Claudia round- slightly late, but here it is
Title: Split Ends
Author: nybor4
Summary: For agirldetective, who wanted Claudia/Dawn during HS or college with Nancy Drew, California, and a mention of the Baby-sitters' Island Adventure.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~3100
When the phone rings and you see that the display reads “Claudia” on it, you’re mildly surprised. Sure, you talk once in a while, but this isn’t a common occurrence.
You answer, and the first thing Claudia says is, “I need a change.”
“Ok,” you say slowly, “what kind of change?”
“Life, scenery, whatever. I’m so uninspired right now, you know?”
So you think about the fact that the apartment you live in is furnished for two people, but it’s summer and your roommate from the school year is off digging rocks in Wyoming or something, so you wouldn’t really mind a roommate if it means paying half the rent. You remember Claudia staying for a few days once during some Very Important Art Show that came to California a year or so ago and that you got along, so it isn’t very long before you offer, “You can come stay here. If you want.”
“Great,” Claudia says, and that’s that. She doesn’t seem to need to discuss this with anyone, which worries you but doesn’t really surprise you. Claudia has been living at home, you know, but what you know of her family just spells disappointment for never turning into even a pale imitation of Janine.
So you go back to lifeguarding for a few days and figure that Claudia will show up when she shows up. You’re right, because one night you get home from the beach after finishing a long shift with a satisfying surfing session, and a car is sitting in your driveway. Claudia is lounging out the side, pale legs matching the Connecticut license plate surrounded by what looks to be a homemade frame on the back of the car. It’s littered with bumper stickers as well, probably not even all Claudia’s, because she bought the car used with her own money.
You grin. “Hey. Long time no see. Need help?” Claudia pops open the trunk and you see a few large pieces of luggage and a box. You try to grab the box and haul it out, but it’s insanely heavy, so you stagger back.
“What in the world is in this?” you ask.
“Stuff. Some Nancy Drew books,” Claudia replies, nodding her head so that her earrings swing back and forth, glinting in the sun.
Some things don’t change. You manage to get all of Claudia’s things into the house by working together, and by the time you finish, it’s getting dark.
“Thanks,” Claudia says. She asks you about the rent. When do you want the money? You don’t really care, so you tell her, and she responds that she’ll look for a job, but that she can pay you when the next bill comes either way. That’s fine with you, so you change the subject and offer to help her unpack, but Claudia shakes her head. “Not now. I just need to find my sketchbook.” She opens the box that caused so much trouble, and you can see several Nancy Drew covers peeking out of it.
You suddenly wonder if Claudia has thought about what she’s going to do about food. “We’re all vegetarians here,” you say, and she looks up from her paper with a slight frown. “We buy mostly organic stuff, nothing refined or processed.”
“Cool.” You’re not sure that’s the response you were looking for, but Claudia is back to concentrating on the blank page in front of her. She bites her lip.
You get up and go down to the kitchen for some granola, wondering when Claudia got so quiet, and if the shadows beneath her eyes are from the three thousand mile drive or something more permanent.
*****
You settle easily into a routine. Claudia gets a job at a florist and drives her car to work. You ride your bike to the beach. If Claudia’s shift finishes first, she sometimes drives over to where you are. There’s usually some flower added to her outfit or tucked into her hair.
She brings her sketchbook and draws, but she never shows you anything she creates. When you have the time to grab your board from the guardhouse, Claudia watches you surf intently. You offer to teach her how, but she declines. The furthest you see her get in the water is dipping her feet in.
“Why don’t you ever take a dip, Claud?” you ask one night, unlocking your bike from a palm tree.
“I’m not much for the water anymore, I guess,” Claudia says.
“What, getting shipwrecked didn’t inspire a lifelong love of all things aquatic?” you joke, and Claudia smiles. She walks over and leans against the tree as you hop on the bike, balancing perfectly.
“God, can you believe that happened? We were so lucky that no one got seriously injured!” She shakes her head. “Thirteen seems so young now. I know we all felt so old then, but we knew so little.” You see the shadow cross across Claudia’s face again and wonder what it is that’s happened in the last seven years that’s caused such a change from the girl you remember. You know you’re different, of course, and that you missed the all-important high school years, but there are parts of Claudia that seem long gone.
