by R. R. Banks
I shook away the thought, refusing to give her another minute of thought. She had already taken so much from me. She didn't deserve anything else.
My thoughts drifted back to Thanksgiving. I had the same plans for the day that I did every other year. I would work in the morning and then sit down to watch the football game, even though it tortured me to see it. I reached into the refrigerator and pulled out everything I needed to make a sandwich for lunch. Maybe this would be the year that I tried to have some semblance of a celebration. I knew that I had a chicken in the freezer. I could pull that out and let it thaw over the next couple of days. It wasn't quite a turkey, but roasted up with some vegetables and potatoes, it would be a more elaborate meal than I would usually sit down to and maybe it would give the day a bit more of a Thanksgiving feel. I didn't know why I was even thinking that way. It was as though there was something inside me telling me that this year needed to be different.
I built my sandwich on the kitchen counter and put it on a plate with a handful of potato chips and a large scoop of potato salad. My mother had always teased me for my taste in food. It was one of the few things about me that hadn't changed even after the injury, even after my focus in school changed. Even after the money started rolling in. I went into college eating like a teenage boy at a family picnic in the middle of the summer and I still ate like a teenage boy at a family picnic in the middle of the summer. I always felt like Mama thought that I should have let my wealth affect me more than it did. It wasn't that she didn't like who I was. I was her only son. She just wanted me to separate myself from the darkness that chased both of us. It was almost as though she thought that as soon as my software career took off or when I finally sold the program that brought me enough to disappear into the woods, I should be eating nothing but lobster and caviar and washing it all down with swigs of champagne. I had never been able to develop a taste for that stuff. I stuck to my sandwiches, potato salad, and beer.
The pain in my leg was getting worse, but I continued to stand, knowing that if I sat down, even for a few minutes, the pain would be much worse when I stood again. It was better to just push through until the end of the day. As I leaned against the counter eating, occasionally tossing a chip or piece of meat down to Scout, I peered out of the picture window and wondered about the smoke coming from the cabin down the mountain. I wondered what kind of people had decided to rent the cabin. Was it a family? A couple on their honeymoon, wanting some privacy and dreaming of the romance of snowflakes drifting gently around them? I sincerely hoped that wasn't the case. Unless they were very familiar with the mountain and the dangers that it could present, they weren't going to think that the snow was so romantic after the first couple of feet fell.
When I finished my lunch, I rinsed the plate and tucked it into the dishwasher. Sometimes I felt guilty for even having a dishwasher. Scout didn't use many dishes, which meant that I often ran the appliance when there were only a couple of plates, bowls, and utensils inside. It wasn't the most efficient use of energy, but no matter how long I spent on the mountain, washing dishes by hand was just something I couldn't stand. There were still a few hours left of daylight and I had work to finish. I turned to call Scout to come out with me, but I found him curled up in front of the wood-burning stove, sound asleep. He was all the family I needed now. I smiled at the little deserter and walked back outside into air that was already feeling distinctly colder.
Chapter Three
Charlotte
I wish I could have slept later the next morning, but just as I always did, I was up when the sun had barely lightened the horizon. I laid in the narrow wooden bed and stared at the ceiling for several minutes before I moved. I didn't want to climb out from the warm cocoon created by the quilt. The frost creating a beautiful sparkling pattern across the window panes told me that the temperature had dropped overnight. I dreaded emerging into the chill of the cabin, but even more, I dreaded facing my family. Even though they had spent the rest of the evening acting as though the argument had never happened, I knew that I needed to make my apologies. I had overreacted to the situation and I knew that my sisters didn't deserve to have their joy dampened by my sensitivity. Finally, I braced myself and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My toes touched the wooden floor and I felt them recoil. The planks were like ice and sent a sharp, stinging shiver through my body. I held my feet up for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and jumped out of the bed. I immediately scurried over to my slippers and bathrobe and wrapped myself tightly in them. I knew that the rest of the family was still sleeping. Unlike me, their bodies weren't unshakably tied to their sleep routine. If they didn't have a specific reason for getting up early, they didn't. I knew that the little ones would be waking up soon enough and that would mean the domino effect of wakening for the rest of the adults, so I cherished the few moments of solitude that I had.
Grasping my toiletry bag and clothes for the day to my chest, I scurried out of the room and rushed to the nearby bathroom. A long shower thawed me out and by the time that I had dried and styled my hair, dressed, and done my makeup, I felt as prepared as I could for the day. I went to the kitchen and explored the cabinets until I found a coffee maker and supplies. Soon the smell of fresh, dark coffee filled the cabin. Filling a cup, I walked out of the back door onto an enclosed porch. It was colder out here than it was inside the cabin, but the walls did provide some protection from the chill outside. I stood close to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out over the peaceful morning. The sun had just risen, and rays of golden light were glowing in the rich hues of red, yellow, and orange of the foliage. These colors stood in bold contrast to the green of the towering pines. I took a long sip of the coffee and let out a sigh as the hot liquid seeped through my body. I heard footsteps behind me and I turned to see Madeline step out onto the porch with me. She, too, was holding a steaming mug in one hand, but the little paper label hanging over one side told me that she had opted for herbal tea rather than the coffee.
