by Amali Rose
“I know, I know. You’ll be happy to send me a continuous stream of memes that will succeed in never letting me forget the moment or live it down.”
Her eyes widen innocently. “It’s what any real friend would do, Charlie.”
“Get out!”
She snorts out an unattractive laugh and makes her way out of my office before pausing at the entrance.
“Charlie?” she starts, in a very un-Adelaide-like way. I hesitate for a moment, but then give her the nod to continue.
“I really am sorry it ended like that, but I’ve got to say, it’s kind of nice to see you finally being affected by someone like that.” She shakes her head, a look of concern settling over her face. “I mean, for a while there I was really beginning to worry that you might be an emotionless robot sent from the future to destroy all of mankind.” She scrunches her nose. “It’s good to know you’re simply an introvert who hates people. I feel like I can relax now.”
“Get out!”
She pokes her tongue out at me and finally leaves, pulling the door closed behind her.
I groan loudly and bang my head down onto my desk. Adelaide has a point though, I have to give her that. It’s also not the first time someone has insinuated that I’m too unemotional. My childhood was what could politely be called chaotic. Growing up with a mother who didn’t really care for the job too much, preferring to spend her time gambling and looking for the next man to support her, I always felt as though I was in a never-ending state of flux. If it wasn’t for my grandparents, I wouldn’t have had any kind of stability at all.
After a childhood like that, I crave balance and emotional consistency. Both of which are nearly impossible to find in personal relationships and I realized early on that I was much happier when left to myself. With the exception of my childhood best friend, Wyatt, Adelaide is my only real friend. Considering she’s my assistant, most people would find that sad. I find it a relief.
But my encounter with Miles has definitely left me rattled. I enjoyed bantering with him. Bantering? When did I become a woman who banters? I have to admit, if only to myself, that I felt more alive in that five-minute exchange than I possibly ever have before. While I would expect the strength of that emotion, and the vulnerability it opens me up to, to terrify me, all I’m craving is the need for more.
And I think that is what frightens me most of all.
Sitting up, I rub the heel of my hand across my chest in an attempt to dislodge the tightness there. It is all a moot point anyway. The odds I’ll ever run into Miles again are probably a million to one.
I had my chance and I blew it, but I make a promise to myself that if I ever do see him again, I will put my big girl panties on, and I’ll ask him out.
Of course, I make this promise knowing full well it will never happen. I can’t decide if that is karma being cruel or kind, but either way, I’m confident I won’t be seeing Miles again.
“Scruffy is going to be fine, Mrs. Connelly. Get this medication into him twice a day and he’ll be chasing Frida’s cat again before you know it.”
“Thank you, Miles.” She looks at me and the deep-set wrinkles around her eyes sharpen as she smiles at me kindly. “I was so worried.”
She lifts the tiny dog into her arms and a tiny grunt slips out at the effort. I can’t help but wish she would be as vigilant with her own health as she is with her pet.
I take her by the elbow and lead her out to the front office where our receptionist will take care of the bill.
“Kyla, it was level five consult today for Mrs. Connelly.” Her eyes soften in understanding and she nods before turning to the computer to work her magic.
I lean down to the elderly woman in front of me and give her hand a gentle squeeze.
“If Scruffy isn’t looking better in a day or two, don’t hesitate to call me, okay? You have my cell number, so I can be reached at any time.”
She nuzzles into the small dog, peppering his head with kisses. “Thank you, Miles. I appreciate that, I really do.”
Turning, I stride to my office and glance at my watch. Fifteen minutes until my next appointment. Determined to get to my computer so I can continue my Facebook search for every Charlotte that lives in Chicago, I quicken my steps.
Settling at my desk, I have just pulled up my social media when my door bursts open.
“Another ‘level five’ consult? You’re going to put us out of business.” Camden, my business partner and best friend, glares at me across the room. “That medication you gave her was worth a couple hundred dollars alone, Miles. I’ve got kids to feed, you know.” He sighs in exasperation.
