“He lied to me. Not that that’s the worst of it. Not that it even matters, relative to everything else. But he lied to me, twice—three times if you count what just happened. A few hours ago, upstairs, he said he wished he’d known what was happening. He sounded so…I felt sorry for him. Idiot that I am.” Cornelia’s voice was vibrant with bitterness.
“Why are you an idiot? For trusting someone you love?” Teo said. He sounded tired, flattened out.
Cornelia shot him an astounded, baffled look. “Teo! Is that what you thought? No, not that. It’s not as bad as that. Liked. Liked a lot. Never loved.” She paused. “Did I seem to be in love with him?”
Teo swirled the wine around in his glass thoughtfully. Then he looked at Cornelia. “No. I mean, I don’t know what you look like in love. But no, I guess not. I guess I just figured you were since he’s—” Teo broke off. What? Clare wondered. He’s what?
Cornelia shifted her gaze to the sky, even though Clare knew that with all that light out there, the sky wouldn’t be much of anything but black. “I wanted to be,” she said softly. “I got swept up in wanting to be. I overlooked so much.”
Teo gazed at the sky too. “Anyone would have, I bet. I don’t think love is blind, but wanting to be in love, that’s probably blind. You couldn’t help it.”
“No, don’t give me that kind of credit. If I’d been blind…But I wasn’t. I saw, but I put aside or explained away. I refused to add things up.” Cornelia sighed. “And the truth is, I wasn’t stunned when you said what you said in the kitchen. If I found out someone else—you, for instance—decided to ignore a child’s cries for help, I would be stunned.”
“Oh,” breathed Clare. She pressed her fingers to her mouth, but Cornelia and Teo hadn’t heard her. So that was it. Her phone call to her father.
Cornelia stopped looking at the sky and looked at Teo, fiercely. “Not even stunned. I’d smite whoever said it down in his tracks. The lying bastard.”
Teo tilted his face away, but Clare thought she saw him smile. When he turned back to Cornelia, though, he was somber.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Or maybe I should be sorry I told you at all. Or told you like I did, in front of Martin.”
Cornelia poked him in the shoulder. “Stop. I won’t allow it. You know and I know that you did try. Or started to try. Last night. Before I turned into a rattlesnake and bit you.”
Clare didn’t know what Cornelia was talking about, but she saw that whatever had happened last night, no one was mad about it now.
Cornelia clapped her hands to her forehead and gave a frustrated hiss. “What is the matter with me? Why did I want so badly to be in love with him?”
Teo laughed and said, “You mean what did you see in him? Come on, Cornelia!”
“Quiet, you.” She stabbed her forefinger in his direction and glowered.
“If the resemblance were any stronger, he’d probably be in violation of copyright laws.” Teo laughed again.
“You find yourself so amusing, don’t you, little boy?” Cornelia was shaking her head, but smiling at the same time.
“The Grant estate could sue.”
They both laughed. Clare didn’t follow any of what they said, but she understood the laughing. She understood that a few minutes ago, Cornelia had had tears on her face and now she and Teo were laughing together.
Clare remembered that the two of them had grown up together, and she wondered if this was how brothers and sisters acted around each other all the time. Probably not. She considered the brothers and sisters she knew. Cornelia and Teo were sort of like brother and sister, but also were something else. A kind of energy danced between them. It dawned on her that this was what a friendship between a man and a woman looked like, and she felt dizzy and privileged, as though she’d gotten a glimpse into a new world.
“And it’s not just that,” said Teo, as their laughter subsided. “Charm, wit, sophistication, what even I can tell are great clothes. I bet his apartment looks like something out of a magazine. If I Googled ‘Cornelia’s dream man,’ he’s exactly what would show up on the screen.”
“Am I hopelessly shallow?” asked Cornelia, wistfully, and Clare knew she wanted a serious answer, even if the question didn’t sound entirely serious. As she spoke, Cornelia leaned her head against the back of her chair and looked into Teo’s face. He looked back for a second.
“Nope,” he said, and his tone was brisk. “Nothing hopeless about you.”
