Dinner went on as usual. Clare's mother talked about her day and all the troubles she has been having at work. Clare listened and nodded every so often so her mother knew she was listening. Well sort of listening. She played with the food on her plate. Mixing the potatoes with her carrots, trying her best to entertain herself.
"Clare?" Clare looked up from her plate to see her mother's brown eyes.
"What?" Clare set her fork down and intertwined her fingers, setting her hands on the table.
"Well, it's becoming quite lonely, you and me in this big house. And I was thinking, actually I have been thinking about this for awhile. B-But that's beside the point." Helen stumbled upon her words.
Clare inwardly smiled. She always knew she was a lot like her mother. Stuttering and stumbling when they got nervous was one of the many traits that the two shared.
"Anyways. I was thinking that, I would start looking into adopting a child." Helen locked eyes with her daughter. Waiting for a response.
Clare smiled. "I think that's an amazing idea, mom."
Helen nodded her head. "I think so too." She picked up her empty plate and Clare's plate and walked them over to the sink.
"I've always wanted a little sister." Clare said following her mother into the kitchen.
Helen smiled and looked at her daughter. "I know, you used to ask your father and me if Santa would be able to give you a little sister for Christmas." Clare's mother washed the plates and set them on the counter. Helen dried her hands on a towel.
"Do you still think about him, dad I mean?" Clare asked. She scuffed her foot against the floor.
"Of course I think about him. It's kind of hard not to. You look so much like him, Clare. Your eyes are exact replicas of his. I think of him every time you look at me. And when you laugh, all I can think of is your father laughing." Helen blinked to keep the tears that were growing in her eyes down.
"Mom…" Clare didn't know what to say. Her mother and she never had a real heart-to-heart conversation about her father. Clare and her mother were silent for a moment. Both of them afraid to cut the obvious, thick sheet of tension between the two.
"I'll pick up the rest of the table. Why don't you go finish your homework?" Helen turned back to the sink.
"Okay." Clare walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs into her room. She sat down on her bed and cried. Her body shook as she cried. Clare curled up onto her bed.
She missed her father. She missed him with every bone in her body. She wished he was here, with her. Clare wished he could come back from the dead and be with her. She wished he could have been like Eli. It was a selfish wish. But she wished he was here, even if it had to be in a form of his spirit. He would still be there with her. Even if he wasn't fully there.
Was this what Eli's family felt like? Did they feel like a part of their life was missing and they would never be able to get it back? Even though Eli portrayed his parents as being heartless people, Clare knew they had to have felt like Clare was feeling right now. There was no way they couldn't have. Eli was their child. Their own flesh and blood. Even if they didn't show it the much; Clare knew they must have loved him.
Clare used her sleeve to push her dried tears off of her face. She sat up and grabbed Eli's journal from her nightstand and opened it. She didn't want to read it. Eli's book seemed to calm Clare. Maybe it was the fact that 55 years ago Eli was sitting in the same room, holding the same notebook. Clare felt connect to something, to someone. The idea soothed her.
.
.
.
"Clare? Clare wake up."
Clare groaned. She knew that voice all to well, already. Her eyes flickered to the alarm clock.
"Eli, its 4 in the morning. I don't know if you remember this but humans need to sleep." Clare mumbled against her pillow.
"I know. Just I wanted to see if you're alright. I came back to the house last night and I heard you and your mom talking. I didn't want to ask you last night because you looked like you needed some privacy. I was going to wait until a little later this morning, but…" Eli was sitting on the side of her bed. He scratched the back of his neck as he waited for Clare to answer.
"I fine, Elijah." Clare stated.
"You don't sound fine." Eli responded.
"I'm really truly fine."
"Seriously Clare you-"
"Why do you care?" Clare snapped. She sat up in her bed. "I thought you just wanted me to leave your house. Or don't you remember, Eli?"
Eli huffed. "I don't know why I care." He stood up off of her bed and turned around.
Clare ran a hand through her hair. "Eli, I… Don't leave." She pushed the covers off of her.
"My dad died a few years ago. He was sick, really sick. The doctors tried everything they could, but he just wasn't strong enough. It's hard sometimes. To know he'll never see me graduate high school. He'll never be able to walk me down the aisle. He'll never be able to hold his grandchildren…" Clare looked down at her lap, her tears threatening to fall.
Eli watched her. He walked back to her bed. He sat down.
"Last night, you asked me if I ever visited any of my family. The truth is I do. I visit Felicity everyday. She's lives about a mile out of town. I've never revealed myself to her. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I wanted her to have a normal life. Well as normal as it could be. I was there was she was married. I went to her hospital bed after she gave birth to her first child. She named him Elijah Christopher. She had three other kids. They are all grown up now. They are having children of their own. I visited my other brothers and sisters too. But only a couple of times. Harold died a few months ago. I went to his funeral." Eli pushed some of his hair out of his eyes and sighed.
"T-Thank you. For telling me." Clare rubbed her eyes and rested her head back onto her pillow.
Eli lay next to her. "That's what friends are for, sharing secrets and such."
Clare smiled as she felt herself fall asleep. "You called us friends." She whispered.