Westley has always known Claire. She's always been a constant in his life, whether it be as his babysitter, his secret Santa, as his pretend-girlfriend, his confident, as the person he could always rely on.
But she's also always been the girl he lov...
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I'm six years old and I'm scared of lightening storms. There's a big one that night and I can't help it, I get out of bed and make my way to my parents' room and I try to be as silent as I can because I don't want them to be angry at me for waking them up.
I'm surprised to find the light in their room turned on. They're talking loudly. I try to make as less noise as possible because I don't want to bother them, but the thunder is too loud and the lightning is too bright and I'm so scared.
I poke my head inside of their room very slowly, squeezing it between the door and the frame.
Mom is sitting on the bed and Dad is pacing around the room. Mom is crying and I think Dad is also crying too, but they don't look sad, they look angry. Really angry.
"I gave up my career coming here," Mom is telling Dad.
"I told you before we got married that my job was here, my family was here and I wasn't moving away. You knew that!"
"What about my family? What about my job?"
"Please. Your dad is an alcoholic and your job was a joke, wake up El! You never could have paid for this house on your salary!"
I back away.
I don't like this. I really don't like this.
I run back to my room, take out Pinkie and clutch him against my chest, hiding under my pillow.
The thunderstorm is going to stop. The screaming is going to stop. It's all going to stop.
The next day, Mom and Dad act like nothing happened. How can they just pretend like last night didn't happen? Maybe that's one of those things my parents always tell me I'll only understand when I'm older.
I feel bad the whole day. Like there's something stuck in my throat, like I could puke at any moment.
"What's wrong sweetie, you've been really quiet today?" Claire asks me when we're sitting at the table and she's helping me learn my vocabulary words.
I don't want to tell her, I don't want to tell anyone, but this is Claire and I know I can tell her. I can trust her. "Mom and Dad were arguing last night. Dad made Mom cry. I just don't get it..."
Claire looks sad when she looks at me. She hugs me. I let her.
She tells me that loving someone doesn't mean that they can't make you angry sometimes or that everything will always be perfect because no one is perfect.
She tells me that it's easier to hurt the people that we love because we know them the best and we know what can make them sad. That's why it's always important to be careful with the people we love.
I tell her that I would never hurt someone I love on purpose, and that it doesn't make sense for anyone to want to do that.
Claire smiles at me, running her hand through my hair. "I hope you'll remember that when you get older."
