by C. C. Wood
After Derek left, Charlotte drifted upstairs back to the nursery. The ache was back in her breasts but she could summon the energy to do anything about it. Instead she sat in the glider by the crib and stared mindlessly at the room; the light blue walls, colorful pictures, and stuffed animals that she had painstakingly chosen for her son.
She knew she was wallowing but she wasn’t ready to let go. She might never be ready to let go of her little man, to accept that he was gone. In the three short months since he had been born, he had become her entire world. Now that world was crumbling, and Charlotte was lost.
Sometime later, the front door opened and closed. Charlotte heard it and wondered if Derek had returned because he had forgotten something or because he changed his mind. But it wasn’t her husband.
Brandy’s voice drifted up the stairs and into the nursery. “Charlie? Where are you?”
Charlotte didn’t answer, too lost in her thoughts to respond.
Brandy appeared in the doorway. “God, Charlie.” Brandy came over to the glider and sank down on her knees in front of her. Placing her hands over Charlotte’s, she said, “What can I do for you?”
Charlotte looked down. “Derek left. I’m completely alone now.” The words echoed in her head, but she still felt as though the reality had yet to sink in.
Brandy’s hands squeezed hers. “No, you are not. You have me. You will always have me. And you will always have Greg. We both love you too much to let you be alone.”
“How did you know?” Charlotte asked.
“Know what?”
“That Derek left.”
Brandy was silent. She clung when Charlotte tried to pull her hands away. “Wait, wait. Look, Greg saw Derek at the office and Derek told him. I came because Greg thought you were still too upset to see him.”
Charlotte laughed but the sound held little honest humor. It was almost a sob. “When did we go back to middle school?” she asked hoarsely.
Tears filled Brandy’s eyes. “Charlie, don’t. We can see how hard this is for you and neither of us want to make it more difficult.”
Blinking furiously, Charlotte looked away from her friend’s pleading face. She knew that her friends meant well, but she couldn’t bring herself to let it go. “I don’t know what that means, Brandy. There is no way to make this easier.” Her throat closed and she had to stop. She had to clear her throat before she could speak again. “What I need from you is honesty. Complete honesty. If you lie to me again, I won’t be able to forgive you. To me, you are more than a friend. You’re the sister I never had. Sisters and true friends don’t lie to one another. Even if the truth hurts, they share it and then help carry the burden and pain.”
Brandy rested her cheek on Charlotte’s knee. “Okay, Charlie. No more lies, I promise.” She lifted her face. “I can’t promise for Greg though.”
Charlotte’s lips tilted slightly, a suggestion of a smile. Greg was beyond stubborn and she and Brandy knew it too well. “That works.”
Her friend leaned in to embrace her. “I love you, Charro.”
Charlotte squeezed her friend tighter at the use of one of her old nicknames from college.
Brandy leaned back so that she was sitting on her knees. “Have you eaten anything today?” she asked. When Charlotte shook her head, she sighed. “Okay, I’m going to make you some food and this time you’ll eat it and keep it down.”
Charlotte nodded. She realized it had been almost thirty-six hours since she’d eaten a meal she hadn’t thrown up. She let her friend help her out of the chair, surprised at the stiffness in her limbs. She followed Brandy downstairs and let her friend take care of her for a while.
Chapter Three
A week later, Charlotte had settled into a routine of sorts. She would get up in the morning, usually after a restless night. The memories of that horrific moment were inescapable at night, when the house was dark and the neighborhood was quiet. Brandy would call and harass her into eating if she hadn’t already. The one time she ignored the phone, her friend had shown up on her doorstep and practically force fed her.
In the late morning, she would shower and drive to the cemetery. Charlotte would spend at least an hour, usually more, at Adam’s grave, telling him how much she missed him and about small things she experienced throughout the day before. Then she would stop at her parents’ graves, something she rarely did before Adam passed, but began to do often after his death. She needed to talk to someone, to vent the grief, anger, and deal with her wild mood swings. Even better that they couldn’t respond. She didn’t want to hear what others thought about her loss. Charlotte needed to expel the pain before it festered and poisoned her.
The afternoon was spent taking care of small chores, reading, or rocking in the glider in Adam’s room. Many days she spent the afternoons crying, her arms and heart aching to hold her little boy again and knowing she never would.
In the evenings, Brandy would come by and either bring food or cook dinner. The first couple of days she stayed the night. After that, she would stay a few hours after they ate and go back to her condo. Sometimes they watched television together. Other days, Brandy would stay downstairs while Charlotte went upstairs to look at Adam’s pictures or write in her journal.
Before she married Derek, Charlotte used to write constantly. She kept a journal from the time she was a little girl and throughout college. It wasn’t until she married Derek and he commented that keeping a diary seemed like a childish pastime for a grown woman. At first Charlotte ignored him but, after listening to his slightly disdainful comments for over a year, she finally gave up the practice. It seemed easier to go along with his wishes over something so small.
Now that Derek was gone, Charlotte began her habit of writing down her thoughts again. Some days, between her one-sided conversations with Adam or her parents and her journal, that was the only way she could stay sane.
