Page 86 of Breaking from Frame
She goes back upstairs and paces the apartment. She picks up three different books, but none hold her attention. She gets out her sketchbook, but she’s too antsy to draw.
Instead, Claire goes to the phone.
“Considering it’s nine in the morning, thismustbe Claire,” Theo says, after four rings.
Claire smiles. Theo’s sharp edges might have unsettled her when they first met, but now she suspects that it’s a token of affection. “Do you ever just say hello?”
“Not a chance,” Theo says. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. How’s the single life?”
“I’m doing what you said. I’m finding my feet,” Claire says.
“And?”
“Pete always made me feel like I’d never make it without him. But it turns out that it’s much easier to be on my own. I have all this free time, and nothing to do with it.”
“Get a bus ticket to San Fran,” Theo says breezily. “We can hit the town tonight. Shake the suburbs out of you.”
Claire’s eyebrows shoot up. She’s never ridden a Greyhound bus, but she does have some money to spare, now. “You want me to visit you? Really?”
“Against my better judgement, I’ve grown somewhat fond of you,” Theo says. “And I never could ignore new blood in need.”
The two-hour bus ride is shockingly comfortable. The seats are plush, and the bus is air conditioned. Nobody sits beside her, which gives her the entire journey to look quietly out the window and wonder at her new sense of freedom. A few months ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of taking a bus to the coast. She’d have had to ask Pete first, and not only would he have said no, just asking probably would have caused a fight. Now she’s trundling along the highway on her own, with 25 dollars in her pocket and a friend waiting at the end of the road.
Stepping out of the bus station in San Francisco is an assault on Claire’s senses. It’s loud, the air rent with bus engines and car horns and the laughter of a large group of teens across the street. People pass her without a second glance—some are in suits, others in fashionable outfits of the kind that Jackie might wear. Very few look anything like the people Claire knows in Acacia Circle. The air smells like warm pavement and cigarettes and the slightest hint of urine. It’s new and bright and fast-paced.
It's all terribly exciting.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” drawls a voice to her right. Theo is leaned against the side of the building, dressed in fitted white pants and a violet striped shirt that stretches tight across his shoulders. “Suzy Homemaker, in the big bad city.”
At this point, it feels natural to run to him for a hug. He squeezes her tight, leaning back so that her toes leave the ground.
“You looked better on Halloween,” Theo says, setting Claire down to take in her clothes. “Did you take all those ugly dresses with you when you left your husband?”
“Only a few,” Claire says, grinning. She plucks at his collar. “Do you have any shirts that fit you properly?”
Theo gasps, but he sounds more delighted than anything. “Kitty has claws.”
“I learned from the best.”
Theo’s apartment is located over a Mexican restaurant, and on the way up he orders a quick supper. She helps him carry the bags up the three flights of rickety stairs to his unit. It’s small, but he’s clearly put so much effort into decorating it that it feels nice and homey, with worn furniture and a few big windows that look over the busy street. The walls are hung with eclectic art and framed photos that Claire is sure are Jackie’s. He seems to own just about every musical instrument Claire can imagine. She drops her bag near the couch, next to an open case with a saxophone in it.
“I can’t believe I’ve never asked this,” Claire says, taking in the record collection that spans several stuffed bookshelves, “but are you a musician?”
“Composer, performer, occasional disc jockey, choose your poison,” Theo calls from the bedroom. “Get in here, I might have something for you to wear tonight.”
Claire finds him digging in the back of his closet to reveal an impressive collection of dresses. It’s less surprising than perhaps it should be.
“Some of these might fit you,” Theo says through a mouthful of their shared crunchy tacos. “We need to get you out of those frumpy housewife uniforms. How about this?” He holds up agarment that Claire is sure would look stunning on Jackie. It’s a rosy brown evening dress, made more pink by the shininess of the fabric. The puffed skirt is scattered with a little black leaf pattern. It has halter straps and a big bow over the chest, and it at least looks made for a bustline as small as Claire’s, assumedly because Theo is the one who wears it.
Claire bites her lip. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t want to wear that old thing to the bar, do you?” Theo says, waving his hand at Claire’s dress.
“No,” Claire says. She drifts towards Theo’s closet, but rather than thumbing through the dresses, she lingers on his regular wardrobe. She tugs at the long sleeve of a shirt, white fabric printed all over with a yellow sunflower pattern.
Slowly, Theo puts the dress back. Instead he takes out the shirt she’s looking at, grinning as he holds it up against her. “Interesting choice. I think it’ll fit, if you want to brave it.”
“Where we’re going tonight,” Claire says, taking the shirt from him, “will it be…people like us?”
