Proof of His Words: A Claire Mitchell Vignette

**This post is the second of three that introduces Claire Mitchell, the protagonist of my upcoming book The Pain You Seek. Each installment presents a different part of Claire’s backstory, a peek behind the curtain at an event that happens before the opening of the novel. My hope is that you will become intrigued enough to see how she later navigates the perils of her investigation into Medea’s world. The last installment will be posted in August. In the meantime, I will continue writing additional “musings” for you to enjoy.

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Claire stood under the warm glow from the chandeliers in the banquet room of Peters-Larsson Hall, the plaque awarded to her as the Junior Journalism Student of the Year cradled in her hands. The remaining dessert plates were taken away by the wait-staff as people mingled around the room in good-natured conversations, accompanied by a soft tapestry of music from a string quartet. Several stopped by to congratulate her and Laney on their accomplishments. Claire’s parents stood nearby, talking with Laney’s family. Everyone was smiling like they had known each other since their daughters were children.

Laney held her own award—Most Outstanding Series—loosely in one hand down by her side. She looked around, meeting eyes with people and gave a tepid grin, then leaned close to Claire and spoke into her ear.

“Okay already. How much longer do we have to stand here? I mean, we did the hors d'oeuvres and the presentations and now we are just supposed to stick around and let people congratulate us? I don’t even know most of these people.”

Claire shrugged her shoulders. Actually, she liked standing there, holding the award as if she had been presented with the Pulitzer Prize. Each handshake, each word of recognition, brought back the elation she felt when they called her onto the stage. She stood next to Dr. Clive Fairmont, dean of the journalism program, as he addressed the room. Claire beamed at her parents throughout his speech.

“The Junior Journalism Student of the Year Award goes to the student who not only shows expertise with the written word and expert knowledge of timely social events, but whose compelling voice demands attention and careful reflection. Candidates must also show exceptional skills in research, communication with editorial direction, and a commitment to advancing the mission of the Peters-Larsson School of Journalism. They are allowed to select one article that they believe showcases their highest achievement. After one of the closest decisions during my tenure, this year’s award goes to Claire Mitchell for her article ‘Resilience Through Their Eyes.’”

Claire brimmed with something beyond just pride—the awareness that she had the power to capture people’s attention and banish preconceptions that fed ignorance and intolerance. 

“Ugh,” Laney said, this time not trying to hide her disdain as a few more people acknowledged them, then headed towards the door. Her comment pulled Claire from the memory. “I have Darby’s party to get to. I mean, people are starting to leave for Christ’s-sake.”

“Go ahead if you want,” Claire snapped at her. “I’m going to stay a little bit longer. Besides, my parents and I might go out and do something after. I haven’t talked to them in a while.”

“Yeah, well I’m sure my parents aren’t going to stick around. I’m probably keeping them from their country club,” Laney grumbled just loud enough to be heard over the murmur of conversations around them.

Claire dismissed Laney’s irritation and sought eye contact with her father. He winked at her and smiled. There was a time when she took that small affection for granted, but after he had a heart attack during her freshman year, she realized that even the smallest tokens of love carried immense importance. She went home for a week to help her mother. Claire was shocked by how tired he seemed, how the smallest exertions—even walking from the bedroom down the hall to the TV room—robbed him of his breath. He saw the pain and worry in her face but always gave her that same wink, that same smile. I’ll be okay, it said to her. Just give me a minute. As Claire packed up to return to school, her father sat Claire and her sister down and looked at them earnestly. Everything is great until it is not,he told them. You have to grab for what you want while you can. Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. He was proof of his own words.

Claire’s mother broke off from her conversation and stepped over to them. Laney immediately stood a little taller and put on a grin that was just a little too enthusiastic. Claire noticed this out of the corner of her eye and frowned to herself.

“Don’t the two of you look gorgeous,” Joanne said and slid closer to her daughter. “We are all so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Mitchell,” Laney replied, peeved that now any kind of subtle exit was essentially impossible.

“Thanks, mom,” Claire echoed, wishing Laney would stop the charade.

“Well, you both deserve it. You worked so hard.” Joanne gave Claire’s arm a brief squeeze and then turned to Laney. “Laney, your parents are delightful. I’m sorry we haven’t met them before. They seem like a lot of fun.”

“Yeah,” Laney offered and Claire could hear the awkward way she drew out the syllable. “They are a lot of fun; I’ll give you that.”

Claire hated the way Laney carefully slid the patronizing tone into her words. Just get out of here and go to your party, she thought.

“You know, Laney,” Joanne started, “Steven was able to get us a reservation at Ruth’s Chris later for dinner. I am sure if you and your parents wanted to join us, he could get us a larger table. He knows people.”

Laney looked almost horrified at the thought of spending the next few hours with Claire and her family—and especially her own parents. Claire chuckled inwardly and gave Laney an impish grin.

“Oh, no, we couldn’t impose like that,” Laney stammered through her answer. “Besides, I have another engagement to get to, and I am not quite sure what my parents planned to do. Let’s do it another time.”

“Yeah, mom, it would be better if we planned it ahead,” Claire added quickly and then saw the look of disappointment creep into her mother’s face. “That way we can plan a whole night together. It will be better that way.”

“Alright,” Claire’s mother said after a brief pause. “We will do something soon. Your parents are just so nice, Laney.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Mitchell. Thanks for understanding.”

At that moment Steven walked up behind his wife and smiled warmly at Laney. “Your parents are headed into the lobby. They said to meet them there before they leave.”

“Thanks, Mr. Mitchell. Well—see you all later. See you tomorrow, Claire,” Laney called to her as she nearly jogged to the door.

All three Mitchells watched her go, then Claire’s dad reached out and gently took the plaque from her. He tilted it to better catch the light in the room then read it over slowly, quietly. Claire could see the light of pride and love in his eyes. He read the inscription again, then handed it back to her and gave the same wink.

“I say we get out of here and go have some food,” he said as if he had not eaten all day. “How does that sound?”

Claire was suddenly aware that the music had stopped, and the musicians were beginning to put away their music and instruments. The conversations around them were fewer, most had moved to the lobby as people began to file outside.

“Anything is better than more bacon-wrapped figs,” Claire quipped as they began to walk towards the door. “I could use a good steak.”

Steven laughed and let his wife go first. He followed with Claire, reaching out to give her a shoulder-hug as they passed out through the door and onto the sidewalk. Claire leaned into it, feeling the soft strength in his arm.

I did it, Dad, she said to herself. I went for it just like you said. She knew now that all her effort mattered. She was now proof of his words.