Every Eye Sheds Tears

I first met Claire when we still lived close and before Dad left. She invited me to her sixth birthday party since Dad and Phil had been working together for a year. While she and the other kindergarteners got their faces painted by the princess or took turns riding her new pony, I sat alone at a table, swinging my preschooler legs and nibbling on pizza.

With the gates to the wide yard closed, the adults paid no heed to their children and mingled amongst themselves. Mom would have sat with me or led me around the party if she hadn’t had to work a weekend shift. Her absence alone made me feel vulnerable.

Dad leaned against one pillar lining the walkway to Claire’s front door, giggling with a pretty woman in a tight crop top and miniskirt. The woman grasped her hands behind her back and stretched, pushing her ample bust out, making my dad smile stupidly.

Claire’s squeal of delight brought my attention back to the temporary stable where Phil lifted her onto her pony’s back for the first time. I watched her dad then lead her around the hay bales, both of them smiling at each other widely.

I dropped my half-eaten slice and wove my way through the crowd to my father. As I ascended the steps, the woman leaned within inches of him and batted her eyes. He chuckled nervously and checked the crowd. Overlooking me, he gave the woman a charming smile and a nod.

“Daddy?” I called from the stairs, but my father didn’t hear me and ran his hands through his curly locks. The woman pursed her lips suggestively, unaware of my approach to him.

“Daddy, can I ride the pony?” I tugged on his pant leg, which startled him.

“Oh, Sam.” He glanced at the woman. “Go play with the other kids.”

He shooed me away and pushed off from the pillar. “Sorry. You’re staying with Phil?”

“Yes, I’m in town for an interview, and he offered me a spare room.” Her thick voice dripped with seduction, which I didn’t realize until much later.

“You know, Phil’s never given me a tour.” He smirked and stepped toward the door.

The woman smiled with hooded eyes and strutted after him. “Well, let me show you.”

I wanted to call out to him again, but when the door shut in my face, a knot formed in my chest and silenced me. Doing as I was told, I shuffled to the stable with my head low, children running and laughing all around me.

Claire returned and her dad lifted her off the pony before wading through the undulating pool of children. The birthday girl stood on a wooden box and peered over the crowd with a satisfied smirk.

“What did you name him?” A brunette girl asked, clasping her hands in front of herself.

“It should be something cool, like a cowboy’s horse,” said a sandy-haired boy in front.

“His name’s Mr. Honeysnickers.” Claire patted the pony’s rump as the handler tied and fed the beast.

“That’s not very cool,” replied the boy.

“He’s not a cool horse, he’s soft-as-gated,” corrected Claire as the children grew quiet. “I’m going to ride him in shows.”

“Sophisticated,” I said from the back.

The kids drew back from me, giving Claire a clear lane to glare at me. “What did you say?”

I wanted to shrink back and hide, but they kept a wide berth. “You mean ‘sophisticated,’” I said in a small voice.

“That’s what I said.” Claire snapped, looking around at the onlooking children.

“No, you said the wrong thing. You said soft-as-gated.”

Claire paused as the kids looked sheepishly between us, but found her composure and took control of the situation again.

“Who wants to take a ride on Mr. Honeysnickers, my sophist-gated horse?” She spat her question at me.

The children erupted in pleas of ‘me, me, me’ while I raised my hand slowly. Everyone got a turn on the pony that day, except me.

A few months later, the fighting between my parents reached a peak one evening as I was playing with my plastic horse stable in the living room. My father came home late from work again to Mom’s silent treatment.

“What’s the matter? Why aren’t you talking to me?”

Mom pulled his cold dinner out of the fridge and slammed the door closed with the clatter of glass. “You’re late. Again.”

“I was held back at work. I needed more time on a project.” He furrowed his brow in confusion.

“So, she’s your project?” Mom whirled around on him and held her hands on her hips.

He paled and licked his lips. “Sam, go play in your room.”

“But Mom said. . . .”

“Samantha, go to your room.” Mom never used my proper name unless it was serious. She held her head in her hand, eyes covered. “I need to talk with your father.”

The shouting started before I closed my door upstairs and didn’t stop until the police showed up a few hours later. The next morning, my father wasn’t there and Mom didn’t mention his absence until I got home from school.

“Your father isn’t going to be home for a while,” she said, sitting with me at the kitchen table. “I’m not sure when you’ll see him again, but I want you to know he loves you very much.”

To this day, he hasn’t spoken to me. He wouldn’t even look at me as he left the courtroom months later. Just like a man.

Phil, of course, is the exception among men. Once the divorce was final and my father had sold the house out from under us, Phil came to check how we were doing and brought Claire. She and I sat at the top of the stairs while our parents talked.

