Clarity

It was early Monday morning as Clare waited for the bus, the sun was just beginning to rise. Early morning had become her normal ever since she opened up her restaurant Clarity a few years ago. They were open from eight in the morning until late, and she was there for all of it most days. There early to collect deliveries, prepare the restaurant for cooking, catering and seating, take bookings and to make sure her staff arrived on time.

There were a few people waiting for the bus, yet still when it finally arrived people pushed and shoved, a few cut the line, but she managed to get on.

She took a seat at the top, always finding the bottom level of the bus to be blasting the AC, even in winter. Taking out her phone, she put in her earphones and let the music wash over her, gently easing away any remnants of sleep.

It was early, the trip into the city took an hour from home, even without traffic at this hour, there was always some kind of accident or hazard that would stall the trip.

A few stops later somebody with confident footsteps climbed the steps, cutting through her music. Her jaw dropped and she shifted to look out the window, trying to appear inconspicuous. Still their eyes crossed and then cut off as he took a seat a few rows behind her on the right.

It couldn’t possibly be him, although there were a number of scenarios where it might very well be. Clare had never seen him on the bus, had never seen him since they parted ways eight years ago. Maybe he had an early meeting or maybe he just usually caught the bus at a different time. Maybe they always just  missed each other. Whilst the time between then and now feels to stretch far beyond just eight years, all the time they spent together still feels apparently vivid.

She risked a look back. Ocean blue eyes gazing out at the world passing by, light brown hair combed back neatly and professionally. Clad in a perfectly cut suit with a thick brief case occupying the seat beside him, and clearly having achieved his dream of becoming a successful lawyer, was her ex-high school sweetheart. They’d both achieved their dreams it seemed. They’d waited till the last minute before their paths officially diverged, him moving to Canberra to pursue a law degree at ANU and Clare had raised her own restaurant in the heart of Circular Quay.

When she looked back again, he was looking at her too, trying to disguise a small smile. She looked away to hide her own. The undeniable urge to go and sit next to him, catch up, see where he’s working, why he’s catching the bus, whether he’s with another girl now, was gnawing at her.

Fuck it, she thought. It was good for them to catch up, so she tugged her earphones from her ears and stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Fancy seeing you here, Ash.” She grinned.

He huffed a laugh and placed his brief case at his feet, patting the seat beside him. “Smooth as ever. It’s good to see you, Clare,” he said with a smile, one in which she returned.

“Likewise. Why are you catching the bus? I’ve never seen you on here before.” Surely, they would have run into each other by now if he usually did.

“Cars getting serviced,” he explained.

“Ah. Where are you working now?”

“Hunt Law Firm.”

“Oh, wow.”

They both went very silent, it seemed to stretch on for ages, only awakened again by the ding of the stop button somebody had pressed.

“I saw you opened up your own restaurant,” he rushed to say, clearing his throat. “It seems to do well.”

She tried to hide her smile. Had he been watching her? “You sound like a stalker, maybe I should get myself a lawyer and take this to court.”

His shoulders racked with laughter. “I certainly missed your cheesy jokes. That one was bad.”

“It was good.”

“It didn’t flow.”

And just like that they were teenagers again, best friends before they were ever romantically involved. It felt just how it used to be. Eight years of best-friendship and three of both that and romance, when they’d finally given into the fact that they’d been in love with each other since they started high school. And now at twenty-seven, Clare still recognised it was the hardest and most she’d ever loved anybody till this day, if she’d ever really loved anybody after Ash.

“We do, we actually earned out fifth star a few weeks ago,” she stated proudly.

“Really?” He sprung up in his seat. “Congratulations, you must be so proud.”

“I am,” she looked down, “worked hard to get it too.”

“I’m sure you did.” He sighed, leaning back, seemingly deep in thought. “So, um. Are you seeing anyone?”

The question completely threw her off although she’d wanted to ask him that herself. “I—yeah. I am.”

