"The Comfort in Being Sad"
by Michael Dell


CHAPTER TWELVE (Claire)

The lights in Claire's apartment were turned down.  The bottle of wine on the coffee table was
nearly half empty.  The TV was flickering an Audrey Hepburn movie.  "Funny Face."  Michael
was by her side.  She had seen enough of the movie.
 
"Hey, you're gonna miss Audrey's big dance number," warned Michael as Claire began to nuzzle
against his neck.  "Man, check out them crazy beatniks!"
 
"Yeah," breathed Claire.  "Crazy."  She began to run her hand up his thigh.
 
"I think I could use another glass of water," declared Michael, trying to get to his feet.  "You
want anything while I'm up?"
 
"No."  She grabbed the back of his pants and pulled him to the couch.  "And neither do you." 
She pressed her body against his.  She could feel the muscles in his chest and arms.  He had been
lifting a lot lately.  He'd put on weight.  She liked it.  He felt strong.  Hard.  She closed 
her eyes and kissed him.  He pulled away.  "What's wrong?"
 
"Nothing," strained Michael.  He was very flustered.  "It's just, you know, how often to you 
get to see Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn together."
 
She went back to work on his neck.  "Forget about the damn movie."
 
"Claire..."
 
She kept kissing him.  "Uh huh?"  Her hand was roaming again.  
 
"Claire..."  He grabbed her wrist.  
 
She pulled back to look at him.  "What's wrong?  You okay?"
 
"Yeah, I'm fine."
 
"Then relax already."  Another attempted kiss fell upon unwilling lips.  This time she hopped all
the way back to the far end of the couch.  "What's the matter?"  Michael didn't answer.  He
merely let out a deep breath and lifted his arms as if to say 'I don't know.'  "Is it just 
that you're nervous?  That's really cute.  But there's no reason to be.  Unless... haven't 
you ever..."
 
"That's not the problem."
 
"Then what is it?  There's definitely something wrong.  We've been going out now for almost a
month and I can't get you to do anything but hold my hand.  I mean we're two mature, healthy
adults, it's only natural that... oh, I'm sorry.  Is that it?  Do you have, like... 
you know..."   At this point she may have unconsciously began elevating a finger as a visual 
aid.  "... a problem?"

"No!" yelled Michael, hurriedly fumbling to return Claire's extended finger back to the fold.  "Of
course not!  Don't even joke about that!"  
 
"Then what is it?" demanded Claire.  "Is it me?  Don't you find me attractive?"
 
"Of course I do!  You're beautiful.  You're lovely.  I very much want to be with you, but..." 
 
"But what?"
 
"I don't know if we should talk about this."
 
"I don't know, Michael, I think we should.  It seems kind of important to me."
 
"I'm just... I'm just not sure if we should rush into anything.  I'm just not sure if I'm ready 
to be in a real serious relationship right now."
 
"Okay..."  She thought of how he made her feel when he smiled at her.  She remembered the fun
they had the past few weeks, the movies, the dinners, the numerous book discussions.  He was
always so gentle with her, so protective, so respectful.  And he knew how to make her laugh. 
But this wasn't a joke.  "Was I just imagining things?  Don't you care about me at all?"  
 
She was almost starting to cry.  Michael knew this moment was coming.  He had tried to put it
off as long as he could.  He knew getting involved with Claire would be a mistake.  What right
did he have to be happy?  It was selfish of him.  Now he had to pay the price.  He turned to face
her and took both her hands in his.  "I care about you very much.  You have to believe that."
     
"Oh, that's right.  You care about me so much you won't touch me!  Yeah, okay, now I see.  That
makes perfect sense."
 
He moved closer to her.  "Claire, please try to understand.  I do love you.  I care about you very
much.  You're the perfect girl for me.  It's just..."
 
"What!  Tell me!  What is it?"" 
 
"I have no right to do this.  I'm sorry."
 
"Just tell me already!  Is there someone else?"
 
"Sort of..."
 
"Either there is or there isn't!"
 
"Then, yeah..."
 
"You've been seeing someone else?  When?"
 
"No.  I haven't seen anyone else since I've met you.  I haven't seen her in like four months."
 
"And you're still in love with her?"   
 
"Yes," admitted Michael painfully.  "Yes, I am."
 
With those words, Claire's chest became consumed by a numbing ache.  The sensation of a
breaking heart was unmistakable.  She pulled one of her hands free and wiped the first hints of
a tear from her left eye.  "How long did you two go out?"
 
