Something Special

by S. Massery

  I found the notebook in my closet and started writing.

  26

  “I owe you an apology,” Avery says.

  We are sitting on my couch, watching a movie, when he pauses it and turns to me.

  “You do?”

  We’ve been officially dating for two months, even though it feels like just yesterday he was asking me out. Things haven’t been going as smoothly as I would’ve imagined. I feel like we’ve only been on… ten dates, at most. I think I’ve cried more in the past eight weeks than I have in the past two years. That seems like a tiny warning sign, but it’s nothing compared to the red flag of Colby. I put that little siren at the back of my mind.

  “I’ve been a mess. I thought I was healing and getting better, but I think there’s a learning curve. You aren’t her, and you’re not going to do things the same, or react in the same way.”

  I nod. “That’s realistic. It takes time to know someone.”

  He reaches over and takes my hand. “I want to know you. I really like you, Charlotte.”

  Avery makes a point of saying my name a lot. It reminds me of my mother, although I don’t tell him that. He doesn’t say it in a mean way.

  He kisses the back of my hand and tells me a story about his childhood. He tells me about when he was sixteen and his best friend—whose name is also Charlie—talked him into “borrowing” a boat and taking it for a joy ride. He laughs until he has tears in his eyes.

  “When we got back to the dock, there were police waiting for us. Instead of fessing up to it, we jumped into the harbor and swam under docks until we got to the end of the marina. Charlie’s dad was right there when we pulled ourselves out of the water, and he was livid. He grabbed us by the back of our necks and dragged us to his car.” He laughs again. “We stunk of beer, cheap whiskey that had been stashed on the boat, and slimy algae. I thought for sure he was going to turn us over to the police. But he just drove us home and hosed the grime off of us in the backyard.” He suddenly stops laughing. “Later that month, we found out Charlie’s dad had pancreatic cancer. He was dead three months after that.”

  I blink.

  “Wow, oh my god.”

  Smooth, Char.

  “Yeah. I miss him.”

  “Are you still friends with Charlie?”

  He wears a smile that feels fake. “Yes, of course. He’s in Ireland, though, so I don’t get to see him too much.”

  I nod.

  “Have you been out of the country?”

  I nod. “Yeah, we went to Switzerland once. It was a work thing for my dad, but Mom and I got to sightsee.” My voice sounds funny in my own ears. Maybe talking about death has me rattled because I ask, “Do you believe in heaven?”

  Avery chuckles. “You’re going for the tough questions, huh?”

  “Hey, you brought up death first.”

  He leans back into the couch, eyes on the paused television screen.

  “I do.” His eyes flicker to mine and back to the movie. “Do you?”

  “Nope.” I say it just to get a reaction out of him. In truth, I don’t know.

  His head whips toward me. “You don’t?” He looks wild and saddened by this.

  “No. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

  He presses his lips together as if he disapproves, then asks, “Popcorn or chips?”

  I touch my chin. “No one in my life has died. Except my grandparents on my dad’s side, but they both died when I was young.”

  He groans, elbowing me lightly in the side. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “Why don’t I want to talk about it?”

  I give an exaggerated nod.

  “Because death is fucking depressing. And I’d like to think that there’s somewhere better that we’ll end up.” I can’t help but think that he’s adorable when he’s uncomfortable.

  “Hmm,” I say.

  “What?”

  “What if this is heaven? What if you’ve already died and this is the best it’s going to be?”

  A flush creeps up his neck.

  We stare at each other for a minute, and the red crawls higher and higher up his face. It’s the only indication that he’s upset, until: “Fuck, you’re annoying.”

  I jerk back. “Excuse me?”

  He inhales and exhales twice, chewing on his lips and on his words. I, however, am having trouble breathing. My lungs stutter. That hurt much more than I would’ve anticipated.

  “I didn’t mean that, Charlotte. I’m sorry… it just came out.”

  I watch through squinted eyes as Avery leans over and cups my cheek. My stomach does a weird dance, a mix of anger and thrill.

