by Carol May
Flashing back, I remember a little voice in my head that I like to call my city girl voice. That is my little inner voice that does battle with the part of me that represents my childhood and all of the goodness that Mama tried to instill in me. My city girl side told me that it would be good to drown all my sorrows. Well, I definitely drowned something. I’m not sure it was all my sorrows. Thank God for brothers. If John hadn’t shown up when he did, I really am not sure that I wouldn’t be in that same cheap motel room drinking or even worse picking up more strange men.
OK, Nonie, I’m getting on with it. First things first, I open my laptop box. Attached to the top of my actual laptop is a post-it with a perfect smiley face drawn on it. Looking at it reminds me of another smiley face but this one doesn’t have a phone number with it. Sighing, I tilt my head back, close my eyes and roll my head around using a simple relaxation technique. I wonder if I will ever be able to see a hand drawn smiley face and not think of that bastard.
I do exactly what the hot pink note is telling me to do. Smile. I know Lana has attached the note. This is one of our best friend’s things we do for each other. My drawings never look as good as hers but I try. Thinking back to when I was in rehab, I would find these elaborate little smiley faces all over my room after she had been to see me. Before, I was up and moving around the room the nurse or the physical therapist would point them out but they wouldn’t bring them to me.
I can just hear them, “Now Ms. Charlotte, if you want those bright, cheerful notes you are going to have to get up out of that bed and go get them.” Sitting holding that smiley note today, I am remembering how angry I was. I would get so mad at the least little thing. A noise in the hall, the squeak of a shoe, just about anything would set me off. Deep down, my anger was because I couldn’t walk. I now understand that it was a response to the trauma. I wasn’t mad at those kind people pushing me, they were just who I took it out on. It took me a really long time to understand, they were trying to help me get better.
In the beginning, I would yell, fuss or say words that would have made my Mama wash my mouth out with soap. Then, I just started ignoring everyone until one day Lana came to see me. When she was leaving that day, big tears were pooling in her eyes as she pulled away from our hug. Sitting here at John’s dining room table, which surprisingly is very trendy, I raise my left hand. Opening and closing it making a fist, I think back to the day Lana saved my life. Back then, I could barely move this arm because of the excruciating pain that was a result of nerve damage from the accident. Of course, I’ll never know what actually happened but they thought I hit it on something as I was thrown clear. The technical term for that injury was traumatic brachial plexus injury.
“Charlotte, I’m going to miss you. I didn’t want to say anything earlier but this is the last time I will be here.” I remember looking up at her from the bed thinking I didn’t blame her. I wouldn’t come back to this depressing place either.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”
Giving in, I ask, “OK, why Lana? Even though I already know, it’s this place. It is awful.” Looking around the small little room, I share with another patient, she looks back at me and harshly said, “No! It has nothing to do with this room or this place.”
With a grunt, I shot back, “Oh, it must be me then. You don’t want to come back here and see what I am now. See how broken I am. My arm and both my legs are the broken parts you can see but on the inside my heart isn’t broken it is shattered.”
Turning my head away from her, I looked over at the wall. That was when Lana went off. Grabbing my chin and slowly turning my head toward her, she said, “How dare you! You are alive. You have more living to do. You have been given a second chance at life. It is just about time you got yourself up out of that bed and start doing what Tyler can’t do. Until, I hear that you are doing that and you are at least trying to make yourself better then no, I’m not coming back. I love you, Charlotte. The decision is yours if we see each other again. Just like it is yours to decide if you move past the broken parts. I was right there in that room when the doctor said it would be a very long, difficult road of recovery. You, my friend, are at the crossroads. You have options where your Mama, Daddy and Tyler did not. Option one-lie in that bed and do nothing. Maybe, you will at least be able to move from bed to wheelchair. Option two- get your butt in gear, find the right place inside that wounded head and go to work.”
