Okay, so I bet these chapters look really bulky because I wanted each chapter to be a POV. SO I had to bulk up each one. The other issue is the characters don’t really have that many people to talk to .
There were only a few empty seats as the plane began to take off. The flight attendant lead us to our seats in the back. Rose dawdled behind she hadn't been on a plane since she was a baby. There were a few men in suits, college students reading and tourist taking up the seats in front of us . I sat in the middle seat with Rose close to the aisle. The seat next to me remained empty.
This is how you know I’m not rich.
Clara should be in first class.
Occasionally a few people would look back at Rose who was to preoccupied
drawing to notice, I was glad she didn’t seem afraid.
Cause then Clara might have to. . .
you know. . . comfort her.
I stayed awake as the plane began to ascend, I watched Rose to see if she was
afraid but she was once again distracted by her drawing, she didn't even look
up when the flight attendant attempted to make small talk with her.
I pulled out my laptop and stared at my half finished
dissertation, I felt lost without my books or notes. I started searching for
grammatical errors when I heard crying.
I instantly reached for Rose when I realized she hadn’t been crying.
And she can’t recognize Rose’s
crying.
A few seats up a boy a bit younger
than Rose was standing in the aisle with tears streaming down his face. The
child held his hands up to an older woman who quickly picked up her crying
son and began to whisper to him. I watched as she stood up and walked in a
circle around the tiny aisle balancing on her 4 inch heels till the child
calmed down.
Since Clara doesn’t recall every having to comfort her daughter like this mother is why she is watching.
The mother caught my eye for a second and I offered a sympathetic smile which
she returned before sitting back down.
I looked over at Rose’s drawing, it looked like she was drawing a house, there
were very few colors in her drawings and the house appeared to be out of
proportion which I suppose is normal for someone her age if not better.
Although sometimes it frightened me how perceptive she could be.
“Stay here, I’m going to the restroom”, told her
Clara you are an awful parent.
She nodded and the flight attendent was close by.
I locked the door behind me and even though I would have preferred not to be in
the cramped quarters, it was better than nothing.
I took the time to adjust my make up. I’d given up on covering up my scars and
instead put on an extra layer of lipstick to pull attention way from
them. When that didn’t appear distracting enough I popped open a few buttons on
my shirt and pressed cold water over my skin.
Yes Clara is (as one commenter
mentioned) Sluttin’ It Up to overcompensate for the scars on her face.
I had started to fiddle with my hair when the lights cut off.
Right so remember in HOF when Clara
was locked away in a tiny room for 3 months ? Now she doesn’t handle small
spaces well.
Everything was pitch black and I reached for the door and began to pull
on it but it wouldn’t give. I tried to take a few calm breaths before I
overreacted. I started banging on the door and still it didn’t give.
“Help me”, I shouted
My voice came out as small I tried to speak but the air wasn't there.
The room was getting smaller. Everything was black the floor, the door and the
walls. I started throwing my entire self on the door screaming for someone to
help me. It was as if something was coming for me in the dark and I couldn't
see it.
. . . like Victor
Tears began to stream down my eyes and I feared I was going to choke on them.
A tiny ray of light broke through the darkness; I pushed against it as the door
slid open. I feel face first on to the hard floor a circle or people
standing over me.
Two of the men in suits and the flight attendant starred down at me.
“It was so dark”, I explained
“It was the breaker”, the flight attendant explained while helping me up, I was
shaking.
She helped me back to my seat and offered me a blanket. Rose was using Ann as a
pillow and watched me pull myself together.
“I’m okay”, I told her
Rose doesn’t care
I pulled her into my lap and layed her head over my shoulder. I pushed her jet
black hair over her ears revealing the diamond studs my mother just had to give
her just a few months after she was born. The edge of my nails danced around
the skin on her undefined jaw.
On the flip side Clara seems to treat
Rose like a doll sometimes. She holds her to comfort herself.
Her skin was pure white and very soft, I gently placed a finger over her
lashes to close her large eyes. She wasn’t at all tired but closed her
eyes anyway. Her eyes didn’t match her at all, they were that hideous
sand color almost beige. I often imagined how much better they would look if
they were a bright green, blue or brown.
