Claude & Sophia
By Shane Alexander Greenhough
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Shane Alexander Greenhough
Claude
looked up at Sophia over the black plastic edge of the laptop’s
screen.
It was definitely a look.
It wasn’t long or intent
enough to be a stare, but it was certainly more than a glance. A look
then. Would she notice? The fluttering in his stomach told him that
he hoped not.
He brought his eyes back down to the work in front
of him. Just in time. A moment longer and his look would have been
met by one of hers.
Sophia’s was more of a stare. It bored into
the top of his determinedly downcast head, hoping that he’d look up
again. He didn’t, and if she kept it up for too much longer, she
worried that her stare would have turned manic by the time he did.
She returned to the stack of papers in front of her, pen in hand.
The silence – bloated by words neither had the courage to say – hung in the air between them. Subtle glances, and more than a few looks passed back and forth, each unseen by the other.
“So,” Claude broke the silence, “what do you think?”
He turned the laptop to face her. She smiled at him before looking down to the image on the screen.
She cocked her head to one side and then looked back up at him.
Wonderful! Claude heard her say, or did he? Absolutely beautiful. You know, I so love a man with this sort of raw, creative talent.
“I like it,” she said, still considering the whirling colours of the images he’d created, “What does the client do?”
I think I love you, her voice sang in reds and yellows – and every tenor between – warm and welcoming.
“Oh, uh, something in the music industry,” he smiled, “they explained it, but I can’t really remember.”
Ha-ha! That is just like you.
Her warm smile deepened, “Yup, that sounds about right.”
He shot her a look of amused guilt, “and how’s your work coming?”
She
was marking the most recent batch of tests she’d gotten back from
her class of eleven year olds.
Claude had known Sophia for close
to twelve years, and had been more supportive than even Sophia had
expected when she’d decided to go into teaching as a profession.
More than any other career he could imagine, teaching suited the wide
streak of compassion that ran through his friend.
You always did know me better than anyone else, her voice penetrated his mind. If he was hearing things, why did he see her lips move?
“It’s tiring, to say the least,” she said with a sigh, “but I’ll manage.”
There was a knock at the door.
Aw. It’s probably Trent.
“I’ll get it.”
It
was
Trent.
Claude hadn’t much cared for Sophia’s boyfriend, not
since the two had first met three years earlier. His opinion of the
man was forged in the fires of his own feelings for Sophia, but
wasn’t improved by his suspicion that her only reason for staying
with him was one of convenience. He had money, a car and several
other luxuries that her pursuit of a dream had not afforded her.
She’d accepted early on that primary school teachers didn’t
occupy a high income bracket, but the acceptance of an abstract fact
was very different from the sharp realities of petrol prices and
hunger pangs.
If she were in it for the money, one could hardly blame her. She deserved the best, after all.
Some people might have called her a gold digger, but Claude was not one of them. He understood the need for security, safety.
Of course you do, he heard her voice coming from the study, you’re the most understanding man I’ve ever known.
He glanced back from the greeting smile of Trent and grinned through the wall towards where he imagined Sophia must be sitting.
Now, if only you’d make a move.
His frown when he looked back at the tall, broad-shouldered and blonde-haired Trent was obvious enough that a look of concern crossed the other’s face momentarily.
“What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Oh. Nothing. Sorry, I’ll call Sophia for you.”
More near looks were exchanged as Sophia shuffled papers straight and slid them into her knapsack while Trent waited alone at the front door.
As far as Claude was concerned, he didn’t deserve to be there. He didn’t deserve Sophia. He was cold and dull – shades of grey and brown hung from a blocky outline, he was a bore of a man that couldn’t possibly appreciate Sophia – at least, not like Claude did.
You need to do something about him if we’re going to be together, orange light pulsed from Sophia with every word.
“Sorry, what?”
“I didn’t say anything,” she said with a tinkling giggle.
But she had said something, he knew she had.
At the door, with Trent’s back already turned and shrinking away toward his waiting car, Claude’s eyes met Sophia’s and a small smile passed one way and then the other in the space between them. It was a knowing smile – it said more than words could, and they both thought they knew what it meant.
“I don’t know why you hang out with that guy,” said Trent in the car, driving Sophia home from Claude’s house, “he’s obviously got a thing for you and I don’t like it. There’s something about him…”
She looked away, out of the window at the houses rushing past, “he’s just a friend, babe. A good friend.”
“He’s weird – a bit of a schizo.”
*****
“I
love you, Sophia,” his pulse raced with the confession.
Claude
had said the words before, so many times, but only ever when he was
alone, never to her face – never betting his feelings against the
risk of rejection.
