Welcome back my fellow people that are crazy for Clew. I'm sure it's been a terrible two weeks wondering where Drew went and what he's up to. But we're back tonight no more waiting.

Ch. 5 Running Out & Running From Problems

(DREW)

She blames me! My wife is blaming me for our son's death! How can she? I love Ezra as much as she does. I miss him as much as she does and was just as devastated when he died. How could she say that? How could she even think it?

I'm driving angry, very angry and I'm driving as far away from Clare as I can get. The longer I drive the more I calm down and the farther I get from Clare. I'm almost out of gas and I'm in the middle of nowhere so I pull into the next place I can, which happens to be a roadside bar. It looks like a dive partially filled by bikers and totally filled with people who want to drink themselves silly. In other words it looks like the perfect place for me to be right now.

I turn off the car and go in, the bar is dim and dirty, the guy tending bar looks somewhere between an old biker and a Grateful Dead reject. The bar is full but there's a few booths in the back, I pick the darkest booth and sit down. A waitress comes over, late forties, looks like she's been smoking since she was ten, pear shaped and a bit overweight yet she's still wearing a tight leather skirt and a tank top. This outfit is not sexy on her and just makes her look older, it shows off more than you want to see but she seems to think it's hot.

"What can I get you Hun?" She asks and her voice is heavily graveled she's definitely been a smoker for a long time.

"A beer," I tell her and she nods turning around, "and a scotch on the rocks," I say and she turns around to face me again, smiles at me and turns again before walking to the bar.

The waitress returns with my beer and scotch, I swallow down the scotch in one gulp and before it even hits me I start on the beer. After the first beer I order another and a different woman brings it, a younger one she looks maybe 20 or 21. She's thin and blonde and pretty much the opposite of Clare, actually she reminds me a little of Becky. I don't think she's a waitress however.

"You look very sad, and you are very hot, much too hot to be sitting alone in a dark booth," she says pushing my beer toward me. While she looks a lot like Becky, with lighter blonde hair anyway, the outfit she's wearing is something Becky would never wear. A leather halter top that barely covers her breasts and a red denim miniskirt and spiked vinyl knee high boots. "I'm Andrea by the way," she tells me as I start sipping the beer and she decides to sit down with me.

"Drew," I reply between sips of beer.

"Drew? Just Drew or is that short for something?" She inquires moving a little closer to me in the booth.

"It's short for Andrew but I never liked going by that," I reply finishing my beer and motioning to the waitress for another.

"Andrew, Andrea," she giggles and I roll my eyes, "sounds like it was meant to be."

"I'm married," I point out showing her my wedding ring.

"So," she says inching closer to me as the waitress brings me another beer and takes my empty glass, "your wife isn't here. You're sitting alone in a dark booth at a bar in the middle of nowhere."

I start sipping my beer and she puts her arm around my shoulders. I don't shrug it off; I don't move I just leave it there. I know it's wrong and I shouldn't, I'm not even attracted to Andrea. My younger self would have been, the younger me that went for girls like Alli because they dressed sexy and I had no taste. Now I find it distasteful and it usually shows too much of an ego or very little confidence in your social skills, because if your clothes are showing off most of your body you don't need to do much talking. Despite not being attracted to this woman, not knowing her and being married and in love with Clare I find something comforting in her touch. There's an odd sort of solace in it and I'm not sure what or why I feel it. Her arm is just draped lightly over my shoulders, her skin is all touching my t-shirt and not my skin but I enjoy her touch.

Then I realize it's not just her touch that I like I'm enjoying the attention. She's not telling me how sorry she is that Ezra died, she's not telling me how it's okay to cry and grieve and at the same time telling me that I need to start to move on and get back to life. She's not looking at me with a mix of pity and sorrow, she's not yelling at me, pushing me away or crying and she's not blaming me. She knows nothing about me, nothing about why I'm here, why I'm sad, nothing about my past. She's just a girl in a bar and she's hitting on me because she finds me attractive even though I look sad and angry.

"She's at home," I simply say.

"Let me guess," Andrea comments dragging a finger down my chest over my shirt, "you had a fight. She got angry about something and kicked you out rather than talking."

"Yeah pretty much," I nod finishing the beer and waving to the waitress for another.

"She doesn't understand you, she doesn't like something you did or said and you can't talk to her. Or more likely she won't talk to you so you left angry," Andrea comments moving again so that she's right next to me. She's been right so far and I simply nod while chugging down my fifth beer and setting the empty glass on the table.

"Another?" The waitress asks.

"A shot of whiskey, actually leave the bottle," I reply getting out my credit card and setting it on the table. The waitress takes my credit card and goes to the bar.