“Parents trusted us for a reason, I guess,” you reply. “We were responsible and as mature as we could be for thirteen. I mean, we can’t have been that naïve; I was already environmentally conscious and hellbent on sustainable living!”
“ And you’re still gonna save the world,” Claudia asserts, and you nod, laughing.
“Of course. Beat you home!” And you take off on your bike, knowing it will take Claudia a minute to start her car up, but that inevitably she’ll arrive before you, honking as she passes.
You don’t really mind. You take your time on the ride home and think about art and Claudia and her dark eyes and wonder what is slowly filling the blank pages in her sketchbooks.
*****
One night, after Claudia manages to eat one of your homemade veggie burgers without gagging and washes it down with a soy milkshake, she announces, “I think you need a haircut.”
Taken aback, you run your fingers through your hair. “It has gotten a bit long,” you agree, “I guess I should make an appointment.”
“I’ll cut it for you,” Claudia responds. At your raised eyebrow, she explains, “I do people’s hair at home sometimes.”
“I guess it’s kind of an art, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, definitely,” she nods. “Only it’s more like painting than drawing: no erasing, only changing mistakes until something else.” You must look frightened, because she touches your arm with concern. “I won’t screw it up, really.”
“I trust you,” you say, and you realize that you mean it. “When do you wanna do it?”
“Whenever,” Claud murmurs, and you realize she’s staring at you intently, sizing you up, giving you the same look she gives to her blank pages. “Your face is such a gorgeous shape.”
“Um, thanks,” you manage, and you realize that you’re nervous, but not of the haircut. Your stomach churns a bit and when you stand up, your legs feel like gelatin. “If now’s good, I can go shampoo my hair.”
“Sure.” You go into the bathroom, and when you emerge, you’re in your bathrobe, hair clinging wetly to your neck and towel in hand.
Claudia has a kit, you notice, so you realize she must do this more often than you thought. She gestures toward a chair, so you put the towel underneath it to catch the hair and sit down.
“Ready?”
“Yep.” So she goes to work, and it feels totally professional. You don’t have a mirror to stare into, but that’s always kind of bothered you anyway, so you just close your eyes and allow her hands to pass over your face, your scalp, your neck. You realize that her fingers are soft.
When you open your eyes, she’s so close to your face, scrutinizing the evenness of her handiwork. You have the fleeting thought that you didn’t even discuss what you wanted done, and she’s probably cut more than you would have asked for, but then you’re leaning forward and brushing your lips across hers. You don’t even expect it, so when she kisses you back you almost forget to respond. You think randomly that her lips are as soft as her fingers.
It goes on for long seconds, until Claudia is the one to break it off. “There’s hair in my mouth,” she says, and suddenly you feel foolish.
“I’m sorry,” you start, but Claudia puts her finger on your mouth.
“It’s fine, but Dawn, I need to finish your haircut.”
“Right. Right.” You fall silent, and Claudia picks up where she left off, seemingly unfazed.
It’s not the first time you’ve kissed a girl-you go to a liberal college and attend the parties that come along with that-but you realize it’s the first without an audience and with a clear mind. You still don’t even quite know where it came from.
Claudia finishes cutting and walks you over to a mirror. “What do you think?” she asks, and you put the flat of your palm on the bottom of your hair, testing the bounce. It looks good-edgy, somehow, but still you.
“Very cool,” you say. “Thanks, Claud. I think this is another hidden talent of yours!” You’re trying too hard to be normal and you know it. You can see that Claudia knows it too.
“Let me clean this up,” Claudia offers. “You can go on upstairs and shower, wash off all the excess hair. I’ll see you in our room.”
You don’t argue.
*****
When you enter the room, Claudia is lounging in her bed. She’s rolling a charcoal pencil around her fingers, and you can see the smudge on the side of her hand. “Hi,” you announce. “Drawing?”
“Hey,” she replies. “Yeah. California is really great for inspiration. Dawn, can I show you something?”
“Okay.” She beckons you over to her bed and motions for you to sit. You are unsure of what she’s doing until she reaches into a drawer and pulls out her sketchbook.
