PROLOGUE • CLAUDIA
I wrote this prologue early on, in the first draft of Keeping Claudia. It introduced Claudia’s mother and picked up where most readers would remember, but in the end, my writing group thought it was better to nix it and get right into the story.
I’d barely knocked when her hotel room door opened, and with her cell phone to her ear, she motioned me into the room. She was wearing a pale gray, skirted suit with a white ruffled silk blouse, and a pair of stylish teal high heels. Her ash blonde hair was cut to a shoulder-length bob and streaked with multi-toned highlights. The overall picture said stylish and professional—Heidi Chiametti was a woman comfortable with control. We were similar in height and build; I had the same heart shaped face and high cheekbones doused with freckles—hers hidden under a layer of perfectly tinted foundation—but though I kept looking for more parallels, visually, my mother and I shared little else.
The door swung shut behind me and I strode over to the room’s desk to lay my plastic wrapped gown over the back of the chair. As I stood, waiting for her to finish the call, I admired the plush room with its rich gold and deep russet coloring.
“Roy, you know I been wanting to show that house. It’s my listing, for heavens sake!” Mom paced the room, twirling a piece of hair at the nape of her neck. She always did that when she was tense.
We had an unconventional relationship, my mother and I. When I was seventeen, she divorced my father and moved across the country, from New York to California. Without me. We did the typical things one does with faraway relatives: We video chatted, emailed, text messaged and called. I visited whenever school was out. She needed me to accept her new life and the distance she put between us. It had to be enough, so I adapted.
While attending college, I’d been living in nearby Los Angeles, and I’d gotten to see much more of my mother, but it wasn’t uncommon for my weekend visits to be interrupted by an unexpected call into work.
Why had I expected this day to be any different? She liked her work, and rarely refused it. I waited, almost expecting her to give into him and forfeit some of my day to work.
“No, I can’t. Not even for an hour.” Mom glanced at me when she said this, but I turned away, to avoid giving her any inclination that she was free to go. “My daughter is graduating from the University of Southern California today, magna cum laud. Thank you. Yes, she’s a very bright young lady.” She smiled at me then. “I’ll be in tomorrow.”
I hid a triumphant grin.
“You don’t get successful refusing work, but sometimes there are circumstances where we just have to say no. This is your day.” She tossed the phone onto the bed and held her arms open to me. “Well, don’t just stand there! Give me a smoosh.”
I went to her immediately. Mom smelled like she always did—of Chanel No 5. She claimed the scent, along with the top-of-the-line facial moisturizer and makeup regime she regularly pushed at me, were basic necessities. At forty-four, she looked ageless. Perfect. We had a practical relationship, but when she squeezed me to her, I felt like a little girl once again. Hot emotion clawed at the back of my throat. This woman was my mother and yet, for the last five years, I felt as though I’d lived on the outskirts of her life.
“Look at you.” She pulled back and held me at arm’s length. “You’re all grown up.”
Though inside the comment filled me with pride, I rolled my eyes. “Mom, you just saw me at Easter, three weeks ago.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Yes, but you seem different now that you’re about to be a college graduate—ready to take on the world. When do you start your internship?”
I had already told her this, but I knew she was often too distracted by her work to keep track of dates, no matter how important they were to me. Repeating myself was something I’d gotten used to doing with her. “My internship starts in July, and graduate classes start late August.”
“Do you really want to go back to New York?” She scrunched her nose in distaste. “Isn’t there something I can do to persuade you stay here with me, in beautiful, sunny California? Clothes, shoes, accessories—a whole wardrobe? A car, maybe? I have dealer connections.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Trying to bribe your only daughter?”
“Only if it works.” Mom thumbed my chin with affection, and then optimistically arched her own eyebrows. “Oh, I know! How about an eligible bachelor, an entrepreneur or a doctor, someone with lots of discretionary income to spend on the right young lady? I have some really handsome clients I can introduce you to.”
“Mom, we talked about this.”
“I know, I know. You have a life back home, waiting for you.” She reached into her overnight case and pulled out a yellow, lightweight sweater. I owned one like it. “Is there someone special waiting for you back home?”
“Uh huh.”
“So it finally happened. Someone caught your attention.” My mother must’ve noticed my face warming at the indirect reference to him. She layered her hands over her heart and batted her eyes, teasing me. “I often worried that you’d never allow yourself to get close enough to anyone to fall in love.”
