What About Charlie?

by Haley Michelle Howard

  He turned and was halfway down the steps when the door opened with a squeak. Charlie stood there in the doorway wearing a thin robe, her face, illuminated from the outside light, drawn and pale. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks covered with crimson splotches.

  Without saying a word, Evan ran up the steps and gathered her into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her warm body. Charlie encircled her arms around his waist burying her face in the crook of his neck. Sobs escaped from deep within her body.

  Holding onto each other tightly, neither noticed the cool night air, the stiff breeze swirling around them. All time and space seemed to stop at that moment. It was just them, this moment of grief and nothing else.

  Evan felt helpless, felt unsure of what he should do. It was one of the few times in his life he felt truly inept. Doing the only thing he knew to do, he held Charlie tight in his grasp. He lightly caressed her back with his hand, feeling the bumps of her spine, the rise and fall of her ribs as she cried.

  This was the first time he’d ever held her like this. She felt warm and soft beneath her thin robe, her full breasts pressed firmly against his chest. Her soft hair tickled his nose, the scent of strawberries and wildflowers teased his nostrils. Had she always smelled like this? Why hadn’t he ever noticed? How could he not have noticed?

  Charlie’s sobs, her despair and sadness, wrenched his guts. What could he do to help her? What could he do?

  Feeling Charlie loosen her arms around him, he stepped back from her and gazed worriedly into her eyes. He kept hold of her hands, reluctant to break the connection between them, needing for whatever reason to feel her warm hands in his.

  “I’m sorry, Charlie.”

  Moving her red, watery eyes up to meet his, she whispered, “Oh, Evan. He’s gone. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “I tried getting here as fast as I could, Charlie.”

  “You didn’t need to come, Evan.” Charlie lifted her chin. “You know I can handle everything. I’m not helpless.”

  Evan smiled, glad to see her inner strength showing. “I don’t have any doubt about that, Charlie. But you’re my best friend. How could I stay in St. Louis and leave you to deal with this all alone? I wanted to be here for you, Charlie. I know how much you loved your Dad, how much he meant to you.”

  She nodded, wiping at an errant tear that was rolling down her right cheek. “We’d always been so close, especially when mom got sick and died. It doesn’t seem like any of this is for real. Is it Evan? Is this for real?”

  Sadly, he nodded. “I wish I could tell you it’s just a bad dream, Charlie.”

  “Me too, Evan.” Looking away from him, her gaze came to rest on his chest. “I’ve soaked your shirt.”

  A stiff breeze picked up, causing Charlie’s robe to billow behind her. She shivered. “Oh, come in, Evan. I didn’t realize it was so cold. I bet you’re freezing to death only wearing a short sleeve shirt and it being wet on top of that.”

  Shutting the door behind them, she turned the lock. “Let me fix you some hot chocolate to help warm you.”

  Turning to go to the kitchen, Evan grabbed her arm. “Charlie, you don’t need to fix me hot chocolate.”

  She shook her head. “Please let me fix it, Evan. I need to do something.”

  Evan nodded, having seen the same reaction in families of patients who had died. They needed to move, to stay busy in order to keep their minds off the situation at hand. His own mother had been that way when her mother had died. She’d cleaned closets, dusted and mopped all hours of the day and night until she literally collapsed from lack of sleep and exhaustion. During her convalescence, she finally came to terms with her mother’s death. Following Charlie into the kitchen, Evan decided he would need to watch her to make sure she didn’t do as his own mother had done.

  Bright fluorescent lights lit the small kitchen. Yellow swag curtains hung from the windows and crocheted potholders hung on the walls. A canister set featuring a white duck was neatly placed in order of size on the white Formica countertop. Evan sat at the small kitchen table, enjoying the warm and cozy atmosphere while he watched Charlie.

  By the time their hot chocolate was ready, her tears had dried, though her eyes still remained red and swollen. Together they silently sat at the kitchen table sipping the rich, warm cocoa.

  “I found my mother dead, too, you know.”

  Evan looked up from his cocoa to Charlie in surprise. She stared, as in a trance, out the window into the darkness. He’d known Charlie’s mother had died from cancer, but he’d never known the circumstances of her death. “I didn’t.”

  “She’d come home to die. I was only seven at the time, and though my parents never told me, I knew.” Her voice was soft, matter-of-fact. “She was weak and could barely eat. If she drank a bowl of broth a day, she was doing good. While daddy worked the farm, I watched over mama. I’d sit with her and hold her hand, just so glad that she was home with us and not in that cold hospital. I kept busy during the day with chores, but at night I’d cry myself to sleep. I didn’t want to lose my mom. I was so scared. But I knew her death was inevitable. There was nothing anyone could do. Then one day she quietly slipped away from us. I’d gone into the kitchen to fix supper, and when I got back to mama, she was gone. A picture of the three of us was clutched in her hand.”

  Evan’s felt his throat constrict. “That must’ve been hard, Charlie,” he managed to say, wishing then he could think of something wise and comforting to say.

