As soon as she stepped down from the stage, everyone from her table was standing, waiting for her and ready to go. "Had enough yet?" Allison quipped.
Jesus, had she had enough. But not of her detention friends. She had a lifetime of catching up to do with them, so she was relieved when Brian suggested they check out their old high school rather than part ways.
John turned and smiled at her when they walked over the spot she'd been parked the day she busted him out of detention, then stopped near the bottom of the steps, mere feet from where they first kissed. "Brings back memories, huh?" he commented.
Claire snorted lightly and together they watched their old detention buddies wander the steps of the high school. Allison and Andy held hands at the top of the stairs, their necks craning as they took in the giant concrete awning that spanned out over the stairs. Floodlights lit up the staircase now, but somehow still wasn't enough to penetrate far enough under the awning to the recessed doors. Every once in a while Andy pointed at something and Allison would smile at him before responding. Brian and Sarah were still in the parking lot, his arm sweeping grandly as they took in the building.
"Do you ever come here?" she asked.
He laughed a quick, humorless laugh. "No." He turned to her then, was standing so close she could have reached out and touched him. "My dad died when I was 22," he said unexpectedly. He grimaced at his words, as though surprised he brought it up, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Liver failure."
"I'm sorry," Claire automatically said.
"Don't be. He brought little good into this world." He stared across the parking lot in the direction of his old dilapidated home, as though he could see it through the trees. Maybe he could. Maybe that house was always in his vision. "People told me for years after that I was supposed to feel something, that at the very least I should remember the few good moments and respect his memory."
"You don't agree?"
"You met him. Sort of. That was one of his good days."
She did reach out to him then, resting a reassuring hand on his forearm. It felt a very risky thing to do, touching him without his permission, and she almost removed it when his muscles bunched under her hand, quickly as though taken by surprise. But then he relaxed and smiled at her, no smoldering, no heat, just a smile of gratitude. "You were the only person from school who ever saw my dad. Literally. I was very careful to keep him away from my life outside the house. That's why I wanted to tell you, I guess." He took one hand out of his pocket and patted hers, letting his fingertips linger before pulling away again.
"You look fabulous, by the way," he said without looking at her. As though he were commenting on the sturdiness of the school's cement steps. "I guess I was wrong."
Claire fought back the blush she could feel spreading across her neck. "Wrong?"
"I thought you'd have a kid and get fat, remember?"
She felt slow to react to this statement, the memory of him saying it within minutes of their first meeting playing over and over in her head, a continuous loop. Slowly, she shook her head, taking a cue from him and not looking his way. "Nope, didn't get fat."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw John nod in agreement. The primal feeling of being close to him had dissipated some, floating around the pit of her stomach rather than spreading everywhere, as it'd been prone to do twenty years ago. She felt she could control it now, that she could remain cool and logical and maybe even use her brain…
…even when he turned towards her with one eyebrow cocked, his bottomless brown eyes burning with amusement. Those eyes. It wasn't fair, why didn't his eyes get older?
But she let her smile grow in response as she lifted a single finger from his arm and poked him in the stomach. "Although I just had the one kid. I guess having three kids is what does most people in."
John's single eyebrow shot up his forehead and she heard Brian snort in laughter from behind her. The noise startled her into dropping her hand from John's arm. "Score one for Claire! See, John? I told you to lose ten pounds before the reunion."
John shook his head in mock defeat and rubbed the small protuberance of his belly. "Wow. Claire. You've grown witty. Not sure how to handle that."
For some reason this pleased her more than him saying she looked fabulous, so she turned away to hide the blush, instead watching Andy and Allison walk down the stairs towards them, hand in hand. They settled onto a stair and everyone followed suit except Claire. She blinked when she realized they were sitting in the same order as they had been for the picture on the stairs twenty years ago, Sarah neatly filling in Sheila's place, Claire's ready to be filled.
"I have something to tell you all," she heard herself saying. She blinked, wondering what the hell she was going to say. Brian and John both stared at her, John with that damn single eyebrow raised, and Brian with his mouth slightly open, just like he used to do when he was a scrawny, dorky teenager. She almost smiled at how young they suddenly looked.
