FELICITA'S CAFE
"Mmmmm,"
Molly hums appreciately
as she chews, rubbing her stomach exaggeratedly as she looks directly at
Samantha.
The little girl giggles at the sight
of her aunt looking so goofy.
Molly finishes chewing and, now wearing
a super-serious expression, looks across the table at
Claire. "I think
she's laughing at me."
"You did look pretty funny," Claire
shrugs.
"Gee, thanks," Molly says with a
roll of the eyes. Smiling, she goes in for another forkful of the eggs
that inspired the exaggeration.
"You're entitled," Claire says as
she finishes chewing her current bite of waffles. "This place is amazing."
"I know. Only way to get powered
up for an all-day shopping spree, that's what I say."
"I agree wholeheartedly." Claire
looks over at Travis,
who is holding a half-eaten piece of toast in his
hand as he stares at an elderly woman and a man who appears to be her son
sitting across the restaurant from them.
"I don't know if the kids are as
excited about the food as we are," Claire laughs. "Maybe we're turning
into a bunch of oldies."
Molly shakes her head. "Not what
I want to hear ... but I think you're right."
"There could be worse things."
"Yeah." Molly stops in thought and
puts down her fork for the first time since their food has been served.
"Yeah, but at least you've got something to show for it."
Sensing the change in mood, Claire
puts down her fork, as well. "What do you mean?"
"You've got the kids ... you've got
a career you love ... I don't know. I kind of thought I'd have those things
by this point, too."
Silence falls over Claire for a moment.
When she speaks, her voice is soft. "Hang in there, Mol. You're going to
find what you're looking for."
Molly's gaze is now fixed firmly
on her plate. "I'd like to think that, I really would. But there just comes
a point when it becomes hard to believe."
"I can understand losing faith. I
know that all too well, believe me. When Tim
died ... I just couldn't believe
that anything good was ever going to happen again. It was like I wanted
to believe I was being sentenced to an eternity in hell. But there have
been mornings I woke up and realized how lucky I am to be alive and to
have what I do."
"I am lucky, I know that. In some
ways, at least. God, I sound like I'm sixteen years old ... but all I want
is to find something that'll last. Something real. Like what you and Tim
had. What you still have."
"Yeah ..." Wistfulness sweeps over
Claire and, for a moment, she is no longer there in the cafe. She is back
in a happier time, a time that made more sense. It has to be possible to
find that again.
"Molly, can I ask you something?"
"I guess, yeah. What?"
Claire draws in a deep breath. "That
dinner party your mom
threw this summer--"
She doesn't even have to finish the
statement: Already shame has washed over Molly's face. "Claire--"
"What's going on, Mol? Did
something happen between you and
Brent? Do you have feelings for him? Is
that why Sarah lost it that night?"
Molly picks up her fork again, but
only so that she has something to occupy her. "It's not that simple. Sarah's
looking for someone to blame ... but things have been bad between them
for a long time. It's been hard on Brent, too."
"So what, you--you and he do have
something--"
"It's a weird dynamic, a really weird
dynamic. I have a feeling no one is going to get what they bargained for
or what they want out of it."
More questions are poised on the
tip of Claire's tongue, but she restrains them. The look in Molly's eyes
is too fascinating. It's the look Claire is sure she had a minute ago when
she thought of Tim, a look full of memories and hopes and a shattered reality.
A look of longing.
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