“Do you wanna see what I’ve been working on all these weeks?” She positions herself next to you, leaning slightly against your side, the book splayed between her left knee and your right.
“I must admit I’ve been curious. I thought you didn’t want me to see or something.”
“I didn’t.” She opens the book up and you see the first page. You draw in a little breath. It’s a picture of you.
Claudia goes through the book, sharing with you her pictures silently. Some are of the beach, some of bouquets of flowers, but many are of you. “Humans aren’t the perfect subjects,” Claudia informs you. “They move too much. But who am I to reject inspiration?”
You don’t quite know what to say. “They’re beautiful drawings,” you finally get out. Claudia moves the book to the side of the bed, but one hand remains on your leg.
“Then I failed,” Claudia whispers, “because the subject is exquisite.” You can’t respond to that, don’t know how, so you kiss her again. This time it doesn’t surprise you when it continues, and you only jump when Claudia’s hands start to travel up your sides because you’re slightly ticklish. You came out of the shower in a tank top and shorts, so she skims the skin between the waistband and your shirt as her fingers move.
She’s wearing jeans and a reconstructed t-shirt, and when you remember to move your hands and put them somewhere, you choose to have one cup her face and put the other around her waist. She makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, and your eyes flutter open. You lock gazes with her, but you can’t tell what she’s thinking.
“Dawn,” Claudia rests her head on you and mumbles into your neck. “How do you feel about this?”
“Huh?” You realize that you’re not thinking clearly and that a lot of blood has probably traveled south. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you going to wake up in the morning and be freaked? I don’t want to risk our living situation because I wanted to make out with you.”
“Are we just making out?”
“Right now, yes,” Claudia says, but you can tell she’s teasing.
“I’m serious.”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m just doing what feels right.”
And honestly, you’re doing the same thing, so you can’t ask for more of an answer. You realize the moment is over, though, so you get out of her bed slowly and go about your nightly rituals, face calm but mind racing.
*****
Nothing changes, really, except you and Claudia spend a lot more of your free time making out. She draws you openly, now, and sometimes she touches you in between bouts of sketching, murmuring that she can only perfect that curve if she feels it with her fingers or this bone if she traces it with her tongue.
You begin to understand what Claudia means when she talks about living art.
One day, she brings you home nasturtiums from the florist, and you remember when she could barely pronounce their name at your dad’s wedding. She asks you if you’ll pose with them, and you realize what she means when you see her eying your shirt. You nod slowly, knowing that she’ll keep it strictly professional if that’s what you want, still trusting her wholly.
You agree, and you take your clothes off. Claudia arranges the flowers just so and you close your eyes as she draws you. She doesn’t touch you again until it’s over and you’ve gotten dressed.
The next day, you’re at a store in the mall, just browsing, when you see a box of Nancy Drew-themed greeting cards. You don’t think before taking them off the shelf and buying them for her.
When you get home, she’s still at work, so you read the monthly PETA newsletter that came in the mail while you wait. You hear the car pull into the driveway, the engine turn off, and the door slam.
“I got you a gift,” you say, after Claudia greets you.
“Oh?” You hand the box over to her and watch as she processes what it is. For a second, her face makes it look as though she’s in pain, but then she turns to you with tears shimmering in her eyes and a shaky smile on her face. “What’s wrong?” you cry.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she says thickly. “This is one of the best gifts I’ve gotten. Thank you.” You don’t think it was that big of a deal, but Claudia is looking at you with the most open expression you’ve seen since she pulled into your driveway that month or so ago, and you can feel yourself flushing as your breath hitches.
“C’mon.” You take the box gently out of her hands and place it on the kitchen table, then grab her still-extended fingers and lead her into the bedroom.
It’s immediately different this time, and when she places kisses all over your face you push her back onto your bed. Your legs get tangled with hers and you can see your tanned skin pressed against her still-pale legs in your mind’s eye. You move to take off her shirt, but then her hands move to yours stopping you.
“What?” you pant.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Claudia mumbles.
“What?” You repeat. You don’t understand, because right now, you feel closer to her than you probably ever have.