Smiling as I remember the determined, pissed off look Lana had on her face as she marched across the room and out the door. It took me a couple of weeks but it finally sunk in that my dear friend had actually been serious. She hadn’t called or return. I began to work hard. Really hard. By the time, she finally agreed to visit again, I was able to stand. She was so proud of me. I was still in a dark place. I didn’t yell at people as much but I was still wounded.
Sometimes, when I would return to my room from therapy there would be little notes from her all over the place. Later, I learned that she would send them by the boxes to the nurses every couple of weeks.
The best would be the ones that actually looked like my favorite flower, a daisy. Sometimes, it was just a word (pray, try, effort). Other times, it would be a phrase (yes you can, no giving in, turn it on). I never knew what I would find. A couple of times, I found a flash drive with a message she had recorded. That would usually be after some horrible session with the physical therapist.
Returning to the present, I stare at the paper in my hand. It’s as if I can hear Lana say, “You have more living to do. It is just about time you get yourself up and start.”
Smiling, I turn my laptop on. Pushing back from the table, I head to the fridge for some water. As I drink the half glass, all I can think about is how my best friend and business partner has saved me from the brink of despair once again. Damn, when is it going to be my turn to save her?
Rounding the table, I freeze as my eyes focus on my laptop screen. There is Houston with his strong arms wrapped around me. The smile suddenly falls from my face. Closing my eyes, all I can think is no tears. I open my eyes, and see us smiling, standing in knee deep water in the clear, shallow waters off of Key Largo. That was the day we had been out fishing, just the two of us. No Nash. No Jeff. No Kirk. Just us. Some man standing on the bank had taken the picture. He had been so kind and emailed it to me. It had been nice just to be two people coming in from a day on the water.
I sit at the table, prop my chin on my hands and look at us for just a minute before I close the lid. Wiping a tear away, I head back into the kitchen. Taking the purifying pitcher of the fridge, I pour myself a full glass of water. Standing here, sipping from my glass, I think about Nonie and how strong she was. She outlived two husbands and three children. She lived to be ninety-seven.
Taking a page from her book, I walk back into the living room, open my laptop and go to work. By the time I am finished every picture, every piece of music, every document with Houston Donovan in it, on it or reminds me of him has been deleted. I’m going to miss some of what once was an extensive music collection but what the heck, there is new music coming out every day. Suddenly, I feel better. It is almost as if I have completed an exorcism, removing him from my life. I decide I have laid around this house and had a pity party quite long enough. I am not the first woman to be tricked by a married man and I’m certain I won’t be the last.
Chapter 7
“Charli are you sure you are ready for a road trip?” Rolling my eyes as only a little sister can, “Goodness, gracious John you would think I am going back to Miami the way you are acting. Yes, I am ready for a road trip besides Brad will be waiting for me when I get there.”
“Let’s think about what you just said. We both know that our little brother isn’t exactly the most dependable person.”
“I know but honestly so what if he isn’t home? It isn’t like I’ve not been in that house alone before.”
“Yeah, I know but that was a really long time ago. You’ve not been bac
k into that house since the afternoon of your accident.”
“You don’t have to remind me of the last time I was in that house.” Sighing deeply, I continue, “I think it is time I go back there and finally bury the remaining ghosts I have. Don’t you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. I just wish you would reconsider making any other stops.”
Looking at my big brother, I understand what is driving this conversation we are having. He only has my best interest at heart. Smiling I say, “John, I love you too but during my time here, I have come to realize that in order for me to move on, I have to do this. I feel like this visit to Brad will help me close the door to my past. I think that is why I’ve always felt just a little off somehow. I need closure.”
Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, “I agree you need closure. I’m just worried about what the whole getting closure process will do to you. I want you to promise me one thing.”
“OK, I am not sure what exactly I am promising but I guess I promise.” I say as we walk onto the front porch.
“Charli, I want you to promise me you will stay away from Phillip. You won’t call him or go see him.”
