Clarity
by Jenny (Walicek) Clendenen
San Jose State University | James D. Phelan Literary Award - Second Place, Short Story (2005)
Carol had been sitting on the chintz sofa by the bay window all day, flipping through decorating magazines, when the moving van finally arrived at four-thirty. She flung Veranda across the coffee table and whirled around on the sofa. Kneeling on the cushions and leaning over the back like a little girl, she peered out at her new neighbor.
A burgundy Toyota Camry pulled up behind the van and a tall, slender woman stepped out, blunt blonde hair swinging over bare shoulders. She was wearing a creamy lace camisole that set off her tan, toned arms, and an olive A-line skirt with lavender honeysuckle vines embroidered around the hem. Carol’s forehead crinkled. She jumped to her feet, slipped into her sandals and darted over to the hall mirror. The woman who faced her was a pale, petite brunette in Land’s End khaki and denim. She rubbed her soft upper arms and bit her lower lip.
“Well, so what,” she said after a minute. She tucked her overgrown bob behind her ears, then set her shoulders back and swung open the front door.
It was unusually warm for a day in early spring, something she had not realized from behind the new double-paned windows. Moisture beaded on her skin. The moving van was still idling at the curb, its driver bent over a cell phone. The woman had moved to the rear of her car and lifted the trunk.
Carol walked briskly to the mailbox and pulled out the usual stack of catalogs and bills. Despite her sideways focus on the new arrival, she noticed the Visa logo on top of the pile and flinched. She hadn’t yet told Larry about those custom blinds she had ordered for the new windows. She heard the trunk slam over the idling of the truck and looked up. The woman was carrying a pot of blooming bulbs up the walkway of her new home, keys in hand. Carol shoved the Visa bill inside the Pottery Barn catalog and slammed the mailbox closed. The blonde glanced over her shoulder, smiled and waved.
“Hi there!” called Carol, waving back as she hurried across the lawn. “Welcome to Foxglove Court!”
“Thank you.” The woman wedged the snowdrops under her arm and extended her hand over the boxwood hedge. “I’m Susan.”
“I’m Carol.” Susan’s hand was dry against Carol’s damp palm. “It’s so nice to meet you! Would you like to stop in and have a glass of wine while they’re unloading the truck?”
The other woman tipped her head slightly and tucked her hair behind her ear. “That sounds great,” she said, “but I really should get some essentials unpacked before I have to pick up my husband from the airport at seven.”
Carol’s fingers tightened around the mail.
“But it’s so hot, and the guys aren’t even out of the truck yet,” she said, jutting her chin toward the cab. “Don’t you think he’d rather come home to a cool, relaxed wife than to unpacked placemats and pillowcases?”
Susan’s laugh was acquiescent. “You’re probably right about that. Okay, just let me get these snowdrops out of the sun, and I’ll be right over.”
“Great!” Carol beamed. “I’ll see you in a minute, then.”
The house was stifling when she stepped back inside. She set the mail on the hall console by her purse and hurried to crank open the bare windows as she went over the clues she had gleaned about her new neighbor. Mid-range Japanese car. Vuitton knock-off bag. Off-season Anthropologie skirt -- Carol was sure she had seen it in the clearance catalog. Susan wasn’t a lavish spender, but she had excellent taste. Carol selected a suitable Chardonnay from the buffet cabinet and set it on the table in the kitchen nook.
The doorbell rang just as she finished arranging apple slices beside a bulging triangle of Camembert. Carol took a deep breath before she opened the door.
“Come on in, Susan,” she said. “I’m sorry it’s a little warm in here. We’ve just installed new windows, and our blinds won’t arrive for a few days.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Susan, setting her purse on the hall table. “I’m from Fresno, so I’m used to heat.”
“The blinds should be installed by the end of next week, if I can believe the contractor.” Carol led Susan down the hall. “Frankly, I think contractors are about as honest as lawyers, but what can you do? Once you’ve made that deposit, they know you’re stuck.”
“So I hear,” said Susan, behind her.
“Have a seat,” said Carol when they reached the kitchen. She took a corkscrew from the drawer. “I hope a Chardonnay is all right.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Carol poured a full glass for each of them and sat down. “So what brings you to Sunnyvale?”
