Pondering

3 | plant pot

『 Chapter Three: Plant Pot  』

THE REST OF THE weekend played out the same as others; but this one had a twist.

A small beep awoke Clara earlier than usual Monday morning, a small fit of anger arising within her. She swung her legs onto the side of the bed, huffing in frustration at the amount of time the beeping had been going on. The soft padding of her feet echoed in the quiet home, Clara stretching in between huffs.

"What's that noise and how do I kill it?" The girl asked, squinting at the brightly lit living room. Her stance immediately became alert, her eyes falling on a mysterious stranger.

His hands were quickly fidgeting with a small remote, which the girl recognized as a toy that Toby owned; the source of the beeping. Gasping, she went for the first thing her hands would lay on: a plant pot.

A few curls fell onto the side, his blue eyes examining the messy haired girl. He tilted his head, scrunching his eyebrows together for a moment at Clara's choice of weapon. His expression quickly turned to alert, quickly standing.

"Who are the hell are you and why are you in this house?" Clara inquired quickly, ready to launch the pot.

"I'm here to see--"

"Clara!" Charles' voice welcomed, appearing from the corner from where the kitchen was. "Oh, Clara." His eyes were full of concern and confusion, his perplextion quite visible. "Why are you...holding a... plant?"

A scoff. "This--this kid woke my much needed sleep with one of Toby's toys and--" She paused. "What time is it?"

"Eleven fourty-six." The boy spoke softly, his lean figure towering at a distance. His fingers were quickly at work by playing with the small object, which didn't seem to distract him.

"Oh." Clara blinked blankly, nodding. "My bad."

Embarrassment washed over her quickly, giving them both an awkward thumbs up, setting the pot down hesitantly.

"I'll just be on my way." Clearing her throat and with a final nod, she ran up the stairs in distress. She felt both pairs of eyes following her up, making her cheeks heat up. "God, I'm such an idiot," she mumbled to herself.

She closed her door, her arms instinctively going to her drawers. The night had seem short, which surprised Clara. In a few seconds, she pulled out the first items of clothing she could find stored, not wanting to dig into the mess of her duffel bag.

With a sigh, she walked toward the bathroom door, her hand lingering on the doorknob. She shook her head, leaning her shoulder against the door. In a whisper, the only thing that rang in the quiet hallway was, "God, am I an idiot."

❁

The sound of Clara's sneakers creaked against the stairs, her hands fixing her hair into a ponytail. In the living room sat the same boy from earlier, Charles speaking softly to him about something. She approached a bit closer, a textbook sprawled over the coffee table.

"Yes, that's correct. You're doing well." Charles praised, with a satisfied nod.

"Guess the coffee really works." The boy said, chuckling.

"Hello, father of mine." Clara spoke up, inching closer.

"Good to see you left your sleeping clothes and changed into something moderate." He retorted.

A huff escaped her lips. "Okay, I apologize for making a scene. I didn't mean to scare the poor plant's life."

The boy laughed, a mixture of rich and husky laugh echoing into the home. Clara contained a smile, her attention returning to her main point.

"Uh, Rachel asked when you'll be finishing up. She's planning on taking the kid's to the park today and wanted to know if you'd wanna tag along." Clara explained, plopping down onto a spare recliner facing the couch.

The whole set up of the living room fit the description one can imagine upon seeing the image of Charles and Rachel. It was a fix of sophisticated white and navy blue, the tiles white dusty marble and blue carpets. The home had a fireplace, which was used a few days before Christmas; a tradition the upholding family had created. Charles called it a "Merry Christmas to the gas and electricity bill."

"Hm, what do you think Kyle? Do you need a bit more help or will you be fine?" Charles asked, his attention fully on the boy.

Kyle?

"Kyle? As in the vine?" Clara blurted out.

The boy's expression turned from blank to a smile. He shook his head, chuckling at Clara's statement. "I suppose yes, as the vine."

Clara cracked a smile, mostly full of apology. "Sorry, I just immediately thought of that."

"Uh, I think I'm good for today, Mr. Dante." Kyle informed.

"Well, see you tomorrow then."

Kyle quickly got to work on picking up his textbook, organizing his notebook and pen ontop neatly. Clara frowned for a moment, her mind trying to wrap around what Kyle had going on. He said his farewells, the girl sending him a simple wave. Once he was out the door, Clara turned to her father, her head tilted in question.

"You tutor?" She asked. "I thought you were just some boring math teacher."

Her father chuckled. "No, I'm not just some boring math teacher. Kyle is...something else and needs a bit more of support."

"Dad? Mom needs your help!" Lisa's voice rang. "She said it involves Andy!"

An expression the girl didn't recognize loomed over her father's face. His eyes almost shined with fear, a complexion Clara thought the brightly lit living room gave off as an illusion.

"I need to go check up on Rachel, I'll be back," he told his daughter as he stood, striding quickly to the stairs.

Her eyes travelled and followed Charles up the stairs, her mind puzzled. Clara had been left alone in the most social room of the home, which seemed ironic. As she reflected back onto the previous events, a question that never seemed to leave her mind for the next few days seemed to be contained in her mind.

Who's...Andy? she thought.