Claire toyed with the edges of her now shorter hair, constantly feeling the back of her neck surprised at how short it was. She still wasn’t used to the “grown up cut” her stylist gave her just that morning. Her eyes drifted over the boxes that piled up in her room, each of them labeled something like “College Stuff” or “Useless items Claire refuses to get rid of” and her father’s favorite “Shit I don’t know what to do with.”
She smiled, picking up the frames that lined her bed and packing them into boxes, one by one she took a moment to study the photo. Many of the photos were of her and Amelia, some from when she was first born, to silly recent photos of the two of them. Her favorite was a shot of Amelia leaning in to kiss a sleeping Claire on the couch. Sighing, she placed them all in a box marked Fragile and stopped at the last photo lying upside down by her pillow. The cherry stained Popsicle sticks were cracking around the edges and when she turned it over it was almost a surprise.
Photos of her mother started disappearing about a year after her death. It wasn’t that her father didn’t want to see them, Claire just assumed it was difficult for him to look at them every day. Jim began bringing in the photos to her, even their wedding album, and telling Claire to pack them away for when she got older. She remembered clearly the last photo being taken down that sat atop her piano. Amelia was sitting in front of the piano, banging on keys and when she looked up and asked who the woman in the photo was, Jim explained as simply as he could and handed it to Claire.
Her mother’s dark features were striking in that photo; her long hair pulled into a bun. She assumed it was when her father and mother had first started dating, they looked much younger. She laughed at how goofy looking her father had looked with his hair in his eyes and that lopsided grin he still couldn’t control. How she acquired that photo she wasn’t entirely sure, but she had no plans of giving it up. Resisting the urge to press a kiss to the glossy paper, she placed it in the box with the others and taped it up.
“Hey Sweetheart?” She glanced to the open door, “Your dad’s almost done cooking dinner, come eat.”
Claire got up from the floor, and walked over, Pam wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “You nervous?”
She looked up and smiled, “Kind of...I don’t like how bare my room looks.”
Pam laughed, “Dad’s threatening to rent it out once you leave.”
Claire shook her head, making her way down the stairs, “I’ll kill him,” she played, taking a seat at the dining room table.
“Claire!” Amelia’s eyes lit up as she sat down, the way they had every day for the past few years, and still Claire had not grown sick of entertaining her sister. Pam walked by pressing a kiss into her daughters curls.
“Guess what?” Amelia was a story teller, always having something to say.
“What?”
“Daddy said when you go to school we’re going to get a doggie!”
“So, that’s how you’re replacing me Dad, with a dog?” Claire watched her father enter the dining room with a plate of hot chicken.
“You got it kiddo,” he grinned at her taking his usual seat next to Pam, “we’re going to let him sleep in your bed too.”
Amelia’s tiny hand reached over to Claire’s, “he’s silly,” she rolled her eyes, it was her new favorite thing to do since she’d learned how.
“You’re sassy, sissy,” Claire smiled, looking at Amelia’s tiny fingernails that were chipping with cherry-red polish.
“Sassy sissy?” She cocked her head, confused at what she’d said.
“Mama?”
“Hmm?” Pam looked up, her mouth full, and wiped it with a napkin.
“What’s sassy mean?” Amelia asked, re-situating herself in her plastic booster seat.
“It means you’ve got at-ti-tude,” Jim snapped his fingers as Amelia broke out in a fit of giggles.
“Daddy’s sassy!” She pointed, having forgot all about the food in front of her.
“Ew. Dad,” Claire raised an eyebrow, “You stopped being cool years ago.”
“According to your sister I’m cooler than sliced bread,” Jim smiled.
“Huh?” Amelia piped in.
“Nothing baby, you just think I’m awesome, right?”
Amelia nodded vigorously at her father. “It’s cuz you like pizza, Daddy. And cuz you um,” she pushed herself up further to the table, “um cuz you sing and stuff when we are in the car, ‘member?”
Jim nodded, “Yup, when we go to school, I do,” he spooned some mashed potatoes into his mouth, “you’re a good singer too, Melly,”
Claire couldn't help but smile, ever since Amelia was born four years ago, she’d grown into this little..person, and she was gaining a personality. She looked more like her stepmother, but her father’s demeanor was most definitely shining through.
