by Sandi Ward
Well. This is interesting. Aidan is the reason Charlie has fled from our house in the past. Yet now he’s giving permission for Aidan to take shelter here.
I hope Aidan sees how generous Charlie is. But that may be too much to ask for.
Victoria reaches out and grabs Charlie’s hand. She pulls him so he sits down beside her on the bed. “Charlie. Come talk to us.” She points to a red mark by his collarbone, barely visible in the glow from her nightlight. “Who is doing this to you? Can you please just tell us, so we can help you? It’s making me sick. And angry.”
“Vicky. It’s nothing. It’s not important. I’m fine.”
“Buddy.” Aidan leans forward to make eye contact with Charlie. “Is it your dad? It’s really okay to tell us if it’s your dad. I know he gets drunk sometimes. My dad used to hit me once in a while, before he moved out. I am totally judgment-free on this one. I didn’t tell anyone either. I would understand.”
Charlie’s bottom lip starts to quiver. “Dad?” he asks in a small voice. His eyes fill with tears and he doesn’t look at Aidan. Instead, he searches Victoria’s face. “You really think it might be Dad? Our dad?”
“I don’t know, Charlie,” she answers, all in a rush. “No. Definitely no. That is, I don’t know. I’m just trying to figure it out. I mean, I don’t know if Dad likes . . .” She stops short. “I wasn’t sure how he felt about your hair, and the clothes, and whatever. He just hasn’t said anything to me. I mean, he never talks about it.”
Charlie bows his head. “It’s not Dad,” he says as quietly as I’ve ever heard him speak, his eyes glassy.
And then he tells a story. It’s one I’ve never heard before.
Chapter 24
Snow Day
Just a few moons ago, before the holidays, we had a tremendous amount of snow fall to the ground all in one day. It came down hard from the time the sun came up in the morning until long past when the sun set in the early afternoon.
Where we live, it snows often enough that a little bit of snow is not a big deal. But sometimes, heavy snow makes it difficult for humans to get around on foot or by car. On this particular day, Mom and Dad did not go to work, and the children did not go to school. Mom worried aloud that the storm might cause us to lose our lights and heat.
After lunch, Kevin put on his snow pants and went out sledding. Victoria trudged through the snow to a friend’s house on the block to watch a movie on TV. Mom ran out to the store to stock up on milk and bread before the snow got too deep.
Charlie tells Victoria and Aidan that he was in his room with me, as usual, curled up on the bed. I have only a vague recollection of that day. I could see out the window that it was snowing hard, so I knew my family wouldn’t allow me to go outside. So I relaxed with Charlie—stretching, napping, and staying cozy.
Charlie said it was just by chance, because he was hungry, that he got up and went for a walk around the house. This is where he and I parted ways, as I believe I stayed sleeping on his bed all afternoon.
The way he tells the story, he wandered into Victoria’s room, and out the window he saw a solitary figure on the dock of the sailing club. Standing there in the snowstorm. The snow was coming down so hard he couldn’t see much of the river or the marsh, as the landscape faded into a whitewash. But he could see the person on the dock, and it was a man who didn’t look like he was bundled up properly for a squall. He was just wearing jeans, and a flannel shirt with a down vest. And sneakers—sneakers of all things!
This was what made Charlie really stop and stare. And then he realized: It was Dad.
I imagine that in that moment, Charlie felt a pang of cold. I have always sensed that Charlie is in tune with Dad. When his dad is suffering, he feels it too.
He made his way downstairs, at first slowly. He found his snow pants, pulled them on, and tucked them into his boots. That’s when he realized he was alone in the house. He thought he had heard Dad walk with Kevin out to the garage to find the sleds, but it was only then for the first time that Charlie realized he hadn’t heard Dad come back in. Charlie began to hurry, to get his winter coat on, put on a hat, pull up the hood of his coat over the hat and fasten it, and find two matching gloves. He tied a big black scarf around his neck.
He hurried out the front door, down the steps, and ran across the street. The road had only been plowed once that morning, so Charlie had to stomp down to the sailing club entrance in snow that came up over his ankles.
