53 Ganymede

Episode 26 - Field Trip

The apartment still has a scent — not a bad one, just a noticeable one. Claire inhales deeply, trying to pick apart the specific odors before the acrid scent of vinegar burns them all away. There's something earthy and buttery, like chocolate frosting, but also something savoury and slightly musky, like pepper and paprika with a dash of fancy cologne. Claire glances toward the kitchen and the sparkling glass stovetop she has just cleaned; she imagines it splashed with grease and broth as Frank stands over a sizzling pan, his grey hair combed back and the sleeves of his shirt unbuttoned and carefully rolled up his thick forearms. With a sigh she looks away and sprays the homemade cleaning solution onto the windows of the massive french doors, wiping away memories along with the lingering scents.

Soon the apartment will smell like nothing to Claire. Or it will smell like her, which is practically the same thing. She glances at Lucy taking down framed photos from the wall and she wonders if the apartment smells different to her now that Claire has moved in. She wonders how many of her senses are bombarded with reminders that her entire life is changing. What does Claire smell like to other people anyway?

I'm too weird, she thinks to herself, shaking her head before addressing Lucy: "You don't have to take them down," she says.

Lucy smiles, inspecting the photograph in her hand as she carefully sets it onto the wooden coffee table. It's a picture of Frank when he was much younger, when his hair had only a sprinkling of grey; he stands with a woman Claire can only assume is Lucy's grandmother. "I'll put some of them back up," she says, "Once we've reorganized and painted. You can put some up too. It'll be nice."

Lucy's eyes drift from the photograph to the bare walls of the apartment, lingering as though she can see something Claire cannot, but whether she sees into the past or the future Claire can't tell.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Claire asks, daunted by her own attachments as well as Lucy's.

Lucy nods, her mouth pinched into a tight smile, "Mhm."

She swipes her wrist across her eyes before continuing: "Honestly. I really appreciate you moving in; I thought I was going to have to move out of the city. And... I'm not sure I'm ready to live on my own yet. Not so soon after... Thank you, Claire."

"But we don't have to change it..."

Lucy sniffs back her tears and glares at Claire with a sternness that belies her age. "Yes we do. It's not the same now and pretending it is doesn't help anyone."

"Okay, okay," Claire concedes, throwing her hands up in surrender. She glances back to the sterile kitchen, "It's just... I feel like I'm erasing all of the memories we had here."

A place evokes memories, but it doesn't contain them, Claire hears Rose's voice echo within her.

"We're not erasing them," Lucy says, her smile loosening as she looks at the photographs before her, "we're just... rearranging them... so we can fit in some new ones."

Claire inhales deeply one last time, turns to the window, sets her jaw, and begins to clean. When she is finished, she steps back to admire her work and the view of the lake whose recently thawed waters are threatening to spill over.

Beans is going to love this window in the spring. She imagines the blur of white fur as he bounds from the kitchen to the open doors, his nails clicking against the wooden railing as he jumps up to bark at the passing seagulls.

Noise from the kitchen interrupts her thoughts — a clanking of bottles being moved in the fridge and a crinkle of packaging followed by the opening and closing of cupboard doors. Claire turns to find Lucy rifling through the pantry, frowning at a box of cereal.