CLAIREification
She keeps staring at me. No matter where I look or who focus on during dinner she's on me, watching me, her empty yet excited eyes scaring me more than my loonie ex's. She keeps talking with a fake happiness too, a tone I'd assumed was born and bred in LA. This is NOT what I wanted to do tonight. This is NOT what I want to do any night. When I came to New York I thought it would be a wild blur of parties, clubs, and shoots. I'd buy a huge loft, turn half of it into a dark room and spend my days making the best prints to hang on the walls of the MoMA. I'd meet cool people, grow a little...get over Ted.
"So..." she chuckles nervously, "What was California like huh? Did you get a lot of sun?" They way she leans over the table, her chopstick digging into her Moo-shoo pork really scares me. The stick looks like it might snap at any second, her white knuckled hand clenching it.
"Boy she is REALLY mad at you!" My father's ghost chuckles, swirls of smoke encircling his suit. He's standing in the corner of the room taking stock of my nightmare with that same "Death Taught Me Everything" face he's so posthumously famous for.
"I don't blame her, you know. Your mother was the same way. Always was. See, you two walk the earth as if you've got the tightest box in town, when really, it doesn't take much to get in. One loose screw and BAM, you're giving it out like Sermons on a Sunday." He chuckles again, the gritty sound grating my ears.
"Just because Mom fucked her hiking hairdresser doesn't mean I'll go after my shrink."
"Oh really? Let's take stock shall we? You went after Gabe despite the fact that he tried to kill himself, you went after Billy, a man who EVERYONE knew was nuts and then theres Ted..." he flicks his cigarette butt, his last puff creeping out of the side of his mouth, "And we all know what happened there." He frowns in a fatherly manner, eyes trying to fane empathy as he folds his fingers together, body leaning on the wall. What a crock.
"Oh, so you and Nate are experts on me now?" He grins.
"Lets just say death taught us a few facts. Like the fact that you go for guys that aren't all there, or can't be all there. Face it Claire, he's your next target. And Blondie here knows it."
I want to look away from Dad but can't, his knowing smile and lingering smoke circles clouding my thoughts. Was he right? Will I really try to jump my shrink? Am I really destined to be like mom, having sex with any guy who seems nice to me? My heart pounds as I think of it, me, trying to come off as some sad case, him, taking pity before I slink in a kiss. Is that who I am? Is that what I'll always be? The more the thought snakes around my brain the more I feel like I have to leave-NOW.
"I...um...have to go." I get up and rush out, the harsh chill of the night doing nothing to wane my terror of going back for my coat. Arnold shouts my name from his stoop but I don't turn around, I can't turn around. Because the moment I do I'll be exactly what my father claims, another version of Mom living in a another city.