“Is it a dessert night?” Claire asked as she finished the last of the chicken that was on her plate. Ever since Pam had moved in with them five years ago, things had changed in their house. It was like order and normality had come back again. They had dinners that didn’t come from boxes, and certain evenings when they were allowed to have dessert and nights when they had fresh fruit. They’d taken family vacations again, seen things like the Grand Canyon, and Walt Disney World, and sometimes it made Claire miss her mother even more. But having Pam in the house was like the next best thing; Claire knew Pam loved her just as much as her father did, and there was comfort in that.
“I have an idea,” Jim wiped his mouth, setting the cloth napkin back in his lap, “Why don’t we all go out to Olive Garden and get dessert.”
“Yes!” Amelia lifted her arms in the air and closed her eyes with excitement.
“On a school night?” Pam raised an eyebrow, and linked her fingers with Jim’s.
“Aww it’ll be fine, we’re bringing Claire to Bard tomorrow, we need one last family outing,” he pouted at his wife.
Pam laughed at him, “Fine,” she sighed dramatically and grabbed the plates to bring into the kitchen, “but this is not turning into family sleepover,” she warned from the kitchen.
Claire got up from the table and walked up to the sink setting her plate and cup in. “Thanks Pam,” she kissed her on the cheek and walked over to the fridge, grabbing another soda can.
Pam’s eyes widened, looking over, “For what?” she asked, pushing her pony taill off her shoulder.
Claire stared at her for a moment, “Everything.”
*
“Claire?” Amelia had not exactly mastered the art of whispering. Claire propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes squinting toward the dark doorway, a light peeping through from the nightlight in the hall. “Are you awake?” her soft voice echoed through the empty room.
“I am now,” Claire mumbled as her sister padded through the room and hopped into the bed with her, pulling the blankets up around her neck. “What are you doing in here?” She pushed further down into bed, her nose almost touching Amelia’s.
“I can’t sleep,” Amelia’s hair was sprawled out onto the pillow, tickling Claire’s forehead.
“You can sleep in here,” Claire sighed, turning over to face the wall. Within a few moments she felt a hand on her shoulder, Amelia was propped up against her.
“Why are you going away?” Claire turned back over, facing her and then looking up to the ceiling.
“I’m not going to be gone forever, Melly. We talked about this remember? I’ll be home for Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and everything will be fine,” she could feel herself tearing up. Fortunate for the darkness, she let her eyes moisten.
“Yeah but you’re not gonna be able to get me from preschool and stuff,” she grabbed onto the ratty stuffed animal that Claire had had on her bed for years, “and aren’t you gonna miss Mama and Daddy?”
Claire nodded, she was beginning to question whether or not she was even ready to leave home yet. The weeks leading up to this, all she could think about was how excited she was to leave home, and meet her roommate, and join clubs and finally be an adult. She didn’t think leaving was going to be this hard. “I am going to miss them, and you too, pumpkin pie, but I promise,” she leaned in to kiss her nose, “that I will call you every single day, and before you know it, i’ll be home soon.”
“Can I be apple pie and not pumpkin?”
Claire laughed, “You can be whatever you want, Amelia.”
“Like you sissy? An artist like you’re gonna be?”
Claire never considered herself an artist, that seemed so snobby of her. Sure she liked to paint, and draw, and with Pam’s help she actually had gotten better, and now she was leaving to go off to Bard to major in art education and her sister had just called her an artist.
“I thought you wanted to be Big Bird?”
“Well, duh, I do! But I can be Big Bird and an artist right?” Her eyes widened and she laughed a little too loudly.
“You bet,” Claire sighed. “We gotta go to sleep now, kay?” She pulled Amelia closer to her and wrapped an arm around her, letting her eyes close.
*
Pam moved over in bed, her hands finding Jim’s chest as he turned over to face her.
“What’s going on?” he asked, opening his eyes to find her face in the darkness.
“I don’t know, I’m not sleepy, I can’t stop thinking about tomorrow.”
Jim chuckled, “Neither can I, it’s the only thing that’s been on my mind for weeks now,” he laid down on his pillow, smoothing a hand over his jaw, “I’m afraid she’s going to hate it.”
“Yeah.”
It was quiet before he turned over and kissed her, “You’ve helped her so much, you know that?” He asked as Pam brought her hands onto his bare shoulders, kissing them.
“You tell me all the time,” she smiled.
