by Quell T Fox
Fucking years.
I don’t think I’ve seen her this happy since she graduated from nursing school.
Once I reach their side, I look down at the girl, a mix of anger, jealousy, and sadness washing over me. It’s not her fault. She can’t be more than ten. But… fuck.
“Charlie, this is Fiona.” Mom gestures towards the small girl who looks up at me. Freckles dot along her nose and her cheekbones, light brown hair with the tiniest tinge of red shimmers in the bright sun.
“Hi, Charlie!” she says with a smile, walks to me and wraps me into a hug next. I can’t help but smile and hug her back. She pulls back and looks up at me with big, green eyes. “Wow, you’re so pretty!”
Okay, she’s not that bad.
“Thank you, Fiona. You’re quite beautiful yourself.” I wink at her and she shies away from me, skipping back to her father who is still nestled on the blanket, my mother now on the side of him.
I slowly make my way over to them, deciding I need to make the best of this.
It’s not their fault my mother made bad choices so I shouldn’t take it out on them. That’s just not fair.
“Charlie, I’ve heard so much about you.” Philip reaches his hand out and I meet his with a handshake. He’s decent looking, much older than Jonathan, that’s for sure. And suddenly I smile. Inside, I start to laugh until it’s bubbling out of me and I can’t stop. I laugh uncontrollably for so long the guy probably thinks I’m crazy. But I can’t help it. I realize just now, that whatever it is I’m feeling towards Jonathan, it’s totally not my fault. Clearly, having a thing for older men runs in my family.
“So how was meeting the new dad?”
I roll my eyes, twirling spaghetti around my fork.
“It wasn’t so bad,” I say before taking a bite. “He seems cool.”
Michael picked me up a little while ago for our dinner date that I asked him out to. I’ve been worried this entire time about having to have this conversation with him but it needs to happen.
Even though I asked him, he chose the spot. We’re at an Italian place right outside of town. I’ve been here once before with my mother and Jonathan. It’s not a super fancy place, but I’m glad I opted for a light blue sundress and sandals. Michael looks as put together as he normally does with his khaki Chino shorts and white Polo. Daring, if you ask me, coming to an Italian restaurant and wearing white. If I’d have known this is where we would end up, I’d have worn black. Thankfully, I haven’t spilled anything on me yet.
It isn’t busy here and we were able to get a table up on the second floor, right by the large picture window that overlooks the lake. I find myself staring out the window often, taking in the serene image in front of me.
“What’s going on?” He looks at me with a smile.
“What do you mean? Nothing is going on,” I respond, taking a sip of my water.
“You look occupied. What’s on your mind?”
I blink a few times, trying to find my words.
I let out a sigh. “I just…” I sit back in my chair, using my straw to stir my drink. “I just want to be clear about what’s going on with… us.”
He tilts his head to the side, regarding me. “Us?
“This,” I correct, pointing between the both of us.
“Okay.” The corner of his mouth lifts up into a teasing smile. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m listening.” A humorous look is gleaming in his eye, and for some reason it makes me more nervous.
I decide to let it all out. Just say it. What’s the worst that can happen? He gets upset and leaves? It’s going to happen eventually.
“I’m going back to school at the end of the summer. I need to finish school, get my degree. I can’t focus on—”
“A relationship?” he asks, that smirk still on his lips.
I shrug a shoulder. “Basically.”
“Charlie, I’m not looking for a relationship either, okay? We haven’t done much talking, which in no way is a complaint, it just means we don’t know much about one another. So let’s change that, yeah? I’m spending the summer here to visit my mom and meet with some potential clients that dad is hoping to bring on board. I travel a lot for work and will continue to do so for a while. Settling down is not in my near future, so no worries there.”
His easiness of speaking about this and to me makes me feel better and now I feel stupid for even worrying at all.
He waves his hand in front of him, gesturing for me to go next.
“I came back to visit my mom as well. Came back to something entirely different than what I was expecting, but it’s been good so far. I’ve been having fun at school, college is an interesting experience.”
“What are you studying?”
“Education.”
“Oh, a teacher? That’s kind of hot, Charlie.” He winks and it makes me laugh. “So, would you be opposed to dressing up for me?” He smiles that big, toothy grin that I’m sure all girls fall for.
“I think I could arrange that,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip.
We spend the rest of the evening chatting and getting to know one another. It’s fun and carefree, and suddenly, after the day I’ve had, for some strange reason I feel lighter than I have since the moment I got off the plane.
Chapter 23
Charlotte
Since Jonathan has moved out, I find myself alone in the house often and it’s starting to become tiring. I came home to visit my mom and not that I expected her to be here with me the entire time but I expected her to be here more than she has been.
She definitely works more now than she has before. Something that must have changed once I left. I mean, she always worked a lot, but this is extreme. But, if her and Jonathan were having problems and she’s suddenly dating a doctor, I guess being at the hospital makes sense.
