Consequences(87)

“I will see you then. Have a safe trip.”


“Claire”—he paused—“don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t Tony. I’ll see you Saturday.” The telephone disconnected from his end. Claire handed the telephone back to one of the clinicians and inspected her nails, holding the phone hadn’t caused any damage. Her fingers and toes glistened shiny red, and her make-up had been expertly applied. Claire stepped in front of the mirror. She wished with all her might that Tony could see her now—she felt stunning.

There were a total of six assistants that worked directly with Claire. She went to the front desk, signed the charge slip, and gave the tip money to the receptionist, with an additional fifty for her. Claire smiled and thanked her for bringing her the telephone.

Back at the apartment Claire changed clothes, wanting to get outside and enjoy the shops before she needed to return at 6:00 PM. Looking out of the windows, she could tell the day was warm. The waves on the lake also told her that the breeze was strong. But of course, that was why they call it the windy city!

She had a little over three hours to shop and she wanted to make every minute count! All of a sudden, time slipped back six years. She needed to shop fast in order to get back to class. The biggest difference between then and now was her goal—instead of bargains—she looked for the buys that would please Tony.

Charles offered Claire a driver, but she wanted to walk. The busy city and warm weather created an exhilarating atmosphere. She longed to be outside and on her own short schedule. Cartier was her first stop. She found another pair of sunglasses. They were like the ones from New York, except black, which would be better for winter.

Although that was her thought, she wondered if she would really be with Tony all winter. Compartmentalize. Right now, her plan was to enjoy this afternoon and some shopping, the rest would work itself out.

Her familiarity with the magnificent mile proved advantageous to her goal. She didn’t have Eric to pick up packages, so she didn’t buy anything too bulky; however, she managed some smaller bags from Saks, Anne Fontaine, Armani, and Louis Vuitton.

Claire approached the Trump Tower and her watch said she had thirty minutes to spare. She stopped in the coffee shop for a quick café mocha. In Iowa, she mostly drank plain coffee with cream—very high quality and amazingly delicious. This afternoon she was living and decided a little chocolate would hit the spot.

Sitting at the table surrounded by her packages, sipping her café mocha, Claire’s mind wandered. Her life seemed to have taken a turn. The last few weeks were much better than months earlier, so much better than she could have predicted. She talked with Emily—if only for a few minutes. She thought about the rules: speaker phone, limitations, and the briefness of the call. It took a magnitude of compartmentalization to concentrate on the affirmative aspect of the conversation. Nonetheless, she spoke with her sister and that made her happy. Then there was the barbeque—minus the unfortunate misunderstanding—which was a success. Tony introduced her to his friends, and they were nice to her. The date with Tony the night before was romantic: dinner, walking, the play, and the activities until they fell asleep. Now, she was sitting in Chicago—a destination she loved.

Smiling, she sipped her café mocha and thought about him. She hated him one day and then allowed her hair to change colors because he requested it. The more she thought about it, maybe allow wasn’t the appropriate word. Really, did she have an option? How could he hurt her one day and then make her feel so fulfilled the next? Her internal debate continued.

As she thought of Tony, feelings of lust pushed away the old feelings of fear. Remembering the sensation of his touch, sound of his voice, and taste of his skin, she wanted to believe this was a significant improvement. She wondered how she could be having these feelings, how she could enjoy his presence, and even look forward to being with him. She’d read about Stockholm syndrome—maybe that was it. She knew it didn’t make sense—but she couldn’t deny the way she was beginning to feel.