There was something grounding about watching them interact. The easy rhythm of their communication, the way Clara's whole posture softened when she looked at Lily. The hot chocolate arrived along with a massive plate of fries that neither of them had actually ordered. The waitress winked at Lily, who grinned back. "So, what do you do, Ethan?"
Clara asked, wrapping her cold hands around the mug. "Rachel mentioned something about construction." "I work in building materials." He said carefully. It was true enough.
"Warehouses, mostly. Supply chain stuff. Pretty boring." "Sounds stable." "It pays the bills."
"That's more than I can say." Clara immediately looked like she regretted the comment. "Sorry, I'm not usually this much of a mess. I swear I'm a semi-functional adult most days." "Most days?
Okay." "Some days." Lily laughed. A bright, clear sound that made several other customers turn and smile. Her hands moved rapidly, and Clara's expression flickered between amusement and exasperation.
"She says I'm functional at least 3 days a week." Clara translated. "Which feels generous." "What do you do?" Ethan asked.
"Graphic design, freelance, which is a fancy way of saying I panic about money constantly and take on too many projects I hate." She dragged a fry through ketchup without eating it. "I used to work for an agency, but the hours were impossible after I got Lily. So, now I do logo designs for people who think $500 is too much, and also want 17 rounds of revisions." "Sounds frustrating."
"It's survival." Clara finally ate the fry, then immediately grabbed another one. "What about you? Wife, kids, weird hobbies I should know about? Divorced, one son, Jake, he's eight, and I build furniture sometimes if that counts as weird.
Build it how? Like with wood and tools. Ethan felt suddenly self-conscious. Tables, chairs, bookshelves? Whatever needs making.
Clara stared at him like he'd just admitted to speaking fluent Mandarin. You actually build furniture? Like from scratch? Yeah. That's insane.
Who even knows how to do that anymore? I taught myself mostly. YouTube videos and a lot of mistakes. Lily signed something, her expression curious. She wants to know if you'd build her a bookshelf, Clara said.
Clara. Ethan could see the panic in her eyes. She's just being Lily, stop. But Ethan was already nodding. Sure, if your aunt says it's okay.
The panic in Clara's face intensified. You don't have to do that. I know. We can't pay you. I didn't ask you to.
Clara looked like she wanted to argue more, but Lily was beaming now, signing enthusiastically about where the bookshelf should go and how many shelves it needed. They stayed at the cafe for another hour. Ethan learned that Clara was 30, originally from Seattle, and had moved to Spokane two years ago for cheaper rent. That she drank her coffee black, but her hot chocolate needed extra marshmallows. That she'd been teaching herself sign language since Lily was three, when her younger sister first got the diagnosis, and then promptly started avoiding dealing with any of it.
He learned that Lily loved art, but hated math. That she wanted a dog, but they weren't allowed pets in the apartment. And that she had opinions about everything from pizza toppings to what color notebook was objectively superior. He didn't learn much about why Clara was raising Lily instead of her sister, and he didn't push. When they finally stood to leave, the rain had softened to a drizzle.
Clara tried to pay for their food, but Ethan had already handed cash to the waitress while she was in the bathroom with Lily. "You didn't have to do that." Clara said, but her protest sounded automatic rather than genuine. "I know." Outside the sidewalk gleamed with reflected streetlights.
Lily jumped in a puddle, and Clara didn't even try to stop her. "So," Clara said, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets, "this was probably the weirdest first date in human history. Top five at least." She laughed, and this time it sounded real. "Thanks for not running away screaming."
"Thanks for showing up." "45 minutes late with a wet child." "Better late than never." They stood there awkwardly for a moment, neither quite ready to leave, but both unsure how to extend the evening. Lily signed something, looking between them with exaggerated innocence.
Clara's face went pink. "She wants to know if you're going to kiss me goodbye." "Clara." Ethan couldn't tell if he was more amused or mortified. "I'm going to die."
Clara muttered. "I'm actually going to die right here on this sidewalk." Lily giggled and grabbed Clara's hand, tugging her toward the street. "I should go." Clara said quickly, "before she embarrasses me further.
Can I call you?" The question came out before Ethan could second-guess it. Clara looked surprised. "Seriously?" "Yeah."
"Even after all this?" She gestured vaguely at herself, at Lily, at the general chaos of the evening. "Especially after all this." She studied his face like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with her. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her because she nodded slowly.
"Okay." "Yeah." "Call me." They exchanged numbers. Lily waved goodbye with both hands, and then they were gone, disappearing around the corner into the rainy Spokane night.
Ethan stood there for a moment longer, his phone in his hand, watching the empty street. His sister called exactly 90 seconds later. "Well?" Rachel demanded before he even said hello. "How was she?
Did you like her? Was it awful? Are you going to see her again?" "It was fine." "Fine?
What does that mean? Ethan, I need details. She showed up late with her niece. We had coffee and fries. I'm seeing her again."
Silence on the other end, then "Wait. You're seeing her again?" "Yeah." "You never see them again." "Well, this time I am."
"Oh my god," Rachel breathed. "You actually like her." Ethan didn't answer, which was answer enough. "What's she like? What does she do?