Yeah, worst parent ever
I imagined my fingernails piercing her perfect skin, I imagined watching her
bleed (just a little) and calling for me to make it all better. I imagined all
the places I could start behind her eyes or—
Clara : I just want her to love me . . . or something I don't know.
“Here”, the flight attendant interrupted my thoughts and handed me a glass of white
wine, “you looked like you could use this” .
I took my hand away from Rose and put her back in her seat.
“I don’t drink. But thank you”
As she walked off I looked back over at Rose and nervously began to file my
fingernails.
I needed to get off this plane.
+++
“What am I doing ?”, I said to myself as I eyed the missed phone calls from
work that were piling up on my cellphone.
I knew there were plenty of other instructors who could take over my
classes last minute, but that was far from the reliable Clara I was supposed to
be.
I turned off my phone, it was just a distraction as I attempted to juggle all
of our (new) luggage and
navigate Rose through the busy streets of Rome. It was tourist season and no
one could escape it.
See what I did there. I lampshaded
to explain why she has luggage even though she left on a whim.
The minute we stepped out of the terminal there was a maze of people, cameras
and shouting in all sorts of languages. Watching people, even complete
strangers, enjoying a city I had spent so much of my life made me happy.
We had been walking for quite a bit since leaving the airport, the rustic
architecture, statues and the intimacy of the city were, to me, a perfect
setting. Unlike any American city I had been to.
When I finally saw Via Garibaldi , I didn’t think I would make it to the
front door fast enough
Look ! It's that street from the previous chapter. See how they keep revisiting the same places.
“Rose we’re almost ther—“
I dropped all of my bags and did a quick double take when I realized she hadn’t
been walking with me. I took a deep breathe and began to back track. At the corner
of the next block she had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk holding out Ann
at arms lengths. A few people looked concern but didn't stop.
She looked at me as I approached.
“Where’s Ann”, she yelled at me
“She’s right there, come on—“
I grabbed her hand and attempted to pull here to where I'd left the luggage
She tore her hand out of my grasp and clutched the doll.
“No !”
Now people were starting to stare, so with two hands I began to drag her
forceful down the street, hoping no one had taken our very expensive luggage.
Unfortunately Rosalie was a fighter, she dug her heels into the ground
and bit into my wrist tearing a gash in my skin.
Ouch
"Shit", I cursed instantly regretting it.
DRINK (We are still drinking when someone curses in this serial. . . which has been like 4 times over 3 serials. I think the only f-bomb is in this one)
I violently shoved her away causing the gash in my wrist to open, I heard her
hit the ground and the doll fell into the street. Bystanders were walking
faster. I stood on the street contemplating what to do next when I heard Rose
struggling to get up, I scrambled over to Rose apologizing loud enough for everyone
to hear me.
Clara : that was good parenting right. That
last part ?
LiLe : *headdesk*
Rosalie had pursed her lips together and stood with her arms folded, a cut had
formed on the side of her face from hitting the ground. I remembered my
terrible thoughts on the plane and wondered if I’d intentionally caused
this.
“Need some help?”, a familiar voice said to me.
OMG, you guys it’s Mr. F ! No it’s
Victor !!
. . .
No one thought this
Okay.
+++
The voice was followed by a comforting hand on my back. I turned, my gaze
lingering on the man who seemed like a knight in shinning armor.
“Peter ?”, I said
For a moment I was lost in the strange turn of events that had reunited me with
my ex-fiance. The look of concern on his face reminded me that my daughter (and
I ) were bleeding on the sidewalk and calling way to much attention to
ourselves.
So, originally I was going to write Clara a good old fashioned love interest for her to later kill in the last chapter. He was going to be a busboy at the restaurant who she met at her G-parents funeral. He was going to be younger than her and There was also supposed to be like a class thing going on.
When I wrote the first scene with random curly headed busboy I was
like. . . this reminds me to much of Adam/Sofia. Peter was an easy choice cause
he already has history.
I showed Peter where I had left the luggage and tried to cover the
bleeding bite mark on my wrist. Rose and I walked a few steps behind
Peter till he turned into the bustling Via Garibaldi Restaurant & Wine Bar.