"What is it?" Allison asked as she straightened her skirt and leaned into her husband's legs. He rested a hand on her shoulder.
"It's just..." Claire blew a stray hair from her face and briefly closed her eyes in an effort to steel her nerves. "I missed you guys. I didn't realize it before, but I did."
"We missed you too," Andy replied, the others nodding in agreement.
"I should have been here," Claire continued. "I've never been happy in California, never made friends that didn't feel...superficial. And I've never been as honest with anyone as I was with the five of you. It seems obvious now that I'm looking back on it, but I've never had real friends outside of you. And I barely spent time with most of you, barely got to know what it really meant to be a good friend before I ran off to California."
"That sounds so sad, "Allison interjected, one hand pressed into her heart. "But we'll always be your friends Claire, no matter how much time passes in between visits."
"Absolutely," Brian insisted. "If you were gone another two decades we'd still be able to pick up as though you never left. Detention linked us. Forever. "
Claire nodded but felt a surge of sadness at how much she believed it. Not because she didn't want it to be true, but because the truth felt heavy. She'd let so much time pass, friendless and alone, surrounded by people she let feed her shallowness.
No more. She couldn't be that person anymore.
She turned to John. "I only left because I was running away from you."
He stilled but didn't look surprised, so she dug up the nerve to push out more truths. "I had planned on going to Elmhurst College and living at home, remember? You and I talked about it sometimes, about how great it would be if you got an apartment near campus and we didn't have to sneak around anymore."
She paused and looked at him expectantly, ignoring the squeal from Allison at hearing Claire's admission. "I remember," he said, almost expressionless before shaking his head as though clearing it. "Claire, it's okay, I told you -."
"It's not okay," she interrupted, hysteria lacing her voice. "It's very much not okay, and you telling me you also screwed up that night doesn't make my mistake any more acceptable. I didn't even want to leave my house after prom, more or less go to school, because I was so afraid of running into you. Even after you never showed up at school again, I worried about seeing you around town." She gulped in a deep breath, tried to reign in the pouring emotions. No luck. "I couldn't handle it, I panicked every time I thought about seeing you even though I desperately wanted to see you. So a week after graduation I left for California, told my parents I'd only be gone for the summer and would come back for school."
She waved a hand towards her small group of friends. "And the rest of you became such close friends that summer. Every time Allison or Brian called me and told me how much time you were all spending together that summer, I freaked out and wondered if John was with you or if you were all talking about how horrible I was."
"Claire, we wouldn't have -." Brian started.
"So I never came back," Claire interrupted again. She needed to spit out everything before the pity in their eyes became too much. She needed to tell them. "September rolled around and I just didn't get on the plane. Then again at Christmas, then the following summer. My parents stopped sending me plane tickets after that." Tears began to bite at the corner of her eyes, and she gazed up, willing them away. "My parents divorced that fall and sold our house, and my brother moved to New York. I convinced myself there was no reason to come home anymore."
She was suddenly unhappy with the deep silence surrounding her, wished someone would say something, interrupt her before she confessed too much. But her words spilled out around her unhappiness, determined to be heard. "I should have come home to be with my real friends. I compared every friend I ever made to the five of you and they fell short. Always."
She sucked in a deep breath and looked away from the sky, right at John, his eyes digging into her in that way that flayed her alive. "But most of all, I should have come home for you. No one has ever made me feel the way you did. I've spent the past twenty years looking for what I had with you and haven't found it. So I've basically spent the past twenty years hating myself for what I did to you, not only because it makes me ashamed, but also because as soon as I'd done it, I knew I'd thrown away the person I was meant to be with."
She startled and waved a hand in front of herself, realization fueling the panic into flames again. "Not that I expect you to say you felt the same, I know you found someone else to love and that what we had in high school can't even compare to what you had with your wife, it's just my husband was such a douche bag and I never…I just didn't…" She hissed in frustration and clamped her eyes shut, her words feeling hallow. Like she was trying to explain the vastness of the ocean. She even felt like she was drowning.