Claudia exhales into your neck and looks up at you. “I like you, Dawn, a lot,” she says. “I really like living with you, and since I got here, I’ve been able to feel creative again. A lot of that is because of you, I think. Everything around here just oozes art, you know? But that’s the thing. What we’re doing, it’s art, living art. And I realized all those years with boys that I was only painting with part of the palette, and now I have all these new colors to blend and experiment with…”
“I get it,” you say, now biting back your own tears. She’s trying to tell you that she’s just been messing around, but you’re being way too intense and getting all clingy and now you’ve gone too far with gifts.
“No! Dawn,” she reaches out and makes you look at her in the face. She’s speaking quickly now, words bubbling out. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m afraid that when I have to leave, I won’t be able to, because I’ll-shit, screw the metaphors. No one has ever cared about me enough to randomly buy me Nancy Drew-themed notecards just because. I want to be your girlfriend, Dawn," Your heart jumps a little at that, "but we’ve never even talked about what’s going on here. I could feel that we were just about to cross a line and I can’t do that not knowing how we feel about each other and being afraid that this is just something we’re doing until I go back to Connecticut in a few months.”
And that’s not what you expected to hear, but it’s certainly not half bad, so you sit up shakily and take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to label or explain what’s been going on with us, but I feel like that’s ok. All I know is that I’m so glad you came this summer and I love spending time with you and being with you… and I’d love to call this something official. But you’re right: you do have to go back, eventually.”
“Yeah. So what do we do about it?”
“Claudia, will you go out with me tomorrow night?” You giggle after you say it, realizing how ridiculous this is.
“And at the end of the summer?” Claudia ignores the question, appraising you with her eyes.
“Will you go out with me?” you repeat.
She shakes her head and smiles. “Yes, I will.”
“Then let’s just worry about the end when the time comes. For now, I want to take my girlfriend on dates and buy her more childhood memorabilia.” And when Claudia kisses you at that moment, it feels light and free.
You realize that things might not end prettily, but you’re thinking about relationships, and how they’re kind of like paintings. You can’t erase what happens, but you can certainly paint over parts, and they don’t really ever have to be finished.
El Fin.
Sorry about the weird POV. It just kind of happened. I feel like maybe this would have made a lot more sense if it were the Dawn challenge, but I had a terribly hard time with Claudia, and this is what came out.
Author: nybor4
Summary: For agirldetective, who wanted Claudia/Dawn during HS or college with Nancy Drew, California, and a mention of the Baby-sitters' Island Adventure.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~3100
When the phone rings and you see that the display reads “Claudia” on it, you’re mildly surprised. Sure, you talk once in a while, but this isn’t a common occurrence.
You answer, and the first thing Claudia says is, “I need a change.”
“Ok,” you say slowly, “what kind of change?”
“Life, scenery, whatever. I’m so uninspired right now, you know?”
So you think about the fact that the apartment you live in is furnished for two people, but it’s summer and your roommate from the school year is off digging rocks in Wyoming or something, so you wouldn’t really mind a roommate if it means paying half the rent. You remember Claudia staying for a few days once during some Very Important Art Show that came to California a year or so ago and that you got along, so it isn’t very long before you offer, “You can come stay here. If you want.”
“Great,” Claudia says, and that’s that. She doesn’t seem to need to discuss this with anyone, which worries you but doesn’t really surprise you. Claudia has been living at home, you know, but what you know of her family just spells disappointment for never turning into even a pale imitation of Janine.
So you go back to lifeguarding for a few days and figure that Claudia will show up when she shows up. You’re right, because one night you get home from the beach after finishing a long shift with a satisfying surfing session, and a car is sitting in your driveway. Claudia is lounging out the side, pale legs matching the Connecticut license plate surrounded by what looks to be a homemade frame on the back of the car. It’s littered with bumper stickers as well, probably not even all Claudia’s, because she bought the car used with her own money.
You grin. “Hey. Long time no see. Need help?” Claudia pops open the trunk and you see a few large pieces of luggage and a box. You try to grab the box and haul it out, but it’s insanely heavy, so you stagger back.
“What in the world is in this?” you ask.
“Stuff. Some Nancy Drew books,” Claudia replies, nodding her head so that her earrings swing back and forth, glinting in the sun.
Some things don’t change. You manage to get all of Claudia’s things into the house by working together, and by the time you finish, it’s getting dark.
