Clara's Undoing

Clara's Undoing - Chapter Four

Breakfast with my parents was one thing I always looked forward to in the morning—on rare occasions that they were here for it.

Dad came from a long stretch of structural engineers and only children. So, automatically, he inherited the Wheeler Group—the most prominent structural engineering consulting firm in all of New England—and eventually tied it up with Price Vanguard Associates, an architectural firm founded and head-speared by my mother, Marthine Price. They've got a pretty good gig going on except it keeps them extremely busy; they were rarely home. I guess the upside of it all was that they were always together.

The downside was that I was another product of the busy lifestyle thus resulting in lack of time or chance to parent another child. Another one was, as expected of me, I shall follow through either the generations of structural engineers or the prized child of a world-renowned architect, no matter how much I sucked at drafting.

I wasn't bad per se. I was actually pretty good at drawing, it's the 'putting things in perspective' thing that I didn't really have the eye for. I never really understood why since both my parents were extremely talented on that front and actually profited millions of money from it so maybe I was adopted. Except, I wasn't. My mother's picture with me right after my birth was proof enough. Not to mention the fact that I looked like the exact female version of my father when he was younger and still had soft features for a guy as opposed to the bearded, butch look he had now. The more plausible reason was that I was a late bloomer and it just hasn't come to me yet. All I knew was, whatever talent I may have inherited from my parents, it was still a no-show.

"Clara, darling," My Dad called my name sweetly as he looked up from his tablet. "Would you mind getting my prints from my office?"

I was about to stand up when Mom popped out of the kitchen with the aforementioned prints in hand. "Here you go, honey. Clara, eat your breakfast."

I did as told, silently laughing internally. Mom always knew what Dad needed long before he said it or even realized it himself.

"Oh, Mom," I called her attention as she was taking a sip of her tea. "I need you to sign something for school. It's a waiver for our Science trip for Physics class to Philadelphia next week."

I took the three-piece waiver out from my bag and handed it over to her.

"Where are you going?" She asked, studying the papers.

"The Franklin Institute, Mutter, Penn, Science History Institute," I dictated as I took a bite of my waffles. "Among many others. I think we have more than ten in the itinerary. They're taking us to every kind of Science museum there is in Philly to actually broaden our horizons or something similar."

"Wow. How are you gonna fit that all in one day?" Dad asked, his tablet and prints were now carefully tucked away. If there was one thing my parents were good at parenting, it was listening. They always kept an interested ear out whenever I talked and as a child of two very busy people, that was more than I could hope for.

I took a sip of my watermelon juice. "It's actually a museum slash camping trip for three days, hence the three-page waiver."

"Mr. William Percival Parrish," Mom read the end of the paper out loud. "Now why does that name sound eerily familiar?"

"I sincerely doubt you know him, Mom." I said. "He's too young to be a business associate of yours and he's a teacher. You don't know that many teachers."

Mom shrugged and proceeded to sign my waiver before handing it back to me. I immediately stuffed it in my bag to secure it and went on to finish my breakfast.

"Someone's at the door." Mom suddenly said before standing up to check.

Then the doorbell rang.

"How does she do that?" I asked that, stupefied at one of my mother's superpowers.