Something Special

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Something Special Page 24

by S. Massery


  “So, Jared,” Avery says. “How long have you known Charlotte?”

  Jared glances at me with a question in his eyes. Ever since I was little, I hated being called Charlotte. I associated it with my parents’ disappointment. Now, my boyfriend calls me Charlotte and I accept it?

  I don’t bother to tell him it’s my fault—that, in the beginning, I introduced myself to Avery as Charlotte, instead of Charlie, and I never managed to change his habit.

  “We were neighbors forever,” Jared answers.

  My first words to Jared weren’t until I was at least seven. He wasn’t remotely interested in hanging out with a girl, and by eight, it was my personal mission to yell hello to him whenever I saw him outside and giggle when his ears turned red. And then, at nine, his family moved in with mine and we became friends. Then best friends. Then… nothing.

  Avery forces a smile. “Oh?”

  I roll my eyes. “He moved away when I was fifteen. We didn’t talk for a while.”

  “I regret that,” Jared says. “I wish I hadn’t left you with—”

  I jerk my head to the side, the motion instantly silencing Jared. Avery glances at me, quick, and purses his lips. I’ve only vaguely told Avery about my past. I didn’t want the judgement, or his anger. I’d imagine he would say something like, How on earth did you fall for that, Charlotte?

  “Okay,” Avery says. He looks a little hurt, but I imagine he feels like I did when I learned about Elaina’s arrival.

  “I still have my same old job that everyone wants me to move on from,” I say. They both turn to look at me. “What? It’s true. I was just…” changing the subject.

  Avery looks back to Jared once the waiter takes our orders. “I am trying to convince her that she is much more capable than she thinks she is.”

  I snort. It isn’t true—he’s been trying to convince me that I am stuck in the mud.

  “No,” I disagree. “I like my job. He just doesn’t like that. Avery, that’s something you and Jared have in common.”

  Avery looks at me like I’m insane.

  Jared laughs. “Don’t rope me into this, Charlie, we haven’t talked about it in months.”

  “You two talk a lot,” Avery says. To Jared, he adds, “We got into a fight about it after Thanksgiving. She overreacted.”

  I hear, Her fault.

  Jared grunts. “It’s good that Charlie stands up for herself.”

  My boyfriend shrugs and puts his arm around my shoulders. I wasn’t expecting Avery to be territorial, but his arm feels like he’s staking his claim over me. “Even so.”

  We sit in silence for a moment. There’s an elephant sitting on my chest. The tension is growing, but I don’t know how to fix it.

  “What do you do for work?” Jared asks.

  I allow myself to breathe. Before Avery can answer, the waiter comes by with our food. Once he leaves, Avery says, “I’m an accountant. I’m hoping to jump up the ladder and then move onto a bigger company. This one is fine, per say, it’s just too familial.”

  “What’s wrong with a familial work environment?”

  He’s told me before that firefighters are like family.

  I take a large bite of my Caesar salad.

  Avery shrugs. “Nothing is wrong with it. I just prefer not to gossip about my weekend while I’m trying to make money. I don’t need that distraction.”

  “Except Steve,” I cut in. He always mentions Steve outside of work, and we went with him to that club on Halloween.

  Avery’s lips press together. “Yes, well. His last day was last week.”

  “It’s tough to lose a friend,” Jared murmurs.

  I clear my throat, and we all look down at our food.

  Once we’re almost done eating, Avery nods to Jared. He coughs, then asks, “What do you do for work?”

  Jared grimaces. “Unfortunately, nothing right now. I got into an accident on the job, and since then I’ve had to collect disability.” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I slowly shake my head. No, I didn’t tell Avery.

  Jared sighs, but he doesn’t look at me like he’s disappointed. “Firefighting is my profession,” he says.

  “Ah,” Avery answers. “I noticed a little limp. A bum leg keeping you out of the game until it heals?”

  Jared smiles. “No. The amputated leg sidelined me permanently.”

  Avery’s face turns red, which is a telltale sign of danger. “Excuse us, Jared.” He practically drags me out of the booth and only stops when we’re outside the restaurant. “Is it your goal to make me look like an idiot?”