I keep my ass parked in front of the TV for most of the afternoon, watching some cooking show. It gets me in the mood to make something and I figure what the hell. I push myself up from the couch and rummage through the fridge. Mom went shopping a few days ago, so luckily there is a good array of food to choose from. I pull out a bunch of random things, figuring I can make some kind of good concoction. Chicken and a bunch of vegetables. I guess making a stir fry should be easy enough.
It’s not that I hate cooking, I just don’t do it often enough. I didn’t cook much when I was here before, always living off of take out and I do pretty much the same thing while in school. Living on campus doesn’t give me the freedom to cook.
But here I am, got this whole house to myself. I may as well use the kitchen. Cooking is a skill we all need, so I should probably start figuring it out now before I’m really on my own.
I chop up some peppers and put them in a bowl. Next I move on to the onions. They must be extra ripe because my eyes are tearing like crazy. I blame my hand slipping on the fact they are extra juicy and not being able to see. I don’t realize what’s happened at first, but when my hand begins to burn and the cutting board is flooding with blood, it hits me.
“Shit!” I drop the knife into the sink and grab the dish towel that’s on the counter, wrapping my whole hand in it.
I pick up my cell from the end of the counter and dial my mother. She doesn’t answer. I go to the cork board and find her number and extension for the hospital, the one that’s listed for emergencies. I dial that number, nearly dropping my phone with how shaky my hands are, and noting the dishrag soaking with blood. Maybe I should be calling 911 instead.
Working in a hospital is not something I could ever do, unless it were in the gift shop or something. I don’t do well with blood and that sort of thing. So this right now, this is taking a toll on me, but I try my best to keep it together and remember my basic first aid training Mom taught me.
“Grand Wing nurses station, how can I help you?”
“Allison Evans, please.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Yes, this is her daughter. Charli
e.”
“Charlie, sweetie, your mom isn’t working tonight.” The line is silent for a moment. “Is everything okay?”
“Y-yeah, everything is fine.” The words are practically a whisper, in fact, I’m not sure I spoke them at all.
I press the button on my phone to end the call, my hand still shaking. I dial my mother again and still no answer.
I do the last thing I can think of. Scrolling through my contacts, I hit the green call button.
I’m sitting at the table, trembling and probably pale. I haven’t looked at the cut on my hand, but I can tell it’s bleeding a lot by the small droplets of blood dripping from the towel and landing on the floor. I’ll need stitches for sure. All I can hope is that my finger is actually still attached. I should probably wrap my hand tighter, find a way to stop the bleeding but even the thought of having to see what shape my hand is in makes me queasy.
If I weren't so occupied with the pain in my hand, I'd be more worried about the fact my mother lied to me.
The door opens, slamming against the back wall. Mom used to yell at me for that all the time. It hit so hard this time, I swear there has to be a hole in it.
“Charlotte, are you okay?”
Jonathan rounds the table, his eyes widening when he sees me.
“Oh my god. When did this happen? Why didn’t you call 911?” He sounds angry but I know it’s just because he is worried about me.
“I called Mom at work. She told me she was working but…” My eyes sting with tears, the emotional turmoil of everything finally hitting me. I try to be strong, act like things don’t bother me. I try to just live my life, but… it’s not always easy.
“Come on, baby.” He walks towards me, scooping me up from the chair, one arm under my knees and the other around my back. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
“I’ll bleed all over your car.”
He shakes his head vigorously. “You think I give a fuck about my car?” He manages to get out the door and close it without letting me go. “That’s a lot of blood. You got yourself good.”
He squats down a little, pulling the car door open and setting me down on the tan leather seat. At least if I do get blood on it, it should wash off pretty easily, right?
He wraps the seatbelt around me and buckles it. After closing the door he rushes around the other side and we’re off to the hospital. We make it there in record time and Jonathan parks his car right in front of the ER doors, in a no parking zone.
“Your car…” I say, my voice weak. My hand has been bleeding a while and the pain is almost unbearable at this point. I feel dizzy and tired. The smell of the blood alone is making me want to vomit. I know it’s my nerves making this worse, but I can’t seem to calm myself enough.
“They can fucking tow it,” he growls, storming into the ER with me in his arms once again and pushing past the line of people to stop at the front desk. “She needs a room,” he states. My eyes are closed and I’m focusing on not throwing up. Who would have thought I’d feel this shitty over a cut on my hand from a kitchen knife? I really must have gotten myself good if it’s this bad. “Now!” he shouts, causing me to startle. The entire room turns silent, no doubt wanting to catch a glimpse of the crazy man carrying the bleeding woman.
I raise my hand up, patting him on the chest. “Take it easy.”
“Sir, you’re going to have to fill these forms out first.” The nurse’s voice has a bit of a tremble to it.
“Do I look like I can fill anything out right now?” His voice is as cold as ice, full of unspoken threats and it has me smiling.
So feisty.
“It’s fine.” Someone from the side of us says. “Sit her here and we will get her to the back. You can fill out the forms there.” I look over to see a male nurse standing behind a wheelchair.
“Thank god. Someone who knows what they’re doing.” His voice is cocky and it makes me almost laugh. We start to move again. “Sir, the chair?”
