an excerpt from the short story Claire
by Cory D.

     He didn’t see Claire again until nearly Christmas.

     Exhausted and excited and stuffed with overpriced Madison Square Garden hot dogs, they all piled onto the first available bus back to Baytown. Cory was nearly the first one on, and scrambled to find his favorite seat in any bus, at a window, facing forward, near the back door. Waz, Dizzy and the other more rambunctious types passed him heading for their usual stomping grounds on the wide bench seat across the back of the bus. Some joker playfully whacked him on the back of his head in passing, knocking his woolen watch cap forward over his eyes. His face burned as he heard the laughter.

     As he removed his hat from his face and straightened his glasses, he felt someone sit down next to him. He turned and the world spun. His pulse raced and his vision narrowed until all he could see was those eyes. “Is it OK if I sit here, Cory?”

     Claire.

     Her breath was warm against his cold face, sweet with the Cherry Coke she was drinking. As she spoke, the bus pulled away and hung a fast left onto the Boulevard. Inertia pushed her softly against his shoulder and she smiled.

     Cory swallowed hard and fought for control of his voice. “Uh, s-sure Claire, he piped, his voice rising a full octave, knowing as he spoke that he sounded like an idiot. N-no problem. Plenty of room” Moron, he screamed in his head. Why not just call her fat-ass!

     But Claire seemed happily oblivious to insult. Cory watched her out of the corner of his eye, just a surreptitious glance now and then, trying desperately not to appear eager or obvious, as she settled in for the ride home. She stripped off her gloves finger by finger, unzipped her thick down parka.

     It was a brand-new Christmas coat, puffy and warm. As she opened it, Cory was enveloped in her scent, sweet, clean sweat and a hint of perfume. He recognized it; Elvira wore it. Cachet. His mind reeled, awash, drowning in Claire.

     She chatted away with her best friend Roseanne across the aisle, rehashing the wrestling matches they’d just seen, as well as clothes and boys and catechism classes. Cory listened as best he could as he watched the streetlights pass through the misty bus windows. He turned toward her once or twice as the bus bored through the snowy night, but said nothing. He wanted to talk to her again, say something witty and charming, but he couldn’t think of a thing. Anyway, Roseanne simply would not shut up, and he didn’t think it would win him any points to be rude and interrupt. Cory kept still and tried to count the streets as they rode south toward Baytown. The driver turned off the interior lights, turned up the heat. The bus grew quiet as the evening’s excitement and large amounts of junk food caught up with them.

     Something pressed gently against him. He turned to look, and froze, his words choked back in hasty silence. It was Claire. She had dozed off in the warmth of the bus, and her head was resting lightly on his shoulder. Her brown hair fell in a wave over her forehead, covering one eye.

     Cory was entranced by the sight, by the weight of Claire resting against him. He held his breath, not wanting to do anything to awaken her. Anything might break the spell. He exhaled carefully and watched her as she slept.

     The Boulevard was potholed and rough; the bus bounced and her eyes moved beneath their lids. Her long eyelashes fluttered, and Cory winced in dread, but incredibly, she seemed to drift even deeper into sleep. Claire sighed and her body relaxed, nestling against him. He felt a tickle in his nose; no, no no … I will NOT sneeze!

     Love and excitement coursed through Cory’s nerves like too much current through a wire. The bus and everyone on it faded into a meaningless blur. Claire and he were alone, cocooned, safe and together. Just sitting there with Claire, he grew breathless, like he did running a fast quarter-mile. There was that same queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he felt as he reached deep inside himself and somehow found a bit more speed for the finish.

     Cory glimpsed that some new knowledge was here, his for the taking if he was ready. Oblivious to all else, he was almost supernaturally aware of every detail of the girl sleeping alongside him. There was poetry written in each stray lock of her hair, in the way melted snowflakes glinted in her eyelashes like tiny diamonds.  He closed his eyes and breathed in the warm scent of her.

     He’d have died for her honor at that moment and felt it well worth it.  The slow, steady rhythm of her breathing seemed to coincide with his own.  He saw her eyes move again beneath closed lids. Was she dreaming? Of him? He closed his own eyes and inhaled her perfume.

     The blocks were passing swiftly now. Soon people would start getting off, a commotion of donning coats and shouting good-byes. Or the bus would hit a pothole One way or another, soon, Claire would awaken. The magic would end. He abruptly knew that this was a time and a feeling that he’d never get back, a night to remember and treasure, never to be repeated. And he recognized, deep inside, in that place where hopeless dreams and self-delusion do not suffice, that kind, lovely Claire was not destined to be his.

     Slowly, hardly believing his own daring, not caring who saw or who might mock him later, he tilted his head over until it rested, just barely, against hers. He moved his hand so that it touched hers as it lay resting on her thigh. Claire stirred a bit, but did not wake; the spell was holding.

     She sighed deeply in her sleep; a single sweet tendril of her long dark hair wafted in her breath and tickled his lips. Cory reached up and stroked Claire’s hair, softly, just once. Once would have to do. Once would have to last forever.