“Work,” said Susan, running her index finger around the rim of her glass. She looked up, a lopsided smile pushing up her cheek. “Our construction firm just got the contract for Rolling Acres.”
“You’re contractors?” Carol asked, wincing.
“Well, my husband is,” said Susan. “I’m a lawyer.”
Carol squirmed and drank most of her wine. She cleared her throat.
“Well,” she began, her face burning, “That was awkward. I hope you don’t think --”
She was interrupted by the muffled buzzing of her cell phone from the direction of the entry. She shoved her chair back before the first ring had subsided.
“Excuse me just a moment,” she said, jumping up and striding down the hall. She put her hands to her temples, shaking her head.
“Stupid!” she hissed under her breath. “Stupid, Carol, stupid!”
At the console she glared at herself in the mirror, then rummaged distractedly through her purse until she found her phone.
“Hello,” she answered quickly, without glancing at the screen.
Silence.
“Hello,” she said again. “Hello, hello, can you hear me?”
“Excuse me, Carol,” said a thin, cold voice. “I must have hit an old speed dial.” There was a click at the other end.
Carol closed the phone and returned to the kitchen. The room seemed even warmer than before. She sat down slowly and patted her forehead with her cocktail napkin.
“Well, that was interesting,” she said. She reached for her glass, twirled the stem, and set it down again. “Sorry about the interruption.”
“Not bad news, I hope,” said Susan.
“No. No, not bad news, just a misdial.” She paused. “That was Janine, who lives two doors down -- on the other side of you, in fact.”
“Ah,” said Susan. “I’ll have to introduce myself.”
Carol shifted in her seat and drummed her fingers on the table. She didn’t want to sound gossipy, but then again, a personal confidence would effectively distract from her earlier faux paus. She topped off their wine glasses, took a sip, and looked Susan in the eyes.
“I guess you should,” she said with a carefully measured hint of hesitation. “It’s always a good idea to get to know your neighbors.”
The other woman tipped her head expectantly.
“Janine and I haven’t spoken for awhile,” Carol went on, and sighed. “Several weeks, actually.”
“Really!” Susan exclaimed. Her elbows went up on the table and she leaned forward.
Carol nodded. “One day we were best friends, and the next, literally, she wouldn’t speak to me. She wouldn’t even say hello. In fact, if we were outside at the same time, she’d turn around and go in the house.”
“Something must have upset her,” said Susan, as she reached out to slather some cheese on an apple slice.
Carol shook her head and shrugged. “Nothing that she’d tell me, anyway. She wouldn’t even return my calls. I’m afraid it might have something to do with the little green monster.”
Susan paused, the slice of apple suspended midway to her mouth. “Jealousy?”
“It sounds so silly, at our age, doesn’t it. I had no idea she was like that before our remodel, but she started ignoring me the week our new windows went in. I had no idea why, and like I said, she wouldn’t return my calls. I finally gave up and decided she must have been jealous. Her house does need a facelift, you know, and her husband’s been out of work.”
“That’s too bad." Susan's brow creased. "Still, it would be so petty to let windows ruin a friendship!”
“I agree. I texted her to that effect, but it made no difference. Honestly, it’s been very hard, and also awkward, because she lives so close, and we run into each other all the time. Very uncomfortable, really.”
Susan swallowed her bite and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “I just don’t understand how someone could do that,” she said.
There was silence for a moment. Dust motes danced in a bright square of sunlight on the floor. Both women blotted their faces and reached for their wine glasses at the same moment, their eyes meeting and then lowering.
“It's too bad it’s so hot in here,” Carol said again. “Can I get you some ice water?”
“I’m fine. I’m from Fresno, remember?”
They laughed feebly, in the way that unfamiliar women laugh when their usable topics are drying up.
“Really, it’s all so bizarre,” said Susan after another sip of wine. “If you don’t mind my asking, do you remember what you two were talking about the last time you spoke?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. She’d asked me to come with her on an errand, and since the specialty hardware store was on the same street, she agreed to stop and help me choose my latches and pulls. I know that sounds boring, but isn’t that the great thing about best friends, that they’ll share life’s mundane details with you?”
“One of the great things,” said Susan. “Did you talk about anything that might have upset her?”
“Not at all, I assure you -- just colors and styles of window hardware. I’m telling you, it’s a complete mystery.”