I smirk at him, knowing how much it will infuriate him. A level five consult is a code I came up with to let Kyla know she is only to bill the patient a flat fifty-dollar fee.
“Jesus, relax, Cam. I cover the rest of the bill out of my own pocket. Tyson and Brianna’s Happy Meals are safe, I swear.” Shaking my head, I try to subtly turn the computer screen so he can’t see it, without him noticing. “How’d you find out anyway?”
“I heard you mention it to Kyla a couple of weeks ago and she told me. I meant to bring it up then, but I got distracted.” He stalks across my office and plants his ass on the corner of my desk. “Your heart is bigger than your bank balance, dude. Has been ever since college. I hope you know when you go bankrupt, you’re not sleeping on my couch.”
“I would expect nothing less, you asshole. Now, did you want something else or are you just here to bust my balls. I have a patient in”—I grab my phone and check the time—“nine minutes.”
“Just here to bust your—What’s that?” He raises an eyebrow at me and nods toward the screen in front of me.
“It’s a computer, genius. Are you sure you graduated college?” I try my best to deflect, but I already know he won’t let this go.
“That, my friend, is Facebook. You haven’t been on Facebook since—”
“Yeah, I know,” I cut him off. “I just figured enough time had passed and I wanted to catch up on things.”
“I don’t know, man.” He rolls his shoulders as though trying to release the tension that is suddenly vibrating through the room. “I still see some pretty fucking epic memes about you doing the rounds. It hasn’t been that long. Wait.” He peers at the screen. “Who is Charlotte Chicago?”
I quickly minimize the screen, which is what I should have done as soon as Camden walked in. Clearly, I’m no brainiac, either.
“No one.” I push away from my desk and start to stand, only for Cam to push me back down to sit.
“Not no one.” His eyes narrow shrewdly. “Did you meet someone?”
My mind flashes briefly to the gorgeous brunette from Whole Foods. I haven’t felt that way talking to a woman in a long time. Like I was myself again. Not the defensive, waiting-for-shit-to-hit-the-fan guy I’ve been for the last ten months. She was beautiful, there is no doubt about that. But it was the intelligence in her bright green eyes and the way her smile lit up her entire face that really captivated me. That one smile brightened her whole aesthetic and she went from unapproachable beauty to a girl I can imagine watching sappy romantic comedies with while cuddling on the sofa.
Not that I’m into rom-coms or cuddling. I’m clearly far too masculine for that.
I give a reluctant sigh because I have known Camden long enough to know he won’t let this drop.
“I might have met someone,” I begrudgingly admit. “But we were—” I pause and consider how to continue, Charlotte’s face bright with embarrassment clear in my mind. I doubt that’s a story she would want me to spread around. “Interrupted and I didn’t have a chance to get her number.”
“So, you’re Facebook stalking her with just a first name and city?” He snorts at me in amusement. “Well, good luck with that.”
“Yeah, it’s not looking good,” I admit wryly.
Camden stands and stretches his long arms over his head, groaning. “Before I forget, Shannon wants to invite
you guys to dinner tomorrow night, are you free?”
“I’m always available for Shannon. Feel free to make yourself scarce though, it’s been too long since I had some alone time with your wife.” I waggle my eyebrows at him, highly enjoying the annoyance that flits over his face.
“Stop trying to hit on my wife, asshole. Besides, the kids will all be there so there will be no alone time.”
“Ah, well, that sucks.”
“Welcome to my life, dick.” He starts to leave before he stops and turns back. “I really do hope you find her.” He nods back to the computer. “Your girl. I know how hard it’s been since—Well, I know you’ve had a tough time these last few years, and people have said a lot of shit about you, but you’re a good guy and you deserve to be happy.” He kneads his neck, obviously uncomfortable with this heart-to-heart. “Even if you do like my wife a little too much.”
I watch him leave, laughing, and then turn back to my computer.
Charlotte Chicago, where are you?