Looking at him, with questioning eyes, I say “Ah, I can promise you that for sure. I'm not about to see him.” Stopping, I look up into John’s eyes and ask, “Did I tell you, he tracked me down and called me not to long ago?”
Pulling me in tighter to him, he says, “No, you didn’t tell me. I bet that conversation was weird. I’ve heard he is nuttier than a squirrel in winter.”
Laughing at him and elbowing him in the ribs, I say, “Well I don’t know about that but I do have to admit the conversation was just plain strange. Thanks for loaning me your car. I would have rented one.”
Pulling into Brad’s drive in Colby, my heart is in my throat. I stop just barely into the drive. I’m just sitting there looking at the house we grew up in. It has been eleven years since I’ve thought about spending a night here. WOW! The house looks the same basically. Mama’s shrubs are still here. I bet she is in heaven smiling every time Brad trims them back. Laying my head back onto the headrest, I close my eyes and can almost hear how she would fuss at Daddy about not killing her shrubs. How he would just let her rant on until he had finally had enough. Remembering how he’d wrap his arms around her and say “Catherine, I’ve not killed those darn things yet. What makes you think I’m going to kill them now?” She’d look up at him, slip her arms around his neck and say, “I never said you were killing them, I’m just reminding you to be careful.” She would smile that smile Daddy called Mama’s heart melting smile and all was forgotten. Parking around back, I see some changes in the yard but mainly I’m seeing just how much my little brother has grown up in the last few years. Raising up from working on his mower, the young man that I remember has been replaced with what I bet many woman think is a hunk. Yuck! Did I say that?
Smiling as he meets me halfway, “Sis.”
“Hey, you.” I smile right back as we hug. Stepping away, I smack his arm and ask, “Do I know you? You’re supposed to be my baby brother but I don’t see a baby anywhere.”
I sit down in a chair by his pool and just take it all in. “So a pool huh?” If I continue to talk then maybe I won’t think about a certain rooftop pool that holds many great memories for me.
“Yep, a pool.” Walking back over to what I thought was some old crate he lifts a lid, reaches in and pulls out a beer. Holding it up toward me, I smile. Well, that’s interesting. That is a cooler, I bet.
“Sure.” Holding out the beer to me, I take it from his hand. It’s ice cold. I twist the top, tip it up and enjoy the feeling of ice cold beer running down my dry throat.
“Is the pool why you have a gate? Or is it to keep all the women out that I bet are banging down your door?”
With a snicker he mumbles, “All I can say is, something sure is banging around here and it isn’t the back door.”
Holding my hand up across my eyes, I say, “OOH, you’re my brother! No visuals please.”
“Yes, it’s the reason. Insurance and all.”
Sitting there in the yard I grew up in, I look at the tree where the boys had a fort and wouldn’t let me in. Glancing across the yard, I remember the day I found Little Cat lying by the old storage shed, how I begged Daddy to let me keep her. If I close my eyes, I can almost hear us yelling at each other when we would throw water balloons.
Taking a deep sigh, I say, “It looks good back here. Different but good.”
“Thanks, Sis. Do you think they would approve of the changes?”
“Yes, Brad they would. Daddy would love the grill. Remember, how he couldn’t wait to have the first cookout every year?”
Raising his brow just a little, Brad answers in a voice that takes me back to those perfect Sunday afternoons. “I remember but what I really remember is him pointing at all of us kids saying “You all stay away from this grill. It is hot. It can hurt you. Right Bradley? Then he always looked at me and winked.
Looking over at my brother, I say in my sweetest little sister voice, “Well, if you hadn’t touched the darn thing on a dare by Jeff Reynolds that time when our families were cooking out together then he wouldn’t have said it.” We sit here talking and reminiscing about everything from how he yelled out the window at me when I was making out with the same Jeff from his dare to how sad we were when Little Cat‘s first kitten died. This place holds so many memories. Some good. Some bad. I suppose that all backyards where great families like ours grew up have both kinds of memories. The sun is beginning to set and I know what I must do. Looking over at Brad, I say, “Well, I suppose I have to go inside. Let’s get this over with.”
