Nerves

 

March 26, 1984

As Claire stepped out of her father’s BMW on Monday morning, her system erupted with nervous jitters that she could barely hide.  Her father’s cheerful goodbye as he pulled away for the curb went in one ear and out the other, and as Claire joined the other students walking into the school, she felt herself beginning to tremble.  She felt like she could barely stand the suspense.

Where was he?  What would he say?  What would he do?  What would she do?  She couldn’t just run up and hug him, it couldn’t possibly be as simple as that.  Although, she had to admit to herself that her social standing didn’t seem to count for as much as it had just 48 hours before.  Maybe she was just maturing—and she knew perfectly well that her friends probably wouldn’t be maturing in the same way anytime soon.  She had been lurking by the phone all weekend, her heart jumping into her throat every time it rang, but of course it was never him.  Part of her had known he wouldn’t call, that maybe he couldn’t call—but even if he could he probably wouldn’t.  Too soon. 

Claire knew exactly where he would be today—all of that crowd hung out by the lockers beside the back staircase.  Of course, he might not be at school yet, so Claire didn’t know whether or not she should go out of her way to walk by or not.  If she did and he wasn’t there, and then later she walked by again, his friends might notice and start making fun of her, and what if they told him about it?  She didn’t want him to think she was being needy or clingy or anything.  And of course, her friends wouldn’t be any more understanding.  Marianne would snigger and make some joke about slumming, and Eileen would be judgmental and disapprove on religious grounds—although everyone said Eileen was secretly a slut who liked to get drunk at parties and screw around with boys in some dark room, though she never went all the way so she’d been labeled a tease as well—and Beth and Kerry would talk about her behind her back for weeks. 

It occurred to Claire that she was probably overanalyzing the situation, but she couldn’t help herself.  And as she walked down the hallway as nonchalantly as she could, she realized that she would have to walk by the stoner hangout by the back stairs for the simple reason that she couldn’t imagine sitting still until homeroom.  She was too nervous.

Although she continually reminded herself not to get her hopes up, as she navigated the crowds she felt herself getting breathless with anticipation.  A hundred scenarios ran through her mind as she turned the last corner to see him, and—

He wasn’t there.

Despite her mental preparation for this exact outcome, she felt like crying.  She drifted towards her homeroom, depressed and disappointed. 

Marianne was already in homeroom, and Claire took one look at her and instantly knew that she was brimming with gossip she was dying to share.  Sure enough, Claire had barely sat down before Marianne scooted closer to her and said, “Did you hear who Andy brought to Stubby’s Saturday night?”

Claire didn’t bother to answer, although she was pretty sure she knew what Marianne was about to say, and as Marianne didn’t need any encouragement to keep on talking, she didn’t wait for Claire’s response.

“He brought that weird girl, Allison.  You know, the psycho chick?  But she was wearing this white thing and had tried putting on makeup and doing her hair and everything, though she totally blew it, she looked absolutely ridiculous and try-hard, and she spent the entire night making out with Andy all over the place, it was disgusting…”

Claire bit her lip to keep from saying that she had done Allison’s hair and makeup, and that Allison had actually looked quite nice.  But she suddenly realized that Marianne was jealous, and her mean streak was more evident than ever. 

Marianne chattered on about Allison until homeroom began, and she quieted down for the announcements (for the most part, though she still occasionally leaned across the aisle to whisper another tidbit into Claire’s ear, until the teacher snapped at her to be quiet), but Claire’s mind was elsewhere.  Could she manage to drift by the stoner’s corner between homeroom and first period?  Was there any point to it?  She didn’t have any classes with him at all, and she wasn’t sure if they had the same lunch—she’d never seen him in the cafeteria, though that didn’t mean a thing.  In fact, even if he was at school today, there wasn’t a guarantee that Claire would lay eyes on him.  She thought back to previous weeks and tried to remember how often she’d seen him, and where, and what time of day it usually occurred, but she realized she didn’t know enough about his schedule to predict when or where she could run into him. 

The day dragged by with agonizing slowness.  Claire was totally disinterested in her classes and her friends and was almost completely silent during lunch.  Not that her friends noticed—they ignored her as they gossiped about the other students, and Allison’s transformation was rehashed in even less complimentary terms than before.  Finally, at the end of the day, Claire left the building with a heavy heart to climb into her father’s car, nearly ten minutes later than usual—she had lingered in the halls as they slowly cleared, hoping to see him before she left, but no such luck.  Not for the first time, Claire felt near tears, and gazed forlornly out the window on the drive home.