  I rear back. “What?”

  “Come on, Charlotte. First you didn’t tell me that your friend is a man.”

  I think, He definitely isn’t a boy anymore.

  Avery continues, “Which I might not have had a problem with if you had been honest with me. And then, you forget to tell me that he’s missing a leg?”

  I snort. “I’m sorry, Avery, but you haven’t really paid attention to anything I’ve been saying the past few weeks. We just end up fighting. When was I supposed to tell you?”

  He hisses, “That is ridiculous. I’ve been right here. Living beside you. Sleeping next to you every night. I give you attention.”

  “Right. You give me your attitude. You give me annoyance, like you forgot we are supposed to be in love. You have not been living with me. Not sleeping with me.” I rub at my face, trying to get a handle on my emotions. “Everything is my fault? All the time?”

  He laughs, but it’s emotionless. I flinch. “Yes, Charlotte, you have to accept it when you mess up.”

  “It’s not just me!” I yell. Passers-by look at us, but we ignore them. “We are supposed to be partners!”

  My eyes widen when he sneers at me. “As my partner, I expected more.” I don’t recognize him. In his place stands Colby, sneering at me like he did when we were in high school. Colby says, Don’t be such an idiot, Charlotte. It doesn’t suit you.

  Except Colby never called me Charlotte—I was always Charlie to him.

  I wonder, as I blink at Avery, if he actually said that to me. I might’ve hallucinated it.

  “I think you should take a walk,” Jared says.

  Avery and I both turn to look at him. Neither of us had heard him approach, and he stands close to us. We continue to watch, in silence, as Jared walks toward us and slides into the spot between Avery and me.

  My nose almost brushes his back.

  “Seriously, man. Take a walk.”

  I hear Avery sigh, say, “Fuck,” and then… nothing.

  In slow motion, I lean forward and press my forehead against Jared’s shoulder blade. “Thank you,” I whisper. That took a lot of energy.

  I straighten when he moves, but he just turns toward me and gives me a hug. He’s solidly there, so much more-so than Avery was. I didn’t realize it until now, but when I hug Avery, I feel a spark of fear that he will leave me. My mother always said that actions speak louder than words. And, as much as I hate to admit it, Avery’s past actions say, I’m out. He left me in New York City. He actually ended any expectation of romance in Chicago—technically our first date. He’s pulled disappearing acts throughout the beginning of our relationship, even last year.

  Hot and cold.

  Jared has left me, too, but his hug doesn’t elicit the same fear.

  “Does he always treat you like that?” Jared’s voice is hoarse, like he can barely force out the words. His arms tighten around me when I don’t answer.

  “Did you give Colby the same hell you just gave your boyfriend?”

  I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “I grew a backbone in college.”

  His chest moves as he inhales and then slowly exhales.

  “I’m so sorry, Charlie, I shouldn’t have—”

  I shake my head again. “Stop it.”

  We pull away from each other, and he glances back toward the doors of the restaurant. “Uh, we should probably pay.” When I follow his gaze, I see the waite
r standing there, holding our bill.

  “I left my purse,” I murmur.

  Jared lifts his hand, producing my forgotten bag. “I’ll give this back if you don’t give another thought to paying.”

  It makes me want to cry even more.

  53

  Past

  “It’s your last session before college, Charlie. How do you feel?”

  I shrugged. “Kind of sad.”

  Dr. Sayer looked at me over the rim of her reading glasses. She didn’t usually wear them, but when I walked in, they were perched on the tip of her nose, and she had yet to remove them. I wished I had thought to count how many appointments we’d had together—it would’ve been more impactful to think, This is my two hundredth appointment in over two and a half years, and I am done. Instead, all I had to go on was: I was in therapy for two and a half years, and I didn’t really feel that much better.

  Funny how that worked.

  “Let me tell you my thoughts, yes?”

  I nodded at her.