“I know, I just,” he looked down at the bedsheets, “you’re like a mother to her, and that’s--” his voice cracked, “you gave me Amelia, and helped me with Claire and I just don’t know how to thank--”
Pam put a finger up to his lips quieting him. “I love you,” she whispered, “You don’t ever have to thank me--I know.”
Jim sighed, crawling off of her and back onto his side of the bed, reaching for her hand. He squeezed it before shutting his eyes, running his fingers along the side of her wedding band.
*
Pam ended up having to bring Amelia to school that morning because she’d managed to run back from the bus three separate times to give Claire hugs.
Finally they’d managed to get her into the car and buckled and off to school, with a little bribery of course. She was not pleased that she was not going to New York with them and that she had to stay at Grandma’s for the night, but Pam and Jim had promised to bring her back something.
It was only a little over an hour to her school, but with her father and Pam in the car, it was feeling like much longer. Jim had forced her to listen to the “when I was in college..” speech and then Pam had asked her to explain her entire schedule out to her. She’d almost wished she’d brought herself to school, but the popup trailer they were hauling would not have attached to her beat up Honda. That and the school didn’t let freshman have cars which she thought was ridiculous.
She’d watched her father carry her fridge up four flights of stairs and almost give himself a hernia, refusing to take any help all the way up. When they first walked into the dorm, she was certain she was moving into a prison cell half the size of her bedroom back home. But with Pam’s help, she managed to hang up all her posters, and set up her furniture so it resembled a room. She was pleased with the brown and blue hues that everything adorned, Jim was even impressed.
“See, it’s not so bad Claire,” he pulled her in for a hug but she stopped him.
“Dad, your sweaty and gross,” she held up her hands and stepped aside. Nodding, he crossed his arms awkwardly in front of him.
“So...is this everything?” Pam asked, leaning against her closet.
“I um,” Claire looked around, her eye catching her new macbook she was excited to open and set up, “yeah I think this is everything.”
“Are you guys hungry?” She asked, looking up at Pam and Jim who had managed to make their way to her bed and were now holding each other. “Stop kanoodling” Claire laughed.
“Let’s go get sandwiches.” Jim exclaimed, getting up and heading toward the hallway, Claire could tell he was nervous about something.
*
“We got you something,” Pam started, picking up a Crate and Barrel bag from the floor.
Claire propped her chin in her hand, “You two got me enough,” she sighed and scooted in towards the table.
Pam pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper and handed it over. Attached to the ribbon was a set of paintbrushes. Claire looked at the two of them confused, “I already have all my art--” Jim just held up his hand and nodded for her to continue opening it.
As soon as she tore open a small piece of the brown paper she grinned. The familiar strokes of brown and green and gray appeared under her fingers as she pulled out a painting she’d done years ago.
“You kept this?” She asked, running her fingers along the lighthouse’s frame and the ocean behind it.
“It was the first thing you’d ever painted,” Jim looked up at her. Claire felt a lump in her throat as her own eyes darted over his misty ones, “it all started with a paint by number.”
Claire couldn't’ pull her eyes away from the painting, she’d been so proud of it, it had hung in her parent’s bedroom for years, like something they’d gotten from The Met.
“Thank you.” Her voice was full of gratitude as she walked around the table hugging both of them.
“Promise me you won’t party too much,” Jim lectured standing outside her dorm, Claire in front of him, hanging onto the side of the door, ready to shut it.
“I won’t Dad,” she rolled her eyes.
“And promise you’ll do your work, and call us every once in a while, and stay out of trouble--I know what guys are like here..I was one.”
“Okay Dad,” she groaned.
“Claire,” he paused, coming in closer to her. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re going to go great here. I know it,” he kissed the top of her hair, “and if you absolutely hate it just call and--”
“I’m not going to hate it,” she assured him, “I’ll be fine.”
He pulled away, catching her eyes. “Paint outside the lines baby,” he squeezed her fingers and pulled the door shut behind him leaving Claire staring at the image of a fire escape.
“You can do this.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
Author’s Notes--Well, all, it has come to an end. I can’t say how much I appreciate the fact you’ve all followed me to the end. I hope that it’s lived up to your expectations and that you enjoyed it. Again, thanks for coming along for the ride!
Disclaimer I don’t own The Office or it’s characters.
Disclaimer I don’t own The Office or it’s characters.
JHalpert is the author of 10 other stories.
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