Who She Is: Janice Agate
Clare Cline crosses the room, pulls back the drapes and looks down at the street. Yes, she stares long and hard at the town to which she had worked so tirelessly to leave as the movie reel of her mind turns ever so slowly and shows what she has never been able to forget or erase. Clare had been named after her father, Clarence, and the kids were unmerciful with their name calling. Clarence Clarinet, Clarence Hairnet but never just Clare. Mother said if I wouldn’t throw such a fuss the taunting would stop, but yet it continued. As the film flutters to an end, she wonders what she could hope to gain from this! Would she be recognized? After all, she has gone to great lengths not to be.
Her name change had started the healing and her auburn hair; she had adopted all those years ago, partially opened the door to release. Release from this town, and yet here she stands on a cold January day with wind chill in the teens. Upon leaving the airport, she stopped at the Outlet Mall. The clerks were amused as she entered in her thin skirt and sandals but that was the appropriate attire in the southern clime she had left.
Clare obsessively checks the clock once more. How much longer? Should I be on time or a few minutes late? Should I offer to pay or let him? Am I certain of the coffee shops location? The Raintree should be a block north and back east. I must to be careful and not let old habits surface. I can ill afford anyone having a remembrance of that prior time.
With trembling hands, Clare grasps the cold metal handle as she steels herself for the moment to come. She quickly halts as the mirror reveals her new persona in red skinny jeans, black knee boots and jacket. She steps across the threshold and defiantly says, “Goodbye Clare Cline and hello, Janice Agate, may I introduce you to Reno City!”
A writing experiment