She smiled at me as she stepped up beside me and looked out over the woods as I had been doing. She took a sip of her tea and sighed. I smiled. Even though there were so many things about us that were so different, it was nice when I noticed the ways that all us sisters were alike.
"Listen, Madeline, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for the way that I acted last night."
"Oh, Charlotte," she said, turning to me and shaking her head so that her thick ringlets bounced around her shoulders. "You don't have to say that you're sorry."
"Yes, I do," I said. "I shouldn't have reacted like that. That was your moment and I was horrible about it."
Madeline looked back at the window and gave a little shrug.
"You did kind of steal my thunder," she said.
I made a big gasp of mock horror and gently nudged my sister. She laughed and then shot me a playful glare.
"Hey, be careful. I'm pregnant, you know."
"I know," I said. "And I'm so happy for you. I know that this is what you and William have wanted since you got married."
"We have," she said, suddenly looking dreamy and whimsical, almost like she was looking through me into some vision of her future. "I still can't believe it's true." She pressed her hands to her belly and looked down at them. "I've never been happier."
I wished that I knew what to say to her. I was happy for her. I truly was. But I couldn't connect with the sheer joy that was on her face. Madeline looked up at me and I saw her expression change. She looked slightly drawn, as if she was worried about me.
"I guess that you and Miranda will have a lot to talk about this week," I said, hoping to distract her and push past the look she was giving me.
"We will," she agreed. "But I'd like to talk to you, too."
"What do you want to talk to me about?" I asked casually, taking a sip from my coffee.
"Charlotte, you know that they don't mean any harm. They only want what's best for you."
"That's what they say
," I said.
"You don't believe them?"
"It's hard to believe that someone wants the best for you when all they do is criticize you and imply that you've somehow ruined their lives by not getting married and having children."
"I don't think that they think that you've ruined their lives," Madeline said. "But you have to admit, it is strange."
"What's strange?"
"How much you've changed."
I looked at my sister, surprised by the comment. There were many things that I expected her to say, but that wasn't one of them.
"I've changed?" I asked incredulously. "That's what this is all supposed to be about? How have I changed?"
"Well," she said, her voice quieter now as if she were trying to keep me calm. "We all thought that you would be the first one to get married. You and Daniel have been together forever."
"Had," I emphasized. "Had been together forever. We aren't together anymore."
"You had been together forever," Madeline corrected herself. "You two had been together for years even before Miranda met Seth. All of us thought that the two of you were just going to run off into the sunset and have this absolutely amazing life together. There were pools to see when you were going to drop out of college so that you could go ahead and get married." She took a breath. "But you never did."
"Nope," I said my emotions suddenly feeling dulled as I looked at her, feeling as though she were just another of the people looking down on me. No longer my little sister, she was part of the wall that I felt had formed between me and some semblance of a life. "We never did. And you know what? You're right. I have changed. I've changed so much. But all for the better. I'm stronger now. More confident. I feel like I've finally found myself. And while it might be hard for you and the others to believe, and it's difficult to really experience sometimes, I'm happier, too."
"How could you be happier?" Madeline asked. "It's only been a few months since the two of you broke up, and you won't even talk about what happened. You've spent so much of your life with him, Charlotte. How can you be happier now that he's not here?"
Because it was feeling strong and confident that gave me what I needed to actually leave him.
I opened my mouth to say it, but I couldn't. I didn't know how much of my history with Daniel, Madeline knew. With as dismissive as my mother was when I told her that I was unhappy and even afraid of Daniel, even going so far as to tell me that I was being too dramatic being so upset the night that he slapped me hard enough to bring the taste of blood to my lips and a faint bruise to my cheekbone that made my application of makeup thick for several days. That night I ran home to my mother, wanting her comfort, wanting to tell her what happened, only to learn that Daniel had already called her. He wanted to make sure that I was alright, Violet told me. He said that I was in a fit and stumbled on the steps and he tried to catch me. She believed him. I went back to my apartment, waiting for him to show up, and cried.
Madeline had seemed so young when that happened. Far too young for me to confide in her about what I was going through. I would never blame anyone but Daniel for what I had gone through with him. The only thing I could blame myself for was how long I stayed. There were times, though, when I wondered how my parents could have missed it. How they couldn’t have seen how a relationship that had begun when we were young teenagers had gone so quickly from doting to jealous to controlling to abusive. That word still felt bitter and out of place on my tongue. Though I had finally come to a time when I was able to accept that that was what it was, what it had always been, I felt strange putting voice to it, or even thinking it. Confidence had come to me slowly and gradually, but once I found it, my self-awareness had come quickly, explosively, and the relationship had crumbled. There were days when I felt like I was still pulling myself out of the rubble. But I was there. I was surviving.