  “Seriously, I apologize. You riled me.”

  I cock my head. “I barely did anything.”

  Avery nods and traces my lower lip with his thumb.

  I lean into his touch, unable to help myself. He smiles slightly, leaning forward and kissing me. His tongue invades my mouth, and I can’t help the small noise I make.

  It’s only moments later that he pulls back. “Can we finish the movie, now?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  An hour later, the movie is over and I am in Avery’s lap. My shirt is somewhere behind the couch, and his pants are unbuttoned. Our lips are glued together.

  “Should we move to your bedroom,” he mumbles against my lips.

  I lean away. “Are you going to be a dick afterward?”

  His eyes widen, like he’s innocent. “No, I won’t.”

  I narrow my focus to his face. He has a tell when he lies, I can feel it, but I haven’t yet been able to prove it.

  He smirks. “I’m sure my dick will be too tired to influence how I act.”

  “It’s not funny, Avery. I don’t want to let you in again if you’re just going to fuck me, fuck with me, and leave.”

  I watch him grow more serious.

  “I apologized for that. I won’t do it again.”

  When I don’t drop my stare, he sighs. “You’re being a tease.”

  He nudges me until I climb off of him. I abandon him on the couch and sashay to the best of my ability toward my bedroom. As I go, I feel his eyes on me. I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, letting it fall to the floor.

  It only takes a minute for him to scramble up behind me. He gives chase and pins me to my bed, kissing his way down my body. The rest, as they say, is history.

  “Can I stay the night?” he asks into my back. He follows that with a kiss to my shoulder blade, and then one on my spine. If I was worried—and, okay, I was—about how he would act after the last time, he is doing everything in his power to prove me wrong.

  “Do you need a toothbrush?” I blurt out. I want to groan, but there’s no use trying to get those words out of the air.

  He chuckles, continuing his path of kisses from one shoulder to another. He pauses to suck on my neck, making me inhale sharply, before moving on. “I have one in my coat pocket,” he whispers.

  I roll over and look at him. “What?”

  “I came prepared,” he says. He keeps laughing, like this is funny, like I’ve done this before and I’m okay with it.

  “We haven’t had a sleepover yet,” I say. Uncertainty makes my voice waver. “What if I snore?”

  “I’m sure you don’t snore,” Avery says with confidence.

  “I hope you’re a deep sleeper,” I joke.

  He trails a finger over my lips, down my chest and between my breasts. His eyes follow, his tongue poking out over his lower lip. Finally, he meets my eyes. “Can we sleep naked?”

  I giggle and nod.

  “Good,” he says in my ear, pressing me back into the pillows. He reaches over me and clicks off the light. “Goodnight,” he whispers.

  I nod again in the dark, although I can barely see him, and roll onto my side. He fits against my back, slipping one arm under my neck and the other over my hips. It’s a puzzle that is finally coming together.

  27
/>   “Good morning, dear,” my mother says.

  I yawn, swiping at dried drool on my cheek. Light has barely begun to filter into my room. It cannot be an appropriate time for a phone call.

  “Not awake enough to talk?”

  I grunt, and then peek over my shoulder at Avery. He faces away from me, on his side, breathing heavily. With some effort, I make myself get out of bed and head to the couch. Once I’m swaddled in blankets, I say, “To what do I owe this early pleasure?”

  “Ah, there you are. I was wondering how long it would take.”

  I wait, because she usually has a purpose if she’s calling before the sun has fully risen. Maybe this will be a quick conversation, and I can slip back into bed with Avery when she’s done.

  “I just talked to Julianne—” Jared’s mom, formally known as Mrs. Brown, “—and she told me Jared was in an accident.”

  I nearly drop my phone. I see it as clearly as if I were standing in front of him: Jared in a hospital bed, tubes protruding from his arms. Jared in a body cast. A crying woman—Marcy, had he said?—holding a toddler. Surely, the kid would be a toddler by now.

  “Why are you telling me?”