"I bet your wife hasn't paid any attention to you in months, I bet you haven't had sex in long time and she neglects you," Andrea comments tracing her finger over my jawline and I find I'm getting a little turned on.

I don't respond and I don't push her away. The part of me that knows this is wrong; the part of me that knows that this is a bad idea, the part that is telling me to run and not ruin my marriage is getting smaller by the minute. The waitress bring the bottle and I start drinking it, she returns with my credit card and slip as well and I sign it unsure of what the total is. I'm just chugging the bottle, hardly coming up for air while Andrea keeps talking and keeps touching me. She caresses my arms, the back of my neck, her nails scratch the back of my head, she pulls up my shirt and her fingertips brush my stomach then she goes under my the waistband of my sweats and boxers and a breath catches in my throat as a bulge in my pants begins to grow.

"I think we should get out of here there's a motel not far from here," Andrea whispers in my ear.

I grab the half empty bottle as Andrea tugs at me to get me to stand up. I'm vaguely aware of leaving the bar but the next thing I remember is waking up very early the next morning. My eyes open and my head is pounding so they close again. When they open again I see an unfamiliar ceiling and a small TV. I realize I'm in a motel room that I don't remember coming to, if that's not jarring enough I hear breathing and it's not mine. Looking to my side I see Andrea, her I do remember but she seems to be naked, I suddenly realize I'm also naked and now I'm filled with regret and guilt. What in the hell did I do last night? Andrea seems to be sleeping heavily and I get out of bed slowly and carefully. I grab my clothes and see hers strewn about, dressing as quickly and quietly as I can I make sure my wallet is in my pants and leave the room. I look for the bar I was at last night and see it down the street with my car still parked at it. I want to run to it but I feel like vomiting. After a slow walk I reach my car and open the door since I left my phone at home it takes a while and the use of a map to find the way home, and stopping three times to pull over and vomit and once to get gas. I reach home a little after seven and my brother's car is still here which means he and Paige spent the night. I have to be at work in about an hour and I feel like crap. I open the front door quietly and hope no one is downstairs but find Adam and Paige making breakfast.

"Where in the hell have you been?" Adam questions.

"I went driving," I reply.

"And drinking it looks like," Paige says.

"Yeah and I feel like crap but I need to get to work," I tell them.

"Drew what…" my brother begins but I cut him off.

"Not now Adam," I snap at him and run upstairs.

Clare is of course asleep in the nursery in the nest of animals. The door is still broken and I wonder if we're ever going to fix it. I let her sleep I'm sure Adam and Paige will let her know I got home just fine. I change into jeans and a nicer shirt, better shoes and clean up a little before driving to school, stopping for coffee on the way. I forgot how loud five and six year olds could be, yelling and screaming, whining and fighting. I choose quiet activities for the day, art projects, nap time, story time when I can finally see clear enough to read. I feel terrible but at least I'm not feeling the loss of Ezra all day I'm just feeling really awful and for so many reasons. I manage to make it through the day and then tell Alexia I'm not feeling well and go straight home. I go upstairs expecting to find Clare in the nursery but she isn't there, she isn't in our room or the washroom, she doesn't seem to be home at all. When I go out to the garage and find her car gone I know she's gone. I'm sure I should be happy that she actually went out of the house but I just have a bad feeling, maybe it's because of whatever I did last night but I still have a very bad feeling. I get out my phone and call my brother.

"Hey still feeling that hangover?" Adam inquires.

"Yes but that's not why I called, is Clare with you?"

"No, you mean she isn't home? Isn't that good?"

"I'm not sure, I'm kind of worried."

"Have you tried calling her?"

"Honestly I'm afraid she's going to yell at me again."

"Dude what the hell happened last night?"

"I'm not entirely sure I don't really remember anything after drinking the half bottle of whiskey."

(CLARE)

I wake up crying, sobbing hard and heavy so that it's difficult to breathe. I sit up and curl my legs to my chest trying to breathe. I don't even know why I'm crying, other than the obvious loss of my son. I only cry for a few minutes before Adam and Paige come in. They don't say anything simply sit on either side of me and put their arms around me.

"I don't even know why I was crying," I apologize wiping the tears away.

"It's okay you have plenty of reason to be sad," Paige says in a comforting voice and then is silent a minute before speaking again. "Drew made it home safe but he left for work after changing," she informs me and I nod.

"We can stay if you want," Adam offers.

"No you guys need to get to work, I feel a little lightheaded though," I tell them.

"We'll get you something to eat and some water, call us if you need anything," Adam insists.

"Or Owen, Ash, Jenna and K.C. just call one of us if you need something," Paige asserts.

"I will," I assure them.