Susan stared into the bottom of her glass and shook her head. “That’s so strange, especially since she asked you to come with her in the first place.”
“I know. And we did her errand first, which took forever.”
“What was it?”
“She was just picking out some flowers,” said Carol. “She didn’t want to leave things up to the florist. She’s like that, a perfectionist.”
“Maybe they were for an extra special person,” Susan said.
Carol nodded. “They were for her dad. He spent his childhood in the south and she wanted magnolias, certain roses, some hard-to-get bulbs. She was being really picky, and the clerk had to look things up in catalogs. Like I said, it took forever. After awhile I gave up and went out to the car and read my magazine.”
“That does say something nice about her, though, that she ordered what she knew he'd like.”
“Oh, sure, but it’s not like he could have appreciated them or anything. They were stunning, though. The funeral director said he’d never seen such a gorgeous arrangement.”
Susan’s eyes widened.
“So anyway, she dropped me off, and then, well, she dropped me," Carol went on. "I texted her a couple of times that afternoon, wanting her advice on paint colors, but she didn't respond. I figured we'd talk the next day, but I got a call during the service that the blinds rep had had a cancellation, and was on his way to my house to take measurements. So I had to slip out a little early, and I missed the wake."
Susan set her glass on the table with a small thud. Some wine sloshed out.
"What awful timing," she said.
"I know, it really was. But the next available appointment was weeks out. I tried to call her the next morning, but she didn't pick up, and she hasn't answered any of my texts or voicemails."
Susan pushed back her chair and stood up.
“I have to go now,” she said.
“Aw, so soon!” Carol exclaimed, following her to the front door. She could hear herself talking too much and too fast. “It’s the heat, isn’t it. The windows are double-paned, but the tint doesn’t deflect as much as I thought it would. It’s way too warm in here, and it’s only spring! Can you imagine what the summer will be like? You’ll think you never left Fresno! Anyway, promise me you’ll come back and have lunch with me at the end of next week, when the blinds are in.”
Susan slung her purse over her shoulder and stepped over the threshold. She turned to face Carol.
“It's not the heat," she said. "It's the light." And she closed the door.
San Jose State University | James D. Phelan Literary Award - Second Place, Short Story (2005)
Carol had been sitting on the chintz sofa by the bay window all day, flipping through decorating magazines, when the moving van finally arrived at four-thirty. She flung Veranda across the coffee table and whirled around on the sofa. Kneeling on the cushions and leaning over the back like a little girl, she peered out at her new neighbor.
A burgundy Toyota Camry pulled up behind the van and a tall, slender woman stepped out, blunt blonde hair swinging over bare shoulders. She was wearing a creamy lace camisole that set off her tan, toned arms, and an olive A-line skirt with lavender honeysuckle vines embroidered around the hem. Carol’s forehead crinkled. She jumped to her feet, slipped into her sandals and darted over to the hall mirror. The woman who faced her was a pale, petite brunette in Land’s End khaki and denim. She rubbed her soft upper arms and bit her lower lip.
“Well, so what,” she said after a minute. She tucked her overgrown bob behind her ears, then set her shoulders back and swung open the front door.
It was unusually warm for a day in early spring, something she had not realized from behind the new double-paned windows. Moisture beaded on her skin. The moving van was still idling at the curb, its driver bent over a cell phone. The woman had moved to the rear of her car and lifted the trunk.
Carol walked briskly to the mailbox and pulled out the usual stack of catalogs and bills. Despite her sideways focus on the new arrival, she noticed the Visa logo on top of the pile and flinched. She hadn’t yet told Larry about those custom blinds she had ordered for the new windows. She heard the trunk slam over the idling of the truck and looked up. The woman was carrying a pot of blooming bulbs up the walkway of her new home, keys in hand. Carol shoved the Visa bill inside the Pottery Barn catalog and slammed the mailbox closed. The blonde glanced over her shoulder, smiled and waved.
“Hi there!” called Carol, waving back as she hurried across the lawn. “Welcome to Foxglove Court!”
“Thank you.” The woman wedged the snowdrops under her arm and extended her hand over the boxwood hedge. “I’m Susan.”
