“But what about the movie? The rental expires tonight.” Clara watched James get ready to leave.

“This is a tremendous opportunity!”

She scratched the back of her neck until the skin hurt. “It’s not even your band.”

James slipped a secondhand suede jacket over his stocky frame. “These guys are good. They sell out every time, and with their drummer sick, I might get noticed! This might lead to something! These guys are going places!”

“I know.” Clara dropped her legs off the bed. “Sorry, I—”

“No! I’m sorry for bailing. Do you want to come? I could get you into the VIP corner. Micky owes me for saving his ass tonight.”

“I’m good. Already in my PJs, anyway.”

He kneeled in front of her. “You’re sure? You won’t be mad if I go?”

“No, I’m fine.” Clara pushed his hair aside. “A little sad, maybe.” The comforter buckled as James sat beside her.

“I can call Micky, no worries. Tell him I’m not available.”

Clara frowned. “No, don’t do that. Go; this is a genuine opportunity.”

“Exactly!” He kissed her. “Love you! I’ll be home by midnight.”

She traced his cheek as he pulled away. “Good luck!” James blew a kiss as the door clicked behind him.

Hollowed out by misery, she shivered, then scooted backwards across the sheets and leaned against the headboard. Her watch on the nightstand mocked her with each incorrect minute it recorded. It was a gift from her grandmother for her eighteenth birthday. seven years later, the ivory had yellowed, and its precision had waned.

Yet she couldn’t let it go or turn it off. It counted down to something horribly close at hand that never arrived. She turned the face away from her own and reached for a magazine. The pages offered advice on everything from baking to sex, but as she flipped past the models and looked at their manufactured gazes, she wondered if they were miserable too. Her finger slid along the edge of the centerfold. The article showed a woman without makeup, wearing a thick wool sweater. She was alone, lit by a spotlight on a vacant runway.

Expect Abuse – Dream of Happiness was in thick white text overhead as the article cascaded in two around the central picture. Clara’s phone buzzed, and she put the magazine down.

A text from James flicked across the screen. “These guys are awesome—about to do sound check. Hope you’re having a relaxing night-in. Love you.”

She strung a reply together with the predictive text feature. “Great. Night is good. Going to bed soon.” She sighed like a movie star as her hands fell into the folds of the comforter.

She needed to feel better about herself, so she opened her contacts, scrolled past Frequently Contacted, and jumped to the ‘M’s.

After three rings, her mother’s voice filled the room like swirling hot milk poured into cocoa. “Clara!”

“Hi Mom.” The glossy pages parted as Clara returned to her magazine. “You up?”

“Always am!”

Clara smirked. “Thought I’d call and say hi.” She flipped past the depressing centerfold to a page that detailed an all-season jacket in five colors.

“That’s sweet. I actually meant to call you earlier!”

“Oh?” She sat up. This was different.

“I was at the house today packing up before the realtor brings the staging furniture—”

“What?” The magazine slid off the ridge formed by her crossed legs under the blanket. “You’re packing up the house?”

“Did your brother not tell you that I moved in with Mitchel?” She sounded embarrassed.

Clara cleared her throat. Mom was talking to her brother again? “No.”

“Well, Mitchel, he’s a professor. You met him two years ago—tall, salt and pepper hair—gorgeous eyes.”

“I remember him.” Clara leaned forward to pick a ball of fuzz off the blankets. “Just didn’t know you were still together.”

Her mother laughed. “I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s tamed me! I fought at first, but he kept loving me. Now, I’m a new person; more at peace. But it was a two-way street. He’s more fun now, thanks to me!”

Clara continued to battle the fuzz. “That’s great, Mom. Moving in together sounds good for you.”

“It’s beautiful, but you know how that feels.”

Clara scratched her neck, eager to change the subject. “You wanted to call me earlier?”

“Oh! I found my wedding dress while cleaning and I immediately thought you’d like it!”

Clara kicked away the covers. “Why?”

“You’re close to the age I was then, and the same size too. Do you want it?”

“Sorry, Mom,” she sputtered. “James and I haven’t talked about it much. And he’s not in any position to—”

“It’s okay, dear.”

“I appreciate the offer—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll donate it. I’m getting a new one soon anyways.”

Clara dropped the phone and silently screamed. The blankets muffled her mother’s voice. “Sorry, Mom.” She scrambled to retrieve it. “I missed that last part.”

“I think he’ll ask me soon.” Her mom giggled. “I found the ring in his sock drawer the other day.”

Clara laughed, “Maybe it’s for his mistress!” Silence crackled between their phones. “Just joking. That’s fun. I’m happy for you.”

“I’m so excited, and his kids are so nice to me. His son called me twice last week asking for gardening tips!”

Clara’s chest quivered, “Sorry,” she interrupted, “James needs my help with something. Thanks for talking, hope it all goes well.” She hung up as her mother fumbled through her goodbye. Clara picked up the magazine, only to see that horrific centerfold stare back at her. She tossed it against the wall. Was her mom doing better than her? When did that happen? As a rule, since her dad had passed, Clara was the stable one. Her brother couldn’t hold a job, much less a conversation, and her mother hid behind every man she could.

