The Wall Between

Jonah swatted at Clarke’s fork as she stabbed some of his home fries. Clarke had already finished her breakfast and she was still hungry, acting like a vulture as she continuously stole his food. He wasn’t really bothered by it, she knew. Jonah was one of the few friends that didn’t totally yell at her when Clarke was being a vulture. It was just in her nature to want everything on the table, even if it wasn’t her own food.

The two friends were sitting inside Norma’s café, the small red booths soft under Clarke as she pulled her legs up onto the seat, curling in and taking a long sip of her chocolate milk. Jonah himself was drinking orange juice, claiming he needed to be healthy, but Clarke strongly believed in spirituality via chocolate milk.

Milo the black French bulldog was sitting happily on the seat, his heavy head resting on the table. His black eyes blinked shut for long periods of time, tired and unhappy with Jonah that he had brought the dog out of the house. Milo was a chubby little thing that loved the air conditioning and the organic treats that Jonah gave him.

“Do you think that girl will call?” Clarke asked, putting her red cup down. The waitress collected the cup, promising to return with another and a treat for Milo. Johanna was always their waitress, a girl in her late twenties with red hair and fire truck-red nails. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be using your apartment for sex when you said I could sleep there to avoid drunk driving.”

“Eh, doesn’t matter. I don’t think she was worried about a girl asleep on the couch in a giant Star Wars shirt.” Clarke frowned at him. She continuously left clothes at Jonah’s house to sleep in, as well as a change of clothes so she could avoid looking like she was doing the walk of shame. “She didn’t ask about you, anyways.”

“Probably thinks I’m a couch surfer.”

“You are sometimes.”

“Oh please, you let me cuddle in your bed with you.”

Jonah rolled his eyes. “You’re pretty warm to cuddle with.” He crunched on a piece of bacon and cocked his head to the side, watching Clarke. “You would be so hot if I were into breakfast stealing vultures.”

Clarke stole his untouched toast and with a mouthful she made a face at him. “I’m hot anyways.” She raised her brows, remembering something and continuing. “Speaking of hot, I have tea with my grandmother and mom down at the ranch today so I need to get home and get showered and dressed.”

“Ah, Grandmother Beaumont. Beautiful woman, perfect hair, no soul.” Jonah knew the severity of Clarke’s grandmother first hand, and he made it obvious that he liked to avoid her as much as possible. But being friends for years had earned him several encounters.

With the bill paid, a kiss placed on Jonah’s cheek and kiss on the top of the head for Milo, Clarke was driving home. She drummed her fingers along to Dolly Parton, one of the few artists her father had raised her on. Clarke’s mother was more of a hip-hop fan than anything, but Clarke found herself bouncing back and forth between the two genres.

Humming all the way through the lobby and up the elevator, Clarke was focused on anything but going to see her grandmother. Walking down the hall to her own door, she began to slow, seeing a stickie note on the door. Clarke’s stomach dropped, recognizing her mother’s slanted handwriting instantly.

Wanted to surprise you- lovely neighbor who’s you’re friend said we could wait there.

-Mom

“Fuck,” Clarke blurted, staring at the note. Of all things, why would they decide to surprise Clarke? Surely it was her grandmother’s idea to attempt to catch Clarke off-guard and see the state of her apartment. Worse was that Tyler had intercepted them. She could only imagine what her grandmother was thinking about his tattoos and she was terrified to imagine what mess he had in his apartment.

Licking her lips nervously, Clarke walked over to door forty-nine. She had no idea what to expect but she lifted her hand, knocking firmly on the door. She heard footsteps and the door opened, revealing Tyler. Clarke wasn’t sure what she expected, but he was standing there in jeans, a maroon shirt and his hair freshly washed, pushed back out of his face. He looked good, she thought.

“Hey neighbor,” he greeted, a smile lighting his face. He opened the door wide, gesturing with one tattooed arm. “Come on in. Your mother, grandmother and I were just talking about horse racing.”

Clarke breezed passed him, bristling. “Lovely.”

Tyler’s apartment was both what Clarke expected mixed with things she would have never guessed. It was dark and modern like Clarke imagined it would be, very different from her own. Their building allowed freedom with apartment design, especially if you had a lot of money to put into the building, which Tyler clearly did.

