Sincerely, Red

Chapter Twelve

I stood up, just as he drew up to the door.

"Liv," he said, as a form of greeting. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I live here," I told him.

"I know that, silly," he said, sounding as though he was forcing out the usually goofy tone. "I just thought you'd be out exploring or something. No one really follows Claire's orders to stay inside, so I wasn't expecting you to actually be right here."

"There's a murder case attached to my name," I told him bluntly. "I haven't really got any other option but to follow through with what Claire says."

"So what I'm hearing is you left the house and got into a spot of trouble," he said, some of the usual overly happy, overly knowing humour returning to his voice.

"How did you know?" I asked him.

"Like I told you," he said, putting Claire's head on to the doorstep. "No one listens to Claire's orders, at least not the first time round. Usually, something bad has to happen before anyone will admit that she was actually right. Otherwise, her head inflates itself."

He stopped to wipe the sweat off his forehead and I took a minute to correct my breathing pattern.

There was a moment of awkward silence as we both wondered what to say, especially after the last time I'd seen David.

"Why have you got a bust of Claire's head?" I asked finally, trying to steer the conversation into a completely different direction. "It's weird."

"It's a gift," he said, sniffing. "I figured, you know, I should probably apologise to everyone for what happened that day.

"But why did you...?"

"It sounds stupid," he said, as a means of explanation. "But I was thinking about what Claire loved more than herself and nothing came to mind, so I thought I'd give her a three dimensional version of herself."

"But she is a three dimensional version of herself," I told him.

"Well, another version of herself then," he muttered. "This is the silent Claire. See? It can't talk."

He chuckled to himself quietly, before realising that it actually wasn't very funny.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" he asked. "Don't you have a key to get back inside?"

"I do," I muttered. "But it's inside."

"Real smart," he said, smiling. "Don't worry though. I have one."

"Why do you have keys to Claire's house?"

"Before you moved into my house, she gave me a copy," he explained, opening the door and walking inside. "She has a copy of mine as well. It's just so that - if one of us isn't there at the time- the other one can get in without any trouble."

"Oh," was my response.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Hey, Liv?"

"Huh?" I answered.

"I'm sorry about what happened," he said, setting Claire's head on to the living room table. "I don't know what got into me. It wasn't even really about the letters or Lucas, as bad as that sounds."

"What was it about?" I found myself asking.

He sighed. "It was about Tim and the way he's always trying to worm his way into our family."

"But-"

"I know it sounds really stupid and immature," he continued. "But it's the honest truth and that's got to count for something, right?"