They sat drinking their wine and staring straight ahead. If the light outside hadn’t been so brilliant, they would have seen Clare for sure. Then Cornelia spoke. What she said nearly sent Clare running out into the yard.
“He went for a drive. When he comes back, I’m telling him it’s over. Because it’s over. I’m leaving.”
Teo sat still, not looking at Cornelia or saying anything. Clare’s breathing began to come hard.
“I can’t be with him, Teo.” Her voice was defiant.
Still, Teo kept silent. Cornelia stood up and began to pace. Clare felt desolate. It was over then, the safe feeling, the not being alone. Over, over, over. The word repeated itself in her head with the force of heavy footsteps, something bad coming closer and closer.
“I just can’t do it. You know I can’t, Teo. It’s unthinkable.” Cornelia’s voice got higher as she paced.
“It is. It’s unthinkable,” said Teo evenly. “And it would only be for a little while. Just until they find her.”
Cornelia stopped in front of Teo, her arms wrapped around her middle. Standing there, hugging herself, with her back to Clare, she was tiny, like a little girl.
“I’m supposed to what? Pretend to be in love with him?” Cornelia almost spat the words.
Teo stood up fast and put a hand on Cornelia’s shoulder. “No,” he said. “Of course not. Just talk to him, work on your relationship.”
“Pretend to work on our relationship?”
Teo grimaced, his hand still on Cornelia’s shoulder. He seemed to be ashamed of something, but Clare didn’t know what. But he didn’t look away from Cornelia’s face.
“No one could expect me to do that,” said Cornelia, angrily.
“No,” said Teo, his gaze steady.
“I just want to get away from him,” said Cornelia, pleading.
“I know you do,” said Teo kindly. So kindly, Clare thought, Teo couldn’t have any reason to be ashamed. Clare believed he was the nicest man in the world.
Cornelia reached up and held on with both hands to Teo’s arm. She was crying.
“You’re right,” she said, hollowly. “I can’t leave her. Of course, I can’t. Especially not now, after everything I know.”
Her, Clare thought. I’m the her she means.
“It’s not fair,” said Teo. “I’m sorry.” He pulled Cornelia to him and hugged her.
Clare wished she could hug her too. Clare whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” whispered it over and over, filling the small room she sat in with the words.
“Teo,” said Cornelia, almost whispering, “what if I mess up?”
“Mess up what?”
“You saw Clare’s face when she opened the door tonight. She’s fragile. I don’t know how to be responsible for a child that fragile.”
“You won’t mess up.”
Cornelia pulled away from Teo. “OK. But you, you have to go, OK? Tomorrow.”
“I know.” Teo nodded. “I will.”
“I can’t stand to have you watch,” said Cornelia. “And anyway, you have your life. We can’t have you getting fired. By the hospital or by Ollie.” She laughed a brittle laugh and wiped her face roughly with her hand. Then she said, “Let’s go in.”
Teo picked up their wineglasses.
“But Teo,” Cornelia said, suddenly sounding almost frightened, “if I call you, will you come back?” Then, in a more normal tone, “Because Clare might want you. I think she’s in love.”
I am, Clare thought and smiled t
o herself.
“Yeah,” said Teo. “If you call me, I’ll come back.”
Clare ran up the stairs to her mother’s room and slipped under the quilt. Her heart was pounding. For a long time, she lay awake, thinking of how finding out how her father had treated Clare had made Cornelia want to leave him, and of how, for the same reason, Cornelia was staying. For her, Cornelia had decided to stay. She must like me, Clare thought happily. Teo, too. They must both like me. Holding this thought close, she fell asleep.
When Clare came downstairs the next morning, Cornelia was sitting alone at the kitchen table with her forehead resting on her crossed arms. It was the precise position the younger kids at Clare’s school used for their ten-minute rests after lunch, and Clare had always liked how it felt inside the small space her arms made: private, alone with the sound of her breath and, at the same time, linked to the other children in the darkened room who were each alone in the same way. But here, at the table, Cornelia was the only one with her head down; she really was alone.