"That's just it, we never did.  We never went out at all.  That's why the whole thing is such a
joke."
 
"I don't get it."
 
"She used to be a waitress at a bar I went to all the time.  And we kind of got to know each other
over the course of a few months.  Or at least I thought I knew her.  I was led to believe she 
was a very nice, shy, depressed, lonely kid and I fell in love with her."  Hearing the story 
was almost as painful as telling it.  But Claire endured.  She listened attentively to each 
brutal word.  "I didn't mean to fall in love with her.  It just happened.  But then right when 
it looked like we might get together, I found out some things."
 
"What do you mean?"
 
"Let's just say she wasn't the girl I thought she was.  But even when I thought she was who I
thought she was, she still wasn't the right girl for me.  I mean, we have almost nothing in
common.  If I'm making a list of things I'm looking for in a woman, Melanie is like oh for four
right off the bat."  Claire flinched.  Her name was Melanie.  "But I guess you can't always pick
who you fall in love with."  
 
Claire didn't need proof of that last theory.  "And you haven't spoken to her in four months?"
 
"Actually I haven't spoken to her in five months.  Haven't seen her in four.  The last time I saw
her she wouldn't talk to me, or even look at me for that matter."  
 
"Then don't you think it might be time to move on?"
 
"I know, I know.  But I just can't.  The last time I did speak to her, I was all ready to move on
and try to forget her, but then I went and said something I regret, something I can never take
back.  And I think I hurt her.  After that last time I saw her..."
 
"The time she wouldn't even look at you?"
 
"Yeah.  After that I sent her a letter apologizing and telling her how much she meant to me, but I
never heard back from her.  Until I do, I don't think I can move on.  Not yet anyway.  I know this
is going to sound awful, but if I was going to move on, it would be with you.  I wasn't planning
to get involved with anyone until I was completely over her.  But then you came along.  And
you're like my perfect woman.  I couldn't ask for anything more than you.  But..."  Michael's
voice tailed off.
 
"I'm not her."
 
He lifted her hand to his lips.  "I never meant to hurt you.  We hit it off so well right from the
start.  I knew you were special.  You were everything I was looking for.  And I enjoy being with
you so much, but I guess I was just fooling myself.  I'm not ready to be with someone else yet. 
And I don't know when I will be.  It was incredibly careless of me to lead you on the way I did. 
But I really wasn't leading you on.  You have to believe me.  My feelings for you are true.  
I'm so happy when I'm with you.  And I'm never happy.  But I just don't think it's right for 
us, if I'm still thinking of her.  It's not fair to you.  And I feel terrible talking like 
this, because I know I'm hurting you and I never wanted to hurt you.  I don't know what's 
wrong with me.  I'm just messed up.  Maybe there is something wrong with me.  Believe me, I 
want to be with you very badly, you don't understand how badly, but if I would then..."  He let 
go of her hands and sat straight ahead, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his 
neck hanging limp.  He was unable to face her.  He poured his confession into the floor.  
"I have some serious issues.  You don't know.  You have to understand, I don't get close to 
people easily.  And if I were to take the next step with you then that would mean I'm done 
with Mel.  And I'm not sure I want to let her go yet.  I still feel she needs me."
 
Claire could see his hands trembling .  This girl must have really done a number on him.  The
sight of his tormented being almost made her forget her own pain.  Almost.  Still, she couldn't
help but comfort him.  It was her nature.  And it was actually kind of romantic in a way.  It
wasn't his fault.  
 
She slipped alongside and put her arm around him.  "It's okay."  She kissed him on the top of his
head.  "It's okay."
 
"No, it isn't.  This isn't fair to you.  I don't want you to think I'm only with you because 
she isn't around.  That's not true.  I don't know what's true anymore.  I'm just a mess.  
I should have never let myself get close to you.  I shouldn't have allowed it."
 
"But I'm glad you did."
 
"I'm sorry."  His voice was unsteady.  He still didn't look at her.  "I'm so sorry."  
 
"It's okay.  I understand.  We don't have to do anything you don't want to.  We can take it slow
like we have been.  Then when you're ready..."
 
He lifted his head.  His eyes were watery.  Tears were being held back by years of practice. 
"Maybe I should go..."

"You don't have to," said Claire.  "I don't want you to."  She coerced him back to the couch. 
"Besides, the movie isn't over yet."  She placed her head on his shoulder and held his hand tight. 
"And how often do you get to see Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn together?"