Life After Death

Chapter 36 (part one)

Clara Clarkson was a girl who liked fast things.

Cars. Motorcycles. Seconds.

Everything that seemed to be there and gone in a second. Her father died before she was born. Her mother was a drunk and was abusive toward her. At the age of sixteen she ran away and that's when she met Roman.

Roman had bought his first motorcycle and was cleaning it in his driveway. Roman was content and happy, or as happy as any eighteen year old could be. But that's when he noticed something in the corner of his eye.

A girl with hair like fire and a fluttering yellow dress cowering behind a tree watching him intensely. Or so he thought. She was watching the machine he was cleaning. She found it beautiful. She had seen it around but never went too close in fear that the owner would harm her - like her mother would.

Clara stood on the opposite side of the road and watched in awe and bewilderment as the handsome boy wiped down the machine. And then, he stopped and turned to watch her instead. Blushing Clara hid behind the tree.

When she felt a large hand on her shoulder she jumped and turned around sharply. Her fiery hair whipped in the young boy's face causing him to step back.

Her hair smelt like strawberries.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I just - I saw you from across the street. You shouldn't be wandering through the streets without a chaperone."

"It's unladylike, I know," she said, rolling her eyes.

"No," he said, "it's dangerous."

She didn't speak another word. Instead, she looked at her tattered shoes.

"I'm Roman Godfrey," he said, jutting out a hand. "I like across the street."

She stared at his hand for a long while before she decided to shake it. "I'm Clara Clarkson... I - I don't stay around here."

"Are you lost? Do you need the telephone? You could call you mother -"

"No!" Clara almost screamed. "I mean, no, its okay. I was just on my way home right now. I'm okay."

"Do you need a ride?"

She paused to look at him. "Excuse me?"

"Do you need a ride home? I do not own a automobile, but I do own that there motorcycle. I saw how you looked at it - with such fascination." Roman smiled. Clara thought he had a beautiful smile. "Would you like a ride, Miss Clarkson?"

Hesitantly, Clara looked over at the motorcycle. She wanted to get on it. She wanted to feel the wind in her hair. She wanted to be one with the machine she found so beautiful. "I'm not sure..." But she was. She hadn't been more sure of anything in her entire life.

"You are safe with me, Miss Clarkson," Roman said, and he meant it.

Clara believed him. There was something about this fellow that made her trust him. Maybe it was because he was so handsome. Or maybe it was his warm eyes. Or maybe it was his gorgeous smile. Either way, she trusts him. With her life, maybe.

"Okay," she said. "That would be okay then."

Roman led the girl to his home on the opposite end of the street. "You can come inside, I'm just going to fetch a helmet for the two of us." Clara nodded and waited as Roman ran up the porch. "You can come inside if you like." Clara nodded, once again, feeling quite silly, and followed after him.

Roman Godfrey's home was, to simply put it, beautiful and elegant. The entire house was in different shades of wood. Tall elegant beams, and family portraits - mostly of a woman with dark blond hair and Roman, himself. Clara wondered where Roman's father was in any of these photographs.

Just then, the same woman who was in the portraits popped out from the nowhere. She was wearing a plain white dress that hugged her curves, and came past her long knees. Her dark blond hair was in waves. She looked like a super model, Clara thought, not a mother.

"Oh, goodness, I'm sorry, who are you?" The woman pulled Clara in for a hug. "Are you Roman's girlfriend? Can you help me with my pearls - I'm going to church, they're having some benefit. You and Roman should come along later, yes?"

Clara was too shocked. With nimble fingers she tied the pearls around the woman's slender neck and smiled in approval.

"I'm Delia, by the way," she said, with a warm, motherly smile. It was the first time Clara experienced a smile like before. Clara smiled back, fighting through the tears.

"Clara," she replied. "And I'm not Roman's girlfriend. In fact, we just met. I -"

"I see you've met Mother," Roman said, running down the stairs. "I love her dearly but she always jumps to conclusions, doesn't she?"

"I do no such thing, Roman!" Delia said, laughing. "I'm sorry for the assumptions, dear. It's just - Roman doesn't have friends. He's a special case. It just makes me love him all the more!" Delia pinched Roman's cheeks and ruffled his hair.

"Mother! Not my hair!" Roman moved away from his mother and laughed. "I'm sorry for keeping you. We should leave, right?"

"Oh, darling, have you eaten?" Delia asked.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Clara asked, unsure of what she meant. Was this woman saying she qould feed me or was she just asking this question? It was all so new to Clara.

"Have you eaten? If not, then you two have to come to the benefit," Delia said. "There will be food, fun and games, and many others your age. Come on, Roman. Do it for me."

"But I have to take Clara home, Mother," Roman sighed.

"Would your mother mind us stealing you for a second?" Delia asked. "Or should we telephone her?"

"Oh, no," Clara shook her head. "She wouldn't mind."

And technically, that wasn't a lie.

"Great!" Delia exclaimed with excitement. "Then let's get you made up."

"What?"