A hostess hesitantly made her way over to us but when she realized who I was
she offered a small wave. From the back of the restaurant my maternal
grandparents moving at a quick pace for their age came toward us.
Cause they are dead Spectres . . .
The Via Garibaldi Restaurant & Wine Bar had been in my mother's
family's name for years. It was not only their home but their livelihood and
had even withstood World War II. As I entered everyone seemed to be staring at
me.
OMG, This is the restaurant Mr. F was in 3 years earlier
What ?
Is the story to bogged down in words and details for you to catch that ?
Okay
Mama Elena and Grandpa had only meet Rose once a few years ago, though you
would never guess by the way they embraced her. They began showering her with
compliments but given the language barrier I knew she didn’t understand them.
I excused myself from our quick reunion and dragged Rose to the bathroom to
clean her cut. I rinsed my hand with cold water, knowing either way that it
would leave a mark. Just what I needed another scar.
Rosalie's eyes were red from crying over the doll and I knelt down to her
level, coming eye to eye with her.
"You have to apologize to me Rosalie"
"Why ?"
"Well, because you hurt me."
Yeah, but you also shoved her Clara
so . . .
"But you lied to me, Mommy"
"No I didn't-", I sighed and reached for my lipstick. Could I even
lie to her., "Just be on your best behavior."
Clara : Uh, parenting is hard. Why
won’t she love me ?
Mama Elena had appeared at the door with a first aid kit and together we
wrapped up my wrist and gave Rose a band aid that stood out against her skin
more than I liked. My grandmother showered me with questions about how my
mother was doing and about how big Rose had gotten.
It didn’t take much convincing for me to let Mama Elena show Rose off to all her
friends in the restaurant while I wondered back over to Peter.
“Long time no see”, I said not quite sure what else to say.
Flirty Flirty
“Are you still mad at me. . I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have left like that”
“I wish I could say I understood.”
“What are you doing here anyway ?”, I asked playfully, “Doesn’t Genoa miss it’s
prince?”
“Actually I haven’t been back to Genoa for a while now, I still live in our old
apartment.”
What. They were living together ? what are they talking about ? Could Rosalie be HIS ?
. . .
No one thought this
Okay.
I tensed a bit at the way he said “our”, my mother must have called him and
told him I would be coming into town.
Peter and I took a seat by hostess station and watched as Mama Elena pulled
Rose along from table to table of regulars introducing her Great-Granddaughter.
The Via Garibaldi Restaurant had been in my mother’s family for years, it had
grown over the years to take up nearly half the block and had become a popular
tourist spot. It was usually the locals who sat inside while visitors often
liked to sit outside.
It was here almost 30 years ago that my parents first met. My mother had
stopped in for a cup of coffee and to visit her parents around closing
time. My father had been drinking till late in the night. She had gone over to
tell him it was closing time and he recognized her from a film she had just
finished
They had talked all night and been together ever since.
“I still can’t believe you’re a mother.”. Peter said
“I can’t either. . .sometimes.”
His profile was completely still, I couldn't tell if he was angry or just
uncomfortable.
“How long are you in town ?”, he asked
“I actually don’t know. . . thirty eight days, maybe”
"That's. . . along time. Let me at least help you get settled"
I took some of my luggage from Peter and he followed me to the back of the
restaurant towards the upstairs apartments. For all the years the Romano
Family had owned the restaurant they always lived upstairs even though their
fortune permitted them to have so much more.
My mother truly came from modest people.
A set of creaky stairs lead to a hallway lined with 5 room and a living area at
the end of the hall. I followed him into one of the smaller bedrooms.
Once the door closed behind me I realized how nice the silence was, it
was the first time since leaving my parent's home that I had been away from
Rose for this long.
+2+
I made myself busy by putting things away, Peter silently
watching me. He looked exactly as he had 3 years ago when he had helped me move
to Italy.
There was less concern though.
My movements became idle, I was just walking around now. I felt him mirroring
me till he stopped behind me.
"I know you want to ask me.", I said
He stepped from behind me so we were facing each other
“Are you ready now ?”
“I think so.”
There was a silent beat before the space closed between us and his mouth was
pressed against mine. He pulled me further into his embrace, not even the
sounds of Mama Elena and Rose descending the steps broke our kiss.
