it’s been two weeks since they’d returned to new york from puerto rico, and soledad insisted they make the early morning commute on a sunday morning to clinton church. night nurse is a title that befits claire in many ways ---- in large part because the shift from working the night shift to her current line of work had been seamless. she hasn’t been to church since she received communion, either, but it’d mattered to her mother that she’d go and so claire does, clad in a dress and not scrubs or jeans for once in her life.
while her mother’s busy paying taking communion at the front of the church, claire grips at the arm of the edge of the aisle, eyes darting about the room to look busy. she doesn’t like church, never has. luckily, this church isn’t the immaculate conception her mother had dragged her along to as a child, and no one even knows her face. she could take communion, but it’d be a half-dishonest thing, and she’s already come along this far. this is good enough.
her eyes scan the elaborate stained glass windows, to the choir, fixing onto the distant side profile she can’t miss, and it sends a pang of some sort of emotion through her ---- it’s been a long, long time, too long. the claire temple that matt knew was different than the one now, but it’s not like matt’s the same either.
exhaling, claire smoothes out her dress as she stands, approaching him from behind. there's no way, with that hearing of his, that he doesn't know she's in the room already.
“ move over, will you? ” she asks lightly, gently pushing matt into the aisle as she sits beside him, their knees touching. she feels like a child again, hunkered down in the big church aisles. when she looks ahead, she has a clearer view of soledad engrossed in conversation with one of the nuns at the altar. when soledad shoots claire a smile, claire chuckles, shaking her head as she leans in, “ i should’ve guessed. all catholics in new york must know each other. ” / @diaboluse