“Wow, Mom. I am a part of the human species, you know. If you prick me, do I not bleed?”
She chuckled. “You were always such an enigma as a little girl, so grownup and focused. You never seemed interested in having a boyfriend—other than that one incident in middle school.”
My cheeks warmed at the reference to the puerile game of truth or dare gone embarrassingly wrong.
“I was friends with plenty of boys at school,” I said, feeling a bit defensive. “I just wasn’t interested in any of them, in that way.”
Talking guys with my mother felt odd. We’d never done so before—Not that she hadn’t tried—but before now, there had never been one I wanted to talk about.
“Mmm, and now you are. You really like this one, don’t you?” She kept her eyes on me, studying my face like she was plucking thoughts from my head.
I looked away feeling uncomfortable with her knowing more than I was ready to reveal, but the fact was, he and I had known each other for over two years and been through so much together. It was more than a casual thing. He’d shown me how persistent he could be, facing down his demons and restarting his life. If anyone had the tenacity to go the distance with me, I had a feeling, he could. But, at this ambiguous stage of the relationship, details would be rationed. I wasn’t ready to face my mother’s judgment.
“Well, I hope you’re being sexually responsible. The pill doesn’t prevent STDs.”
I nearly swallowed my tongue, but then laughed. “I’m not on the pill, and really, we don’t have to have this conversation. Your parental cautions, especially in that department, are no longer required.”
“Too old for my advice, huh?” My mother’s mouth tilted as it often did when she was amused by something I’d said. “Well, a mother never stops worrying, no matter how old her baby is. Just tell me you’re taking precautions, to avoid unplanned situations. Not that I would mind a grandchild someday, but you don’t want a few moments of pleasure to alter the whole course of your life.”
To be sure, sex was never a topic I’d choose to talk about to my either of my parents, but if I had to, Mom was the one. Having this conversation with my dad, well, let’s just say, it would never happen, or least not without a discussion on moral repercussions. My virtue was the whip cream topping on Dad’s famous lecture pie. He generally vetoed everything, just on principal alone, but when it came to guys and sex, abstinence was expected. In his mind’s eye I would always be a little girl. Sure, he wanted me to settle down and get married, but I think he believed I’d be able to manufacture his grandchildren without having bodily contact with a man.
My mother, on the other hand, was less uptight about me coming into sexual maturity. She seemed to accept it as a natural part of life. This wasn’t the first time she had tried to casually pass on ‘useful’ information to me. Unlike my father, Mom never badgered me on the virtues of purity, but on being sure of myself, and of course, being safe. In the past, this conversation did little but embarrass me. Through my teenage years, I’d no need for ‘the talk,’ and if brought up, I was quick to assure her it wasn’t necessary.
Today, I just smiled at her. I suppose my view of sex was a culmination of my parent’s differing views, mixed with my logical take on it. Sex was natural, and it would happen, but only within a loving relationship, one I felt secure in. It had happened already—in fact, my father would be outraged if knew, out in our backyard, while he was asleep in the house, I’d willingly given up my virginity.
That had happened almost two years ago. Shortly after our one night together, Julia Faye, my guy’s kind-hearted, but frail, sickly mother, suffered a fatal heart attack. Instead of our shared grief bringing us closer, her death cut us apart. He’d pushed me away, and bruised by his rejection, I recoiled and buried myself in my studies. That’s where I’d been the last two years. Until a few weeks ago…
On a warm March night in Carlsbad, on my twenty-second birthday, I allowed myself to get swept up–an unexpected night spent in his arms changed everything. Old feelings of love heated and once again crept through my veins, injecting a fresh burst of energy into our withered bond. Returning home to Long Island meant many things: pursuing my Master’s Degree, being with my father and best friend, April, but at the forefront of my thoughts was the glimmering hope of a second chance romance with Toby Faye.
In twenty-four short hours I’d be with him again.
First, though, I had to get through graduation day.
I pulled back the plastic bag encasing my black graduation gown and slipped the shiny, polyester robe off the hanger. Slipping it on, I zippered it up before meeting my mother’s eyes in the mirror over the hotel dresser. “Thanks, Mom. Condoms are available at every corner drugstore, and if I have the urge, I promise to take the necessary precautions.” Being unspecific meant no admittance, no denial, and therefore, no lying. “Besides, with another few years of school to finish, I would never leave something like that to chance.”
