Same disclaimer. Lyrics are from DR's "I Remember."
I remember it well
The first time that I saw
Your head around the door
'Cause mine stopped working
I remember it well
There was wet in your hair
I was stood in the stairs
And time stopped moving
I want you here tonight
I want you here
After the beach excursion, Desmond found himself doing something strange—wishing he could avoid Claire. He had never been in the habit of calling her much, since she had been the one who checked up on him ever since his first grief-stricken days in L.A. He kept up the pattern of not phoning, and every time he saw her familiar number on the Caller ID, he began a terrible internal struggle. He didn't want to see her—it was beginning to hurt more than it helped. Claire was still his friend, but she was also confusion, entanglement, and temptation. He would tell himself not to answer the phone, but then he would begin imagining why she was calling. Maybe Aaron was sick. Maybe a burglar was in her house. Maybe she was dumping Charlie. He would grab the phone at the last minute, full of even more anticipation than usual, and Claire would be speaking in her usual cheerful voice and asking him how he was. She would report on Aaron's latest accomplishments and how long it was until Charlie came home, and he would sag against his kitchen table as he listened, with nothing interesting to say, caught by the trap of caring about Claire once again.
If he was unsuccessful at avoiding her phone calls, he did even worse at avoiding thoughts of her. Somehow almost everything he did had an association with her; when something didn't, he wondered what she would think about it, hypothetically. He tended the orange tree she gave him and went jogging in the streets of the city that only bore a resemblance to home because she had taken care of him there. He dreamed of Penny, then dreamed of Claire comforting him when he woke up from dreams of Penny. She was the reason he was worried and guilty, but since Penny was gone, she had been the only one who made him feel safe. He was lost.
His haze of avoiding-but-not-really-avoiding Claire was brought to an end by Jin and Sun's anniversary party. He had promised to drive her, since it was still ten days until Charlie came home. (Thanks to his inability to screen his calls, he was always hearing about how long it was until Charlie came home. He wondered if Claire really missed him that much, or if she was overcompensating. Maybe she was reminding him of how unavailable she was. He didn't need a reminder.)
He had told Claire that the party was at seven, so he arrived at her house a little more than half an hour before then. When he rang the doorbell, she answered quickly, but he was shocked to see that she was wearing a raggedy sweater and sweatpants, with her hair down and still slightly damp from a shower. The party was potluck and BYOB, in deference to Jin and Sun's limited finances, but they had decided to make it a formal dress party for fun. Desmond knew for a fact that Claire was wearing a black dress and a new pair of shoes, so her dressed-down look was rather incomprehensible.
"Desmond! I thought you were coming at seven!" she squealed.
"No, the party starts at seven. It takes almost half an hour to get there, and I thought that maybe you would want to get there early to help Sun with things."
"Desmond, nobody gets to a party right on time! It's very uncool. The babysitter's not even here yet. And I'm not dressed. And my cake is still in the oven." Claire grabbed two handfuls of her hair and tugged at them in a universal sign of frustrated insanity. "Come in, sit down. Enjoy the show."
Desmond hadn't been looking forward to facing her, but now he couldn't help but begin to be amused. "The show?"
"The show of me running around like a crazy woman. Go sit on the couch or something."
"Why are you wearing a sweater? It's warm outside."
"I'm always cold inside." She ran off, and he wondered just how long it would take her to get ready.
Five minutes later, Claire jogged by holding bottles of milk for Aaron, which she stuck in the refrigerator. A moment later, she came down the stairs holding Aaron himself, cooing to him as she walked. "Mind taking him for a bit? I need to get dressed."
"Sure." Desmond received the baby into his arms, surprised to find that he had missed Aaron during his time avoiding Claire. He had gained a modest repertoire of baby-minding skills from his time with Claire and Charlie, and he managed to keep Aaron from fussing, spitting up, or being injured in any way while Claire got dressed. He even managed to make him giggle a little.
In the midst of this entertainment, a loud beeping sound echoed across the bottom floor of the house. Desmond looked around and realized that it came from the kitchen. "Claire! A timer is going off down here!"