  “It was, but daddy and I got through it. We leaned on each other and made it through.” Charlie looked back at Evan. “Now he’s gone, too, Evan.” She gave a heavy sigh. “If there’s any consolation, I know he and mama are together again.”

  Evan lightly touched Charlie’s hand with his. “Have you slept at all, Charlie? You look exhausted.”

  She shook her head. “I tried, but couldn’t.”

  “Please try, Charlie.”

  “I will. You need to get to sleep, too, Evan. You’ve had a long day. Let me get my room ready for you.”

  She tried to get up, but he maintained hold of her hand. “I’ll sleep on the couch, Charlie. No arguments.”

  ****

  Evan tossed and turned, rolling onto his left side, then his right, then shifting to his back. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. The couch was lumpy and his feet dangled over the end. But he knew his sleeplessness was caused by much more than that. Usually he could sleep in any position.

  No, it wasn’t the couch. He was worried about Charlie. She was clearly devastated by her father’s death. They’d been so close. Now he was gone.

  He couldn’t imagine finding one of his parents dead, especially at such a young age as she had been when she found her mother. That had to have been absolutely horrible.

  Evan wondered if she had any close relatives, maybe some cousins or an aunt or uncle. He’d never heard her talk of anyone else but her father. The thought of her being all alone in the world made him feel cold.

  Rolling over onto his left side again, he tried once more to find a comfortable position. Perhaps he should sleep on the floor. It might be more comfortable than the couch. At least he could stretch out.

  Sitting up, Evan stretched his arms, then massaged the back of his stiff neck with his hand. His eyes roved about the small den, taking in an elegant cherry wood desk, a worn wing back chair, and several family pictures hanging on the wall. His gaze came to rest on a picture of Charlie with her father when she was a teenager. She looked much the same now as she did in the picture.

  Though Charlie’s childhood home was very humble, it was full of warmth and love, a house he would have liked to have grown up in. His own childhood home was more like a museum than a home. His mother had rare and valuable antiques scattered throughout the house, making it difficult to even relax. When he was growing up, he’d been afraid that he’d break one of her vases or soil one of the cloth covered sofas. The antiques were centerpieces and
the décor was built around them, leaving little room for homey touches and the warmth they brought.

  Charlie’s home was definitely a place where a person could feel comfortable, feel relaxed, safe and secure. He thought her fortunate to grow up in such an atmosphere.

  A muffled sound, almost like a sob, caught his attention. He listened and heard it again. It was coming from the room next door. Charlie’s room. Evan stood and put his ear to the wall that separated her room and the room he was in. She was crying. His gut tightened. It about killed him to hear her cry.

  He quickly strode out of the den, anxious to get to her. Coming to stand at her door, he knocked. “Charlie?” Without waiting for an answer he opened the door and entered.

  ****

  Charlie heard the door creak and peaked out from under her blankets. Quickly she wiped her cheeks free of tears with the back of her hand.

  “Evan.”

  He came to stand beside the bed. Looking down at her, his eyes filled with worry, he asked, “Are you ok?”

  A beam of moonlight shone through the window, stretching across the room. The moonlight enveloped him, his body bathed in the soft white light, making him look like a Greek Adonis. Charlie couldn’t help but stare. This was the first time she had seen him without a shirt. His chest was sprinkled with curly light brown hair, a trail of it running below the waistband of his pajama bottoms. It was something of a shock to see him this way. She told herself to look away, that she shouldn’t be finding him so attractive, so darn enticing, especially at a time like this.

  “Charlie?”

  She looked up to his handsome face. “I’m ok, Evan.”

  “You’ve been crying.”

  “I can’t seem to stop.”

  He sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “Have you slept at all?”

  She looked away from him, her eyes focusing on a design etched in the quilt. She could not look at him. “No. When I close my eyes, all I can see is daddy lying on the ground.”

  “You’ve got to sleep, Charlie.”

  Evan’s insistence irritated her. “I can’t, Evan. I get in here by myself and I can’t sleep. My mind seems to run a hundred miles an hour. Believe me, I’ve tried to sleep.”

  “Do you feel better when I’m with you?”

  She looked up at him. “I do, Evan. And I thank you for driving all the way up here.”

  “Move over, Charlie.”

  Before she could ask why, Evan was laying down beside her, pulling the quilt over him.

  “What are you doing, Evan?” Her voice was almost a shriek.

  “I’m going to stay in here with you for a while. I don’t want to freeze to death. It’s cold.”

  “Oh.” That’s all she could manage to say.

  Charlie felt his arm brush hers; her foot momentarily rested against his calf until she quickly moved it away. She felt alarmed and nervous, though she knew it was nothing but a friendly, innocent gesture. But she’d never been in a bed with a man.

  They both lay there in a companionable silence. Then Evan reached and grabbed her hand, and gave it a light squeeze to let her know he was there for her. Instead of letting her hand go after a few moments, he kept hold of it.

  Charlie closed her eyes, marveling at the warmth of his body, the softness of his skin, the tenderness of his touch. The faint smell of his aftershave tickled her nostrils. She felt her knotted muscles relax, his very presence somehow making her feel safe and secure.

