by Ryan, Alison
A breeze whipped by the porch, making the Spanish moss that hung from the live oaks in their yard sway. It was a perfect moment and Declan couldn’t help but be moved at the beauty surrounding him. That included his mother.
Declan adored his mother and was in many ways the only person who seemed to understand her. Despite the privilege and the money, his mother was like a character out of a Tennessee Williams play. There was a darkness and melancholy to her under the charming socialite disposition. Particularly in the last few years; Anna DeGraff was sneaking a lot of gin into her tea lately and Declan had found more pill bottles than a CVS in her bathroom when searching for her hidden bourbon stash.
He’d confronted her immediately, “Momma. Why do you have so many prescriptions? Why do you need painkillers? And all the benzos… I mean, you have more meds than what any one person should ever need in a lifetime.”
Declan had seen many of his fraternity brothers playing around with heavy prescription pills and it never led to anything good. It alarmed him that his mother had any of this stuff in the house. Not that Declan was against the occasional recreational partaking of an illegal substance, but this scared the shit out of him. And most of the bottles only had half the prescription amount in them, so it was clear she was taking them.
Anna had become uncharacteristically angry at Declan, “You need to mind your own damn business, son. What are you doing going through my things?”
“Does Dad know about this?” Declan asked, his voice cold. “Does he have any idea?”
Anna’s eyes filled with tears, “There you go judging me. You don’t know what I go through every day. The painkillers help the kind of pain that can’t heal or get fixed. They help me get through the pain of living! And my benzos help me sleep. So don’t you accuse and judge and persecute me, Declan Seamus DeGraff. Jesus says don’t throw stones.”
Declan sighed, “I don’t remember Jesus saying that it was okay to be a junkie.”
For the first time ever, Anna slapped him. She’d never laid a hand on him, not in the entirety of his life, but she’d smacked him hard across the cheek in that moment.
And then swiftly burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “It’s just so much harder than people know. If only people knew what happens in my head every day… They’d leave me be.”
Declan was in shock. The sting of her slap wasn’t what hurt him. Seeing her vulnerable and sobbing in front of him is what truly killed him.
They had never spoken again about that day. She’d promised to try to be better about her pills and booze, but assured Declan she wasn’t addicted to anything and that she could stop at any time, if she wanted to.
“I just never want to,” she admitted. “They keep me happy. And don’t you know how important it is to your daddy that I appear happy at all times?”
Declan was the only one that knew this side of his mother. She had her bad days, but also, like that day on the porch, she had many great days. That’s what he tried to focus on.
“Well,” Declan said. “I think I’m going for a run.”
Anna sipped her tea, “Antonia just set up lunch. Aren’t you hungry?”
Declan leaned down and kissed his mother on the head, “I’ll eat after. I won’t be gone too long. It’s just a gorgeous day and I haven’t run the bridge in a while.”
The Ravenel Bridge was a large white beacon of hope that crossed over from Charleston to Mt Pleasant. It had a runner’s path and Declan tried to jog it every other day or so.
“It’s so hot, baby. Take some water. I don’t want you passing out,” Anna said.
“I’ll be fine,” Declan said. “I run it all the time. I need to do some thinking. Decide how to plan my summer without the Sullivan’s house.”
Anna laughed, “Oh! To have such dilemmas! Okay, sweet baby. You run and I’ll sit here and enjoy this day, this tea, and a sandwich.”
Declan nodded, “You do that.”
He walked back to his room to change into his running shorts and a t-shirt. Part of him thought about not doing the run, it really was hot.
But for whatever reason, he pressed forward with it. He’d later say it was as if something was pulling him toward that bridge.
And that something was Charlotte Sanders.
********
Charlotte hadn’t known where to go or what to do after her talk with Allyn. It was her day off from her job as a server at the Dixie Garden, a soup and salad place off of Church Street that catered to college students and young professionals. She worked there as much as she could when she wasn’t in class, and her hope was that now that school was out, she could pick up some more shifts.
But now she didn’t even have a place to live past the next couple of weeks, and her stress levels were beyond anything she had experienced since she’d first moved to Charleston. Part of her wondered if she should just go back home to Nashville, quit while she was ahead.
But she was determined not to do that. She’d made the decision to move and go to school here, and she didn’t want to not finish what she started. That wasn’t the type of person she was.
She just needed to clear her head so she could think of a good plan to stay here for the summer. The thought of going back to Nashville with her tail between her legs and the sound of her father saying, “I told you so” was enough to inspire her to at least try to figure a way out of this dilemma.
A walk sounded like a good way to clear her head. She knew just the place.
She’d often walked over the Ravenel Bridge, or the Cooper River Bridge as some locals still called it, to do her heavy thinking. It was a beautiful white passage that joined the peninsula of Charleston to the island of Mt Pleasant. It was grand and gorgeous, and at its apex provided her with incredible views of the river, Fort Sumter, and Charleston Harbor.
Charlotte knew it was a long walk, a couple miles at least, but she had all the time in the world, and her apartment was the last place she wanted to be right now.