“Thanks,” Claudia says. She asks you about the rent. When do you want the money? You don’t really care, so you tell her, and she responds that she’ll look for a job, but that she can pay you when the next bill comes either way. That’s fine with you, so you change the subject and offer to help her unpack, but Claudia shakes her head. “Not now. I just need to find my sketchbook.” She opens the box that caused so much trouble, and you can see several Nancy Drew covers peeking out of it.
You suddenly wonder if Claudia has thought about what she’s going to do about food. “We’re all vegetarians here,” you say, and she looks up from her paper with a slight frown. “We buy mostly organic stuff, nothing refined or processed.”
“Cool.” You’re not sure that’s the response you were looking for, but Claudia is back to concentrating on the blank page in front of her. She bites her lip.
You get up and go down to the kitchen for some granola, wondering when Claudia got so quiet, and if the shadows beneath her eyes are from the three thousand mile drive or something more permanent.
*****
You settle easily into a routine. Claudia gets a job at a florist and drives her car to work. You ride your bike to the beach. If Claudia’s shift finishes first, she sometimes drives over to where you are. There’s usually some flower added to her outfit or tucked into her hair.
She brings her sketchbook and draws, but she never shows you anything she creates. When you have the time to grab your board from the guardhouse, Claudia watches you surf intently. You offer to teach her how, but she declines. The furthest you see her get in the water is dipping her feet in.
“Why don’t you ever take a dip, Claud?” you ask one night, unlocking your bike from a palm tree.
“I’m not much for the water anymore, I guess,” Claudia says.
“What, getting shipwrecked didn’t inspire a lifelong love of all things aquatic?” you joke, and Claudia smiles. She walks over and leans against the tree as you hop on the bike, balancing perfectly.
“God, can you believe that happened? We were so lucky that no one got seriously injured!” She shakes her head. “Thirteen seems so young now. I know we all felt so old then, but we knew so little.” You see the shadow cross across Claudia’s face again and wonder what it is that’s happened in the last seven years that’s caused such a change from the girl you remember. You know you’re different, of course, and that you missed the all-important high school years, but there are parts of Claudia that seem long gone.
“Parents trusted us for a reason, I guess,” you reply. “We were responsible and as mature as we could be for thirteen. I mean, we can’t have been that naïve; I was already environmentally conscious and hellbent on sustainable living!”
“ And you’re still gonna save the world,” Claudia asserts, and you nod, laughing.
“Of course. Beat you home!” And you take off on your bike, knowing it will take Claudia a minute to start her car up, but that inevitably she’ll arrive before you, honking as she passes.
You don’t really mind. You take your time on the ride home and think about art and Claudia and her dark eyes and wonder what is slowly filling the blank pages in her sketchbooks.
*****
One night, after Claudia manages to eat one of your homemade veggie burgers without gagging and washes it down with a soy milkshake, she announces, “I think you need a haircut.”
Taken aback, you run your fingers through your hair. “It has gotten a bit long,” you agree, “I guess I should make an appointment.”
“I’ll cut it for you,” Claudia responds. At your raised eyebrow, she explains, “I do people’s hair at home sometimes.”
“I guess it’s kind of an art, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, definitely,” she nods. “Only it’s more like painting than drawing: no erasing, only changing mistakes until something else.” You must look frightened, because she touches your arm with concern. “I won’t screw it up, really.”
“I trust you,” you say, and you realize that you mean it. “When do you wanna do it?”
“Whenever,” Claud murmurs, and you realize she’s staring at you intently, sizing you up, giving you the same look she gives to her blank pages. “Your face is such a gorgeous shape.”
“Um, thanks,” you manage, and you realize that you’re nervous, but not of the haircut. Your stomach churns a bit and when you stand up, your legs feel like gelatin. “If now’s good, I can go shampoo my hair.”
“Sure.” You go into the bathroom, and when you emerge, you’re in your bathrobe, hair clinging wetly to your neck and towel in hand.
Claudia has a kit, you notice, so you realize she must do this more often than you thought. She gestures toward a chair, so you put the towel underneath it to catch the hair and sit down.
“Ready?”