The gate was unlocked. Charlie ran across the empty parking lot the best he could in thick boots and snow pants.
He was out of breath by the time he reached the river, his lungs aching from the cold. “DAD,” he called out, once he was absolutely sure it was Dad.
There was no response.
“JEREMY ANDERSON,” Charlie tried. But Dad still didn’t turn around. He stood on the edge of the dock, looking out at the heavy snow pouring from the sky. It melted when it fell into the river, but accumulated on the marsh grass.
Charlie trudged down the dock carefully, afraid he might slip. The day was quiet, Charlie says, the way it always is when it snows hard. He heard no bird calls; he saw no movement at all. Dad should have been able to hear his youngest son calling to him.
“Dad, what are you doing out here?” Charlie asked when he got close.
It was only then that Dad turned. Charlie recognized the green eyes, the vacant stare, the hollow angles of his face. “Charlie.”
“Aren’t you freezing? The thermometer says it’s, like, ten degrees out.”
Charlie hadn’t actually looked at the thermometer. He tells Victoria and Aidan that he was making this up. But his toes were already getting cold. Ten degrees would have been a good guess.
Dad had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. “Charlie,” he croaked out, “I was just thinking. We found a kid last week. He overdosed.”
“Oh. Yeah?”
“He was in an abandoned building and he wasn’t much older than you.” Charlie watched his dad’s face fall as he spoke. “He reminded me of you. He was so young. He looked so fragile. He had a young face, like yours, if you know what I mean.” Dad winced with the memory. “People aren’t always nice, Charlie, out there in the world. They’re not always nice to people who are a little different, people who feel things deeply. People like you. You might not know it yet. But it makes me feel like I don’t want you to ever leave the house again.”
“What, Dad?” Charlie was confused. And getting scared. Dad was rambling. “Dad, I know all about it. You don’t need to worry so much. Let’s go inside. Aren’t your feet cold? My feet are freezing. I can’t feel my toes.”
“Jesus, Charlie. I wish . . .” Dad turned away. “I wish you . . . Christ. That kid looked horrible. He probably ran away from home. I bet he had nowhere to go. And the people he hooked up with treated him very badly.” Then he turned to Charlie abruptly, stepped forward, and took him in his arms.
“Dad? It’s okay, Dad.” Charlie let Dad hug him.
“Please don’t get hurt, Charlie. Don’t go with people you don’t know. Don’t meet people over the Internet. Don’t—”
“Dad. DAD. I’m not stupid. And I’m not a street urchin.” He squirmed to get out of his dad’s grip and push him away. “I’m not a runaway or an abandoned orphan. At least, not yet. I think I’ll be okay.” Charlie laughed uncomfortably. “I get it, Dad. Strangers are bad. Drugs are bad. Okay, I get it. Whatever. C’mon. I’ll be fine. I think I hear a hot chocolate calling my name. We can get some candy canes and—”
And this is when it happened. Dad fell on his knees. He didn’t slip, Charlie said. He just sunk down, as if ready to pray. And he held Charlie’s gloves tight in his bare hands.
“Charlie,” Dad said, looking up at his son, his eyes filling with tears. “Listen to me. The world isn’t a great place all the time. Not everyone is going to be nice to you. I worry about you. So much. Every day.” He gulped in a deep, shaky breath. “Don’t get discouraged. Don�
��t end up like me. I can’t seem to get better. I can’t stop thinking bad thoughts. I can’t stop drinking when I feel bad. And then I do and say stupid things. I’m sorry. It’s just so heavy. It’s hard carrying it around all the time. You have to be very careful. Be safe. And take care of yourself.”
Charlie frowned, looking down at his dad kneeling in the snow. He decided his dad had drunk one too many beers in the garage, which happened from time to time.
Here he pauses the story to tell Victoria that he is sick of Dad drinking. And now that Dad lets Kevin drink beer with him while they watch baseball at his apartment, he finds their weekends together very depressing. While Dad just gets tired and numb when he drinks, Charlie explains, Kevin gets angry and irritable.
“I know,” Victoria says. “I agree. Kevin’s been an asshole lately. But there’s no point in us arguing with Dad about his drinking. I don’t think we’re going to get him to change his mind if Mom can’t.”
