We Love You, Clawd

Interview Two: Clawdia Wolf

The next person to enter is Clawdia, the eldest child of Heather and Stephen and an aspiring screenwriter in Hauntlywood. The second she came through the doorway, she released an impression of being very careful with her work and also being very friendly. I don't know why I felt this, because she wasn't smiling. Who would be after a funeral of their own brother? Maybe it was her glasses constantly being adjusted. Maybe it was the notebook tucked under one arm. Maybe it was the well-maintained hair and ears, or perhaps her red blazer that could boast about being free of creases. In any case, she sat down and spoke a little briskly, maybe she wasn't as involved as everyone else. I guess this interview will be the judge of that.

Neighthan: Good morning.

Clawdia: Good morning, Neighthan, is it?

Neighthan: Yeah. How are you today?

Clawdia: Umm, very divided, I suppose. On one side, I only flew back here from Hauntlywood a week ago, so I'm still thinking a bit about my work and all the ideas and characters swirling around in my head as I got them on paper like a fair government managing refugees. But on the other, is my family who I grew up with, who I went to school with, who got me to where I am now and who are still there. They would never leave willingly, I know that much. So the fact that one of us decided to commit suicide is...profound to say the least.

Neighthan: What's on your mind on the first side? Let's take a look at that first, maybe writing makes you calmer.

Clawdia: I was writing a new script for my good friend Elissabat to offer in the new year, yet another of the Vampire Majesty movies. Honestly, I've written so many of those writing a new script is like exercising a perfect muscle by this point. I don't want to spoil the movie for you, so I'm afraid the details must be withheld.

Neighthan: That's alright, continue.

Clawdia: I was thinking of all these new characters and dramas I could throw in to face Veronica Von Vamp and wow the audience, completely emulsified by the joy of writing. It was a gorgeous day, the sea outside reflecting and dappling the sunlight like our lives are reflected and dappled by our troubles. And then-the call came. I thought nothing of it at first, to me the phone ringing was just another reminder to have the script finished by next week, or a scammer. I picked it up, thinking nothing, initially surprised to hear my mum's voice. And when I heard Clawd had died, it felt like the world was closing in on me as if I were some kind of filling in a wrap closing up. Train of thought, happy feeling, not worrying about my family because I knew they'd be alright-gone. All gone. I could only think of all the times I'd watch Clawd shoot hoops in the garden, stay behind after school for practice, not make heads nor tails of my makeshift manuscripts, and try to understand through his insatiable sense of humour anyway. That is gone forever. I'm never seeing or hearing that again. And-well-it definitely showed when I came...back home.

She looks down at the ground for a few minutes, trying to repress tears but knowing it's an uphill battle. She keeps clenching her fist, so I try to help her out by playing to her stress mechanism.

Neighthan: You want a stress ball?

Clawdia: What? Um..uhh, yes please.

I give her the stress ball, and instantly she squeezes it and squeezes it.

Clawdia: Thanks a lot.

Neighthan: No problem. Everyone deals with stress and trauma differently, and for you that seems to be squeezing stuff. Relaxing, isn't it?

Clawdia: Yeah, but-you seem very calm about all this. Someone both of us are very close to has died.

Neighthan: Clawdia, believe me when I say it isn't easy. It takes all my mental strength to not cry with you because I miss him. And honestly, I think it's the same for you. We're doing this because we both have projects to complete and have lives to lead. Regardless, Clawd is gone and we are just here. Just trying to deal with the fallout.