Chapter Eight Clover

Chapter Eight Clover

Tuesday afternoon, December 12, 2023

“The special today is a half vanilla chai and half regular chai, and a shot of espresso with a house nut mix milk blend.”

“Could I just get a black coffee, please?”

“Absolutely, sweetie. Love your flannel, by the way.”

“Oh.” Clover looked down at her outfit. It was the barest variation of what she’d worn the day before. When she’d gotten home

from her day of adventuring last night, she’d passed full out on her hostess’s bed and woken up with bad breath and wrinkled

clothes. Then she’d showered and thrown everything back on, except for her underwear. Compared with the people in the building’s

coffee shop, she felt like a walking potato sack, but the sentiment was nice. “Thanks,” she said. “I like your tattoos.”

“Pokes by Stokes,” the barista said. “That’s my girl—she’s a self-taught tattoo artist down in Oakland. You can follow her @stokeypokey if you want to look her up.”

“Oh,” Clover said. “Thanks.”

“Mm-hmm. Was that large or small, by the way?”

“Uh, small.”

“Hot or iced?”

“Hot.”

“Gotcha. We’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Clover nodded and moved toward the group of patrons who were waiting for their drinks to be made.

“One bi chai! One bi chai at the counter! Half vanilla, half regular?”

Clover nearly tripped over her own feet as a familiar woman with a smart bob walked up to grab her order. In that moment,

she couldn’t tell what made her more nervous: the name of the drink or the hot woman from yesterday who was back to haunt

her.

Her coffee order was next, and Clover was grateful for the distraction, though she couldn’t stop her eyes from catching the

curve of the woman’s lips as the dark maroon slid over the open slit of the coffee cup lid as the woman walked out of the

coffee shop. Like yesterday, she seemed to be scowling at her phone, and Clover couldn’t help but mentally suggest that maybe

it’d be better for her mood if she, you know, put it away.

Not that it’s my business, she thought, as she picked up her own drink and left the coffee shop.

To her surprise and delight and horror, the woman was now waiting in front of the very same elevator that she’d come out of the day before. Clover wondered if the woman would recognize her, given that she was wearing... the exact same outfit. Please don’t recognize me , she thought.

As the elevator doors opened and they both stepped inside, Clover tried to work off her nerves by offering a polite smile,

but the woman didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she continued tapping away at her phone with neatly trimmed nails painted a

neutral color that aligned with her smart, shoulder-length bob and the plum dress that hugged her curves nicely. She’s so pretty , Clover thought. Really pretty. She surmised that she’d be only an inch or two shorter than the woman, if not for the black stilettos that helped accentuate

the woman’s—

Clover cleared her throat and willed the doors to open quickly, suddenly feeling all kinds of warm. When they finally freed

her from her cage of anxiety, she hurried into the hallway and made a beeline toward Bee’s apartment.

Unfortunately, the woman followed in her direction.

Clover slowed her steps and took a deep breath. There was no need to panic—truly, nothing to panic about . So some stranger was attractive. So they were both getting off on the same floor and walking in the same direction, giving

Clover enough time to realize that the perfume she picked up on in the elevator wasn’t only a sweet jasmine scent, but had

gentle notes of sandalwood that made Clover want to touch her and experience it against her own skin.

So what?

“Excuse me.” The woman broke through Clover’s thoughts, and Clover realized they were both standing in front of Bee’s door.

“Oh. Um, yes?”

“This is my sister’s apartment.”

Clover blinked in surprise. “Oh.” Oh. No wonder she looked familiar. She hadn’t exactly pored over Bee’s photo, but the resemblance was obvious, even with Bee’s

long faux twists and the woman’s short, straight hair. It made her wonder if Bee was out in Salem making people trip over

themselves, like her sister was doing to her.

“So you might have the wrong apartment,” the woman continued. “Or are you visiting Bee?”

“No,” Clover said quickly, feeling embarrassed and ridiculous and why was she so damn flustered? “No, I’m staying here for a few days. I’m Clover.” She put her hand out.

“Bethany. Beth.” The woman shook Clover’s hand, but she was frowning again. “You’re staying here? Alone?”

Clover shifted, feeling defensive. “Yes,” she said.

“So, where is Bee?”

Shouldn’t you know? Clover wanted to ask. She’s your sister. Instead, she put on a pleasant smile. “She’s at my home—in Ohio. We switched houses using Vacate.” Clover paused, realizing

she might have to explain exactly what Vacate was, but before she could open her mouth again, Beth had already pressed her

phone to her ear, a muscle in her jaw nearly ready to burst. Clover stood there awkwardly as she heard the phone ring until

something that sounded like an automated message responded. Instead of leaving a message, Beth gripped the phone in her hand

and glared at it so hard that Clover was certain it was going to fling itself into the nearest fire.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Beth said to her self. “That’s why I couldn’t get ahold of her yesterday. I’m going to kill her. I swear to God.”

“O-kay.” Clover turned toward the door, feeling that the hot, stoic woman was hot, stoic, and maybe a little terrifying. “Well. I’m going to go inside now.”