No more double friendzone. I think Prince Peter and Princess Clara would be awesome. I admit I sort of indulge with them.
+++
It was the nightmare’s I couldn’t handle back then.
Though I was home and knew I was safe my nightmares of that house, his eyes and
the darkness became my undoing.
Every time I closed my eyes I saw my grandfather’s body he didn’t look like
himself but I saw him moving and talking.
He looked like a monster and I still wanted to hold and love him because he was
my grandfather. I wanted to hear him call me Clarabelle again and for us to
play a duet in his quiet house.
But he wouldn’t wake up.
I had tried to protect him and still he wouldn't wake up.
That was the nightmare I had every day when I first came home. Every where I
went reminded me of him. Father refused to have a funeral not that I would have
gone. Instead I spent days just hiding behind my bandages.
Now it’s Clara's turn to get her Angst on.
I sat in my room writing music and dreading the night, I kept forgetting how
much I missed out on being away for so long and was losing track of all
the lies I was telling.
I wanted more than anything to get out and the next best thing was my home away
from home on Via Girbaldi
I packed up my entire life intent on never spending a night in the house
that I was taken from.
When I arrived at Da Vinici airport in February I was still covered in
bandages and was surprised that Peter even recognized me. It was still
difficult for me to talk with the bandages on my lips and found myself relying
on gestures to really communicate with him.
Ahhh ! Shawna ! AHH doesn't Juliana do this ?
We had walked arm and arm like a normal couple along the streets of Rome when
it began to get dark I wanted to go inside but he insisted we do a little sightseeing,
as a regular visitor I knew there was nothing more beautiful than Rome at
night.
When we made it back to my hotel I asked him to stay and help me look for an
apartment in the city. It was getting late and I was beyond anxious about
Peter leaving. I was suddenly terrified of being alone. Sleeping alone was what
had caused all my problems in the first place.
Well not sleeping alone was what caused your other issues but still.
What she is referring to is that when Lucie possed her
Clara was sleeping.
“I’ll stay”, he said before I even asked.
The nights never did get easier. In my dreams I was always afraid of waking up
someplace else.. . of being alone.
I overindulged and put my entire savings in a beautiful WWII refurbished
apartment overlooking the Tiber, something about being near the water kept me
calm. It reminded me where I was and kept me sane
I of course couldn’t afford a place like that on my own, so I asked Peter to
move in with me.
We are talking maybe a 8-10,000 dollar a month rent.
Though we were both more than capable of making our own decisions, I sensed we
didn’t tell our parents about our living arrangement for the same reason.
Still, the nightmares didn’t stop and it was not just Grandfather’s body I was
seeing. Peter was always there to wake me up and to keep me somewhat grounded.
It wasn’t long before I felt the need to reciprocate the kindness he had shown
me. I cooked, cleaned and did the best I could while on strict doctor's
orders not to work. At night we would sit on the couch and write music
together.
I Clara/Peter more in a few paragraphs then I did in all those
Adam/Sofia chapters. There I said it.
Sometimes I would just wander around
the city looking for someplace to just hear my own music and then play it when
I got back home.
I didn’t want to believe I was falling in love again, but I was. Could fickle
hearts be genetic?
So , this line makes more sense with the random busboy love interest
cause Peter and Clara atleast have history.
One night I found myself in his arms much in the same way I did now, though
then it was more at my doing.
He honestly cared about me and I felt the same towards him but for some reason
it was tearing me up inside.
“I can’t”, I had told him
“I’m not asking you for anything.”
“Yes you are”, I had said kissing the side of his face “and I’m asking myself
for something . . . and it’s just too soon.”
“We’ve know each other for years.”
“No, I still need time to. . .grieve.”, I'd said without thinking.
My grief then began to cause me physical pain and I felt as if I were ready to
cry again. I sat at the table staring at my entwined hands. At some point he
had left a glass of my favorite wine by my bedside and it made me smile.
However as my life seemed to be set, I knew all good things would come to an
end and I did eventually have to leave him.
I never though I would get a second chance
Till now.
Short and Sweet at just over 3,500 with annotations.
*Looks ahead*
Chapter 6 is one of the LONGEST CHAPTERS ? WHY ?