As she walked, she thought about what it was that had drawn her to this city in the first place. Her father had never understood why she’d want to go back to a place that held so much pain for all of them. As far as he was concerned, the city of Charleston was cursed, and he refused to ever visit Charlotte there, no matter how much she would have liked him to.
Charlotte supposed part of it was that her mother’s death was still such a mystery. They had never found out who had hit her and fled; there had been no witnesses and no one had come forward with any information. It killed her to know that there would never be justice for her mother and by proxy, for her family. Charlotte struggled with that, and maybe part of her felt if they stayed in this city, if they showed the town they weren’t afraid of it, they could somehow be presented with the answers the Sanders family was so desperate to know.
But Charlotte knew that, in reality, it was ridiculous to think they would ever know what happened. It had been almost 7 years and there were still no answers. Her mother’s ashes sat in a vase back in Nashville, one that stayed right by her father’s bedside, something he saw every morning when he woke up to a life without the woman he had loved so much.
Charlotte and Vanessa had walked on egg shells around him since that night, afraid to disappoint him in any way after what he’d lost. Maybe that was another reason Charlotte had to leave him. She couldn’t breathe in a house full of such anguish. And she knew where she’d chosen to go, her father would never follow.
But now she was fucking it up. As she walked up the Ravenel from East Bay she could feel tears coming down her cheeks. She brushed them away, embarrassed to be showing such demonstrative emotion in a public place. Sorority girls ran in packs by her, their ponytails swinging behind them, sweet smiles on their faces. They were so happy and Charlotte envied that; beyond the privilege they had, she envied their contentment. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to know what that was.
And they had each other. And Charlotte had no one.
Dammit, she thought. This walk was supposed to help me feel better, not make me have a nervous breakdown.
Once she reached the middle of the bridge, she sat down on one of the benches overlooking Charleston Harbor. A pair of mothers with jogging strollers sat adjacent to her, both blathering on about disposable versus cloth diapering. The discussion seemed curiously heated and Charlotte was tempted to join in, just to see what the big deal was. She was just so desperate to talk to someone, anyone. To be seen.
But instead she looked out onto the harbor and thought about how much she wished her mother was here. That thought crossed her mind at least a couple times a week, but it had been crossing her mind almost hourly the last month or so. She’d see girls around campus walking with their parents, or sometimes just their mothers, and a pain would hit her heart. She’d never know what it was like to talk to her mother about the things happening in her life, or to get her advice that only a mother can give you.
The tears were coming again and she was positive the stroller moms were looking at her now. It was time to walk back and get some much-needed sleep. Facing Allyn and figuring out the living situation could wait until tomorrow.
She stood up to start walking back, and all of a sudden she heard someone say, “Hey, watch it…” and she was knocked over, catching herself with her arms, but not before they skidded across the cement of the walkway.
“Shit,” she said, pain shooting through the scrapes. “What the hell?”
“Are you okay?” a male voice said. “I’m sorry, it was bad timing, I was running by, and you stood up and we collided…”
She turned to see who was speaking and that’s when she first laid eyes on Declan DeGraff.
He was shirtless, and his tan pectorals had a sheen of sweat across them. His hair was “ash blond” as Vanessa, her sister, would have called it, and it was wet from perspiration. His face was handsome, his blue eyes concerned over her welfare. He looked like the type of guy that Allyn would have fawned over, a loud and mean party guy screaming at passersby on King Street on Friday night after drinking too much.
But his eyes were kind. They didn’t match the rest of him.
“Sorry,” Charlotte said, gingerly accepting his offered hand so she could stand back up. “I wasn’t looking.”
“It’s just as much my fault,” he said, smiling now. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, looking down at her hands. They were bleeding.
“Shit!” he said. “I feel terrible. You’re bleeding.”
Charlotte shook her head, “It’s not a big deal. Just some scrapes. I’m heading back anyway.”
“Do you live far? Or did you park your car on the Mt P end?” he asked.
“No, I came from the East Bay end. I live on that side. I’m seriously fine. You can keep going on your run or whatever.” Charlotte was mortified now. She just wanted him to go back on his way and leave her be.
“That’s where I came from too,” he said. “I’ll walk you back.”
“Totally unnecessary,” she said.
He looked at her for a moment and she couldn’t read the expression on his face.
“You’re always this stubborn?” he asked. “I was taught you walk a girl home even in the best of circumstances. And certainly in ones such as this. I wouldn’t feel right.”
Charlotte sighed, “Well, if you insist. That’s fine. It’s a long walk though.”
“I have nowhere to be. I’m Declan, by the way.”
“I’m Charlotte,” she said, and they began to walk.
********
Declan could tell she’d been crying. Her eyes were red, and with ones as large and distinct as hers were, it was hard to hide emotion in them. He was immediately stunned at their beauty, at her beauty in general. Her face was framed by wild hair, the color of a sunset, and again those eyes. He wanted to fix what made them look so sad. He didn’t even know her full name yet, but he was determined to make things right in her world.
I mean, what was a beautiful girl doing crying at the top of the Ravenel Bridge?
But he sensed that pointing out how upset she appeared to be wouldn’t get him very far. And he wanted to know what he could about Charlotte. If she would let him in, that is.
