Vignette #20: Love

She looked out the window gazing at the tiny lights of the city, so far below and quickly being covered by clouds of night sky. There was something so calming about flying in the dark.

It kind of made her think that anything was possible. She didn’t know why. This was wasn’t impossible. It wouldn’t be easy, but she could do it. She had always taken him back before. Of course, this time the situation was just a little reversed.

He could be so stubborn. It must be all that inbred redneck blood. Or maybe that he was melungeon. They never trusted anyone, but when they did…and she knew Ian trusted her. He had to. He was all that she had going for her now.

That obnoxious little ding went off. She unlatched the seat belt and made herself comfortable. She had a long flight ahead of her, and no thanks to Ian she was flying coach. Imagine Clare Humphreys flying coach.

She wasn’t used to having anything but the best, but Ian was mad, really mad. So she made a little mistake? That was no reason to move across the country without her, and cut off her credit cards. It wasn’t even a mistake, just a little maneuver miscalculation, easily rectified…sort of…

Okay, it was a BIG goof, but she’d fixed things before. She tried sticking that little pillow comfortably behind her lower back. “You’ll get this one taken care of, too.” Clare sat back and smiled.

They were destined to be together. She just knew it. Of course, she didn’t think so at first. Actually, he was quite beneath her station. She was from the most influential family in the county, and he was one of those people.

You know the ones. The people from little shacks, who if they get struck by lightning and manage to get to college, end up right back in the shack they came from happy as inbred clams opening up a dip dog stand where the dirt road meets the pavement. Ian was one of those people, worse.

Clare closed her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t help but notice him on campus, none of the girls could. There must be something about lifting all those hay bails and milking all those cows. Those eyes, the dark hair, that awkward smile, and that body, Ian Justyn was gorgeous.

Of course, he had social awkwardness down to an art form. Clare had to teach him everything. The guy could barely handle a knife and fork. She shook her head and almost laughed out loud remembering their first encounter.

Sure she’d noticed him on campus, and Donna Farmer, she was her best friend then (another story entirely) had informed her that Ian would only be one slice in the fresh meat of the fall acting class. Donna had dated the guy that was his roommate, if you called screwing in the backseat of his pickup after football games dating.

They were theatre majors, sophomores, and every fall they all took the first semester seminars together. Clare knew there was some educational reasoning behind it, but the girls only saw it as a chance to get first dibs on the new hunks that weren’t gay. That first day of that first class would be the only time they all showed up in full make up and dressed to kill.

She made her entrance that morning, and if nothing else Clare knew how to make an entrance. She was wearing nylons, stilettos and a new dress purchased specifically for the occasion. Much to her dismay she had spent four hours getting ready for a chubby girl from Gravel Scratch, a dimwit blond who stuffed her bra from Grundy and Ian, who had the audacity not to even notice her.

In fact he pretended not to notice her for most of the semester, no matter what she did. She didn’t have a thing for him but, she was positive that he had a thing for her. All the boys did. She just needed him to admit it to her, so she could let him know, in no uncertain terms, that he was too far beneath her for it to matter.

Clara Myrtle Humphreys, even her mother could not believe she named her that blaming it on the drugs, was used to having her way. She was Daddy’s girl and Mama’s pride. Anything she wanted, they made sure she got. Daddy was president of the county bank and Mama was a former Miss Virginia. Her mother groomed her as her successor and her father did exactly what he was told, something Ian could never quite got the hang of.

She’d never in her life had met anyone, especially a man, that didn’t acknowledge her lofty space in the universe, until Ian Justyn. Drop dead gorgeous, corn fed, mountain stupid Ian Justyn, who ticked her off for months by almost convincing her and everyone else that he didn’t seem to remember her name.

Of course, she only cared that he didn’t acknowledge her talent, beauty and his barely controlled desire for her. She knew it would only be a matter of time and then she could put him in his place—at the back of the line of all the men who wanted her.

Just to prove her point she had begun dating Gordon Stewart, the golden boy of the department. The first show of that year was “Romeo and Juliet”. Everyone knew that Gordon would play Romeo, and Clare knew she’d be Juliet.

After the auditions, the notice on the call board announced to all, that Gordon would be playing Mercutio and Ian Justyn, newcomer and hay seed, had over stepped his boundaries to play Romeo. Even further to anger her, Kleenex girl would be playing Juliet and Clare hadn’t made the cut…at all.

Ian and, much to Clare’s chagrin, Kleenex girl were the best things to come out of that department ever. Before them, they could only boast of a young man who was an extra in “Independence Day”, and a girl who had three lines in an episode of “Golden Girls” way back when. Maybe when she got out to California, Ian would use his influence to make her a bigger star than Kleenex girl had managed to accidentally become. Of course, Clare wouldn’t sleep her way to the top. She’d marry her way there.

It was during that next summer break that everything changed. Shortly after she had returned home for the summer, Clare’s loving Daddy suddenly passed away, hit by a bread truck crossing the street for a cup of coffee. Her mama was a mess, and Clare wasn’t doing much better a week after burying him.

Then that fateful doorbell rang. It was Ian, standing on her doorstep with an armful of flowers.

“I just heard or I would have come sooner.” He said awkwardly, and then shoved the armload of sweet smelling calla lilies into her arms. “These won’t take the place of anything, but maybe they’ll make you smile for a minute.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “It was all I could think to do.”

Clare was speechless. He’d barely spoken two sentences to her for entire school year, and yet he’d traveled all the way from Lost Mountain to Kingsport just to give her some flowers. She managed to say “Thank you.”