“I’m Carol.” Susan’s hand was dry against Carol’s damp palm. “It’s so nice to meet you! Would you like to stop in and have a glass of wine while they’re unloading the truck?”
The other woman tipped her head slightly and tucked her hair behind her ear. “That sounds great,” she said, “but I really should get some essentials unpacked before I have to pick up my husband from the airport at seven.”
Carol’s fingers tightened around the mail.
“But it’s so hot, and the guys aren’t even out of the truck yet,” she said, jutting her chin toward the cab. “Don’t you think he’d rather come home to a cool, relaxed wife than to unpacked placemats and pillowcases?”
Susan’s laugh was acquiescent. “You’re probably right about that. Okay, just let me get these snowdrops out of the sun, and I’ll be right over.”
“Great!” Carol beamed. “I’ll see you in a minute, then.”
The house was stifling when she stepped back inside. She set the mail on the hall console by her purse and hurried to crank open the bare windows as she went over the clues she had gleaned about her new neighbor. Mid-range Japanese car. Vuitton knock-off bag. Off-season Anthropologie skirt -- Carol was sure she had seen it in the clearance catalog. Susan wasn’t a lavish spender, but she had excellent taste. Carol selected a suitable Chardonnay from the buffet cabinet and set it on the table in the kitchen nook.
The doorbell rang just as she finished arranging apple slices beside a bulging triangle of Camembert. Carol took a deep breath before she opened the door.
“Come on in, Susan,” she said. “I’m sorry it’s a little warm in here. We’ve just installed new windows, and our blinds won’t arrive for a few days.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Susan, setting her purse on the hall table. “I’m from Fresno, so I’m used to heat.”
“The blinds should be installed by the end of next week, if I can believe the contractor.” Carol led Susan down the hall. “Frankly, I think contractors are about as honest as lawyers, but what can you do? Once you’ve made that deposit, they know you’re stuck.”
“So I hear,” said Susan, behind her.
“Have a seat,” said Carol when they reached the kitchen. She took a corkscrew from the drawer. “I hope a Chardonnay is all right.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Carol poured a full glass for each of them and sat down. “So what brings you to Sunnyvale?”
“Work,” said Susan, running her index finger around the rim of her glass. She looked up, a lopsided smile pushing up her cheek. “Our construction firm just got the contract for Rolling Acres.”
“You’re contractors?” Carol asked, wincing.
“Well, my husband is,” said Susan. “I’m a lawyer.”
Carol squirmed and drank most of her wine. She cleared her throat.
“Well,” she began, her face burning, “That was awkward. I hope you don’t think --”
She was interrupted by the muffled buzzing of her cell phone from the direction of the entry. She shoved her chair back before the first ring had subsided.
“Excuse me just a moment,” she said, jumping up and striding down the hall. She put her hands to her temples, shaking her head.
“Stupid!” she hissed under her breath. “Stupid, Carol, stupid!”
At the console she glared at herself in the mirror, then rummaged distractedly through her purse until she found her phone.
“Hello,” she answered quickly, without glancing at the screen.
Silence.
“Hello,” she said again. “Hello, hello, can you hear me?”
“Excuse me, Carol,” said a thin, cold voice. “I must have hit an old speed dial.” There was a click at the other end.
Carol closed the phone and returned to the kitchen. The room seemed even warmer than before. She sat down slowly and patted her forehead with her cocktail napkin.
“Well, that was interesting,” she said. She reached for her glass, twirled the stem, and set it down again. “Sorry about the interruption.”
“Not bad news, I hope,” said Susan.
“No. No, not bad news, just a misdial.” She paused. “That was Janine, who lives two doors down -- on the other side of you, in fact.”
“Ah,” said Susan. “I’ll have to introduce myself.”
Carol shifted in her seat and drummed her fingers on the table. She didn’t want to sound gossipy, but then again, a personal confidence would effectively distract from her earlier faux paus. She topped off their wine glasses, took a sip, and looked Susan in the eyes.
“I guess you should,” she said with a carefully measured hint of hesitation. “It’s always a good idea to get to know your neighbors.”
The other woman tipped her head expectantly.
“Janine and I haven’t spoken for awhile,” Carol went on, and sighed. “Several weeks, actually.”
“Really!” Susan exclaimed. Her elbows went up on the table and she leaned forward.