Hard, wood floor-covered Tyler’s apartment. His walls were different shades of grey and neutral, the living room wide and to the back of the apartment while his clean and shadowed kitchen was to the right. His bedroom was on the left towards the wall that Clarke and Tyler shared. It was extremely clean, not a speck of dust in side. Marshall was laying on a green dog bed in the living room, gnawing on a bone and barely looking up as Clarke entered.

Constance Beaumont was sitting on a stool in the neat kitchen, sipping from white china. Clarke wondered why Tyler even had china in his house- he didn’t strike her as the type, then again she didn’t know too much about him. Constance smiled happily over the cup at Clarke. Her grandmother was beautiful, aging with grace with shoulder length brown hair and pretty brown eyes.

“Clarke, darling.” Her grandmother gave her a once over. Her mouth twitched which Clarke knew meant she was fighting a frown at Clarke’s outfit choice; high waisted shorts, a crop top that showed a bit of skin, sneakers and a snapback backwards on her head. It wasn’t the classiest of outfits, but she had been planning on changing before tea. “How lovely to see you.”

“Hi,” Clarke said, moving forward and pressing a kiss on both of her grandmother’s cheeks. Constance smelled like lavender, like she always did. Clarke’s mom stood, smiling genuinely and hugging Clarke hard. Elizabeth Beaumont’s blonde hair was tied up in a pony tale, bright face filled with happiness. Clarke thought her mother was beautiful, one of the most beautiful people in the world. “Hi momma.”

“Tyler here was nice enough to let us into his apartment while we waited for you,” Elizabeth explained. Tyler was at the other end of the counter, leaning on it with his elbows and grinning at Clarke. There was a big of smugness in his smile, like he had won something. Annoyance sparked inside of her. “He said you’re always back pretty early. We should have called.”

“Isn’t that so nice of Tyler?” Clarke asked in mock gratitude. Her mother caught the attitude, sending her a look. If Constance noticed, she didn’t say anything, turning to Tyler and asking, “You were just telling us about your jockey friend?”

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed excitedly, standing all the way up. Clarke watched him with a guarded expression, sitting on the third stool in the kitchen. He seemed totally at ease, not the slightest concerned that Clarke’s family was in his kitchen. “Garrett Fairer, he comes to a bunch of the Dallas Stars games. Great guy, very smart and kind.”

“Oh he’s the young man who rides Red Runner?” Constance seemed delighted. A string of pearls were draped around her neck and her jacket was perfectly placed over a white blouse and long skirt. Clarke wondered if her grandmother ever ran out of modest outfits to wear. “I’ve heard he is absolutely splendid, a fantastic rider, don’t you think, Clarke?”

“I haven’t watched a horse race since high school.”

“Clarke used to love horse races,” Constance insisted. Elizabeth glanced between her mother-in-law and her daughter. Instead of saying something, she sipped tea, raising her brows as Constance continued, “She used to race all the horses around the ranch. We’ve got mostly Tennessee Walking and a few Gypsy Vanners.”

“My mom loves the gypsies,” Tyler agreed animatedly. “She loves how they’re like smaller Clydesdales.”

“You know your horses.”

“Wow, what a talent,” Clarke said, interrupting their small exchange. Tyler shot her a confused look. He didn’t understand what exactly he had walked into. Clarke wanted to appreciate his effort to be polite, but Clarke didn’t want him to be polite, not right now. “His knowledge of horses makes him great, doesn’t it, grandma?”

“Clarke Eleanor,” Constance said, setting down the china. “He’s just being polite, no need to get in a fuss. Tyler also says you’re doing really well in your studies.” Clarke glanced sideways at Tyler, surprised. He gave the slightest nod and tilt of a smile. “Is that true?”

“Yeah.” Clarke’s mother gave her a look and she cleared her throat, correcting herself, “Yes ma’am. I got a ninety-five on my practical exam last week. I’m one of the top students in the class.”

“At least you’re getting good grades.”

Clarke was silent, her jaw working at her grandmother’s tone. Tyler glanced between the two of them, straightening. Clarke saw it then, the small light in his eyes as he heard the shift in Constance’s voice. “Better than good grades,” Elizabeth said with strain, looking at Constance. “Don’t you think, Connie? Clarke goes to one of the most prestigious schools.”