“Yep.” So she goes to work, and it feels totally professional. You don’t have a mirror to stare into, but that’s always kind of bothered you anyway, so you just close your eyes and allow her hands to pass over your face, your scalp, your neck. You realize that her fingers are soft.
When you open your eyes, she’s so close to your face, scrutinizing the evenness of her handiwork. You have the fleeting thought that you didn’t even discuss what you wanted done, and she’s probably cut more than you would have asked for, but then you’re leaning forward and brushing your lips across hers. You don’t even expect it, so when she kisses you back you almost forget to respond. You think randomly that her lips are as soft as her fingers.
It goes on for long seconds, until Claudia is the one to break it off. “There’s hair in my mouth,” she says, and suddenly you feel foolish.
“I’m sorry,” you start, but Claudia puts her finger on your mouth.
“It’s fine, but Dawn, I need to finish your haircut.”
“Right. Right.” You fall silent, and Claudia picks up where she left off, seemingly unfazed.
It’s not the first time you’ve kissed a girl-you go to a liberal college and attend the parties that come along with that-but you realize it’s the first without an audience and with a clear mind. You still don’t even quite know where it came from.
Claudia finishes cutting and walks you over to a mirror. “What do you think?” she asks, and you put the flat of your palm on the bottom of your hair, testing the bounce. It looks good-edgy, somehow, but still you.
“Very cool,” you say. “Thanks, Claud. I think this is another hidden talent of yours!” You’re trying too hard to be normal and you know it. You can see that Claudia knows it too.
“Let me clean this up,” Claudia offers. “You can go on upstairs and shower, wash off all the excess hair. I’ll see you in our room.”
You don’t argue.
*****
When you enter the room, Claudia is lounging in her bed. She’s rolling a charcoal pencil around her fingers, and you can see the smudge on the side of her hand. “Hi,” you announce. “Drawing?”
“Hey,” she replies. “Yeah. California is really great for inspiration. Dawn, can I show you something?”
“Okay.” She beckons you over to her bed and motions for you to sit. You are unsure of what she’s doing until she reaches into a drawer and pulls out her sketchbook.
“Do you wanna see what I’ve been working on all these weeks?” She positions herself next to you, leaning slightly against your side, the book splayed between her left knee and your right.
“I must admit I’ve been curious. I thought you didn’t want me to see or something.”
“I didn’t.” She opens the book up and you see the first page. You draw in a little breath. It’s a picture of you.
Claudia goes through the book, sharing with you her pictures silently. Some are of the beach, some of bouquets of flowers, but many are of you. “Humans aren’t the perfect subjects,” Claudia informs you. “They move too much. But who am I to reject inspiration?”
You don’t quite know what to say. “They’re beautiful drawings,” you finally get out. Claudia moves the book to the side of the bed, but one hand remains on your leg.
“Then I failed,” Claudia whispers, “because the subject is exquisite.” You can’t respond to that, don’t know how, so you kiss her again. This time it doesn’t surprise you when it continues, and you only jump when Claudia’s hands start to travel up your sides because you’re slightly ticklish. You came out of the shower in a tank top and shorts, so she skims the skin between the waistband and your shirt as her fingers move.
She’s wearing jeans and a reconstructed t-shirt, and when you remember to move your hands and put them somewhere, you choose to have one cup her face and put the other around her waist. She makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, and your eyes flutter open. You lock gazes with her, but you can’t tell what she’s thinking.
“Dawn,” Claudia rests her head on you and mumbles into your neck. “How do you feel about this?”
“Huh?” You realize that you’re not thinking clearly and that a lot of blood has probably traveled south. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you going to wake up in the morning and be freaked? I don’t want to risk our living situation because I wanted to make out with you.”
“Are we just making out?”
“Right now, yes,” Claudia says, but you can tell she’s teasing.
“I’m serious.”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m just doing what feels right.”
And honestly, you’re doing the same thing, so you can’t ask for more of an answer. You realize the moment is over, though, so you get out of her bed slowly and go about your nightly rituals, face calm but mind racing.
*****
Nothing changes, really, except you and Claudia spend a lot more of your free time making out. She draws you openly, now, and sometimes she touches you in between bouts of sketching, murmuring that she can only perfect that curve if she feels it with her fingers or this bone if she traces it with her tongue.