At the end of the week, she asked Brandy about Greg. Charlotte hadn’t seen or heard from him since the night she yelled at him. It was the longest they had gone without speaking in years.
“Charlie, he feels horrible about everything and he doesn’t think you want to see him,” Brandy said.
Charlotte stared down at her plate, shoving the pieces of chicken around with her fork.
“Don’t tell me you blame him.” Brandy leaned forward. “It’s not his fault, Charlie.”
Charlotte dropped her fork into her plate with a clatter. “He knew! He knew everything, Brandy! He should have told me.”
She shot to her feet and knocked her chair over. The air in the room seemed too thin. She couldn’t catch her breath and her skin felt tight, hot, and tingly.
Brandy jumped up and came around the table. “He wanted to tell you. I told him not to.”
Breathing shallowly, Charlotte shook her head. “Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me something like that? If I had known, I would have left him. I would have taken Adam and left him. Then Adam would have been sleeping in my bed that night and he wouldn’t have died. I would have known something was wrong and I could have saved him! If I had just known, I could have saved my baby!” She screamed the last words.
Those thoughts had been haunting her for days. Charlotte hadn’t allowed them past her lips because, as much as she wanted to believe it, the small voice of logic in her mind argued that she was wrong. Still, as irrational as she knew it was, she couldn’t stop the what if ‘s from invading her every waking moment.
Brandy caught her as her legs gave out. “Oh, sweetie. You know that’s not true. There’s nothing you could have done. And no way to know what might have happened. Greg wants to help you and he’s hurting too. He loved Adam. Neither of you should go through this alone.”
Charlotte sobbed. “I know it’s not true. But, if it’s not his fault, it’s mine. I’m to blame. I didn’t save my baby. I didn’t save him.”
She cried so long and hard that her throat was raw and her eyes burned. It seemed as though she cried for an eternity. Bra
ndy simply held her and stroked her hair until the storm of grief passed.
When Charlotte finally calmed, Brandy snagged a paper napkin off the table and gently wiped her face and eyes.
“I think you need to see a grief counselor, Charlie. Or at the very least join a group,” Brandy stated. “You need to deal with this and you’ll need more help than Greg or I can give you.”
“It’s only been eleven days, Brandy,” Charlotte said.
“I know, sweetie. I just mean that you need help processing your emotions. You’re on a rollercoaster right now and you need someone who’s been there or at least with experience in helping people who have lost children. I’m worried you’ll never heal otherwise.”
Charlotte nodded. “I’ll do it.”
Brandy sighed. “Good. I brought over a list of grief counselors and meetings in the area.”
She couldn’t stop the small laugh. Leave it to Brandy to decide a course of action, research it, and maybe even begin implementation before she discussed it with anyone else.
“Did you make the appointment already?” Charlotte asked.
“Nah. I thought you should probably pick your own, though I did look up the credentials of all the counselors on the list to weed out possible quacks.”
Charlotte leaned her forehead to Brandy’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I would do anything for you, Charlie. You’re the sister I never had and I love you.”
Brandy stood and helped her up.
“Will you be mad if I tell you I’m not hungry?” Charlotte asked.
Brandy just shook her head with a sigh. “I’ll put it in the fridge. You can eat it later.”
Charlotte hugged her friend tightly. “Thank you.” She leaned back. “For everything, okay? I wouldn’t be doing nearly as well if it weren’t for you.”
Her friend smiled. “Thank me by calling Greg.”
Charlotte hesitated and Brandy rolled her eyes.
“Fine. At least text the poor guy. He thinks that you hate him.”
“Okay, Mother. I’ll make up with my friend.”
Brandy squeezed her hand. “You know it’s for the best.”
Charlotte nodded and headed toward the stairs. She went into her bedroom and picked up her phone. She wanted to call Gregory like Brandy suggested but she didn’t know what to say. It felt as though a space had developed between them and she didn’t know how to bridge the gap. Charlotte always considered Greg to be Derek’s friend, though he had become hers as well during the time he dated Brandy in college. It was just that Greg and Derek’s fathers had been friends and owned their company together. The two men had raised their boys together, more like family than friends. Charlotte always assumed that Greg’s loyalty would lie with her husband more so than with her.
She opened the messaging center on her phone and selected Greg’s name. After staring at the blank screen for several seconds, she decided to be honest.
Taking a deep breath, she began to type.
I miss you and I’m sorry for yelling at you.
Almost immediately, he responded.
I miss u 2. How are u doing?
Charlotte hated that question. She’d heard it at least twelve times a day since Adam passed. She decided to be honest. Greg was a muscular, fully grown man. He could handle honesty.
Tired of that damn question.
His response was a frowny face, which made Charlotte smirk. Greg did not seem like the kind of man who used emoji, but he did with her and Brandy.
If you want to drop by tomorrow I promise not to yell at you again.
Again, Greg’s response was immediate.
I’ll be by right after work. Around 6.
Charlotte felt tears well up in her eyes at the supportiveness he demonstrated. He seemed completely unfazed by her emotional ups and downs and her outbursts.
See you then, she typed. Goodnight.
