Naturally, Charlie

by S. L. Scott

  Maybe she doesn’t know what happened between us. Maybe he lied and blamed me. I don’t know if I’ll ever find out, but I do know I can’t dwell on it. It’s not healthy for me to live in the dark any longer, especially not when the light feels so good.

  I’m nervous the next day while walking into work. I shouldn’t be, but I am. My stomach has been twisted into mini-knots all morning. I’m blaming those for the extra drink I have in my hand right now, passion fruit and mango iced tea from the deli downstairs—Rachel’s favorite.

  Am I sucking up or trying to butter her up? I shouldn’t have to. Charlie made the reason they aren’t going on another date sound mutual. I just hope that’s the truth. I really want that to be the truth, but I still need to talk to Rachel. That’s the right thing to do. I raise my chin up a degree and walk with more purpose and confidence toward her desk. Yes, this is the right thing to do. My only hesitation is that she might say she doesn’t want me to see Charlie again, even as friends.

  “Good morning,” I say, setting her drink down next to her. She is focused on her computer screen, but glances over and smiles.

  Spinning around, she grabs the drink, and sips. “Thank you, and good morning to you.” Her eyes flash to the drink again, then back to me. “This is a nice surprise.”

  As I lean against her desk, I attempt to play it off. “Yeah, I was going there anyway, so I thought I’d grab you one.”

  “That’s very thoughtful.” Her expression turns serious, and I just know she sees right through me. The guilt must be written across my face. Rachel hesitates before asking, “How are you? How was the funeral?”

  I do a mental brow wipe in relief before answering. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  She turns in her chair to face me, sipping her drink. I smile and try to sound casual. “You never told me how your date with Charlie went?”

  “There wasn’t much to tell.”

  “It’s not like you not to share.”

  She shrugs. “I just didn’t because I was a little disappointed. He’s a great guy, but he isn’t ‘the one.’ ”

  “But you also haven’t seemed like yourself.” I prod, hoping she opens up, needing more and hating to see her sad.

  “Paolo called to tell me he’s not coming back, and the whole dating scene here is out of vogue. I’m tired of being optimistic and everything fizzling before it gets started.”

  Dropping my purse to the floor, I set my drink down and move closer. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. Maybe it’s not about always looking, but letting things happen naturally.”

  “I want to be married, Charlie. I want to start a family. My sister is pregnant with her third, and she’s only two years older than I am. My parents are pressuring me to move home and settle down in Jersey.” She turns away briefly, her finger running through the condensation on the plastic cup. “I told everyone that I was bigger than Jersey when I left, but my life here is stagnant. I’ve been working here for over a year, and I’m still doing the same thing. It’s starting to get embarrassing when I go home for visits.”

  Though I’m not desperate to be settled right now, I remember how good it felt to be in a relationship, knowing that part of my life was determined and I had found my partner. That was a foolish dream, not reality.

  I rub her shoulder, hoping to comfort her. “You’re twenty-seven, Rach. It’s not like you don’t have time. You’re young and beautiful, a great friend, and a lot of fun to be around.”

  She wipes at her eyes. “I shouldn’t drag you down.” Taking a deep breath, she waves her hand in front of her face. “Enough with my pity party. Back to you. Tell me all about yesterday.”

  I look down, now more uncertain than ever if I should talk about Charlie or not. I don’t want to make her feel worse. I start with the funeral. “It was harder than I thought it would be. I expected Jim’s mother to either ignore me or say something snotty. She didn’t disappoint. In just a few sentences, she managed to remind me exactly how she feels about me.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Yes.” I close my eyes, gathering my strength because I need to confide in her. I open them and confess. “I ran into Charlie.”

  Her expression goes blank then several emotions flit across her face before settling into confusion. “Charlie? As in my Charlie? Charlie Adams?” Her arms rest defensively across her chest.

  No, this isn’t going to be easy.