He kept standing there shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. To Clare’s shock, a little tear trickled down his beautiful, beautiful cheek. “I only know the awful heartache of never having a daddy. I cannot imagine the pain of no longer having one that was always there.”

That was the moment she knew she was in love. That was the moment she realized she had been wrong about Ian all along. That was the second Clare knew that she had to make that young man hers, and no one else’s. She couldn’t help herself. It would take most of the rest of summer, but Clare was persistent and the the time Junior Year ended, she knew he was hers.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed her; it was that he never believed he was worth being noticed. It was a struggle. He was a whole different breed. She had never struggled so hard, just to make some one love her, but she did it.

It took a while, but he seemed to need some one to take control for him. There was so much she had to teach him, how to dress, how to react in public. Ironically, the hardest part was just to get him to stop cutting his own hair.

There was a lot she wasn’t used to. Ian wasn’t like the other guys she’d dated, or even been around. They were yin and yang. He was simple and direct, sometimes too direct and Clare loved the frills, especially to “foofy” stuff, as Ian called it.

The frills got hard to come by. After Clare’s father died, she ended up having to work at a Kentucky Fried Chicken just to have spending money. She hated every minute of it, but what Ian taught her was that more often than not, you had to just put your head down and get it over with just to make the next day happen.

Ian had given up the theatre and had started singing with a band by that time. She became his groupie. She hated it, but she was not about to let him play in bars all over three states, where drunken little sluts would have a free range opportunity to get in his pants. That was definitely hers, too.

To her surprise, Clare also grew quite fond of the woman he called his Aunt Hil. She was a big old black woman that was the closest thing to real family Ian had. When he sold his old dump of a house and property to that couple with the rugrat, Ian stayed with the woman until he was able to afford a little apartment.

The first time she went to visit, Clare wasn’t sure what to think. Miss Hilary had fussed over a big dinner of fried chicken and biscuits. She was sweet and kind, until she handed Ian a ten-dollar bill and gave him a grocery list she insisted he fill immediately.

As soon as Ian’s little truck was gone in a cloud of black dust, that Hillary woman pointed to a “flowerdy” sofa and ordered her to sit down. The woman squinted her eyes at her and in a low tone, told her to it was time they had a talk.

“I’m gonna make this clear honey, nothin’ personal. If it were personal I’d tell ya yer a molly coddled brat who ain’t good enough fer that boy. That’s plain as day.”

Clare wasn’t sure what to say as the woman poured her a cup of hot tea from an old tea set that was who knows how old. She was about to give her what for, when the woman picked up her own cup. “I can see ya fight for his love, and that’s good. It’s good to see someone fight fer him for a change, ‘stead a him doin’ all the fightin.”

She took a mean drag off her cup and put it down. “I think ya push a little too hard, but he’s a man now, and if nothing’ else Ian knows how ta push back. You be good to him, and you won’t be havin’ no problem from me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Was all Clare could say.

Ian rarely talked about his past. Clare thought it embarrassed him, but through her chats with Miss Hilary, she came to realize that it was too painful for him.

The whole town knew his mother was a crazy little slut who got herself killed when Ian was just a baby. A grandmother raised him until he was seven and then his abusive, alcoholic uncle finished the job, Miss Hilary stepping in whenever she could. No one knew for sure who his father was, but all assumed it was either the drunken relative or the man who got put in jail for killing his mother.

Ian both amazed and infuriated Clare. Just when the band was about to hit it big, he dropped out and changed directions again. This time, he settled on broadcasting. At least he wasn’t traveling all the time, but she just knew he would end up heading across country and leaving her, just like he was doing now. Fortunately he quickly found a job at the local TV station and started working his way up.

That was what amazed her; he seemed to not even break a sweat in the struggle. The struggle seemed natural for him. That was one of Ian’s secrets. It was when things were calm that he got uncomfortable. He never seemed to bat an eye when people were difficult and mean to him. He almost seemed to expect it.

Clare’s mother had no problem hating Ian, but Ian took it all in stride. She said some of the most horrible things to his face, and he would just nod his head and say “Yes, ma’am” peaking her ire to further heights. When she had a series of strokes two years ago, leaving her completely debilitated Ian wanted to bring her to live with them.

Fortunately, the doctors said she would need more care then she could get a home. Ian now was making good money, and instead of buying a new car he really needed, he used the money to make sure Clare’s mother was in a good facility.

He even made the time to stop by and see her almost every day. Helping to feed her, holding her hand and talking to those faraway eyes, it absolutely amazed Clare that despite how the woman had treated him, that he still insisted on making sure she was respected and cared for with kindness.

Even that lawyer or accountant man who called Clare a few weeks ago said that Ian planned on continuing to pay for her mother’s care, until the time she was able to. He had put the condo he’d bought in Clare’s name and paid her car off. Other than that she was on her own.

Now she was amazed that he could cut her off like this. She’d had to sell the car and the condo just to scrape together enough cash to buy this plane ticket. There was enough left over to where she could survive for a little while, just in case things didn’t work out. But they had to work out. They just had to.

Clare was certain they belonged together. She knew him too well. This had happened before. They had split up before, many times before, but they always found their way back to each other. She was the only one who knew all his secrets.

“Yes.” Clare thought, “I’m the only one who knows all his secrets, even one that he probably doesn’t even know himself.”

She looked back out the window and into the night clouds. She knew that now was the time to tell him hers, that she needed him so much more than he could ever need her