“Jen!” she climbed out of the bed and ran into the hall. Her best friend and house mate was a devout follower of routine and had been asleep for at least an hour. Clara knocked on her door. “Jen! Wake up!”

“Go away.”

Clara opened the door. “You won’t believe it!”

Jennifer snapped up and clicked on a lamp. “Did James propose?”

“What? No!” Clara scratched her neck. “He’s not here tonight.”

“Wasn’t he staying over tonight?”

“A big band at the club lost their drummer or something, so he’s helping them out.”

“That’s fantastic!”

Clara shrugged. “It’s just one night. It’s not a job or anything.”

“Still, it’s a chance to get noticed.”

“Sure, but that’s not why I woke you.”

Jennifer collapsed against her pillows. “If it’s a stupid video again, I’ll throw this lamp at you.”

“Jeez, I thought you’d like to know the crazy news.”

“You better be dying,” Jennifer muttered. “Or pregnant.”

Clara scowled. “Not funny.”

Jennifer scowled back. “It happens. Some people even plan for it.”

“Listen,” Clara sat at the foot of the bed, hands on her knees. “My mom is getting married!”

“To the professor?”

“You remember him? I barely did. The way she goes through men, I find it easier to smile and wave.”

“He was nice,” Jennifer shrugged. “Not how you’ve described her past boyfriends. You okay?”

“I’m fine. I just worry. She always rushes and never waits. She’s selling the house and offering me her old wedding dress—”

“What? Did you say yes?”

Clara’s voice jumped. “No! I’m—we aren’t in any position to be married. We can’t even afford a place together. We just aren’t there yet.”

“I get that. But dresses are expensive. And you’ve been together for four years. The club is closer to here than those cramped grad school dorms anyways; he could finally move in with us. Maybe tonight’s opportunity will lead to something stable.”

Clara laughed. “This isn’t a big opportunity; he’s basically a substitute teacher.”

Jennifer sighed and pushed the bedspread away. “Why do you keep making James’ gig tonight seem like a bad thing? Did something happen?”

Clara pulled her head back. “No! I’m happy for him.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes at the clock. “Okay, guess I’m an idiot. Sorry.”

“I don’t want him to be disappointed.”

“Makes sense.” Jennifer reclaimed the blankets and laid her head on the pillow.

“It would be a dream come true for him if this led somewhere. But he’s got a  semester left, and his café is right next to the dorms. It might be a great opportunity, but at the wrong time.” She struggled to think of when the right time would be.

Jennifer tossed a strained glance at Clara. “Sure. And there aren’t other cafés anywhere else.”

“What’s your problem?”

“What’s yours?” Jennifer sat up. “You clearly have something on your mind, and it’s ruining my night. Are you two considering breaking up? Is that what this is about? The dress, your back-and-forth stance on his gig?”

Clara squirmed.

“Sorry,” Jennifer reached out and held her shoulder. “I’m half asleep; that wasn’t helpful.” She took a long breath. “Everything okay, Clara?”

“Yes.” Clara squeezed Jennifer’s hand. “You have to get up early; I should let you sleep.”

“I’m already up; the damage is done. What’s wrong?”

Clara picked at her neck as the misery spiraled out of her chest. “Are you happy?” she whispered.

“That’s a deep question. Yes? Are you?”

“No.” Clara’s hand reflexively covered her mouth. “I want to be, but the futures make me miserable.”

“A future with James?”

Clara traced the fate lines on her palm. “All futures. They fill me with a crushing sadness. I feel I’m being dragged towards something that everyone else is happily stepping into.”

Jennifer took Clara’s hand. “What do you want then?”

“I want what I have! James, giving everything trying to make it, while somehow managing to love me completely. Coming in here and ruining your night with my stupid anxiety. Feeling secure about myself whenever my mom’s life falls apart. What if James comes home from the show tonight and our lives change. What happens to me?

“He isn’t going to treat you differently; he’s a good guy.”

“If I don’t keep everything as it is, then I don’t know who I am. What if I’m like my mom and he sees how crazy I am? What if I become like my brother, and you don’t hear from me for years? What if I don’t know how to love outside of…of…” Clara’s hands trembled as she trailed off. “If his life changes, what if I can’t change with it?”

“You’re mom changed. And she was far crazier then you are.”

Clara wiped her eyes. “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

James’ keys announced his return as they rattled against the front door.

Clara stood up. “I should go, and your tired.”

“Wake me if you need to.”

Clara nodded and returned to the hall.

“You’re still up?” James’ looked meek as he approached.

“Yeah.” Clara swallowed. “I actually had a hard night.”

James dropped his coat on the floor as they entered her room together. “Me too.” He sat on the bed as his hands slid down his face. “I choked. Ruined the first two sets. They’ll never ask me to play again, that’s for sure.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her watch ticked. “There’ll be other opportunities.”

He leaned back and gathered her in his arms. “I just want to hold you; I’m still good at that.”

Clara snuggled against him wordlessly.

“You had an awful night too?”

She reached for the light but paused. The watch lay face down, its machinery groaned as the future melted into the present. She pulled the knob away from the ivory rim and it went silent, before she clicked off the lights.

“I just missed you.”

He drew the comforter over them and as she deflated into the warmth of the bed. In the dark, wrapped between the blankets and James, she felt happy.

Editor: Shannon Hensley