  Dr. Sayer leaned forward in her chair. “When we first met, you were a child who had been traumatized. You were angry about it and unable to express yourself. Over the years that we have known each other, I have seen you accept what happened to you. You’ve matured in how you carry yourself, your writing, and your thinking. You are now a fine young woman who can hold her own. You’re leaving for college tomorrow, and I have complete faith that you have an arsenal of tools at your disposal to help you cope and flourish.”

  I swiped at tears.

  “I still feel it,” I told her. “The anger, the… disappointment in myself.” The latter was harder to admit.

  Dr. Sayer smiled. “It’s alright, Charlie. You’re allowed to feel it. You can’t dictate the healing process.”

  I put my hands on top of the notebook on my lap. “Do you think I should ever show Jared? If I have the chance, I mean.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not saying he’s ever going to talk to me again. I know that it could be well outside the realm of possibility.”

  I appreciated that she took a minute to consider my question.

  “I suppose it would depend,” she said.

  “On?”

  “If he would be receptive to it, then I would say yes. I don’t know him, though, Charlie. I can’t give you his answer.”

  54

  Jared and I ended up walking home to burn off our energy. I’m shocked that Avery isn’t home and worried about to where—or whom—he would run.

  “Did you expect him to run home?”

  I squint at Jared. “Where else would he go?”

  He shakes his head at me.

  “I’m going to call him.”

  Avery doesn’t answer his phone. He texts me, though, and says, I’m cooling off like your ‘friend’ told me to do. I’ll see you tomorrow after he’s gone.

  I drop my phone onto my coffee table and try to breathe.

  “He’s not coming back tonight.”

  Jared shrugs. It probably doesn’t bother him at all. Somehow, he’s managed to retain his ability to not care what people of unimportance think. “Guy’s kind of a tool. No offense.”

  “I’m going to insult your boyfriend and then tack on no offense so you don’t get mad,” I mock.

  He chuckles. “Sorry.”

  It’s easy to sink on the couch and ignore the issues in my life right now. Sometimes they seem overwhelming. When Jared is here, they aren’t as drastic.

  “It’s okay. Here.” I pat the seat next to me until he falls into me with a groan. I laugh at him.

  “Can I take off my leg? Is that weird?”

  “No, it’s not weird. It’s weird that you have to ask.”

  He hoists himself up. “In that case, I’m putting on shorts and exposing you to the greatness of my scars.”

  “You’ve come a long way,” I tell him once he’s changed and seated next to me again. I tap on the leg he still wears. “How do you take it off?”

  He points to a button toward the top of the prosthetic. “When you hold that down, it releases air into the socket. It is basically held on by suction, so that makes it so I can pull it off.” He does it as he’s talking, and there is a faint hissing sound for a few seconds. When he takes it off, I’m somewhat surprised that there isn’t just skin underneath. “This is the rubber flap that seals in the air. It’s attached to the liner. And my leg has started shrinking, so I wear this band to help fill the socket.”

  My eyes are wide.

  “Your leg is shrinking?”

  Jared bursts out laughing. “It’s because of the swelling, and blood flow. I wear a shrinker sock at night to help. Eventually, I think it’ll be okay to stop.”

  It’s hard not to stare at his leg until I realize that it’s Jared: he never cared when I couldn’t stop staring at him as a kid, either. “I don’t know much about amputation,” I mutter. His leg is scarred, angry red and silver raised marks disappearing up toward his hip that are likely burn scars.

  “I should’ve been able to get started with a prosthetic closer to the amputation, but they had to wait for the burns to heal more. That was the true torture. And even then, they didn’t want me to wear it so much that it damaged my ‘newly healed’ skin. I had to work up to wearing it every day.”

  “Wow.” It’s all I can think to say.

  There is a scar where his leg ends that looks more like a tucked seam.

  “You never asked why I wanted to come visit,” Jared says suddenly.

  My skin prickles. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean—”

  “You had to have a reason to visit?”

  He grimaces. “Stop putting words in my mouth.”

  I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling. “If you have something to tell me, Jared, just spit it out.” I add, “I’m sick of surprises.”