Clare noticed the way Cornelia’s cropped hair tapered down the back of her head; she noticed the slight depression in the center of her neck and one bump of vertebrae above her shirt collar. Cornelia lives in her body just like I live in mine, Clare understood suddenly. She’s the main character in her story, just like I’m the main character in mine. Clare couldn’t have explained these thoughts or accounted for her feeling of astonishment as she thought them. The thoughts seemed obvious, but were not. Somehow, they were revelations.
“Cornelia?” said Clare softly. Cornelia lifted her head, raising her shoulders as though the sound of her name had startled her. Clare wondered if she’d been sleeping. When Cornelia saw Clare, her shoulders relaxed, and she said, gently, “Hey, there. Hungry?”
“Starving,” answered Clare. She poked around the kitchen and found two pies, untouched—apple and pumpkin. They didn’t eat dessert without me, she thought, and this fact filled her with warmth.
“Cornelia,” Clare said mischievously, “let’s have pie.”
Cornelia laughed and said, “You know, suddenly, I’m starving too. If you’d cut me a big old slab of apple, honey, I’d be much obliged.”
As they ate, Clare asked, “Did Teo leave?” and Cornelia looked taken aback for a second. Then she said, “Teo is one of those lunatics who gets up at daybreak and goes running in the cold. I expect him back any minute begging us to put him in the oven to thaw. Will he fit, do you think?” They both looked at the giant oven.
“Maybe we can do half of him at a time,” said Clare.
“Good idea.” Cornelia smiled, then she said, seriously, “But he is leaving today. His patients need him.”
“Oh,” said Clare, taking care to sound disappointed. She was, actually, but she knew he’d come back if Cornelia called him. She knew she’d see him again. “I guess Ollie needs him too.”
“Sure, she does. Ollie doesn’t always know that she needs people, but she must need Teo.”
“Who wouldn’t need Teo?” said Clare. “He’s needable.”
Cornelia twinkled her eyes at Clare. “Now, now, Clare, you mustn’t let men drive you to mangling the English language, no matter how sweet they are.”
“Not men, just Teo.” Clare laughed. “OK, what’s a better word?”
“How about necessary?” Cornelia said. “Teo is necessary.”
At that moment, the front door slammed. Teo trotted into the kitchen, panting, and immediately bent over with his hands on his knees. When he caught his breath, he stood up, then sat on the floor with his back against the wall. He wore a red sweatshirt with STANFORD in white letters across the front. He was red-cheeked, and his eyes sparkled. Clare stared. He looks exactly like a rose, she thought, which instantly struck her as funny. She chuckled.
“What?” Teo said to the two staring people.
“Were your ears burning?” asked Cornelia. Teo cupped his hands over his ears.
“They’re burning now. My whole head is burning. I think that’s a good sign, because two minutes ago my whole head was numb.”
“Which, I believe, would make you a numbskull,” said Cornelia.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” said Teo, shrugging. “Where’s Martin?”
“Martin’s showering, I think. Or probably shaving by now. Showering, shaving, two things you might consider, Sandoval. And your hair is crying out for a decent barber. Screaming out. Actually, at this point, an indecent barber would do.” Cornelia’s tone was light as a feather, but Clare noticed that when she talked about her father, she didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
“Stop trying to make me over,” said Teo, standing up. “It can’t be done.” He lifted what was left of Cornelia’s pie in his fingers and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.
“Barbarian,” said Cornelia primly, touching her napkin to the corners of her lips.
Clare heard her father coming down the stairs, his shoes heavy on the bare wood. It’s the day after Christmas, she thought with disgust. Hasn’t he ever heard of sneakers?
But when her father walked into the kitchen, she felt sorry for being so hard on him, even if it was only to herself. Inside his sweater and wool pants he seemed smaller, and his eyes looked shadowed and dark in his pale face, as though he hadn’t slept at all. She wondered how long he’d driven around thinking about Cornelia, and even though Cornelia would break up with him before long, Clare guessed, she was glad he didn’t know what Cornelia had said last night in the yard. Clare remembered that sad, desperate note in her voice when she’d told Teo, “I just want to get away from him.” Just thinking about her father hearing that made Clare shiver.