She sat on the couch next to him, their bodies both twisted at the waist to face one another. She considered him for a weighty moment while his heart thumped and the first beads of sweat prickled on his brow.
I know, she said through a fog of orange light, we’ve both always known the truth.
He grinned at her, unable to find any words at first, but then, with a frown, asked, “but what about Trent?”
Her smile didn’t falter.
I think you know the answer to that one too.
He did, but he wasn’t sure he liked it. Trent was an ass, but did he really deserve…
Yes. Love must find a way, and this is the only one.
She was right. He’d waited too long already, watched her in silent torment for years while another, who couldn’t fully appreciate her, was allowed to have her. It was his time now.
He knew what he had to do.
*****
It was black in Trent’s lounge. The light of the moon and the street lamps outside were blocked out effectively by the thick curtains that hung over the room’s only window. Claude sat on the couch watching the front door wondering if the rock he’d smashed the bedroom window with was an adequate tool for the task to come. He tightened his grip on it.
It would have to be.
Trent was out on a date with Sophia – his last date with Sophia, even if he didn’t know it. The digital clock on the DVD player told Claude, in glowing green, that he’d been waiting for an hour already – he was beginning to get nervous. He wished Sophia was with him, she could always calm his nerves. He knew, however, that she had to be out with Trent, distracting him, while Claude broke in.
That had to be the reason she was out with him, didn’t it?
His attention was returned to the immediate with the clicking sound of a turning key. The front door opened, just a crack at first, admitting a shimmer of light from the street-side lamps, and then swung all the way in.
Trent wasn’t alone – the silhouette in the doorway was a writhing mass that, once Claude’s eyes adjusted, proved to be the fondling forms of Trent and Sophia. Their bodies twisted together, hands reaching for and grasping the soft flesh of appealing parts. It was a sight to boil the blood.
Lips locked with hers, Trent reached out his hand to flick the light switch. Knowing it wouldn’t work, Claude got to his feet and walked quickly toward them. Trent pulled away from the kiss when he noticed that had light failed to flood the room.
Everything happened quickly after that. Claude was on Trent in a moment, the rock in his hand swinging down in an arc that ended with the cracking of bone. Trent fell to one knee. Sophia screamed. The rock swung down again. The wet warmth of blood splattered over Claude’s hand. Thunk! Again the rock came down. Sophia tried to stop him. Why would she do that? This is what they both wanted. She tugged at his arm, clawed at his face. She was panicking. Claude pushed her away and fell upon the prone form of Trent, wildly clubbing at the mushy ruin of his head and face.
He stopped only when gurgled breaths gave way to a stilled heartbeat and racked sobs filled the silence in the wake of a job well done.
Sophia was curled in the corner, looking over knees pulled up against her body, the tears in her eyes glistened in the light still pouring in from outside – the light that shone on the face of Claude, the man – her friend – who had just killed her lover.
They shared a look - in his mind, the one he longed for.
He smiled at her. Those were glimmering tears of joy he saw in her eyes.
He was so happy for them both.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Her answer was a colourless scream.
*****
Claude sat alone in a white-walled room, on a white bedspread. The white tiles were cold on his feet, left bare as they were by the white hospital robes he’d been forced to wear. There might have been white paper slippers around somewhere, but he didn’t care to look.
He was cognizant but only just. A blurry memory of pills – little white ones, of course – served as a subconscious explanation for the numbness in his mind. They – the doctors meant to make him ‘better’ – had patiently watched while he drank them down, waiting until he’d swallowed, and then left him alone in his new room, locking the door behind them.
Well, not alone, not entirely.
Sophia was there – wasn’t she always?
Was she?
It was hard to be certain, but it didn’t matter. She was right there when he needed her most.
The pills were affecting his vision, her outline was blurry. Funny, he thought, nothing else in here is blurred. Stupid drugs.
His lips tried to turn up into a smile but it took a great deal of effort. She returned the attempt warmly, as always.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re mad at me, but I thought it would make you happy.”
I am happy, she replied, I was just shocked before. It took me by surprise. I’ve thought about it now, it was the right thing to do. Don’t worry, everything’s alright now.
“But you were so mad. You said–”
Shush. I know what I said and I’m sorry. You know me, I get terribly passionate whenever the heart’s involved.
She smiled again.
He did
know her, and she was right. She could be very fiery when it came to
matters of the heart.
“So…”
I love you.
He tried another smile, it felt a little stronger this time.
“I love you too.”
We can be together now.
“Everything’s going to be alright.”
He was exhausted.
Those pills must have been hitting him hard. He muttered something
about needing to get some sleep and then rolled over to lay on his
side on the crisp hospital sheets. He tried to smile again when he
imagined he felt the warmth of her arm slide under his.
It wasn’t
easy, but he managed.