“Daddy?” Lulu snuggles down into her blankets as I close the pages of Love You Forever and lie down next to her, placing a kiss on her forehead.
“What’s up, kiddo?”
“It’s my birthday ’morrow?”
I chuckle quietly at the question she has asked every day since we went to Tyson’s birthday party last weekend.
I stretch my arms up and place them behind my head. “Not even close, kid. It’s still a few months away.”
I turn to look at her and see her bottom lip is sticking out in a goddamn pout.
I’m so screwed when she’s a teenager.
“How about we go to the aquarium tomorrow? We haven’t gone to see the penguins in a long time.” I cross my fingers that her penguin obsession will be enough to distract her from her birthday delusions.
She rolls over and curls into me, her hand reaching up to play with my hair. “No, we go see Momma.”
My eyes immediately search out the picture on her dresser. It was taken on Renee’s twenty-first birthday and she looks young, beautiful, and happy. It’s how I will always remember her.
“You want to go visit Momma?”
“Yup. We gonna eat cake.” Lulu giggles against my chest, the sound easing the tension that was beginning to pulse in my temple.
Losing Renee was the worst moment of my life wrapped up in the very best moment. An undiagnosed heart condition resulted in her having a fatal heart attack during Lulu’s birth. In one horrifying moment, I lost my best friend and gained a tiny human who was dependent on me for everything, and there are times I still don’t know how I made it through those early days.
We talk about her mother often. I’ve always been determined to somehow keep the memory of her alive for Lulu, which sometimes feels impossible. How do you help your daughter bond with a picture? Or a story? How do I make her feel the love her mother had for her, when she never got a chance to experience it?
So, I do the best I can. I tell her every story I have of the two of us. I tell her every detail I can remember about her mom, no matter how small. I make sure she knows that Renee’s love of waterfalls inspired her name, but that it didn’t come close to the love she had for Lulu. On Renee’s birthday and every Mother’s Day, we head to the cemetery where we leave a card and eat cupcakes, so she has a tangible place to connect with her mom.
And every day I hope like fuck it’s enough.
“You’re right, we should go visit her.” I’ve tried to limit her time at the cemetery because, to be honest, I worry it’s too morbid when she’s so young. But maybe it’s time to rethink that. “How about we stop by the bakery and get Mom’s favorite cupcakes and then we’ll visit with her. Sound like a plan?”
“’S a good plan.” She sighs and minutes later I’m listening to her tiny rumbling snores and sending up a prayer to Renee that I don’t completely mess this parenting shit up.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” I hiss. The sound of my phone is momentarily overtaken by the thud of metal against drywall as I shoulder my way through the door. Kicking it shut behind me, I try to ignore the sting in my fingers while I juggle a pile of files, desperately trying to keep them from all falling to the ground.
I make it to the console table in my entrance and dump them down, watching them slide along the smooth wooden surface. My gym bag slips to my elbow, wrenching my shoulder, and I grimace at the burn.
Aware that my phone is about to slide over to voicemail and I don’t want to miss this call, I answer without checking the caller ID.
I really should know better.
“Hello, Charlotte Reed speaking.”
“Baby girl, you sound so professional!” My mother’s shrill voice greets me. “When did you get so grown up?”
I pull the phone away from my ear and double-check the screen. Yep, definitely not the call I was expecting about the lawsuit I am currently working my ass off to settle.
“Hi, Mom, how are you?” I ask reluctantly, already knowing I don’t have time for whatever self-inflicted drama is causing havoc in her life right now.
“Good, baby, I’m good. I spoke to your grandparents today,” she starts, her voice suspiciously happy. “They seem to be loving it in Florida.”
“They are,” I confirm, my hackles well and truly raised.
“Grandma mentioned that you snagged a huge client for the firm. I’m so proud of you, Charlie.”
Tension tightens my shoulders and, despite the pride I feel about bringing Preston Pharmaceuticals into the fold at Harris & Erickson, I have very little desire to discuss this with my mother.