Brandy would have made fun of her use of proper grammar in texts, but Charlotte had always been a writer and couldn’t stand to butcher the English language.
Night. Try to rest.
She sighed and placed the phone back on her nightstand. Despite everything, Charlotte knew she was blessed to have such wonderful friends. Without them she would be completely and utterly lost.
The next evening, Brandy and Greg arrived together. All the awkwardness Charlotte felt disappeared as soon as they came in and Greg walked to her to pull her into a tight hug. Tears welled in her eyes again. It seemed that she cried constantly since Adam died.
Greg’s voice rumbled in his chest under her ear. “Hi, babe.”
Charlotte wanted to laugh but wasn’t sure she would ever laugh with true joy again. In college she used to tease Greg that he called all the girls babe because he couldn’t remember their names. Not that he dated a lot, but they girls flocked to him anyway.
Greg wasn’t classically handsome. Instead, he just had an air about him that stated he was confident and in control. That kind of self-assurance drew college girls like a tractor beam. It didn’t hurt that he had beautiful grey eyes, firm lips, and an amazing, sculpted body that he honed in the gym several times a week. Now that he was in his mid-thirties, that confidence and that body were coupled with a level of sophistication that made him even more attractive.
It also made Charlotte want to lean on him. The weight of her loss was so heavy that the breadth of his shoulders tempted her to give her grief to Greg, even if for a short time. Instead, she pulled out of his arms and wiped her face.
“I’m glad you came,” she said, and she meant it. She needed the love and support of her two closest friends.
“If you ever need anything, I’m here, whether you ask for help or not.”
Charlotte gave him a small smile. It was the first time that it didn’t feel forced or as though the change in her expression would cause her skin to crack like glass.
“Thank you.” She looked over at Brandy. “And thank you, too, Brandy. I would never have made it through the last two weeks without either of you.”
Greg took her hand in his. “I just wanted to say that I regret not telling you about Derek.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, Brandy was right. If either of you had told me, I wouldn’t have believed it. Even if I had, I would have probably been angry with you, even though it was undeserved. In situation like that, the messenger isn’t just shot, they’re burnt to a crisp.”
He nodded and released her fingers. Charlotte studied him.
“Have you talked to Derek?” she asked.
Greg shrugged. “Not really. He’s been working with clients in Fort Worth this week so he hasn’t been in the office much. I think he scheduled his week with the intention of avoiding me.”
Charlotte frowned at him. “Why?”
An expression she didn’t recognize crossed Greg’s face. Later she would realize it was pure rage. Since Greg rarely lost his temper, she didn’t understand what she was seeing.
“Derek knows that I am extremely unhappy with him right now. He put me between a rock and a hard place. Then he didn’t even have the decency to act like he gave a shit. He was smart to avoid me.”
Charlotte wasn’t sure what to say at his harsh words. The awkwardness was back and she looked to Brandy for help.
“Okay, Greg. It’s your turn to help me cook dinner. But first you have to open a bottle of wine,” Brandy said as she took off her suit jacket.
He sighed but moved to do as she said. Charlotte gave Brandy a grateful look as they all went into the kitchen.
Charlotte sat at the bar, drinking a glass of crisp white wine, while her friends made dinner. It felt nice to sit and listen to the two of them bicker good-naturedly. It reminded her of their college years when Greg spent as much time at their apartment as they did. The three of them would sit around, drinking wine or beer, and watch movies or play games. Though he was three years older than they, and in grad school back then, Greg still seemed to enjoy their company.
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The memories were good ones and helped to lighten her mood for a little while. She managed to join in on the conversation while they ate dinner. Then they all sat on the couch to watch Brandy’s favorite network that had all the chefs and cooking shows on it. Greg complained almost the entire time. Finally Brandy promised to make the meal that they just watched being prepared for all of them that weekend. That shut him up because, as much as he bitched, the man loved good Mexican food, and the chef had prepared a fantastic spread of Latin American dishes.
Charlotte had almost laughed. When she realized that she was smiling widely, the moment of lightness died and tears filled her eyes. This time, instead of Brandy holding her while she sobbed, it was Greg.
Somehow, having his strong shoulder to lean on made the pain a more bearable, as though she could give him the entirety of her pain and he would carry it for her for a little while.
Chapter Four
While each day seemed to pass at a snail’s pace, Charlotte was shocked to wake up one morning and realize that it was the one month anniversary of Adam’s death. The day began with a crying jag. They were coming less and less often, but it was a hard hit to realize that this was the first month of hundreds that she wouldn’t have her little boy.
The jag had left her with a stuffy nose, puffy eyes, and a sore throat. A hot shower and the steam had helped but she was still feeling out of sorts. She tried to call Derek but only got his voice mail. He had texted her a few times and, about a week after he told her he wanted a divorce, he had come by to pick up the rest of his things.
It was strange. She wasn’t even hurt about his betrayal. She didn’t understand how she could feel so distant from the man she had been married to for years and the father of her child. Derek had never been demonstrative and affectionate but she always believed that he cared for her. Still, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d told her he loved her. It had to have been at least a year since she’d heard the words from him.