Beth’s head snapped back up as if she’d just remembered that Clover existed. “Actually, do you mind if I come in? She has

something I need.”

“No, sorry—I’m really not comfortable with that. Maybe if you hear from Bee later, she can let me know if it’s okay?” Or she can email you.

Beth looked at her with her mouth slightly ajar—clearly, she wasn’t expecting a no. Maybe she just wasn’t used to hearing

it. Clover put on a sweet smile, feeling an odd sense of triumph. Beth might be attractive, but she couldn’t just barge into

what was currently Clover’s private space and take God knows what. If she and her sister were having issues, that wasn’t Clover’s

business, and she didn’t want to get thrown into the midst of it if Beth took something she wasn’t supposed to.

Beth squared her shoulders and pocketed her phone. “Sure. I’ll get in touch with Bee and stop by later.” She gave Clover a

curt nod and turned on her heel. Apparently, Clover was dismissed.

Well, okay then.

Clover rolled her eyes and let herself into the Vacate. For the most part, she had had mostly pleasant to neutral interactions

with people, but it was nothing like her community in Salem . People here always seemed to be in a rush, just barreling on over to this task and the next one, to the point that some of those people—ahem, Beth —didn’t seem to notice that other people existed. Whatever warm and confusing feelings Beth had inspired in her at first finally

started to dissipate. Mostly.

Okay, not at all, but that didn’t matter. Beth was hot but rude, and even if she were a saint, none of that would matter.

Clover wasn’t here for romance. She was here for... well, for herself.

She wandered over to the open view of the city, where she could see the expanse of buildings spread before her like flowers

in a field. Immediately, she felt herself begin to calm. It was eerie, the effect the city had on her. One second she felt

her blood pressure rise to the sun, and the next she felt like a dot within the skyline. It was unsettling.

But she kind of liked it.

As she stared and sipped her coffee, a distant buzzing began to echo throughout the room. She figured it was either bill collectors

or her father, but when she checked it was a text from none other than Bee. I am so sorry about my sister, the text read. I know you’re still just getting settled in. Would it be okay if she stopped by some morning this week? Just real fast.

Clover sighed. Sure, she responded, that strange feeling in the bottom of her stomach returning again. So, she’d be faced with the attractive

grumpy lady once more—just what she needed. She didn’t envy whatever relationship the two sisters seemed to have with each

other; it didn’t seem particularly copacetic.

Being an only child herself, Clover had often wondered what it might be like to have a sibling—someone she could share her thoughts and fears with. Sure, she had her cousins just down the street, and Knox had been her confidant for most of her life, but she knew it wasn’t the same. Having your lover be your best friend was a fairy tale for some, but for her, it had started to feel suffocating. No matter how true she wanted to be to herself, part of the relationship contract was that she’d have to compromise part of that for someone else.

At least, that’s how she had started to feel.

But her mom had softened part of that feeling. Even without a sibling, she could always go to Mae Mills for advice—about school,

about her relationship, about clothes, about anything. Mae had been the person Clover felt her most authentic self with, the

person who knew Clover’s innermost feelings—even if she didn’t agree with them.

Now Clover didn’t have anyone save for her dad, and she feared any new information she might share about herself with him would just result in another heart attack.

Her thoughts wandered back to Knox. If they’d never dated, would they have stayed friends all these years? Could she have

been her most authentic self with him? Clover liked to think so. It wasn’t, after all, like she’d kept so much from him. He knew everything else about her, from how she took her coffee in the morning and at night, to her fears

about the farm and keeping it from going under, now that she was its inheritor. And she knew that coffee made him jittery

at night, and that he loved to sing, and that one day he would be the very best father to someone’s little girl.

She’d never told him about Hailey, but that was all, that was it. How was she to know that the memory of that summer would stay with her all these years later? If she tried to tell him now, she wondered if he’d understand. That she could love him as much as she had, as deeply as she had, and still wonder if maybe loving a woman would feel more... right?

She took another sip of her coffee to find that she was down to the last dregs. She knocked it back like a shot and threw

the cup in the trash by Bee’s tiny kitchen. It was the only thing about the apartment that wasn’t particularly grand—simply

functional. It didn’t exactly inspire Clover’s usual penchant for cooking, and besides, she hadn’t had the chance yet to fill

the fridge. From what she’d seen, it looked like that wasn’t something that ever made the top of Bee’s list either.

Her stomach grumbled. It was early yet, and she still had more of the city to explore. She could grab something quick and

easy from one of the many other cafés down the street. And maybe explore some of the thrift shops she’d seen too. After all, given that she was going

to see Beth again, she wanted to demonstrate that she did happen to have more than one set of clothes. Not that she cared

what Beth thought. She was pretty, sure, but also very stylish, and if Clover thought about it, so were Dee and Leilani and

most of the people she’d seen as she’d wandered the city. Everyone was so individual, so confident, and it made her wonder

if that was something she could experience for herself. If one day, maybe soon, maybe here, she’d be able to look in the mirror

and recognize the person she saw looking back.