“I’m so sorry for what’s happened,” said Phil. I could hear Mom’s muffled sobs into his chest, but felt too cold to be embarrassed for her. “I confronted him and Janet as soon as I found out. Neither had anything to say for themselves. I fired them on the spot.”

Mom sniffled as both of them sat in the squeaky chairs at the table. “You didn’t have to do that.” There was a hint of cheer in her trembling voice.

“Even if their behavior, in the office no less, weren’t against company policy, I would have fired them on moral grounds. People like them have no place in my business.”

“Oh, Phil,” Mom choked out, “I don’t know what we’re going to do. I can’t afford to live in the area. Where will we go?”

Mom blew her nose and thanked him for patting her back as she coughed. “David earned all the money ever since we met in college. I haven’t worked anywhere since that sleazy bar just off campus.”

She chuckled and sighed before the downstairs grew quiet. Claire tugged on my sleeve with somber eyes and nodded toward my open door.

“I know someone who runs a decent apartment complex. Let me reach out to him and see what I can do. I’d hate for Sam to have to move just before going to the same school as Claire.” Phil’s suggestion cut out as we closed the door to my room.

I flopped onto my bed while Claire curled up on the beanbag in the corner. Mom’s cries still reached us, but my own eyes stayed dry. I’d exhausted my tears throughout the divorce proceedings. I hadn’t cried in weeks. At this point, I didn’t know if I’d ever cry again.

“You okay?”

With my elbow over my eyes, I couldn’t see Claire, but the tenderness in her question stirred my lifeless heart. I sat up slowly and crisscrossed my legs over the white and pink quilt. Claire held her knees to her chest, her eyes dark rimmed and watery.

“Yeah?” I eyed her suspiciously. Could I trust the girl who’d led the gang of bullies at the playground? “Are you?”

Claire closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, tears spilling over her cheeks. She looked at me and forced a laugh before dabbing her face, careful not to smear the light makeup her dad let her wear at seven.

“Your mom’s crying,” she said, sniffling. “I hate it.”

I didn’t know what to say and stared at her, bewildered. Was she trying to make a joke?

Seeing the doubt on my face, she rested her chin between her knees and looked off into the distance.

“My mom died when I was born. I’ve always hated the sound of women crying.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and immediately scoffed at a streak of black from her wrist to her knuckle. “Now Dad’s going to take away my makeup.”

The sun beat through my window, trying to warm the atmosphere inside. I closed the blinds and stared at my hands in my lap. Claire sniffled again before joining me on the bed. She sat across from me and grasped my hands.

“Aren’t you sad? I’d be devastated if my dad left.”

I had been. But I wouldn’t be anymore. Not for him.

She squeezed my hands, so I met her eyes. For the first time since I’d met her, I saw sincerity and felt a genuine connection. Maybe she actually felt bad for me.

“It’s okay to be sad,” she said. “Or angry.”

I smirked and looked away, which made her cock her head to the side. “What?”

“I won’t be sad.” I said confidently. “Just mad now.”

Claire searched me with a confused expression and then chuckled. “I’m sorry I haven’t been nice to you.”

Earlier I would have doubted her apology, as surprising as it was. But after seeing her cry, I believed her.

I gave a squeeze back, and she smiled with all the cheer normal in her demeanor. “Next year you’ll be at my school, right? I’ll look out for you. There are some bigger kids in third grade who will probably try to pick on you, but if I’m your friend, we can set them straight.”

Her buoyancy lifted my spirits, though my heart was reluctant. The longer I spent with Claire, the more I lost my jaded view of her and instead realized why everyone liked her so much. She animated her friends with her energy.

“I hope you aren’t in Mr. Saintjohn’s first grade class. Mrs. Merriweather is way more fun. Oh, and you’ll have Ms. Perry for art and music like me. I love her.”

Claire prattled on, back in her element. Darkness and shadow were no place for a pretty heiress.

“I’ll have to introduce you to Hannah and Kira. They’re. . . .”

I threw my arms around Claire and buried my face in her neck. “Thank you.”

She must not have known what came over me, since she first patted me on the back awkwardly before returning my hug. “No problem.”

A knock came at the door before Phil and Mom entered. We looked at our parents, but maintained our embrace. Mom smiled with her puffy, red eyes.

“Well, I’m glad you two are getting along better.” Phil rubbed the back of his head and exchanged a smile with Mom.

“Of course,” said Claire, smiling widely and catching my eye. “Sammy is my friend.”

And Claire is my best friend.

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Note from the author:

If you enjoyed this story, make sure to check out 'Last Day', a short story about Max who will co-star with Sam in a full length novel coming soon!