My little sister wasn't so young now. She gazed at me through the eyes of a wife and soon to be a mother. I hoped that those eyes would be different than the ones that had looked at me. I hoped that they would see if her child needed her. For now, they were eyes that stared at me as though they were searching for the person I used to be. I wanted to tell her why my relationship with Daniel had ended, but I didn't know if she would believe me. I didn't know if she would be capable of accepting it as reality. I had seen that so much. People wanted to believe in love. They wanted to believe that the beautiful, well-bred couples who had been together their whole lives would continue on for the rest of them. They didn't want to think that there was so much more to the relationship when doors closed, and smiles faded.
I knew that it wouldn't do any good to tell Madeline what had happened between us. Not yet, anyway. Maybe someday there would be a time when I would tell each of my sisters. For now, I just wanted to put it behind me. I wanted to let the holiday happen and then go home and continue to move forward. I knew that the harder I pushed back against any of them, the more unpleasant it was going to become, and that wasn't what I wanted from this week.
"Right now, I'm happier because I'm here with my family," I told her.
Before she could say anything else, we heard the sound of four little feet running down the steps followed by the slower, less enthusiastic steps of the other adults in the house. The sun was fully risen now. The morning had really begun.
We spent the rest of the day together, playing games, sharing memories, and going through the packets of food that the cook had sent along with my parents, along with detailed instructions on how to prepare the Thanksgiving meal. They couldn't understand why I found this so hilarious, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I started to feel like the family was really coming together and I was able to relax. I was lying across the bed in my room reading in the late afternoon, enjoying the peaceful quiet that had fallen over the cabin when both of Miranda's children had gone down for a nap when I heard my mother's voice from the front of the house.
"You're here!" she exclaimed happily.
I thought that one of the children might have woken up and snuck downstairs to try to surprise her, but then I heard her calling for me. I reluctantly put down my book and slipped my feet back into my slippers so that I could shuffle out into the rest of the house. I was coming around the corner, starting to ask when we would eat dinner, when my blood ran cold and my steps halted beneath me. I felt my hands trembling and a tightness in my throat that made it hard to breathe.
"Hello, Charlie."
My name isn't Charlie. My name is Charlotte.
I couldn't bring the words to my lips. I felt like my voice had died in my throat and there was nothing that I could do to force it forward.
"Charlotte?" My mother said, a hint of urging in her voice like she was trying to cajole a child into saying thank you for a gift from a distant relative. "Don't you have something to say?"
"What are you doing here?"
The perfect, cultured smile on Daniel's face didn't change as he took a step toward me.
"I came to see you, Charlie."
"Isn't it sweet?" my mother asked, fairly gushing as she stepped up beside Daniel and put a hand on either shoulder, giving him a squeeze as she guided him forward another step.
"What are you doing here?" I asked again. "Why are you here?"
"Well, Charlotte, what a silly question," my mother said.
"Daniel got in touch with us," my father said, stepping into the entryway from the living room. "We've been talking over the last several weeks."
I turned to look at my father, not believing that I had really heard what I thought that I had just heard.
"You've what?" I asked.
"Daniel called us," my father continued. "He has been so worried about you and he wanted to make sure that you were doing alright."
"Worried about me?"
I felt like I had been reduced to just repeating what people were saying around me, not able to fully form a thought of my own.
"Yes," my mother said. "He's just been sick with wor
ry."
Did people actually say that?
Daniel took another step toward me and I fought not to take a step back from him. I didn't want him to see me back down from him or to show the fear that was creeping up the back of my neck.
"Why?" I asked.
"Why?" Daniel asked, manufactured concern making his voice high. "Charlie, you don't need to lie. You don't need to pretend. You're safe. We're your family. It's alright to talk about what's been bothering you."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't worry, honey. It's OK," my father said. "Daniel told us that you've been going through a lot of stress with work and that you might have gotten into some situations that you haven't known how to handle. That's what caused you to end your relationship so hastily."
"But it's alright," Daniel said, taking another step closer and reaching for my hand. "I understand. I know that things can get difficult when you are trying to have it all, but you don't have to impress anyone."
That was the moment I noticed that there were snowflakes on his shoulders and melting in his hair. It had begun to snow outside, but what I would have usually found magical was lost on me in that moment.
"Daniel reassured us that he has no hard feelings," my mother said. "He's not angry with you. He loves you and wants you to know that he's here for you."
"Violet and Greg were gracious enough to invite me to come up here and spend Thanksgiving with the family. It will give us time to reconnect."
Violet and Greg.
I knew that Daniel had known my parents for most of his life, even before the two of us started dating in high school, but the familiarity with which he talked about them made my skin crawl. I looked at my parents, both of whom were gazing at me with hope in their eyes, and then at my sisters, who stood just inside the living room, watching cautiously.