  She looks away, but I can see the hurt tinged with a bit of anger in her face. “He was at Jim’s funeral?” she asks.

  How am I going to explain this without hurting her more? The truth. The truth is better than lying. “I ran into him when I was walking to the funeral. We started to talk after we recognized each other.”

  “Then you just asked him to go with you, or he was going already?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that.” Now that I think about it, it does seem strange, but my mind was muddled, and it felt right at the time. “He was going to a funeral, a different one. His great-aunt’s.” Her eyebrows are raised as she listens to me ramble on. “And it wasn’t awkward, so we decided to go to each other’s funerals. It was kind of spur of the moment.”

  “So, you took a date to Jim’s funeral?”

  “No,” I say, feeling defensive. “Not a date. Charlie. A friend.”

  “Since when are you and Charlie friends? You just met him. You know I went on a date with him the other night, and though we aren’t seeing each other romantically, he did ask me out first.”

  I grab my purse from the floor and stand upright. I’m not liking the direction this conversation is heading, and her tone is turning insulting. “It wasn’t a date, Rachel.”

  “Well, I hope not, because that would be awkward.” She turns back to her computer. “I have to get this to Mr. Allen before ten so . . .” She leaves her words hanging between us, but I get the message.

  “Okay.” Frustrated, I leave her alone and walk around to my cubicle. I drop my purse into the bottom drawer like I do every day, but I kick it closed harder than usual.

  That didn’t go how I wanted at all. I open my e-mails and start reading through them, hoping to distract myself from the guilt that’s building in my stomach. The guilt morphs into irritation fast, and I start to stew.

  “Charlie?”

  I lift my head up and see Rachel peeking over the wall.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For being weird. I didn’t mean to get defensive. I just . . . it’s just Paolo and . . .” She looks down. “Are you going to see him again?”

  “It wasn’t like that. We’re just friends.”

  “But you want to see him again, right?”

  I gulp, not comfortable with the confrontation. “I don’t know. We didn’t exchange numbers or anything like that.”

  “Well, that’s not a good sign.” She shrugs and then drops below the divider wall.

  No. It’s not going down like this. I push back from the desk and walk around the wall. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that you may have spent some time together, but it’s obvious it’s not a love connection since you didn’t exchange numbers.”

  I refuse to hold back any longer. “I already told you that it wasn’t like that. He was a great support at the funeral yesterday, and I think I was for him, too. We went and got drinks at a bar afterward, then ate dinner before calling it a day. It was the best non-date date I’ve had in a long time.”

  Her mouth is hanging ajar as my words sink in. “You haven’t been on a date in forever, Char, so that’s progress.” She seems reflective as she pauses. “I’m sorry again. Ugh! I’m just in a funk. I’m actually happy you had someone there for you.”

  “Wait! You are?”

  “I know yesterday was hard for you, and Charlie is a great guy. I bet it was good to have him there. Do you think he’s cute? I think he’s super cute.” And like that, the old Rachel retur
ns.

  My head is spinning a bit from her abrupt mood change. “I don’t know. He’s nice, and it was fun to talk with hi—”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? Just look at him, Charlie. The man is gorgeous.”

  I shrug. Something deep inside of me doesn’t want to admit I’m attracted to him. The problem is that my inner voice reminds me of that very fact more often than I like. That constant little voice of destiny is whispering in my ear, “Open your mind. He’s handsome and charming.”

  I look down at the plain grey mouse pad on her desk, running my finger along the fraying edges before I speak again. “Yesterday was a roller coaster of emotions. I’m glad I had someone on my side.” I look up at her and add, “I’m glad he was there. It’s what I needed. He was there to support me no matter what those gossipers had to say.”

  A sympathetic smile crosses her face. “I’m sorry. I should have been there for you. I trusted that you’d tell me if you thought you needed someone.”