Setting down my overnight bag I look around at what was once my bedroom. “Well, I don’t suppose I’ll be sleeping in here.”
“No, not unless you want to sleep on the pool table. I take it, John didn’t tell you about the renovation I did couple of years ago.”
“No, he didn’t but neither did you. This place looks great. Who did the work?”
Smiling, “I did. Actually, doing this renovation gave me the confidence I needed. So, that is when I started my company, Built by Brad. Later I shortened it to 3B Construction.”
“They would be really proud of you. Heck, I’m proud of you. I am proud of both you and Jonathan. Both of you are doing well. Seem to be successful. I am the one with the issues. I seem to be starting over a lot.”
“Charlotte, you have had to overcome so many, major things. There was a time when I worried if you would survive.”
Walking back to the open space of the living room and kitchen, I sit down on the sofa. “You know I am not Charlotte anymore, right? I changed my name legally to Charli and I kept the Jensen. I sort of wish I had changed it but I didn’t.”
“Why did you change your name? I am not sure you will ever be anybody but Charlotte to me.”
Looking over at him, I feel as if I am moving back in time to a place that was very difficult for me to even remember. “Why? I felt like I was given a second chance at life. I should have died just like they did. When I came out on the other side of all the grief for them and for the person I used to be, after the years of rehab I felt like I had been given the second chance that I laid on that pile of rocks and begged for. Finally, it dawned on me at some point that Charlotte did die, just not physically. She was too soft, too sweet, too eager to please. She couldn’t survive the many trips I took to hell and back during my recovery. It just took a very long time for me to realize that fact. That’s when I knew my name needed to change because I wasn’t the same. So, Charli was born.”
Chapter 8
Finding the cemetery wasn’t difficult. This area of town hasn’t changed a bit. Standing in front of the stone, I can’t wipe the tears from my cheeks fast enough. Bending down, I lay a towel across the front of the stone and sit. I look at their names etched into the speckled granite for a really long time. John did really well with the stone. Anoth
er river of tears begin, I should have been here.
Swallowing hard, I clear my throat and begin, “Mama, Daddy, I am sorry for so many things. Most of all, I am sorry that I haven’t been here before. It’s because I was in the hospital for eight months, then in rehabilitation for years. Some of my rehab was in Oklahoma. Actually, I was at one place there for a really long time. That was where my insurance would let me go. When I am really tired, I still limp just a little. I had to learn to do so many things all over again. It’s taken me all this time to really understand what my psychiatrist was trying to tell me about how I still needed to heal and that the healing he was talking about would take years if not decades. Back then, I thought I was over it all.”
“I’ve spent the last few days with Brad at the house. It looks really good. You’d like the changes. He has a pool! Oh, wait let me say that again, he has a pool he maintains. Can you imagine? I remember how nasty his bedroom was when he was growing up. Whew, me. I shudder at that.” Smiling, I continue, “I am proud of what he has become. They say, for about a year after our accident he was in a really bad shape. Then somebody, I have no idea who helped him get himself together. I have absolutely no doubt it was one of his many women.”
Sitting here thinking about both my brothers, Brad and John, and what our accident did to them, I lean forward and put my forehead on the tombstone. The cold of the stone feels good. Inhaling deeply, I hold it for just a moment. Finally, I exhale as I lift my hands to touch the rock, I continue. “I am so sorry, I begged you two to get on that plane with us. If I had left well enough alone and accepted that you didn’t want to go the mountains you would still be alive, here with us.” As I sit here talking to Mama and Daddy, the realization that I will never be completely healed until I can forgive myself as well as Tyler has finally sunk in. How can I heal, I still feel as if I am to blame for your death?