“I did.” My response is curt, maybe even rude, but I know my mother. She uses my happiness against me, taking each moment of my joy and manipulating it to get what she wants. As though every one of my good moods or victories is a free pass for her to demand something from me.
“So, listen, I’m a little short on rent this month and I was wondering if I could borrow a few hundred dollars to tide me over until I get paid.”
And there it is.
“I gave you money a couple of months ago, Mom. I can’t afford to keep doing this all the time.”
“This is the last time, baby, I swear. It’s just been a rough month, a lot of unexpected bills, but I promise this is it.” She’s doing her best to sound sincere, but it’s forced and there is a hint of desperation that hangs heavy in the air.
My throat constricts as I listen to her promise. This is the last time, baby, I swear. It’s the same promise I’ve been listening to since I got my first job at fourteen, and I’m so tired of it. So fucking tired of being disappointed and let down.
Too tired to fight it anymore.
My eyes roam over the wall in front of me, staring unseeingly at the hideous floral wallpaper I want to get rid of, and my fingers play with the hem of my jacket. I’m about to agree, to tell her I’ll send the money through, but my mother always was impatient, and she takes my moment of silence as a refusal.
“You owe me, Charlotte.” All warmth has evaporated from her voice and all that is left is recrimination. “All that money you cost me while you were growing up. Clothes and food and everything else you wanted that I couldn’t afford. I made sure you had it all, the least you can do is help me out now.” Her voice drops slightly, as though she has moved the phone away from her mouth. “You always were a selfish little bitch.”
The words pierce my chest before they penetrate my conscious thought, but as soon as they do, the familiar burn behind my eyes kicks in.
“Bye, Mom.” I hang up the phone and take a few deep, steadying breaths before I pull up my banking app and transfer her the money.
My legs are aching, and I am almost running to try and keep up with my mom. It’s only a short walk from the bus stop to Grandma and Grandpa’s place but I’m so tired and it’s so hot. I can feel the sweat dripping down my back into my butt and it’s so, so gross.
I had such a good time at the carnival today, though. I ate so
much bad food and went on all the rides. I didn’t think Mommy was going to let me go on the roller coaster, but she said I was big enough now. It was so much fun!
“Mom, wait up.” I run to catch up with her, but she keeps going, not slowing down at all.
“Hurry up, Charlotte, your grandma is expecting us for dinner.”
Mom sounds grumpy, but she has been ever since we got on the bus. My face feels warm when I remember what she looked like as she searched her purse for change for our fares. Everybody was looking at us and I didn’t like it.
“Mom, I’m tired.” I stop for a moment to catch my breath. My legs are little, and I can’t keep up with her.
“Charlotte.” She finally stops and turns to look at me, but when she does it just makes me scared. She looks angry, so I do the only thing I can and let a scowl settle on my face, so she doesn’t see how scared I am of her.
She walks up to me, angrily snatching my hand and pulling me to walk alongside her.
“Walk, Charlotte. Now.” We take a few steps and then she looks down at me, catching my eye. “We’ve had such a nice day, why do you have to ruin it?” She shakes her head and looks away. “Why do you always ruin everything?”
The crisp white wine slides down my throat, the almost imperceptible sweetness stimulating my taste buds, and I have to stop myself from gulping down the entire glass.
Sliding my glass onto the coffee table, I groan when I notice the ring of condensation left by the cold glass. I really should be using a wine glass like a grown-up, not a tumbler. But then I also should probably be drinking wine from a bottle, not a box, so what are you going to do? Curling up on the sofa, I drag my eyes back to the document on my tablet, trying to concentrate, but it doesn’t take long before I realize that I have no hope of accomplishing anything tonight. Mom’s phone call has left me too distracted.
Shutting my tablet down and gathering up the files I brought home, I move to the front foyer and place it all by the front door, promising myself I’ll go into the office early tomorrow to make up for it.