“Martin,” said Cornelia, and something about the way she said it made Clare wonder if she’d been thinking the same thing.
“Good morning, all. Ah, I was wondering where those pies had gotten to,” he said. Even his voice was smaller.
Clare stood up. “We turned them into breakfast, Dad. Do you want pumpkin or apple?”
He smiled at her, into her eyes, and then said, “I’ll have what you had, Sparrow.”
Teo stood up. “Somewhere around here, there’s a shower with my name on it.”
“Make it a long one,” called Cornelia, holding her nose as Teo sprinted out of the room.
“Teo does not smell!” said Clare to Cornelia with mock indignation.
“He was too frozen to smell much, at first, but as he began to thaw…” She took hold of her nose again.
“It appears that love isn’t just blind, it dulls the olfactory nerves too,” teased Clare’s father.
Clare felt mildly shocked that her father had even noticed her crush on Teo. Of course, Cornelia may have pointed it out to him. But this morning, in his new smallness, with his sparkle dimmed, his edges drooping, her father seemed softer toward Clare. He seemed to notice her more than he usually did. She blushed a little at the thought that he knew she had a crush, which made her consider the fact that until that moment, she hadn’t cared if Cornelia and Linny and even Teo knew. Not so long ago, being with people who knew such a fact would have embarrassed her mightily. But the atmosphere Teo and Cornelia carried around with them was playful, affectionate, and, what else? Accepting. When Clare entered this atmosphere, she felt free, as though what she thought and said were just fine.
“I don’t think love is blind,” said Cornelia in a hushed tone, and Clare’s father turned toward her abruptly. “True love is probably the most clear-eyed state of being there is.”
Clare’s father looked intently into his coffee cup, as though there were an answer to what Cornelia had said inside it.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe with true love, you see and you love anyway,” he said finally. Then he shifted tones. “Who coined that phrase, by the way? ‘Love is blind.’”
“Oh, Shakespeare, probably. At least, it’s in Shakespeare, but it may have been something people said, a whatchamacallit. Not idiom. A commonplace?”
“I believe the techni
cal term is ‘something people said,’” said Clare’s father, growing just a fraction brighter. At least, it seemed that way to Clare. A fraction? She tried to remember what you measured light in. A watt?
“Like ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’” said Cornelia, which Clare didn’t get at all. Right away, though, her father brightened a bit more.
“Exactly. Did Mozart compose it or did he just write variations of an existing folk song?”
“I believe the technical term is ‘something people already sang,’” joked Cornelia, and her smile wasn’t her usual smile, but Clare’s father didn’t appear to notice. Or maybe he was just glad to be talking like they were, batting a feathery subject back and forth. Like badminton, thought Clare, and wished she could say it out loud because it was a good simile. Oh, it popped into her head: a lumen. A lumen, right?
But even as she thought about how to measure light and her father and Cornelia talked about “Twinkle, Twinkle,” Clare could feel the presence of seriousness and worry. It was as though another conversation, the real one, lurked underneath, like a riptide in the ocean. What Clare saw in Cornelia’s face told her Cornelia felt this too. Cornelia at the kitchen table, her head in her arms flashed into Clare’s mind; she’d help Cornelia, if she could.
“Maybe we should leave today,” said Clare, “and go back to Philadelphia.” Out of this house, Cornelia wouldn’t have to see Clare’s father so much. They would live at their own apartments. She would stay with Cornelia, of course.
“Maybe we should.” Cornelia’s voice loosened with relief, which made Clare proud. She’d helped. “If you’re ready. Oh, and after tomorrow morning, you and I will be on our own for a few days. Your father leaves for London tomorrow.”
Clare felt buoyant at the news, but she tried not to let it show.
“I’ll just be gone a few days,” said her father. He paused, then said, “Unless you want me to stay, Clare. If you do, I can postpone the trip.”
Cornelia darted him a startled glance; for a few seconds, she seemed confused, as though she couldn’t decide what to think of this offer.