  “I didn’t think I did. I thought I could face them alone, and had every intention to, but I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t like having him there. I did. He was a great comfort to me. So, I don’t know what happened between you two, and I don’t know if I want to, but I do value our friendship and would never want to betray you, which is why I’m telling you.”

  Her smile turns real, happy, a glint in her eyes. “You do, you like him. I can tell.” She points at me and her eyes widen as if she discovered that I’m keeping a secret from her. “You, my friend, like Mr. Charlie more than you’re letting on.”

  I playfully roll my eyes, then pretend I hear my cell phone buzzing to distract both her and myself from this topic. She laughs, and it’s boisterous and wonderful to hear. My face heats from embarrassment, and I start to laugh, too.

  “I can’t do a relationship right now, Rach. I won’t lie, he’s pretty damn dreamy, but it wasn’t about that. I liked how we were yesterday. It’s different between us. He’s different. He seemed to understand me and not judge. He’s a great listener, but he participates and talks, too.” Dropping my head into my hands, I say, “Friends. We agreed to be friends. Friends only.”

  I feel her rub my back gently. “Keep telling yourself that, and maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

  I return to my desk and she stays at hers, leaving me to sort through all these strange emotions. My desk phone rings, and when I answer, I hear Rachel say, “Tomorrow night we’re going out. There’s a place in Tribeca I want to check out. I’m not taking no for an answer, so I’ll assume your silence is a yes.”

  I just laugh, and she knows I’m in.

  Chapter 9

  Justin tosses me a bottle of beer as he flops onto the large chair next to the couch. I lean back after punching the couch cushion into a more comfortable shape.

  “So,” he says, “you want to hit it tonight? It is Friday, after all.”

  We’re watching the sports recap from the week on television and just polished off an extra-large pizza. “After that carb overload, sleep sounds good.” I moan for extra emphasis while rubbing my stomach.

  “Forget that! We’re going out. There are women in this city who haven’t had the pleasure of my company yet.” He stands and opens the door. “You’ve got one hour to recover. I’ll text you where to meet.”

  I throw a pillow, but it hits the back of the door, because he’s already gone.

  Rolling onto my side, I stare at the television. Do I want to go out? Not really. That just reminds me of my massive failing this week. If I’d gotten Charlie’s number, I would’ve asked her out for tonight. Short notice, but I hate those dating rules. If I like a girl, I call her right away because I want to see her. Why play games?

  I need a distraction, because the wallowing will ruin the day, so I get up.

  An hour and a half later, I’m at the bar of some pale blue fluorescent-lit, sleek and modern ultra-lounge in SoHo waiting on Justin to show. Two women have already approached me, but I’m not in the mood for that tonight.

  Justin saunters in, and I down the last of my Jack and Coke as he orders his drink. He turns to me and asks, “New suit?”

  “Newish.”

  “How’s the scene?” He leans his elbows on the bar and scopes out the place.

  “Boring.”

  “No hot chicks?”

  “Plenty of hot women.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  I sigh, setting my drink back down on the bar, and lie. “No problem.”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. I check the text, and my eyebrows rise in surprise. I hit Justin in the chest. “Cancel the drink. We’re leaving.”

  “What? No! I just made eye contact with the sweetie in the corner.”

  “The one in corner with the bachelorette party?”

  “Yep.”

  “No. Just no. They’re too young.”

  “They’re at least twenty-one.” I grab him by the tie and head for the door. “Fine,” he whines, and I drop my hand. “Where are we going anyway?”

  “Tribeca”

  I knew what was waiting for me when I walked into the club, but I didn’t expect to feel this way. My heart races, and I feel breathless. There she is—purple dress, sexy shoes, her hair is down with soft curls, eyes closed— swaying to the music. Charlie is beautiful, and I walk straight for her. Justin trails behind.

  “Damn! You see that girl?” he asks, walking past me.

  “I see her.”

  Rachel is next to Charlie, and at least three guys are vying for their attention. Justin stops right in front of Charlie, but as I approach, I shift him over.