But then she wasn't. Her eyes flew open to find him standing in front of her, his hands folding around hers. He didn't even say anything, just ran his fingers back and forth across her wrist, gently, as though he knew she just needed a moment of calm to find the right words, knew that a simple touch could bring her back.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "It's alright. Claire, it's always been alright."
"You were the love of my life." Her words came naturally now. "And I am so sorry I didn't have the strength to face it then."
His fingers paused at her words, like they'd been shocked into stillness. But then his eyes crinkled into a smile and he drew in her hand to kiss her fingertips. It was a quick brush of the lips that felt more encouraging than romantic, but her breath caught anyway.
He sat back on the stair, pulling her with so she'd sit on the step above his, their hands still clasped together and his body between her and the others, as if trying to achieve the illusion of privacy. It didn't matter. She couldn't stop staring into his eyes, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
He seemed to think for a minute, weighing his words. "I'd be lying if I said I never compared anyone to you." He gave a small shrug and looked down at their entwined hands. "In fact, I fell in love with my wife because she was the first woman I'd ever dated who I didn't compare to you. After a decade of fighting the urge to catch a plane to California and track you down, it was…freeing." He glanced up again, apologetic.
But Claire was only focused on one thing. "You thought about finding me?" He nodded and she pulled a hand from his to press it against her chest, breathless at what his admission meant. "All this time, I thought you hated me."
He gave a small smile. "I only hated you the first few months," he said with air quotes around 'hated you'. "The truth is, I saw it coming. I knew you were afraid and conflicted. You were basically leading two lives, and instead of helping you through it, I forced you into a choice you weren't ready to make."
"I wasn't afraid of -."
"You were," he insisted. "Every minute we were together. I could see it in you, that constant battle you had going on inside your head. And I resented it. I wanted you to rise above it even though I was damn well aware of how much you had to lose. It wasn't until summer that I realized how lucky I'd been that you gave our relationship a chance in spite of all the reasons your popularity gave you not to." He shrugged and shook his head. "But by then you were gone and I had an angry, pregnant girlfriend."
Claire frowned at him. "Don't try to make excuses for me."
"I'm not," he declared with a short swipe of his hand. "Really. I understand your part in what happened, and I understand why you feel guilty about it. But it's important to me that you see my part, that you know I wasn't totally a victim. I knew you were scared about us, but I pushed you for more anyway, then got mad when you caved. I could have easily waited until after graduation. I should have."
He shifted to look more easily into her eyes. "Claire, I would have waited years for you."
Her hand flew to her chest again, as though that simple pressure would be enough to keep her heart from leaping out of her chest. No one had ever said anything so romantic to her, had ever made her feel so desired. Not even her ex-husband. Especially him, actually. "You were the most amazing person I'd ever met," he continued, "and didn't know what to do with that."
There was a long moment of silence, then: "Oh my God," Allison's voice burst toward them. "I can't stand it anymore. What happened between you two?"
"Yeah, what happened?" Andy chimed. His arms were wrapped around Allison's waist, as though he were physically restraining her from leaping into the conversation, but his attention was all on Claire and John.
John blinked slowly, as if the voices had brought him out of a trance.
"I screwed him over," Claire admitted, quickly, like pulling off a band-aide. "We'd been dating for over a month by the time prom came around, and we agreed to go together. But then I chickened out, and I went with Mike instead."
"You dumped John for Mike?" Allison asked.
Claire shook her head. "No. I didn't dump him at all. I just went to prom with Mike without breaking up with John or telling him I wouldn't go with him. I didn't even tell him not to come pick me up."
Both Allison and Sarah made indignant sounds, but only Allison felt the right to comment. "Claire, that's a horrible thing to do."
"I know," she agreed at the same time John said "Don't be so hard on her."
They caught each other's gaze again, and he smiled and squeezed her hands, both safely back in his. "We both screwed up. We were young, it happens. I think it's best if we both just acknowledge neither of us were good at honestly communicating. Maybe we met too soon, before either of us were ready."
Claire grimaced in agreement, then said the first thing that popped into her mind. "I can be ready now."
The seconds that passed in silence felt like days, but that was how long it took for her to realize what she'd said and slap a hand over her mouth.