“So,” he said as they started walking back towards the peninsula end of the Ravenel. “You walk the bridge much?”
Charlotte shrugged, “Maybe a couple times a week.”
“Me too,” Declan said. “I’m surprised we haven’t run into one another before this.”
“I usually come early in the morning,” Charlotte said. “You’re probably not even awake yet. Or maybe haven’t even gone to bed.”
Declan laughed, “And how do you know? You think I’m some big party guy?”
“Well, yes,” she said. “You kind of look like you’d be in a frat or something. Am I wrong?”
Dammit, she wasn’t wrong, she was completely spot on.
“Well, yeah,” he said. “But I don’t party that much these days. Or, at least I’ve curbed it.”
Charlotte sighed, “Well, I guess that’s good. Or whatever. I don’t know. But yeah, everyone here seems to be into the Greek life.”
“You’re not in a sorority?” Declan asked.
Charlotte shook her head, “I don’t pay for friends. Not that I wouldn’t if I could, to be honest. I just can’t afford to. So it’s just easier to say I don’t.”
It was shockingly honest and Declan nodded, “It’s hard to make friends here so Greek life is an easy way. I bet you could have had your pick if you’d bid.”
Charlotte looked at him, “Why would you think that?”
Declan was rarely the guy that was nervous around any girl. But something about how she looked at him suddenly made him sheepish, “I don’t know. You just… Well, you’re pretty and you seem smart and…” He was really reaching now.
“How do you know I’m smart? You’ve only been talking to me for five minutes,” she said, looking forward again. “I mean, I am smart. But you don’t know something like that just from looking at someone.”
Declan laughed nervously, “Sorry. I’m just… I’m trying to get to know you. It’s not every day I literally run into a beautiful girl on the Ravenel. Especially one who’s alone. The girls here all seem to travel in herds.”
Charlotte laughed, a sound Declan suddenly realized might be his new favorite, “That’s so true. None of them can go by themselves anywhere! I work at Dixie Garden and the girls always go to the bathroom in a large group. No chick left behind. Which is fine because none of them eat their food anyway, so they’re not missing out.”
Declan laughed, “What a waste.”
Charlotte smiled at him, the afternoon sun lighting up her face. She was so damn pretty it almost knocked him over.
“Do you go to the college?” Declan asked.
“Yep,” Charlotte said. “For now.”
“What do you mean?” he looked at her quizzically. “You on academic probation?”
Charlotte shook her head, “No, quite the opposite. My grades are fine, but my living situation isn’t. My roommate is kind of… kicking me out.”
He could tell it was a topic that was upsetting. Was that why she’d been crying?
“Well, that’s shitty,” he said. “Why?”
“She wants her boyfriend to move in,” Charlotte explained. “Which is fine, had she informed me of this 3 months ago when there was still any possibility of me finding a rental for the summer.” Charlotte’s voice caught in her throat. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this. But it’s why I’m a little upset, so forgive me if I don’t come off as the friendliest. I’m not in a great mood.”
“Well, that’s understandable,” Declan said. “She really put you in a bind.”
Charlotte nodded, “Yep. She really did. So I don’t know what I’m going to do. I really don’t want to have to go back to Nashville.”
“Is that where you’re from?” he asked.
“My dad went to Vanderbilt.” Ugh, he thought. You sound like a bragging douche.
“Yep,” she said. “And that’s where my dad wanted me to go. Still wants me to go.”
“Wow, you got into Vanderbilt and didn’t go?” Declan asked, impressed.
Charlotte shrugged, “I wanted to get away. It just felt like it would have been high school, part two. I would have lived at home and nothing would have changed. Anyway, it’s more complicated than that but… That’s the truth.”
They were walking down the incline now, getting closer to East Bay. He turned around and walked backwards while they talked, his hands shoved in the pockets of his running shorts.
“So why here?” he asked. “I mean; I grew up here so I can completely understand the desire to get away.”
“I used to come on vacation here,” she said. “I just always liked it.”
He sensed there was more to the story, but he didn’t push it.
“Well, it’s not a bad place to call home,” he agreed. “It has its charm.”
Charlotte smiled, “Yeah, if you have the right name and the right amount of money in your bank account.”
He laughed, “I guess so. But isn’t it also more than that?”
Charlotte sighed, “It is. I love so much about this city yet also loathe so much about it. Have you heard of Pat Conroy?”
Declan smiled, “What kind of Charlestonian would I be if I hadn’t?”
Charlotte laughed, “True. Anyway, in The Prince of Tides the character opens it with ‘My wound is geography.’ That’s kind of how I feel about this place. It’s my wound and also my saving grace. It’s a foreign land, yet its home. It always draws me back to it, like some kind of magnet. I love the salty smells, the marshes, and the sense of history. I even like the aristocracy of the people who have lived here forever. It’s a city unlike any other.” Charlotte looked over at Declan who was staring at her now. “Sorry, I know I sound like a dork.”
Declan shook his head, “Nope. The very opposite.” She’s passionate, he thought. How rare was that in a girl her age? What has Charlotte seen in her life to make her this way? He wanted to know more. He’d never been so intrigued by a person in his life.