  She opens her eyes and they connect with mine. Her mouth drops open as she steals a quick breath. “Charlie!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around my neck.

  Wrapping my arms tightly around her waist, I feel very possessive of her. I shoot the three stand-bys one glare each that says all they need to know: she’s with me.

  After they leave, I whisper into her ear, “Hi.” No great line or clever quip, just a simple greeting.

  By the time she releases me, it’s just us. Rachel and Justin are heading to the bar.

  Charlie looks up at me and smiles. “Hi. I didn’t know if I’d see you again.”

  “I’m here.”

  Dragging her hands down the front of my suit, her fingers grasp my lapels. “Yes, you are. You look nice.”

  “Thanks. You look . . .” I want to say “stunning” or “breathtaking.” Instead, I settle for, “Beautiful.”

  She’s shy and tilts her face away. “Thank you.”

  When she looks back, she drops her hands as if she realizes she shouldn’t be touching me in such a familiar manner. She doesn’t know how much I like her hands on me, at least she doesn’t know yet. I have hopes to clarify a few feelings tonight.

  Justin hands Charlie an orange-colored martini, and Rachel gives me a JD and Coke. “Thank you.”

  Rachel leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. Charlie watches, studying the interaction. “Nice to see you again,” I say. I look down at my drink, not wanting to give any mixed signals of why I’m here.

  “You look great,” Rachel replies, running her hand down my arm.

  I glance at Charlie who is looking more uncomfortable by the second. Reaching over, I rub her waist in reassurance. The action isn’t lost on Rachel. “Thanks.” I remain staring into Charlie’s eyes, enjoying the view. “You’re looking lovely tonight, also.”

  Rachel starts to flirt with both Justin and me, but I’ve come to realize that’s how she is with men. Justin is so entranced by her that he’s hanging on her every word, which is a good distraction for her.

  But for Charlie, it’s too late. She’s irritated, and spats out, “I’m going to the restroom.”

  She turns so abruptly that some of her drink splashes out of the glass. I follow behind.

  “Charlie, wait up!” It’s loud and I don’t know if she can hear me. Guys are ogling her as she
passes, a few saying hello, but she ignores them all. I call out once more. “Charlie, stop!”

  She does with a huff, looking over her shoulder. Her expression’s no longer playful like before. I can see her feelings are hurt. “I’ve got to use the bathroom.”

  “Then I’ll wait for you.”

  “No, I’m a big girl. I think I can manage my way back.”

  “Don’t do this.” My hand finds her shoulder, trying to calm her.

  She backs up, not wanting me to touch her. “Don’t do what? I’m going to the bathroom.” She’s saying one thing, but her defensiveness is obvious.

  “No, you’re escaping from a situation that you have all wrong.”

  Her hand flies to her hip, and her shoulders go back. “I have it all wrong? Listen, you don’t owe me anything. I don’t owe you anything. The other day,” she says, her hand waving wildly in the air, “was just two people doing each other a favor, I guess.” Her eyes drop to the ground, and she sighs. “That’s what I read all wrong.”

  “No, you didn’t. It meant something to me. That back there,” I signal toward Rachel and Justin, “doesn’t.”

  “You don’t have to answer to me, Charlie.” Her voice is quieter as she lowers her hand in defeat.

  I step closer, and this time she doesn’t move, which is good. Pulling her to the side for more privacy, I back her against the wall. “I came tonight because Rachel texted me and said you’d be here. I’m here for you, not her.”

  “She did?”

  I nod, and a small smile grows as she processes that information, her features softening under my gaze. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. Tough week . . . for both of us.”

  “Yeah, tough week.” I’ll blame the heaviness of the week if that makes it easier for her to accept the jealousy she just felt. “I’ll hold your drink and wait here if you still need to use the restroom.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  I watch as she pushes the door open, her body less rigid. She glances back over her shoulder, and our eyes meet before the door closes.