Pining my hair back, I propped the tasseled mortarboard on my head.
“I suppose it’s silly of me to think you’d take that kind of risk.” Mom came up behind me and adjusted the cap, and then embraced me from behind, her cheek resting on mine. “My beautiful daughter is not only brilliant, but an extremely disciplined young woman. Even when you were little, you were so focused, restrained, such a perfect little girl. Never gave your father and I a moment’s trouble. Speaking of your father, how is he?”
“You’ll see for yourself in about five minutes. He’s down in the foyer waiting for us. I don’t want to be late getting to the auditorium to line up. They said to be prompt.” I pulled away from her, and anxious to get moving, made for the door. “So, you’ll play nice with Dad today, for me?”
Graduation was full of promise, but the anticipation was flanked with unease. My two divorced parents were going to be together again, all day. I would be on guard, resuming my place as the intermediary and diplomatic alliance between the two.
“Of course. I wouldn’t think of ruining this day for you. We will be on our best behavior.” She tugged her handbag over her shoulder and kissed me on the cheek. “Come on. Let’s go get you graduated.”
The Bathtub Scene
This scene was a glimpse inside Toby and Claudia’s day, a sweet moment as Toby is swept away with love for her.
It was after ten o’clock when we finally sat down to eat. Flushed from a long nap, and from being kissed awake by me to make love, Claudia sat next to me at the kitchen table, our empty plates in front of us, content from our simple grilled ham and cheese sandwich dinner. I even managed to throw together the makings of a green salad.
“Thank you. That was so, so good.” Leaning back in the chair, she patted her belly.
I didn’t make anything elaborate, but I liked to cook, and mostly I loved to feed her. Knowing I’d done something to make her happy made it worthwhile. I put the dishes in the dishwasher and walked to the doorway.
“Time for a bath,” I said over my shoulder, leaving the kitchen to padded barefoot up the stairs. I knew it wouldn’t be long before she followed me.
Inside the bathroom, I wiped down the old white ceramic glazed-tub and started running the water to fill it. I was rummaging around inside the cabinet under the sink when Claudia appeared in the doorway.
“Are you taking a bath?” she asked, her voice slanted with curiosity.
“No. You are. And looky here, I even found some bubble bath.” I presented the old bottle to her like it was an expensive wine. I removed the cap and dumped most of the pink-opalescent contents under the downspout. Thick masses of cotton candy bubbles spiraled wildly, taking over the surface of the water. “It’ll help relax you.”
She closed the distance between us and put her arms around my waist. “Can I tell you how absolutely adorable you are?”
I rested my hands at her hips. “Um, sure.”
“Toby Faye, you are the sweetest, kindest, most adorable guy I’ve ever known.” She rose up to kiss my mouth.
“Thank you.” I pecked her lips and pulled away. “Now strip naked, woman.”
“So bossy,” she said, but she undressed while I watched. I liked that my eyes on her no longer intimidated her. It was challenging to keep my hands off of her beautiful body, but I kept a few feet, only offering my hand as she stepped into tub. She moaned softly as she sunk into the foamy water.
I knelt down aside the tub. “Lean forward,” I said, and when she did, I worked the bar soap into a lather, massaging her as I washed her back. I did the same with her arms, legs and feet, paying a lot of attention to her toes while she lied back and relaxed.
Finished, I rested my head on my arm on the edge of the tub, watching her visibly unwind before my eyes. Her eyelids melted closed, and I continued to swish the sudsy water around her shoulders, letting my fingers graze her collarbone and neck in long, gentle caresses.
As I looked at her, my chest grew tight and my eyes began to sting.
“Claudia.” Her name clogged heavy in my throat as I lifted my hand to her cheek and let my thumb trace the cheekbone of her moist, warm face.
“Mmmm?” With eyes still closed, she rolled her face towards me.
“God, baby, I love you, so so much.” It was all I could say before my throat closed down.
Her eyes opened with effort, a soft smile on her face, as she reached out for my shirt collar, twisting it in her grasp. “You’d better get in this bath with me right now.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now,” she repeated.
I rose up just enough to slide over the edge of the tub, into the sudsy water atop her and was treated to her giggly laughter. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub.
“You’re very silly and quite crazy,” she said, yanking my tee shirt up my chest.
“Silly crazy for you, Chiametti.” I leaned down and kissed her.