Adam and Paige go downstairs to make me something to eat. Adam returns first with a glass of water and I drink the whole thing. Paige comes up a few minutes later with oatmeal. I thank them and hug them goodbye before they leave and then start slowly eating my oatmeal. When I'm done I stand to take the bowl downstairs and realize just how sore I am, my muscles ache probably from sleeping on the floor in a pile of stuffed animals for many days. After groaning as I walk upstairs I go into our washroom and turn the water for the bath. I start to undress and notice Drew's discarded pants on the floor with a couple pieces of paper half protruding from the pocket. I pick his pants up to toss them in the laundry basket and take the papers out first. One seems to be a receipt and the other a napkin, I almost toss them in the trash but curiosity overcomes me and I look at them. At first I'm horrified that the receipt is from a bar where Drew managed to run up a $175 dollar tab, most of which was on a bottle of whiskey. Then I find the napkin has the name Andrea written on it and a phone number. I feel my stomach drop, my heart twist, I want to throw up. Did he sleep with this woman? Hit on her? Both options are terrifying and make me feel ill.

I undress and get in the hot bath; the hot water is relaxing but not relaxing enough. At first I cry and then I'm angry, very angry. I get out of the bath after a short time and drain the water, go to the closet and get dressed. I pull on some jeans and a t-shirt and get ready to go out. I haven't done this for over a week, the last time I got fully dressed and actually did my hair and everything to leave the house was for Ezra's funeral. I slip on some flats, grab my purse and phone then leave the house. The last time I drove my car was at least two weeks ago and my radio is still playing a children's music CD we got for Ezra. I scream when I hear it and eject the CD toss it out the window. I don't really go anywhere just spend a few hours driving around, wandering aimlessly through the streets and when I need to stop for gas I decide to go home. Drew is home even though it's just after three, I park in the garage and go in, Drew is the only one here, he's sitting on the sofa but hops up when I come in.

"I tried calling you," Drew says but it looked like he was going to say something else.

"I wasn't ready to talk to you," I reply putting my purse down. "Who the hell is Andrea and how could you spend nearly two hundred dollars at a bar?!"

"Well after you accused me of letting our only child die I was a little pissed off and I went driving. I found a bar and started drinking just to forget that I watched my son die. To forget that my wife who can barely drag herself up from our dead son's room and has become like a child herself blames me for our son's death!"

"So we have a fight in this time of emotional chaos and you go out and have an affair?"

"I DIDN'T SLEEP WITH HER," Drew yells and then looks down, "I don't think."

"YOU DON'T THINK?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T THINK! DID YOU SLEEP WITH HER OR NOT?"

"I don't know Clare I drank myself into a stupor on purpose to forget everything that was happening and I woke up in a motel bed, I don't remember checking into. How do you even know about Andrea?"

"Her name and number were on a napkin with your bar receipt. I'm assuming she was at the bar or did you pick her up off the street on the way to the motel?"

"If I'd picked up a hooker she wouldn't have left me phone number," Drew argues.

"But picking up some slut in a bar is just fine?"

"I didn't hit on her she came and sat down at my booth," he tries to defend himself.

"And you didn't think get away I'm married was a good response?"

"I told her I was married," Drew replies.

"But she still gave you her number and you kept it?"

"I didn't even know she left me her number but after fighting with you and hearing you tell me it was my fault, even partially that Ezra died was a little too much to take. Knowing that the wife I have to come home to is angry at me, is blaming me, is so deep in her depression that she can hardly do anything and has become like an infant herself is really not something I look forward to. So quite honestly Clare getting attention from a younger woman in provocative clothing, but not so attractive, felt nice. It felt good to be talking to someone over the age of six and not have them look at me with pity or tell me how sorry they are. I liked the attention, I liked not feeling depressed or sorry for myself or worried out of my mind that you're just sinking farther and farther into depression. I sat there and drank while she complimented me and yes hit on me but I didn't say anything back. When I woke up early the next morning I was in a hotel room and Andrea was next to me asleep. I was totally out Clare I swear to you I don't remember what happened. I wo…"

"GET OUT!" I scream at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Get out Drew I can't even look at you right now," I assert again.

"I'm not leaving our house. I didn't do anything, I don't think. I wouldn't do anything like that if I was thinking clearly and I'm not even sure I did," Drew tries to argue. I scream a little from the back of my throat and grab my purse turning around and heading for the garage door. "Where are you going?" Drew asks running over and grabbing my arm.

I don't reply, I'm too angry to reply and I react purely on enraged instinct. I swing my purse up with all the strength I have whacking Drew in the face with it and it makes a loud sound. It stuns him and he falls back letting me go. I run out and jump back into my car driving away.