Charlie nods, and goes back to his story:
Standing in the snow, Charlie promised, “Okay, Dad.” The tips of his fingers felt numb. “I’ll be super careful. But we have to go in. We might get blown off the dock and into the river, or something. Or we might get trapped in here by the snowplow that’s going around the neighborhood.”
Charlie glanced back at the house. And that’s when he realized he could barely see the house because the wind had picked up and the snow was coming down hard in big flakes. Visibility was dropping fast.
Dad shook his head. “You go in. I don’t want to go in.”
“What?”
“I’ve still got some things to think about, Charlie. You’re going to get frostbite out here. You shouldn’t be out here, buddy. I’ll meet you inside. You go ahead. Be safe.”
Charlie felt a pang of pain in his stomach, a warm pit of anxiety starting to boil up toward his chest. “Dad,” he pleaded, starting to panic. “NO. Come in with me now, or Kevin or Mom are gonna have to come out here, and it won’t be safe for them.” He cleared his throat and started to shout. “It’s not safe for us either. We have to go in. YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY. You’re driving Mom crazy too.” He yelled over the sound of the wind starting to howl. All of his anger bubbled up and he felt his heart clench. Charlie’s head was pounding and his eyes watered and nose started to run. He wiped at his wet face with a glove, and he never had felt so crazy hot and freezing cold at the same time. “Stop acting like this, like a baby. Just COME INSIDE. And lie down. Goddamm it, I’m not going in without you. So you’d better GET THE HELL UP.”
Something in Dad seemed to snap to attention, because he opened his eyes wide. And then he stood.
“I’m sorry,” Dad said. “Go ahead. I’ll follow you.”
And that’s when Charlie got the strangest feeling of all. He got the impression that if he went first, he would be returning home alone. That he’d start down the dock, and when he reached land he would look back, and there would be nothing left but the white storm swirling behind him.
“No,” Charlie announced, feeling his cheeks burn. Ice was starting to form on the ends of his hair. “No. You go first.” He gritted his teeth to growl at Dad. “I’ll follow you. GO.”
Dad looked down at his youngest son. And he finally caved in. He turned and started to walk back down the dock, toward home. Head hanging down, eyes blinking against the stinging gusts of wintry air.
Charlie said that when they got back, Dad started a fire. Dad kept dropping the wood because his hands were blue and numb. His whole body was shivering uncontrollably. Once they got the fire started, he brought his dad many blankets and a hot coffee and told him to lie on the couch. The snow in Dad’s hair melted and dripped down his neck as if he was sweating on a hot day. Dad was feverish and didn’t seem to know where he was at times.
When Mom got home, ranting about how bad the roads were, Charlie didn’t say anything about what had happened. Dad did not either. He lay comatose on the couch all afternoon, wrapped in his blanket, looking sick and shaking and unable to warm up for a long time.
“My point is, I promise you, it’s not Dad,” Charlie says to Victoria to end his story. “Dad would never hurt me. Please just stop bugging me about it, okay?”
“Charlie.” Victoria frowns. “Okay. I believe you.”
“Yeah, buddy,” Aidan says, resting his head on one hand. “Sorry. I didn’t know your dad was . . . like that.”
I’m sorry too. I stare at Charlie. You shouldn’t have to take care of your own Dad.
We hear Gretel breathing and bumping her head against the door. Victoria gets up and lets her in, closing the door once more. Gretel trots right over to the bed, so everyone can pet her.
“If it’s someone at school, you know, you could tell me,” Aidan goes on. “Maybe I know the kid. Maybe I could tell him to back off. At least I’d know what we’re dealing with. What the angles are. How we could approach it.”
“Okay, thanks,” Charlie states, but he’s looking down at his knees. “Look, let’s forget about it, okay? Just drop it. My mom is getting really worried, and that’s the last thing she needs right now.”
“We’re all worried, Charlie. But okay. For now.” Victoria stands up next to Gretel, who is wagging her tail. She looks at the boys, from one to the other. “I could use a little help getting Aidan out of here unnoticed. Think you could help us? I’m going to go into Mom’s bedroom and get into bed with her to make sure she’s sleeping. You stand guard and distract Kevin if he comes out of his room.”