  She was so glad Evan had come. She briefly wondered what it would be like to lay by him night after night like this. Would it be like this with another man? Before she drifted off to sleep, she wondered if she would ever find a man who had the warmth and compassion to equal Evan’s. Would she ever find a man who would care for her as much as Evan did?

  ****

  Beams of bright sunlight filtered through the lacey white curtains that hung in Charlie’s room. She opened her eyes, feeling disoriented. She was lying on her side, curled around Evan, her arm draped around his waist. More precisely right below his waist.

  Disoriented, she thought what in the world is he doing in my bed?

  Then she remembered. He’d come to comfort her, to help her fall asleep. She felt embarrassed.

  Nonetheless, Charlie marveled at how wonderful it felt to be snuggled so close to him. She was molded against his warm body, feeling every hard and soft contour of it, from his back against her chest to his rear end pressed against her stomach. Only then did Charlie realize where her hand was resting and how hard Evan’s anatomy was.

  She felt a surge of heat run through her, and then suddenly felt foolish. Filled with embarrassment, she quickly moved her hand to her side. Evan certainly didn’t desire her. What she felt against her hand was a natural male phenomenon a lot of men experienced while they slept. Her friend Amy had told her so.

  Still, even knowing that, the desire rippling through her didn’t ebb. She was enjoying Evan’s closeness far too much. She should get up and remove herself from the situation and save both of them embarrassment, but she was reluctant to do so. He was still asleep. What harm could there be for a few more stolen minutes?

  She had this insatiable need to savor this closeness, to savor his comfort and strength because she knew she would never experience anything like this with Evan again. Just a few minutes longer to enjoy this, she told herself, just a few minutes more.

  So, she lay there thinking. Thinking about the day before – the fight with her father, the anger and the hurt they both had experienced, his being gone forever.

  Guilt.

  She felt immense guilt.

  Charlie still couldn’t believe Henry was gone. That he was going to eventually die had been something she’d occasionally thought about, but she’d never expected that it would happen so soon nor so quickly.

  Why did she wait so long before going to check on him? Why did their last words to each other have to be mean and hateful? She couldn’t help but think maybe their argument had upset his heart and that’s why he’d died. It was a sobering thought and one she didn’t care to think about, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t dismiss the idea.

  Reluctantly, Charlie moved away from Evan, breaking the contact between them, rolling on her back. Sadness and resignation enveloped her. It was time to get back to reality. This moment in time was over.

  ****

  Evan opened his eyes, disappointed that Charlie was no longer curled around him. He knew he was enjoying her warm, curvaceous body pressing against him far too much, feeling much more than what a friend should feel towards a friend. But he couldn’t help it. Charlie snuggled against him felt so right.

  He’d awoken about half an hour ago to find her soft hair brushing his cheek, her warm hand resting against him, almost cupping him, giving him one hell of a hard on. He should have moved, but he didn’t. Instead he lay there pretending he was still asleep, not wanting what they were sharing to end.

  Evan rolled onto his side and propped his head up in his hand. Charlie looked over at him. She was incredibly pretty first thing in the morning.

  “Good morning, Charlie.” Evan’s voice was slightly husky.

  She smiled, glad that she had scooted away from him when she had. What would Evan think of her if he’d woken when she had been curled around him? It was a mortifying thought.

  “Good morning, Evan.” She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him.

  “Did you finally sleep ok?”

  A wide smile crossed her lips. “I did, Evan. Thanks for coming in here last night. I would have never gotten any sleep if you hadn’t.” She searched his eyes. “I’m glad you drove up here last night even though I told you not to.”

  “Me too, Charlie. You’re my best friend. My place is here with you.”

  Her eyes misted, not from sadness, but from thankfulness that she had such a wonderful friend. “And you know I’ll always be there for you no matter what.”

  “I know, Charlie.”

&nb
sp; A companionable silence surrounded them for a few moments, then Charlie sat up, her eyes filled with trepidation and sorrow. “I guess I’ve put it off long enough. I’ve got to arrange daddy’s funeral.”

  “I’ll take care of everything, Charlie.”

  ****

  The funeral was a small graveside service. Besides she and Evan, there were only a few neighbors and William McGee present. There was no family there. All of the close relatives had died. The same went for her father’s close friends. They had all passed on, too.

  During the short service while the preacher talked, Evan kept his arm around Charlie, pressing her protectively against his side. She kept her head bent the whole time, silently crying in the handkerchief that he’d given her. He turned and studied her for a moment; she was pale and drawn. The black dress she was wearing only amplified her paleness.

  To Evan’s consternation, Charlie insisted on staying until her father was lowered in the ground. Then he took her hand in his to lead her back to the car, to get her away from all this sorrow. But then she yanked her hand out of his and walked to the edge of the grave. Evan wanted to go after her; he wanted to be by her side every step of the way. But he let her go. She needed to say goodbye to her father. And she needed to do that alone.

  She knelt, bowing her head, giving a silent prayer. Standing, she dropped the single red rose she had been holding in her hand on top of the casket.

  “I love you, daddy,” she said in a bare whisper.