"Oh no! The cake!" This cry was followed by loud bumping sounds as Claire ran down the stairs, then tripped at the bottom and bumped into a table. "Damn!"
Desmond chuckled, turning to make sure that she was OK. He was stunned to see that she seemed to be wearing an extremely skimpy black dress. Then he realized that it was, in fact, a black nylon slip. It would have been provocative in another situation, but in Claire's current state of haste and dishevelment, it was really just amusing.
"Hey, stop staring. I'm almost ready, OK?" She put on a pair of oven mitts, making her ensemble even more unusual. As she leaned in to retrieve the cake, Desmond noticed a bright pink bra strap next to the plain black fabric. That was pretty alluring even WITH the oven mitts. He tried to distract himself with Aaron, but he kept finding his eyes drifting back to Claire. The last time they did, she caught his gaze and smiled.
"Thanks for driving me. I'm sorry we weren't on the same page about the whole time thing." She cast her eyes down, in a look that was either shy or flirtatious.
"Ehm, yeah, no problem." He shook his head a little too emphatically, and watched a glint of amusement appear in Claire's eyes.
"Well, I guess I'll go get dressed, then." She cleared her throat awkwardly and fled back up the stairs, and Desmond hid his eyes against Aaron's cotton-covered shoulder, wondering if he was just imagining the implications of her knowing gaze.
When Claire appeared again, she was dressed in a black cocktail dress, with her hair pulled back loosely, just a few curls framing her sweet face. Desmond let out a low whistle of stunned approval. "You look lovely."
Claire beamed. "Thank you. You look nice, too. I forgot to tell you when you came in."
Then the doorbell rang, heralding the arrival of the babysitter. She was an average, decent-looking young woman, but as soon as the babysitter took Aaron into the next room, Claire grabbed Desmond's sleeve and whispered "Do you think she seems trustworthy? Not like a serial killer? Not like a crazy woman who would kidnap Aaron?"
Desmond laughed. "She seemed fine to me. Does she have good references and everything?"
"Yes, the best. I just can't help but worry. I've never left him without someone I know before. Everyone I know is going to this party!" She sighed, and Desmond felt her breath rush into his ear, like a spirit into someone possessed.
After giving the babysitter a detailed list of instructions, a schedule, and three phone numbers, Claire gathered up the cake she had baked and handed Desmond her present for Jin and Sun—a window box garden of orchids. It was already past seven, but Desmond refrained from commenting.
On the way there, Desmond hummed along to his Beatles CD, tapping his foot against the floor of the car, as Claire finished lining her eyes and adorned her mouth with juicy pink lipstick that made his mouth water.
When they reached Jin and Sun's apartment building, they could hear the party noise from the parking lot, even though the apartment was on the third floor. They saw the lighted windows and heard piano music, and Claire gave Desmond a smile of anticipation. For some reason her gleeful expression made her look young, and Desmond suddenly asked something he had been wondering.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-four this fall. Why?"
"Just wondering." Twenty-four. He thought of himself at twenty-four. He hadn't even met Penny then. It seemed like ages ago. It was almost thirteen years ago, to be exact. He suddenly felt like an old geezer.
The door swung open as soon as they rung the doorbell; to Desmond's surprise, neither Sun, nor Jin answered. It was Sayid.
"Sayid!" Claire cried, stepping forward as though to hug him, then realizing that she still had a cake in her hands. "How are you? What are you doing here?"
Sayid's white teeth stood out brightly against his dark skin as he smiled. "I heard about the party and decided to come. I've been… moving around a bit until now." He gave Claire a one-armed hug around the cake, then stuck his hand out to Desmond, who took it happily, receiving a friendly thump on the shoulder along with the handshake. Desmond and Sayid had been wary of each other when they first met on the island; Sayid had reminded Desmond of his failed military days, and Sayid had thought that Desmond was a lazy drunk when he first landed on the beach. They had slowly gained respect for each other, and Desmond had even been sad when Sayid wasn't among the group who stayed in L.A.