(DREW)

I hear Clare leaving but I'm too dazed to run after her. I'm feeling pretty dizzy actually. Dizzy, angry, hurt, scared, ashamed pretty much every bad emotion you can think of. I know I shouldn't be alone right now, I almost call Adam but he's also Clare's best friend and he's just going to yell a lot. I decide it's better to call someone who will yell less.

"Hey Drew what do you guys need? Should I bring dinner?" Owen asks when he answers his cell.

"No I'm not hungry can you come over? Just you not Ash," I request.

"Uh sure be there soon. Should I call Adam? Have him hang out until I can get there?"

"No I love my brother but I don't think he'll do me much good right now. I'll call K.C. he'll get here first. Could you maybe call Clare though? Pretty sure she won't answer if I call," I plead.

"Ah, what did you do?"

"I'll tell you when you get here," I respond and hang up. I'm actually feeling worse now so I lie on the sofa and send K.C. a text.

Drew: I need you to come over. Now please and alone.

K.C.: Be right over.

I'm sure K.C. will have questions when he gets here but at least he didn't ask any in text. I lie on the sofa for a minute and almost get up to get some ice when I hear the doorbell. I'm assuming it's K.C. and I know yelling will be a bad idea so I text him telling him to use the spare key and come in. A minute later the door opens.

"Holy fuck what the hell happened to you?" K.C. inquires when he sees me and goes to the kitchen for an ice pack, he wraps it in a kitchen towel and then brings it to me sticking it on the side of my face.

"Clare," I respond.

"Clare beat you up?"

"Yeah, I feel kind of ill there's a bottle of meds in the upstairs washroom with my name on them can you grab them?" I question.

"Yeah no problem and then you can tell me why Clare beat you up," K.C. says and runs upstairs. He returns a minute later with the pills and gives me a glass of water. "You really don't look well should we take you to the hospital?"

"No I'll be okay, if I start to black out or something I'll tell you to take me to the hospital," I assure him.

"Okay," K.C. says slowly, "you have had concussions before."

"Yes and I know the signs, don't worry I called Owen you'll have backup."

"Great so how did Clare beat you up and why?"

"Wait for Owen I'm not repeating this twice," I reply drinking the rest of my water and K.C. gets me another glass.

"So where exactly is Clare?"

"I have no idea; you can call her I'm pretty sure she won't pick up if I call."

K.C. gets out his phone and tries to call her, "She turned off her phone."

"Great," I sigh as a flurry of terrible thoughts about where Clare is and what she's doing run through my mind. We sit for a short time in silence before Owen knocks and K.C. lets him in.

"Fuck what the hell happened?" Owen questions when he sees me.

"Clare beat him up," K.C. replies.

"Okay what happened? I tried calling Clare but her phone was off," Owen tells us.

"Well I went back to work yesterday and Clare was upset about it. We got into a fight about that and some other things. She was yelling about the doctors letting Ezra die and then she was blaming me. Said Ezra dying was my fault before telling me to get out. I was angry and hurt I grabbed my keys and ran out. I drove for a long time and found this out of the way bar. I sat in a dark booth in the back and started drinking. This girl came and sat with me, young skinny blonde that sort of looked like Becky. She wasn't very attractive but she was paying attention to me and I liked it. I didn't spur it on, I even told her I was married but I didn't exactly kick her out of the booth. I liked the attention, after everything it felt good, it was nice not to think about Ezra, not to have her look at me like I'm somehow broken, not look at me like I'm something to be pitied. I got really drunk and the next thing I know I'm waking up in a motel bed next to the girl."

"Oh for fuck sake Drew tell me you didn't," Owen says.

"I don't know, I don't remember anything at all. I woke up undressed in the bed but I don't remember doing anything. I would never intentionally cheat on Clare I love her more than anything."

"Does she know that?" K.C. asks.

"Yeah of course she does," I reply.

"Are you sure because you two have been through a lot in the last couple of weeks. Even before that Ezra was sick and when he was born your priorities changed from each other to him. When Clare was pregnant it was all about her and then it became all about Ezra. You two have been in a depression, lost in your sorrow and your own thoughts and then you might have cheated no wonder she hit you."

"I know I screwed up whether I slept with the girl or not but I still don't think I did. I tried explaining that to Clare but she turned to run out. She'd just come home, I grabbed her arm and tried to stop her to talk to me and she hit me with her purse really hard."

"You're lucky she didn't do anything else," Owen says.

"I'm not denying I deserved it but now she's run out and she's turned off her phone. She could be out there doing anything with anyone."

Hey at least you don't have to wait 8 weeks for the next update to this one. The update next Tuesday will likely pick up from around here in Clare's pov.