Crazy but Sweet, Sweet but Crazy

18: a request

After ordering a slice of tiramisu cake and a scone for takeaway at the restaurant, I quickly weaved through the thin crowd in the restaurant into the washroom.

An olive-green light sweater paired with white slacks, were packed in the paper bag. The kind of clothes in my closet- the kind of clothes I'd buy.

I wondered if Elliot had taken a look at my pap pictures for reference. Or if he was just used to getting girls' clothes.

The clothes were without price tags, but from their texture and the distinct smell of new clothes, he'd gotten them straight before driving to school.

As soon as I emerged from the cubicle, a woman in her mid-twenties-ish who'd been washing her hands at the basin, stopped short. She turned around, and stared at me with her eyes scanning me from head to toe.

Instinctively, I tensed, my grasp on the empty paper bag tightening.

"Oh my god, are you Clare Horan?" With her mouth agape, the woman seized my hands in hers, still dripping wet from the wash. "I am such, such a big fan of you. Can't believe I'm seeing you here!"

There was a script to follow, as Jessica always advised.

"Add an element of surprise. 'Oh my gosh, really?' You're not an actress yourself, so looking like you're accustomed to fans might not look good," Jessica had emphasized. "But not too much- you'll sound fake. Add a touch of happiness, too. Something like 'Thank you'."

"Thank you," I managed, smiling. "Are you here for an early dinner?"

I wondered how to extricate my hands without coming across as yanking them out.

"Yeah, yes, yes." The woman's cheeks were flushed pink, as she replied distractedly. "I really love your outfit, by the way. Olive green's really the color this season."

"Right. Yeah. Thank you. Um-"

"And you're dating Elliot Lockwood! Honestly screw what everyone else says."

Indignation colored her ears, as her wet hands squeezed around mine tighter. "You and your father- totally different entities, different people. Screw what people say. I ship you guys. You look so cute together."

I had expected such a situation to arise some time soon.

But somehow, standing alone in the washroom with its closed door with this woman who was looking at me with a smile, the air felt damper, warmer.

There was no collar on the sweater, but I was suddenly feeling tight and uncomfortable around the neck.

My father and I.

I squeezed back her hands with a smile, unable to come up with anything to say.

"Oh, we've been standing in the washroom for too long. C'mon, let's go out."

She opened the door and gestured, beaming.

C'mon, let's go out. Like we were friends already. Her eyes, following every movement, every facial feature of mine.

With a tight smile, I followed her out of the washroom, feeling the air close around my throat.

"You guys, it's Clare here! Clare Horan!" As soon as we'd stepped out of the washroom, she excitedly pointed to me.

Instantly, the pairs of eyes of diners at the cafe restaurant turned to our direction.

A timing too early for dinner but too late for lunch. The crowd of diners had definitely been thin.

It was strange, how the crowd seemed to have suddenly mushroomed during the short duration I was in the washroom.

It was odd, how the air out in the open seemed even damper and tighter than it had been in the washroom.