“I’d rather carry her, thanks.”
Chapter 24
Charlotte
Six stitches later and I’m sitting up in the hospital bed, sipping on some ginger ale. I’d have been discharged by now but I ended up passing out—over the sight of the cut and nothing more—so they wanted me to stay a while for observation. Make sure it won’t happen again. Just in case. I appreciate them being thorough, but I just want to go home.
I am exhausted. I want my bed and to sleep for a week straight.
Jonathan is sitting on the side of me, chair pushed against the bed. His hand is holding mine, his thumb brushing along my knuckles in a way that calms me more than anything else I’ve found.
And I wonder… could this be a thing?
Jonathan and I? Can this be more than what it is?
More than just a game?
It sure feels like it. But I worry too many people would have something to say. That my mother would disown me. And it’s not even the fact that he’s my stepdad or ex-stepdad. Outside of this town, no one would ever know that. It’s the age difference. He’s nineteen years older than me, twice my age. I bet most people would think I was his actual daughter, or worse, they’d look at him like he’s a creep. I have to make a decision, and I have to stick to it.
I inhale deeply, opening my eyes.
“How are you feeling?” he asks softly.
“Tired.”
“I tried calling your mother, but she didn’t answer.”
I nod. “She said she was at work but I called and she isn’t here.”
“I know. I asked the nurse earlier.” Pity. It’s what I hear in his voice and it hurts more than it should.
“Is this… is this what she did to you?” I turn my head towards him. His bright eyes meet mine. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn't have to.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
“How can you be okay with this?”
This is the first time he and I are having a normal conversation. No sex. No games. Just real conversation.
“Because of you.”
His words hit me right in the chest. The emotion is so deep that I have to turn away.
“Just a game. Remember?” I don’t know why I say the words. We both know this is more than a game. Maybe I want to see how he responds, what he has to say to that. I’m hurt over my mom. She lied to me. Where is she? What is she doing? She’s probably with him… and his daughter. And I’m upset with Jonathan… why? I have no idea. For being so much older than me. For having fucked my mother. For not being in the right place at the right time so he can be mine and mine alone?
“Is it, Charlotte?” I feel his eyes boring into the side of my face as he stares at me but I don’t have it in me to look back at him, see the emotion in his eyes, because it’ll scare the shit out of me.
I’ve fantasized and dreamed about this man for three years. A man that I thought I could never have.
And now here he is, here we are, and I’m pretty sure he’s telling me he wants something more… more than just sex. More than just getting off on watching me with other guys. More than the games we started out with.
I’m about to say something, to tell him I want that too. It doesn’t have to be just a game anymore. I’m tired of being lonely, of having nothing because it’s all I’ve ever had my entire life. Nothing.
Yeah, Mom was with me, but she never made the time to actually be by my side. She was there, raising me and watching me grow, yet it still felt like it was just me and myself.
But the nurse walks in, shattering my resolve and breaking the moment.
“Miss Evans! The doctor has cleared you to go home. I have some paperwork for you to take with you. If you could just sign here, you can be on your way.”
I take the pen and sign the paper. She hands me a bunch more that I place on the bed beside me, knowing I’ll only throw them away when I get home. When she leaves the room, I sweep my legs over the side of the bed and try to get
my shoes on. I’m met a moment later by Jonathan, down on one knee, holding my foot and placing my shoe on for me.
This man.
This fucking man.
“Jonathan…”
He shakes his head slowly. “It’s okay, Charlotte.” He looks up with a sad smile. “It’s just a game.” He winks and my heart shatters.
Because I don’t want this to be just a game any longer.
I want this to be more.
Chapter 25
Charlotte
Three days and I’ve barely spoken to anyone. It’s not normal for me to feel so down and depressed for so long, but it happens every now and then. The world catching up on me and my brain needing a break.
My phone has stayed on silent, but I watch as it lights up with notifications. I don’t bother checking any of them, not in the mood to talk to anyone.
Mom has been working—though I can’t actually be sure where she is—almost 24/7. She doesn’t even know I went to the hospital the other day. Not unless someone there recognized me and told her, but if she knows, she hasn’t checked on me. I’ve spent this alone time lying in bed, or lounging around on the couch and watching TV, nursing my hand back to good health. I need some time to myself to process and figure my shit out. My brain is full, on overload, and I need to clear it out.
I’ve been here for four weeks already. How is that even possible? Four weeks, twenty eight days and I’ve spent little more than an hour with my mother on only three occasions.
Something niggling at the back of my mind tells me exactly where she is and as much as I believe it to be true, I don’t want it to be.
How can it be so easy for her to just give up this life and move onto another? Choosing to be in the life of another little girl over spending time with the one she has? I mean, I saw it when I was younger. I saw the steady stream of men coming and going before Jonathan showed up. But I was still a part of that life. This feels like I’m being kicked to the curb, forgotten because I’m of age and off to college. This should be the time she and I get along better, do more things together, shouldn’t it?