“That may be, but I still don’t understand what you plan on doing in sports medicine.”

“Clarke can really help athletes,” Tyler blurted, startling them all. He nodded his head, glancing at Clarke and smiling at her. She gave him a small smile back, though it didn’t touch her eyes. He was going to throw himself to the sharks. “Our athletic trainer does wonders for us on the Stars,” he continued earnestly, fingers tapping the counter. “Makes sure we’re all healthy and that we never receive life or career threatening injuries. I hurt my elbow two seasons ago and Mark made sure that my arm healed properly.”

Constance’s expression was dry. “I suppose. You know Catherine is getting married soon?” Clarke winced at the mention of her cousin’s marriage again. Somehow it always came back to marriage, which freaked Clarke out, especially in the presence of Tyler. “Have you met any men who could make you a future wife?”

Clarke pressed her hand to her brow in frustration. “No, grandma. I’ve been focused on school, I can’t worry about marriage or boys right now. Even if I did, I have to get a strong foothold in my career first.”

Tyler made a face. “Clarke is too young to get married.”

Silence met his comment. Clarke was surprised that he had blurted the response to her grandmother’s searching question with clear distaste towards the subject. Constance watched him with a skeptical expression and Clarke’s mother smiled softly at him.

“And why do you think she’s too young?”

Tyler licked his lips, standing up straight as he looked at Constance. “She’s only what, twenty-two?” Clarke nodded when he glanced at her for affirmation of her age. “She’s in school and she’s about to start a career. Settling down and figuring out marriage would be too much, especially in such a hard field.”

“But don’t you think marriage is important?”

“Maybe layer in life. Life is one of the longest things that exist. I think that maybe figuring out what you want to do with it is a little more important than finding someone and cranking out a bunch of kids.” Constance made a face. “Sorry for the lack of eloquence there, but I don’t think Clarke is at that age where she needs to be married. Hell, if she even wants to get married. It's not a rule that she has to.”

“And what about you?” Constance asked, her voice clearly displeased but not overall unpleasant. Clarke always found it fascinating how her grandmother could make normal words sound like daggers. “You don’t plan on finding someone to marry and to cherish? The time span for marriage isn’t always open.”

Tyler laughed, though no one else did. He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. Clarke couldn’t help but feel grateful for both of his tattooed sleeves in that moment. “Hell no.” Constance blinked at the use of the word but if he noticed, Clarke couldn’t tell. “I’m twenty-three. There’s so much I haven’t done yet that I can’t do with a wife! Places to travel, adventures to have. Marriage is insane at this age to me, I would be crazy to do that.”

“I got married at twenty-one.”

“Yeah but that was the your way of doing things, maybe it's not hers. Things are different now. I just don’t see why you would ever push her to get married when she has so many other opportunities. Plus, have you seen her when a guy tries to hit on her? She freezes up and blurts random things at them or doesn’t say anything at all. It’s actually pretty cute.”

Clarke’s faced flushed red as she looked at him. He grinned at her innocently, clearly knowing that he was making her nervous again. Jumping up from the seat, Clarke cleared her throat. “Well thank you so much for letting my grandmother and mom wait for me here, forty-nine.” She smoothed her shorts down, fidgety. “I owe you one, seriously. Thank you.”

“No problem forty-seven.”

When Constance stood up, Clarke was sure that a winter breeze entered the room. Her grandmother adjusted the broach on her jacket before smiling kindly at Tyler, though it was not as fond as before. “Thank you kindly for letting us stay here. The tea was wonderful- and tell your mother I love the china, though I myself prefer bone china.”

Ushering her mother and grandmother out the door, Clarke paused by Tyler in the hall. He was scratching the back of his neck, giving her a grimace. “Yikes, should I apologize now or later?”

“Later. I want a very long apology with big words.”

“I think she insulted my moms china?”

Clarke closed her eyes and nodded, folding her lips. “She did do that.” Clarke’s mother called for her in the hall. “Thank you for letting them stay here- kind of. It was still a bad idea.”

“Couldn’t leave two lovely women in the hallway.”

“You really don’t have an age limit, do you?”

He smirked. “Like fine wine, they-"

“Bye, Tyler.”

Clarke hurried into the hall to deal with her grandmother in her own apartment. It wasn’t until she was in the apartment that she realized she had actually called him by his actual name.