The alarm continued to assault the silence of her normally peaceful room; nevertheless, Claire feared moving to stop the ringing. Perspiration beaded her entire body. Suddenly her light silk nightgown moistened and plastered against her clammy skin. Slowly she tried to remove the covers from her sweat drenched legs. Her focus increased with each movement. Claire prayed if she earnestly concentrated, she could keep the contents of her stomach in-check.
Exhaling repeatedly, she stared at the bright ceiling. Mindlessly she realized she’d forgotten to close the blinds the night before. Through the wrenching intestinal pain, her eyes squinted against the added assault of the unrestrained morning sunlight flooding her room.
Suddenly, Claire remembered the reason for an alarm. She was supposed to meet Tony at ten. Could her impending meeting be the origin of her current illness? Perhaps, even her body didn’t want to see him again.
The knock at her door caused Claire to jump. The jolt intensified the nausea, propelling more beads of perspiration to adorn her skin. “Come in.” She managed as her face contorted in pain, and she concentrated once again on breathing.
Claire didn’t turn her head to see her roommate enter. Nevertheless, she heard the door open and Amber’s footsteps approaching the alarm.
“What the heck? It’s Saturday morning. Why do you have a damn alarm...?” As Amber turned from the now silenced clock, she beheld her roommate’s ashened, perspiration drenched complexion, and her tone mellowed, “Claire, what’s the matter?”
Claire didn’t speak, but gently shook her head from side to side. The movement was too much. Gathering strength Claire reached for her blankets, threw them back, jumped from the bed, and ran to her bathroom.
It had been a long time since Claire Nichols had been physically sick. The last time she remembered vomiting was when she learned of Simon’s death, which seemed ironic, now that she was living in Amber’s home. The heaves came in waves.
Amber stood supportingly holding Claire’s long auburn hair away from her face, as Claire rested her heavy head on trembling arms and waited for the next upsurge. When it came, Amber remained quiet while Claire’s body racked with convulsions. Even after the contents of Claire’s stomach were gone, the heaving continued.
In time, the lull between occurrences lengthened. Finally, her body stilled, leaving only a weakened and shivering Claire.
Amber helped her roommate sit on the closed lavatory lid, wetted a washcloth with cool water, handed it to Claire, and directed her to wipe her face. Next, Amber helped Claire to the sink where she repeatedly rinsed her mouth with water. After Amber helped Claire back to bed, Claire closed her eyes and prayed that whatever this was, it was over.
“It could be food poisoning.” Amber offered, after Claire’s color returned and her breathing normalized. “Maybe you ate something at the gala last night. I wonder if anyone else is having problems. ”
Claire nodded her head. Her strength was returning, little by little. “You’re probably right. With as bad as last night was, food poisoning would be a highlight.” She grasped the hand of the woman now sitting on the side of her bed. “Amber, we need to talk about last night.”
Amber visibly bristled and regrouped. “We do,” her tone was comforting not harsh, as it had been when she entered the room about the alarm, “but, not right now. Can I get you something? Maybe some toast? It could help settle your stomach.”
“What time is it?” Claire asked, panic threatening to disrupt her current non-vomiting state.
“It’s a quarter ’til eight. Why did you have that alarm set anyway?” Amber asked as she replaced the cloth on Claire’s forehead with a fresh cool compress.
“I have to meet someone at ten.”
“Well, I think you’re rescheduling.”
Closing her eyes she assessed her current state and said, “I can’t.” She was truly feeling better. Hopefully the offending food was gone. She wondered, could Tony possibly be sick too? A weak smile floated across her face. She responded, “I’ll take that toast, if you don’t mind.”
Amber stood, “Sure thing. Do you need anything else?”
“A glass of water?”
Amber squeezed Claire’s hand and replied, “Coming right up.”
Once she was gone, Claire reached for her phone. When she completed the task requiring movement successfully, Claire reassured herself she was definitely feeling better. If the toast stayed down, she was good to go.
Claire needed to text Tony a meeting location. She wondered where she wanted to meet him. Her first thought was nowhere. But, that was unacceptable. She remembered a cute cafe in Redwood Shores. It wasn’t far, and it wasn’t Palo Alto. She Googled the cafe and forwarded the information to Tony, with a text:
I MIGHT BE LATE. HAD AN ISSUE THIS MORNING. THINGS ARE IMPROVING.
Claire knew he wouldn’t be happy about her possible tardiness. Nonetheless, remembering the overwhelming sickness, she decided Tony’s darkening gaze ranked below projectile vomiting and keeping Amber’s toast down on her current list of concerns.
Covering her now cold body with blankets, Claire felt her stomach growl. How could she possibly be hungry after what she’d just experienced?
AT 9:51 AM Claire eased her Honda Accord into the parking lot of the Patio Cafe in Redwood Shores. She wasn’t late. Her reflection in the rearview mirror frowned back through the glass. Even the blush and lipstick didn’t disguise her pallor. On the bright side, she’d kept Amber’s toast down, plus a banana. And despite the paleness, she really did feel better.
During her drive to Redwood Shores, Claire fought the urge to turn around and miss this mandatory meeting. Once again, it was fear which propelled her. This time it wasn’t the fear of physical punishment. It was the fear of Tony showing up at Amber’s. He was right; Claire’s concern for others was her weakness. While she dreaded seeing him, she wrestled with fleeting positive thoughts regarding her ex-husband.
She reasoned it was because of their charade last night. During the evening, as much as she hated to admit it, Claire actually relaxed and enjoyed Tony’s company. Guiltily, she thought of the picture Harry printed: the one of Tony kissing her hand after his speech. The look on her face exposed her momentary ease and affability. No wonder Harry was upset.
Upset or not, Harry’s words still hurt. They may have been brought on by a combination of jealously and liquor, but that didn’t make them any less painful. How could Harry honestly feel Claire’s affections could change so dramatically in six hours?
The thoughts of Harry turned to thoughts of Emily, John, and Courtney. Her magnitude of missed calls and messages on her iPhone were mostly from Harry, Amber, and Emily. There was also one from Meredith. Claire decided that should wait until after she spoke with Tony. Her work phone held missed calls and text messages from Courtney. Since she and Harry spoke last night and Amber wanted to wait, Claire spent a good part of her morning talking to Emily, John, and Courtney.
Apparently, Tony’s press release hit the airways last night at approximately 7:30 PT. Emily and John saw it around 10:30 in Indiana. Courtney said Brent read it on his news feed about 9:30 in Iowa. Needless to say, they were all relieved to hear from her this morning. That being said, once the relief passed indignation reigned.
Courtney remained the most supportive. She understood Tony’s persuasive nature and promised continued support. Claire appreciated Courtney’s constant concern despite her stress regarding her son’s upcoming wedding. Understandably, she and Brent weren’t happy about Tony’s claims of ensuring Claire’s pardon. Claire assured Courtney she didn’t believe him, and she’d never tell him, or anyone else, who her actual saviors were. Even Jane Allyson didn’t know.
Claire repeated her honest account of the entire evening with everyone. There were a few omissions. Courtney was the only one to hear about the kiss. And no one learned about her dream – that wasn’t. She wasn’t ready to admit that reality to herself.