You begin to understand what Claudia means when she talks about living art.
One day, she brings you home nasturtiums from the florist, and you remember when she could barely pronounce their name at your dad’s wedding. She asks you if you’ll pose with them, and you realize what she means when you see her eying your shirt. You nod slowly, knowing that she’ll keep it strictly professional if that’s what you want, still trusting her wholly.
You agree, and you take your clothes off. Claudia arranges the flowers just so and you close your eyes as she draws you. She doesn’t touch you again until it’s over and you’ve gotten dressed.
The next day, you’re at a store in the mall, just browsing, when you see a box of Nancy Drew-themed greeting cards. You don’t think before taking them off the shelf and buying them for her.
When you get home, she’s still at work, so you read the monthly PETA newsletter that came in the mail while you wait. You hear the car pull into the driveway, the engine turn off, and the door slam.
“I got you a gift,” you say, after Claudia greets you.
“Oh?” You hand the box over to her and watch as she processes what it is. For a second, her face makes it look as though she’s in pain, but then she turns to you with tears shimmering in her eyes and a shaky smile on her face. “What’s wrong?” you cry.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she says thickly. “This is one of the best gifts I’ve gotten. Thank you.” You don’t think it was that big of a deal, but Claudia is looking at you with the most open expression you’ve seen since she pulled into your driveway that month or so ago, and you can feel yourself flushing as your breath hitches.
“C’mon.” You take the box gently out of her hands and place it on the kitchen table, then grab her still-extended fingers and lead her into the bedroom.
It’s immediately different this time, and when she places kisses all over your face you push her back onto your bed. Your legs get tangled with hers and you can see your tanned skin pressed against her still-pale legs in your mind’s eye. You move to take off her shirt, but then her hands move to yours stopping you.
“What?” you pant.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Claudia mumbles.
“What?” You repeat. You don’t understand, because right now, you feel closer to her than you probably ever have.
Claudia exhales into your neck and looks up at you. “I like you, Dawn, a lot,” she says. “I really like living with you, and since I got here, I’ve been able to feel creative again. A lot of that is because of you, I think. Everything around here just oozes art, you know? But that’s the thing. What we’re doing, it’s art, living art. And I realized all those years with boys that I was only painting with part of the palette, and now I have all these new colors to blend and experiment with…”
“I get it,” you say, now biting back your own tears. She’s trying to tell you that she’s just been messing around, but you’re being way too intense and getting all clingy and now you’ve gone too far with gifts.
“No! Dawn,” she reaches out and makes you look at her in the face. She’s speaking quickly now, words bubbling out. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m afraid that when I have to leave, I won’t be able to, because I’ll-shit, screw the metaphors. No one has ever cared about me enough to randomly buy me Nancy Drew-themed notecards just because. I want to be your girlfriend, Dawn," Your heart jumps a little at that, "but we’ve never even talked about what’s going on here. I could feel that we were just about to cross a line and I can’t do that not knowing how we feel about each other and being afraid that this is just something we’re doing until I go back to Connecticut in a few months.”
And that’s not what you expected to hear, but it’s certainly not half bad, so you sit up shakily and take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to label or explain what’s been going on with us, but I feel like that’s ok. All I know is that I’m so glad you came this summer and I love spending time with you and being with you… and I’d love to call this something official. But you’re right: you do have to go back, eventually.”
“Yeah. So what do we do about it?”
“Claudia, will you go out with me tomorrow night?” You giggle after you say it, realizing how ridiculous this is.
“And at the end of the summer?” Claudia ignores the question, appraising you with her eyes.
“Will you go out with me?” you repeat.
She shakes her head and smiles. “Yes, I will.”
“Then let’s just worry about the end when the time comes. For now, I want to take my girlfriend on dates and buy her more childhood memorabilia.” And when Claudia kisses you at that moment, it feels light and free.
You realize that things might not end prettily, but you’re thinking about relationships, and how they’re kind of like paintings. You can’t erase what happens, but you can certainly paint over parts, and they don’t really ever have to be finished.
El Fin.
Sorry about the weird POV. It just kind of happened. I feel like maybe this would have made a lot more sense if it were the Dawn challenge, but I had a terribly hard time with Claudia, and this is what came out.