Sun appeared behind Sayid, smiling over his shoulder. "Come in!" They obeyed, each greeting Sun with a hug, then following her instructions to put the cake on one table and the gift on another. Jin greeted them when they reached the food table; he was at another table next to it that was covered with bottles. He seemed to have become bartender as well as host. Jack and Juliet were there, as were a few people that Desmond didn't know.
After Sun introduced everyone around, Sayid reappeared next to them. "There is someone I would like you two to meet," Sayid said, his eyes shining in a way that no one had seen since Shannon had died. Really, no one had seen Sayid after they left the island. He had disappeared on a mysterious quest—apparently, he had found what he had been seeking.
He introduced them to Nadia—"an old friend", he said, but a half-hidden smile spread across his face every time he looked at her. Nadia shook hands firmly and looked Desmond straight in the eye as they were introduced, but a smile even less hidden than Sayid's graced her tanned, mysterious face. Desmond saw Claire grin as she assessed the situation, as though she had absorbed a little bit of the warmth of someone else's love and happiness. He had been doing that with her; he had thought that it was because he had been left alone. He wondered if everyone needed a little hit of someone else's joy sometimes, or if something was missing in Claire's life that he didn't know about. The second thought made him worry and gave him a tiny bit of jealous satisfaction at the same time.
He immediately reprimanded his mind for the thought. What did he expect, that he would be better for Claire than Charlie? That he would make her happy in some way that no one else could? He didn't even know if he could handle being in a relationship, after Penny. He had spent so long promising her everything.
These thoughts cast a dark mood over the party for him, making it seem loud instead of fun, too hot instead of cozy. He drank a beer in record time, then reminded himself that all of his guzzling on the island hadn't helped him much; besides, he had to drive Claire home. That was what really made him ask Jin for a glass of water next.
Claire flitted around, making small talk in that way she had. She had used it on him before—disarmingly honest, never pressing, always kind. He wondered if it was a method, or just her. He wondered when his mind had divided itself so evenly between cynicism and blind adoration.
Claire was drinking some sort of pink concoction that she seemed to enjoy a lot, and Desmond got a bit worried when he saw her almost trip on a chair leg on the way to the bathroom.
The party hit its peak when the bartender stepped out from behind the bar to offer a toast to his wife—in English, which clearly surprised Sun as much as anyone else.
"To Sun." Jin held his flute of champagne high. "The woman I love… mother of my child… my life."
The words might have sounded simple or cliché in another context, but Sun was clearly so touched by the effort he had taken to learn them that she flew across the room to put her arms around him, her beaming face peeking over his shoulder and making the guests laugh.
A few minutes after this sweet spectacle, Claire found Desmond and asked if they could go home soon, since she had promised the babysitter that they wouldn't be too late. He agreed, and she went off to say goodbye to everyone, leaving him with Sayid, who had been telling him about a rifle he had seen in a magazine.
"Are you and Claire together? I thought that she and Charlie…" Sayid trailed of awkwardly, and Desmond tried to smile in a way that wouldn't look sardonic.
"No, no, we're not together. She's with Charlie, but he's on tour."
"Ah, for his band? I see." Sayid took a sip of his martini, looking like a Middle Eastern James Bond in his unusually formal outfit. Desmond got an uncomfortable feeling that Sayid was peeking at him out of the corner of his eye, and it was confirmed when Claire came back to tell him that she was ready to leave. Instead of just telling him goodbye, Sayid set a hand on his back and took the opportunity to lean over and whisper, "Don't give up the fight" in his ear.
They drove home mostly in silence, but when they were just a few minutes away from the house, Claire suddenly spoke. "I feel like my mother."
"What?"
"Drunk."
"Oh." Desmond felt curious, sorry… and a tiny bit like laughing at this sudden remark.
"She used to drink, sometimes. I mean, only sometimes. She kind of went through stages."
"I see." He wanted to say something comforting, but Claire was speaking in a light, hollow voice. He wondered why she was telling him this.