“Huh.” He seemed to go sullen.

“And you?”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand down his face.

She felt her own chest deflate. “But we should properly catch up sometime. Go out for coffee or something.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

And so, with the end of that conversation, Clare walked awkwardly back to her seat.

< O >

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Clare wanted to repeatedly bang her head against a wall, but she couldn’t. Why the hell did I say I was seeing someone? She cursed herself. Not that it mattered anyway. Not when her lingering feelings had arisen, ones she’d tried to suffocate over the years, were once again snuffed out. He was seeing someone else, and that’s okay.

He probably met a nice girl in Canberra, or even since he’d moved back to Sydney, however long ago that was.

Between their eight years of separation she’d seen people, had shared a bed with them, he likely had too. Even though she hated to think about him being in a relationship and so intimate with anyone other than herself. Even though she hated herself for having feelings for, for being with and sleeping with anyone other than him.

Clare wasn’t usually a jealous person, and she couldn’t tell whether this was jealousy, or longing, or sadness. Probably a mix of all, and more.

“Chef, could you handle this one?” One of her waitresses asked. Clare walked over and took the phone from her.

“Clarity, this is Clare speaking, how may I help?” She leaned against the wall.

“Hi, just wanted to make a booking for seven if that was possible?” A lilted female voice asked over the phone.

“Sure, for how many people?”

“Twelve if you’re able to fit us.”

“We can, is this for work? Do you need us to provide anything specific or make any preparations beforehand?”

“Just some good food and wine.”

“That we can promise.” She smiled. “What was the name for that?”

“Just put is down under ‘Hunt’.”

“No worries, thanks.” Clare put the phone down and logged all the details, then went to warn her staff of the busy night ahead.

Clare prided her restaurant on its affordability but also its quality, friendly staff and prime position. She’d been walking back along Circular Quay after a job interview one Thursday afternoon, when opportunity had opened its doors. The property in which Clarity now occupied had been put on lease. Clare had borrowed a significant sum from her bank and build Clarity.

Initially, it was a slow start, but only because of the well-known names of the other restaurants along Circular Quay and by the Toaster building. After advertising some customer loyalty perks, specials sales and deals, Clarity began to rise. Soon after Clare had been able to officially buy the property and pay back her loan. She’d made her dream a reality and was still riding the wave.

There were more than enough bumps in the roads, challenges, buyers, unhappy customers (as infrequent as they were), but she handled them with delicacy, care and efficiency, exactly how she’d plate a dish.

A year ago, she’d even been asked to be a guest chef on MasterChef for an episode and present her signature dish. She’d accepted the offer, thoroughly thrilled.

The day continued to breeze by, she greeted multitudes of customers, regulars and new faces. Prepared and plated dished, taken them to the table, conversing with the occupants. Had read over reviews and created an action plan to combat any issues and make some improvements.

And then seven o’clock had rolled around.

The door chimed and the group of twelve people she’d been expecting and ready to personally greet walked through the door

“Holy shit,” she swore, but swallowed her surprise and went to greet Ash and his co-workers. “Hello, welcome to Clarity,” she plastered a smile on her face, “your table is just over here.” She and one of her waiters grabbed some menus as they both lead them to their reserved table. They placed the menus down before each person, she flashed Ash a look that said ‘what the hell’ as she set one down before him. Then she retreated back to the kitchen in a hurry.

She filled a glass of water and skulled it, trying to settle her nerve. Redoing her blonde hair into a bun, she tried to think of what to do.

Twice in one day! Surely it’s not a coincidence I saw him on the bus and now he’s here. 

She couldn’t just hand the whole table over to her staff, not when they had their allocated areas, and twelve people is a lot to cater for. Besides, she wasn’t a coward.

Still she scolded herself for not preparing herself. The name was ‘Hunt’, I should’ve made the connection. But Hunt could’ve been the name of an actual person, not a law firm.

