Clare is gone. That bastard John Bellew came into our party, rampaging (to say the least), and calling out his wife for interacting with the black community, and even worse, hiding the fact that she is a member. I felt a sense of urgency when John arrived, an instinct to protect Clare. Is this because of our sharing a racial background? Her coming closer to our family in these recent months? Or, because of our relationship that has bloomed as a result of her relationship with Clare?

Clare listens to me when I speak. She absorbs what I say, and responds with sympathy and deep interest. Irene has not listened to me in months. I express to her my concerns with Harlem, the United States, our children, and nothing. Irene has become incredibly distracted ever since Clare immersed herself in our home life. I try to understand Irene’s anger towards Clare, her decision to leave the black community is quite regretful, but if it meant safety and security, then why not? It’s the same reason I want to take Ted & Junior and move to South America.

I was afraid of this becoming an emotional affair, but it became something beyond that. Irene has not been there in the way a spouse should be. Perhaps, she is having an affair? A nightmarish thought, but who am I to judge? That night Clare and I spent what felt like forever speaking at the party, as Irene glared from the distance, I felt something, something right. I do not wish this sadness and resentment from Irene, I do love her. However, when Clare grabbed my arm, it was like something I had not felt before. A rush, if you will. Having the intimate commonality with someone, the desire for safety by any means necessary, for happiness.

When Clare fell out the window, my heart sunk. Irene cried into me, and I shed a tear myself. I could never tell Rene what was happening between Clare and I, but part of me thinks she is already well aware.

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