"See, she was all alone. Her parents kicked her out when she got pregnant with me, and my father wasn't even from Australia. He was gone before he even knew. I mean, he sent money sometimes, and visited a little, but he had a real family, you know? Not like us. So she had to work, and worry all the time, and sometimes she would get scared." Her voice seemed to be speeding up with each sentence. "She would work like a demon and save money and worry and scrimp and then she would just get tired. She would, like, give up. She'd crash and quit going to work and sleep all day and I'd have to pull her out of bed and make her find a new position. I mean, when I was barely in junior high. And then she started drinking when she got tired." She laughed, a sudden, harsh sound. "And then she drank to calm herself down when she got scared." She put her hands over her face, and Desmond looked over anxiously. He wished she wouldn't hide from him; he could read her face well, but not this strange, cold voice. "I used to hate her. I ran away. Now I'm sorry. She had such a hard time."
He pulled into the driveway of her house and turned off the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt, but didn't move.
"Oh." A deflated little sound of recognition.
"What is it, Claire?"
"I just realized why I feel like her." Her face emerged from her hands, looking stricken, but dry. "It's not because I'm drinking. It's because I'm scared. I'm alone."
He opened his mouth to protest, but she ran over his words.
"I mean, I know I'm not really. Charlie is only gone for a little while, but still, for now, I'm alone. And really, I could be again. It's not like boyfriends never leave. How would I even take care of Aaron? Now I know how scared she must have been." She looked down at her lap. "I'm sorry for going on like this. I guess I just saw Sun and Jin, and Sayid and Nadia, and I wondered if I would ever be as happy as they are. And then I wondered why I'm not. I mean, I'm happy, but I'm not…" She trailed off, then looked up and saw his face frozen in an expression of nervous attention. "I'm so sorry, Desmond."
He shook his head. "Don't be sorry." He marveled at the layers of pain and fear that dwelt inside her, like rings in a tree or endless caverns in a cave that went down to the center of the world. "You can tell me anything."
Her cold face melted a little, into softer curves. "I want to ask you something."
"Anything."
"Did I really help you, after she died? You said I did, but I was worried that I was just annoying you, or kind of… I don't know, filling up space."
He reached over and grabbed her hand, filling a space that seemed to be forming inside of him. "You helped me more than you'll ever know." You still help me, you make me remember that it's still better to be alive, he thought.
"Good. I was thinking, I don't take care of people very much. I mean, Aaron doesn't count, really. The last person I took care of was my mum. After I ran away from her… I think I was always looking for someone to take care of me." She laughed, not as cold as before, but not the sweet peal he knew so well. "Kind of pathetic, really."
"Everyone wants that. It's not pathetic that you're brave enough to admit it."
"Stop being so nice to me. I'll get a big head, or I won't let you go home tonight, or something." She spoke lightly, but he took a brave step of his own.
"Don't let me. I want to stay." Her mouth opened in surprise, and he quickly elaborated. "I could stay in a spare bedroom or something. It's kind of late for me to drive home, and I know you don't like being alone… and I don't either, really." She was still silent. "It was just an idea," he finished lamely.
"You're not just asking because you feel sorry for me? Or think I'll slit my wrists once you leave?" He saw the quirk at the corner of her mouth that lightened the impact of the words.
He gave a startled laugh. "No. I just thought it would be nice."
"It would be nice. Let's go. I bet the babysitter is wondering where we are." She paused. "Oh man, the babysitter. She might get the wrong idea. What if I use her again when Charlie's here and she thinks we're having an affair or something? Oh man!" Her brow furrowed, and he wondered if this attention to such details sprang from guilt, imagination, or extreme virtue.
"Why don't you go pay her and I'll stay out her until she leaves?" Desmond felt shady as soon as he spoke the words. They were sneaking around like secret lovers—all of the trouble, none of the benefits. But really, all of this was a benefit, a blessing he didn't expect. It was worth a little foolish maneuvering.
"Ha, what is this, covert ops? You'd think we were doing something wrong." She hopped out of the car. "I'll see you in a few minutes." She closed the door, then gave him a little wave through the window before she ran off across the lawn, still a little unsteady on her feet from all of her pink drinks, glowing in the light of the street lamps and the elusive shimmer of hope.