Why is she even fretting anyways? They’d both moved on. Remember and acknowledge the past but don’t let it hold them back from moving forward.

“I need a moment,” she told her kitchen and opened the back door into a narrow alleyway. She let out a short, frustrated and annoyed scream and then marched back inside, determined to see the night through. She clapped her hands over her cheeks. “Why are you flustered, Clare?”

She peered from the kitchen into her dining area, seeing pitchers of water and filled cups already on the table. Good, her staff knew how to keep it together, even when she barely knew how to herself.

“Any orders from table seventeen?”

Everybody shook their heads, she asked her waitstaff about the drinks, they had already ordered those. So, she picked up one of their ordering iPads and strode over somewhat confidently to the table. Ash was in her court not the other way around.

“What would you like to order for dinner?” She asked the table and went around taking their order, when she came to Ash, he looked like he’d barely touched the menu she set down before him. “What can I get you?” It came out as a whisper.

There was a smirk on his mouth. “The pumpkin and herb ravioli, please.”

She let out a rush of air, butterflies blooming in her stomach. This was one of her signature dishes, and one she’d begin to develop and experiment on when she and Ash had been together. It’d been his favourite.

He shrugged. “I might’ve missed your cooking, if it was great before I’m sure it’d be excellent now.”

She couldn’t help her smile as she tucked his menu under her arm. “I guess we’ll see.”

As Clare walked away, she heard the girl seated beside him ask if they knew each other, to which he replied yes, yes, they do. A part of her wondered whether that was his girlfriend, the other was warmed to know he wasn’t at all shy or embarrassed to admit they had a connection, that they knew each other. His respect for her was uncanny in comparison to the other’s she’d dated over the years. Most when they’d come to her restaurant with friends, even ones that knew they were in a relationship, had completely ignored her for what they were. Treated her nothing more than professionally. No smirks, or knowing looks, shared smiles and remembered memories.

Ash. Ash. Ash. Why did he still have to soar above the rest?

You never forget your first love, and a part of you always loves them, blindly, passionately, unforgetting.

She brought out numerous plates of mains, drinks and dessert dishes for table seventeen. Each one with a shared glance between her and Ash.

When they stood to leave, he walked over to her alone with a familiar smile on his face. “Always improving.”

She huffed. “I should make that my motto.”

“Maybe.”

“I hope you enjoyed your evening.” She fidgeted, trying to distract herself from the fact that this goodbye made her heart ache.

“I did, thank you.” He kissed her cheek and walked off.

“Come again,” her voice cracked and she didn’t think he heard her.

She rushed back behind the watchful eyes of her restaurant, wiping at her weeping eyes, trying to contain sniffles. Her kitchen gave her odd looks as she passed them.

What am I doing! She thought harshly and spun on her heel, heart pounding.

She rushed out of the restaurant, desperately wanting to catch Ash again, one last time. “Wait!” She nearly screamed and bent over her knees panting. “You have to wait, or I might never see you again, or I might never be able to tell you the truth.”

She looked up to see Ash had not only stopped walking, but now stood in front of her, hanging onto each word, desperate to know what she had to say.

“I lied,” she gasped. “I lied; I’m not seeing anyone. I was too scared to admit I’m still in love with you, because for eight years I’ve been chasing after a love that doesn’t exist with anyone else but you. Tried to make myself forget something so passionate and gnawing that I’ll always long for. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying this. You’re with somebody else and me admitting this is selfish and cruel. But I had to tell you. I’m fine if that’s breaking the law, I just hope maybe you can see my point of view and defend my case.”

He barked out a laugh. “Sometimes lying is easier if you can see the other person is happy.”

She nodded solemnly, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“I might be happy but I’m certainly not complete, I really hope this won’t be the last time we see each other.”

“What does that mean?” She searched the meaning in his eyes.

He only smiled and kissed her deeply, feeling the brush of his tongue and the meaning in his words, even if he told her after, “It means, that I lied too,” he whispered.