daniel and he seemed to hold an unreasonable grudge against black people in general and everyone who had ever so much as spoken to someone of a different skin colour. Clara hated him and people like him with all her heart.
She was about to say something in return when the old man started laughing.
"It's a man, isn't it? Does he know you're into nigger? Does he know who's been down there before?" Petterson seemed greatly amused by his own insults as he was beginning to choke on his own laughter and soon started coughing.
"You know what," Clara said angrily, dropping the item she had been about to hand him back into the cart. People like Petterson and their comments made her furious, "Keep your food!"
Clara looked around the store and spotted the old Mrs Danes in the vegetable section.
"Mrs Danes," Clara called out for her, "I wouldn't buy those potatoes if I were you. Some of mine had maggots in them."
Pleased with herself Clara noticed that the old woman put the potatoes back but soon her view was blocked by a very angry looking Russell Petterson.
"Are you crazy?! Will you stop badmouthing our products in front of the customers?!" he demanded angrily, his face growing red with fury.
"Why?" Clara shrugged, swallowing her anger, "You don't seem to have a problem badmouthing people."
She turned to leave when suddenly she got another idea. She stopped pushing the shopping cart and turned back towards Petterson. "You know what? I don't really feel like putting all those things back. You do that."
Clara stormed out of the store before Petterson could catch his breath. This was exactly why she hated the town and almost everyone who lived in it. They were racist, they were judgement and above all they never forgot. She was fighting back tears as she made her way towards the bus stop to do her Christmas shopping in the next town. She wasn't crying because she was still sad, no, she had buried her sadness along with her hopes and dreams – she was crying because she was angry and because she was still blaming the people of this town for everything that had happened.
"Clara?!"
A familiar voice called her and Clara turned around to see John standing in front of the garage, holding a steaming cup. He was obviously on his break. Quickly she wiped the tears from her face.
"Clara, are you okay?" he asked her.
She took a deep breath and headed towards him, noticing that he already sat down his coffee mug on the ground so she wouldn't have to ask him to do it before she threw her arms around him in a tight hug. Without hesitation he closed his arms around her.
"Did something happen?" John asked again, his voice full of concern.
"Only the usual," Clara muttered angrily against the fabric of his jacket, "I hate this town. I hate this town and everyone in it."
She felt his hand softly caress the back of her head and it felt so nice to actually have someone who had her back, someone who didn't judge her.
"Not everyone, I hope?"
"Everyone except you," Clara corrected herself and after a pause explained to him what had happened in the grocery store.
John listened carefully and then released her from the embrace to look at her. He smiled and gently lifted her chin with his thumb an index finger.
"Don't let them get to you, Clara," he said and suddenly started to laugh, "And nice move telling the old woman about maggots. That only shows that you are a strong woman and don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. What they think about you doesn't matter."
His laugh was somehow contagious and soon Clara found herself laughing as well. "I can't ever shop there again. At least not when Petterson is behind the register."
John nodded in approval. "Not in the next few weeks."
Clara sighed. "I have to go now. Have to do my shopping in the next town. Man, I should have just swallowed it."
"No," John said strictly, "You did the right thing. Petterson was rude and the next time I see him I'll punch him," he hesitated, "You just have to tell me what he looks like so I don't accidentally hit the wrong guy. And you should just let me do the shopping. I'll punch him after I've paid."
Clara laughed. "There will be no punching and I said I don't want you to lift a single finger for this Christmas dinner. Besides, the turkeys here looked really small. I'll just take the bus."
"Alright. And I should probably go back inside and do some actual work," John said, "See you tomorrow?"
Clara nodded and waved him goodbye as she continued her way to the bus stop.