Charlie grimaces. I don’t think he loves that idea.
But when Charlie sees their eager faces, it must occur to him: They are offering to help him, and they need his help in return. And maybe this would be beneficial for everyone.
Go ahead, Charlie. Help them now, and maybe they will help you later.
I search Aidan’s face. At one point I thought he was Charlie’s bully. Now I wonder: Could he be Charlie’s savior? Could he find the bully in school, confront him, and make it all stop? Could it really work? Could it possibly be that easy?
I’m not entirely sure.
But I do think Aidan could be intimidating if he wanted to be. I’m sure I am not the only one who sees that potential in him.
“All right.” Charlie shrugs. He rubs his arms with both hands, and I think he must be getting cold from having no shirt on. I get up and rub against his feet, so he picks me up and holds me to his chest. I have a lot of body fat, which on top of the fur makes me a nice warming device.
“Thanks,” Victoria whispers. “I’ll go first.” She leaves the room.
“Hey,” Aidan says to Charlie as he stands up and stretches. “You did a good job. With your dad. Getting him to come inside.” Aidan grabs his sweatshirt off the floor and pulls it over his head. “I probably would have given up.”
Charlie nods cautiously.
I am impressed too! I didn’t know Charlie made Dad come inside during that snowstorm. He’s a smart, courageous boy.
And I am terrifically relieved. I knew Dad wouldn’t hurt Charlie. This time, I was right.
While carrying me, Charlie follows Aidan out to the hallway. We watch Aidan make his way down the stairs in the dark as quietly as he can. And then we go back to bed.
I am fairly sure Kevin did not hear anything. I certainly hope he did not. I know he would never approve.
Chapter 25
Gorgeous
Later that week, Charlie comes home and he is not alone. I am very surprised, but it is not Karen who walks up the front steps with him.
No, it is Ronaldo! I am surprised.
I suppose Ronaldo must have the day off from sailing. Sure enough, I never hear the yellow bus rolling into the parking lot across the street.
It’s funny, but to see Charlie and Ronaldo together makes me realize that all of Charlie’s friends are girls. Kevin has several male friends who come over from time to time, to play video games or watch TV or eat Mom’s spaghetti. But Charlie has never had a b
oy over that I remember.
“Kevin?” Charlie calls out, from the foot of the stairs. But Kevin is not here. Charlie lets out the breath he’s been holding, and then shows Ronaldo where to put his sneakers, on the mat.
On the mat! Charlie lines his sneakers up too, nice and straight. Well, well, well. I’ve never seen that before. I think Charlie is acting very grown-up.
Charlie and Ronaldo make themselves a snack and then settle onto the green couch in the living room at the front of the house. They look very cozy, with a bowl of corn chips and a plate of peanut butter sandwiches between them. I jump up to sit behind Charlie on the back of the couch. His hand absentmindedly reaches up to scratch between my ears, and I look down at the boys.
“What’s your cat’s name?” Ronaldo asks.
“Lily. Isn’t she gorgeous?”
“Very much so.”
Well! I like this Ronaldo already. He has good taste.
“She has pretty eyes, doesn’t she?” Charlie smiles up at me.
“Oh, sure.” Ronaldo picks a pillow up off the floor and sticks it in the corner of the couch so he can lean back and face Charlie. “Although her eyes aren’t as nice as yours, Charlie.”
Charlie’s eyes flicker to the side, but he doesn’t turn his head. He just shrugs, acting like it’s every day of the week that a boy sits next to him on this couch in the living room and compliments his looks.
He doesn’t respond at all. I think he is frozen with Not-Knowing-What-To-Say.
But honestly, it is true. Charlie’s eyes are clear and kind.
They might—might—be even more attractive than mine. I can’t really say one way or the other, because I’ve never seen my own eyes.
Minutes go by. The faces of the boys glow, and I don’t think either one of them is really watching the TV, although they study it intently, as if they are learning something important and must listen very carefully.
The noise from the TV is quiet at times, and blaringly loud at others. I start to drift off to sleep.