Carol nodded. “One day we were best friends, and the next, literally, she wouldn’t speak to me. She wouldn’t even say hello. In fact, if we were outside at the same time, she’d turn around and go in the house.”
“Something must have upset her,” said Susan, as she reached out to slather some cheese on an apple slice.
Carol shook her head and shrugged. “Nothing that she’d tell me, anyway. She wouldn’t even return my calls. I’m afraid it might have something to do with the little green monster.”
Susan paused, the slice of apple suspended midway to her mouth. “Jealousy?”
“It sounds so silly, at our age, doesn’t it. I had no idea she was like that before our remodel, but she started ignoring me the week our new windows went in. I had no idea why, and like I said, she wouldn’t return my calls. I finally gave up and decided she must have been jealous. Her house does need a facelift, you know, and her husband’s been out of work.”
“That’s too bad." Susan's brow creased. "Still, it would be so petty to let windows ruin a friendship!”
“I agree. I texted her to that effect, but it made no difference. Honestly, it’s been very hard, and also awkward, because she lives so close, and we run into each other all the time. Very uncomfortable, really.”
Susan swallowed her bite and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “I just don’t understand how someone could do that,” she said.
There was silence for a moment. Dust motes danced in a bright square of sunlight on the floor. Both women blotted their faces and reached for their wine glasses at the same moment, their eyes meeting and then lowering.
“It's too bad it’s so hot in here,” Carol said again. “Can I get you some ice water?”
“I’m fine. I’m from Fresno, remember?”
They laughed feebly, in the way that unfamiliar women laugh when their usable topics are drying up.
“Really, it’s all so bizarre,” said Susan after another sip of wine. “If you don’t mind my asking, do you remember what you two were talking about the last time you spoke?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. She’d asked me to come with her on an errand, and since the specialty hardware store was on the same street, she agreed to stop and help me choose my latches and pulls. I know that sounds boring, but isn’t that the great thing about best friends, that they’ll share life’s mundane details with you?”
“One of the great things,” said Susan. “Did you talk about anything that might have upset her?”
“Not at all, I assure you -- just colors and styles of window hardware. I’m telling you, it’s a complete mystery.”
Susan stared into the bottom of her glass and shook her head. “That’s so strange, especially since she asked you to come with her in the first place.”
“I know. And we did her errand first, which took forever.”
“What was it?”
“She was just picking out some flowers,” said Carol. “She didn’t want to leave things up to the florist. She’s like that, a perfectionist.”
“Maybe they were for an extra special person,” Susan said.
Carol nodded. “They were for her dad. He spent his childhood in the south and she wanted magnolias, certain roses, some hard-to-get bulbs. She was being really picky, and the clerk had to look things up in catalogs. Like I said, it took forever. After awhile I gave up and went out to the car and read my magazine.”
“That does say something nice about her, though, that she ordered what she knew he'd like.”
“Oh, sure, but it’s not like he could have appreciated them or anything. They were stunning, though. The funeral director said he’d never seen such a gorgeous arrangement.”
Susan’s eyes widened.
“So anyway, she dropped me off, and then, well, she dropped me," Carol went on. "I texted her a couple of times that afternoon, wanting her advice on paint colors, but she didn't respond. I figured we'd talk the next day, but I got a call during the service that the blinds rep had had a cancellation, and was on his way to my house to take measurements. So I had to slip out a little early, and I missed the wake."
Susan set her glass on the table with a small thud. Some wine sloshed out.
"What awful timing," she said.
"I know, it really was. But the next available appointment was weeks out. I tried to call her the next morning, but she didn't pick up, and she hasn't answered any of my texts or voicemails."
Susan pushed back her chair and stood up.
“I have to go now,” she said.
“Aw, so soon!” Carol exclaimed, following her to the front door. She could hear herself talking too much and too fast. “It’s the heat, isn’t it. The windows are double-paned, but the tint doesn’t deflect as much as I thought it would. It’s way too warm in here, and it’s only spring! Can you imagine what the summer will be like? You’ll think you never left Fresno! Anyway, promise me you’ll come back and have lunch with me at the end of next week, when the blinds are in.”
Susan slung her purse over her shoulder and stepped over the threshold. She turned to face Carol.
“It's not the heat," she said. "It's the light." And she closed the door.