  My mother sighs. Her keyboard clicks, faintly, which means she’s multitasking.

  “You used to be friends with him, Charlotte Harper, and should I not give you news of your old friend? Especially since you refused to talk to him much at all at our Labor Day party.” She sighs again. I imagine she rolls her eyes, too.

  “He… he brought a date and you wanted me to flirt with him?”

  “Of course not. He was a stable part of your childhood is all.”

  This time I roll my eyes. “And I’m not stable?”

  “Of course you are,” she answers. “Now, at any rate.”

  “I don’t even want to unpack that statement,” I mutter.

  The truth is, she’s right. I’m stable now—for the most part—but Colby shattered me when he left. It had taken almost three years to recover. To want to kiss a boy again. To smile, fully, without flinching after it.

  “Anyway,” my mother says. “I thought maybe, you know, you’d want to give Jared a call.”

  I frown. “And say what?”

  “I don’t know, honey, whatever you want to say to him. Julianne said he would be stuck there for at least a week.”

  I rub at my face. It’s too early to think of all of this. It’s too early to think of Jared in a hospital bed for a week. I glance back toward my bedroom door, where Avery is sleeping. Avery’s arm stayed around me until he fell asleep, and then he twisted onto his back, mouth open. I couldn’t sleep. It felt too peaceful, too quiet. There is another shoe about to drop, but I can’t let go of the breath I’m holding.

  “I don’t know,” I finally tell her. “What about that girl that he got pregnant? Why isn’t she by his side?”

  “She very well may be, but that doesn’t give you the right to ignore your proper upbringing and pretend this conversation didn’t happen. Just imagine how bored he’ll be, all alone…”

  Jared isn’t my problem anymore. Besides, she wouldn’t be encouraging this if she knew I had a boy in my bed. A boyfriend in my bed. “I’m going back to bed now.”

  “He’s at the George Washington University Hospital in D.C.,” she adds.

  I grunt and hang up to my mother laughing at me.

  I fold the blanket and toss it on the back of the couch, taking my time sneaking back into the bedroom. Avery is still as I left him. When I slide in behind him, he doesn’t even stir.

  I wrap my hand around him, taking a small thrill in being the big spoon. My chest presses against his warm back, and we share the same pillow. It’s a lot easier to fall back asleep.

  When I wake up, Avery is gone.

  The momentary panic flashes hot through me, before I register the sound of the shower running. When the adrenaline fades away, a smile cracks my face open. Wow, I tell myself, you almost overreacted big time.

  The water stops, and he appears in the doorway with one of my towels wrapped around his waist. “Hi,” he says. He smiles at me.

  “Good morning,” I whisper, ducking my face into the pillow to hide my happiness.

  “I thought you were going to sleep forever.”

  My smile widens. “I wouldn’t have!”

  Avery shakes his head. “I’m glad you’re awake now.”

  I raise my eyebrows, and he drops the towel to show me just how glad he is.

  Avery and I spent the day walking around Boston. We got brunch at a cute cafe-slash-bookstore on Newbury Street, and walked down toward the Commons. It was sunny, mild, and a perfect day for a spontaneous picnic. We finished with an early dinner, and he walked me home.

  I drop my purse on the kitchen counter, looking forward to a glass of wine and a bath. My feet are sore, and my legs ache in a way that shouldn’t surprise me, but does. And then, I remember.

  I remember Jared, as I hadn’t remembered all day.

  Tears fill my eyes, because I am selfish.

  Before I can chicken out, I look up the number of the hospital and dial. I wait, and then ask for Jared’s room.

  “Hello?”

  His voice sounds the same. Oh, god, he sounds the same.

  “Jared, it’s—”

  “Charlie.” I can hear the smile through the phone. “Heard of my epic demise, huh?”

  “Demise?” I shake my head. “She just said you were in an accident—”

  He laughs. It fills me with this warm feeling that I haven’t felt since I was a child. “I’m going to guess it was our mothers?” Can I bottle your voice to savor on a rainy day?