  “I’m leaving Massachusetts,” is what comes out of his mouth.

  I jerk forward, turning to stare at him. “Are you serious?”

  He smiles. “Remember that I told you I had worked out west for the Hotshots?” I blink at him, and he elaborates, “Interagency Hotshot Crews. The hand crews that fight the wildfires on the front lines?”

  “Oh, right. What does that have to do with…”

  “I applied for a position that just opened up last month. I was surprised as hell that they considered me, but I guess I had made a good impression on the Superintendent.”

  He grins at me so hard, I can’t help but smile back.

  “Are you going to tell me what they hired you for, or am I going to have to pretend I’m pulling teeth?”

  “I’m not really sure. Can you believe that?”

  I hug him. It’s impulsive, but he is ecstatic about this. I feel a trickle of sadness seep into me, but I push it back. I only just got my best friend back—and now he’s leaving.

  “Where?”

  “The base is in Everett, Washington.”

  My hands are shaking, balled in my lap.

  Jared grabs my hands, steadies me. “What do you think?”

  I can’t help but love that he asks me.

  I put my hand on his cheek. There’s just a little bit of stubble, adding a shadow to his jawline. My thumb skates along his cheekbone. His skin is hot, and I let it drop. “I am so happy for you, Jared. Honestly.”

  “I was afraid to tell you.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him. “You were?”

  He nods and looks at our intertwined fingers. “I was afraid that you would tell me it was stupid. That I couldn’t do it because of my leg.”

  There’s a lot to be said about insecurities. Jared is one of the most confident people I’ve ever known. He holds himself so steady in the face of everything. Even losing his leg and suffering from burns didn’t mess with his self-assured demeanor. I would strive to be more like him.

  But his words reveal that, just maybe, he isn’t quite as sure of himself as he appears. That’s just wrong—that was me in high school, listening to Colby
and then explicitly not listening to anyone else once he was gone. Jared shouldn’t be anything like the old me.

  “Jared,” I whisper. “You can do anything you want to do. Okay?”

  He just stares at me.

  “Don’t listen to the few people who will tell you that you can’t do it. You can.”

  And then he says, “You should take your own advice.”

  I wish I could work up the courage to throw my book of letters—to Jared, to my therapist—in his face. I wish I could say, I did do that. I stopped taking pills. I started healing myself. I developed my courage. Something stops me, though. Some insane fear presses down on my chest and hugs my lungs.

  “When did you apply?” I ask him.

  “I didn’t officially apply until just before your birthday. But I had been emailing my old captain, who is now the Superintendent, for a few weeks before that. I wasn’t sure what I could do, but I knew that was the happiest I had been.” He shakes his head. “If only I hadn’t torn my ACL…”

  “Everything would be different,” I answer.

  It’s true. His life unfolded in a strange, tragic way.

  Would we even be talking?

  Probably not.

  I wish something magical had happened while Jared was here. He chose to go home on Saturday afternoon, because he didn’t want to put out Avery any more than he already had. The rest of Friday, though, was peaceful. It felt like, for the first time in a long time, I had a missing piece of myself back.

  I am not sure how I feel about that. I have always believed that a partner would simply complement me, not complete me. And yet, I see so much of my childhood in Jared; I’m having trouble pulling apart the threads that keep me just Charlie.

  Saturday afternoon, we take the T to South Station, where Jared’s train will be departing, and ride in unusual silence. South Station has always been one of my favorite places. It’s crowded, but it’s organized in a way that makes you feel like you cannot get lost. Plus, I’m not sure how old the building is, but it feels as old as Boston itself. We get coffees and sit at one of the small tables by the board that announces the arrivals and departures, and my eyes fill with tears. One of the things we talked about last night was when he was leaving for Washington. His answer: in a week. He was doing the groundwork here, and there seemed to be a lot of it. Find an apartment. Hire a company to get his D.C. apartment furniture moved to Washington. Book a plane ticket. Transfer his medical files. Schedule an appointment with a new doctor. One last appointment with the PT to get a new prosthetic socket, which will hopefully be the last one for a while.

 

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