  “Of course,” I say. “They love to meddle. What’s going on, Jared?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right.”

  He coughs. It’s wet and violent, and it takes him several moments to catch his breath. Quietly, he says, “I won’t be leaving the hospital for quite some time.”

  “Just speak straight for once,” I demand. “I don’t know why I called…”

  Jared grunts. After another beat of silence, he says, “I’m a firefighter, Charlie. Did you know?”

  “No,” I whisper. “My mother knew?” My body-cast imagery seems like it might be accurate. The sight of his house, burning, comes to mind. Of embracing him in his front lawn while his whole world sputtered to a stop.

  He laughs, once. It’s hollow. “I wouldn’t doubt that she does. My high school therapist saw it coming a mile away. Even my parents weren’t surprised by my decision.”

  I shake my head. It makes sense, if he was looking to conquer his fear. If he was looking to tame an obsession. He had a therapist in high school?

  “We got a call for a structural fire—a house in the suburbs. It was routine, clear the rooms before it gets too bad... We got everyone out, but then the kid, from the ambulance, starts sobbing about his dog. I started to—”

  “No—” I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “The roof collapsed in front of me. On me?” He coughs again. “The next thing I knew was feeling like…” I was on fire.

  It was a nightmare that he’d had for weeks when we were younger. I cringe for him.

  “And then I woke up in the hospital.”

  I take a deep breath. “How badly are you burned?”

  “I have burns on most of my lower half. They had to amputate my leg.”

  My breath whooshes out. “Oh, my god. Which leg?”

  “Which leg?” He starts laughing. I have to pull the phone away from my ear because his laughter is so loud. I envision it bouncing around the hospital room. “Jesus, Charlie.”

  I try to hold back my apologies because he’s still laughing at me. It morphs into a cough, until he eventually says, “The left one is gone, about six inches above the knee. I think you’re the only person who would think to ask.”

  “I was trying to picture it… And it kept switching. I’m sorry.”

  Jared sighs. “I think t
hat’s the first time I’ve laughed since it happened.”

  I dare to smile. “I’m glad I could help.”

  “Can we do this again?” He sounds so much more tentative than I remember. “Can we talk?”

  “Later?”

  “Yeah, the nurses are going to be coming in a few minutes to change my bandages. And my parents are coming to bring me dinner…”

  I swallow. “Of course. I’m sorry it’s late—”

  “Charlie.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m really glad you called.”

  I nod to myself. Yes, I’m glad I called, too.

  28

  Wake up, Charlotte.

  I feel the heat, insistent, pushing at me.

  Wake up, Charlotte.

  It’s so hot, my skin starts to blister. It is unbearable agony.

  Wake up. Wake up.

  I arch my back, trying to get away. The flames eat up my legs, over my torso—an ironclad force holding me down. I squeeze my eyes closed and turn my head to the side. I suck in a lungful of air, ready to scream, but my breath singes in my throat. There is deep, deep pain. I can’t control my muscles as they spasm.

  Charlotte, Charlotte, “Charlotte!”

  I jerk, snapping my eyes open. Avery hovers over me, hands on my shoulders, and I lose it. It still feels like I’m burning. “Get off,” I say. My voice is hoarse, cracked. He doesn’t move. “Get off, Avery,” I try again. He’s blurry, and he leans away but I still feel him. “Get off of me,” I yell. I roll to the side of the bed and off of it, heaving.

  Oh, god, I’m going to throw up. I start patting myself, feeling smooth skin. I keep going, touching my legs, making sure I’m still whole.

  “What… What happened?”

  I can’t even look at him, my heart is beating so fast.

  What was that?

  “Charlotte,” he says. He kneels on the bed, facing me. His hands are out in front of him like I’m a wild animal.

  At this point, I do feel feral.

  This isn’t how ladies act, my mother whispers.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. My voice cracks halfway through sorry, and I feel sick that I can’t even make it through an apology. I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.