“I packed my bags. It felt like all the anger I had at them just burst out of me, all twenty-one years of it. I had never screamed at anyone like that before. I called them all kinds of nasty things. I guess the difference this time was that before they had rejected the things I did. And like I said, I knew how mad they would be and I reveled in it. But this was nothing like that. I had never met anyone like Shannon before. I tried desperately to hide our relationship from them. This wasn’t something about style and expression, this was me. ‘No homo is living under my roof!’ Dad said. They told me again that I was wicked and Satanic, and Dad pulled my hair and told me…” Her voice started to crack and her tears came in earnest. “To get right with God.” She let out a hard sob, and then more, and soon she was dripping and wordless.
I quickly scooted over and put my arms around her shoulder. I was always so scared to touch people and for them to touch me. I just assumed that I was gross and unattractive. But this seemed natural, easy almost. I took her other shoulder in my other hand and pulled her into me. “Hey, I’m here. Charlotte. It’s me.” She was bawling now, and her tears soaked my shirt. Her hands dug into mine, and her body shook with her mighty paroxysms of grief. It felt good to be comforting her, to have her body close to mine. I could even smell her scent. She was admittedly a little ripe. But something inside me liked her natural smell. I didn’t know what to make of it. “Shh. It’s ok. Just let it out.”
And let it out she did. And after it seemed like there wasn’t a drop of water left in her, she looked up at me. Her face was puffy, her eyes were red, and her face was twisted into a mask of anguish. She let out a heavy sigh. “So I stuffed everything I could into my car and left. I knew I had to get out of town. I knew I had to get out of White City, Medford even. I slept in my car a couple of nights. It got so cold. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I stayed with a friend, and then a hostel in Portland. It was ok at first but then…” She broke eye contact, “There were a couple of guys. Creeps. I was so scared.
“And then I was out again and had no idea where to go. I was cold, dirty and hungry. I had never done anything like this before.” She brought her hands up and wiped away tears with her wrists. “It took some legwork, but I found you. And I hoped,” she looked back up at me, “I knew you would help me.”
If it were anyone else, I would think she was trying to manipulate me. But she was right. Of course she was. I would do anything she needed. She was a dream from my childhood, one that I had forgotten about, but once it came back it came back strong. “You need a place to stay.”
She just nodded her head, and her face started to twist with her tears again, but she held on. I was the scared boy again, hoping that Charlotte’s fear and mine might somehow combine together to make a scrap of courage. When our families argued, it never felt like her side against mine. It was me and her against the madness of the people we were ashamed to call family. “Charlotte…” I felt the grief rising in me now. All the lost years. “I would love it if you stayed here with me.”
Her mouth curved in a trembling smile. “James I’m sorry… thank you… I knew you would. Anyway, just thank you. Seeing you now I feel a little hope.”
I placed my hand on her head, and tentatively stroked her blue hair. “You’re safe here. Stay as long as you need to. I’ll do anything you need.” She leaned back on the couch, and just smiled at me, wordlessly staring. She looked so tired.
“Let me get you something to eat. There’s nothing really nice here. I can heat you up a burrito if you want.” She nodded, and when I rose to get up, she took my hand.
“James,” she gave my hand a squeeze, “Thank you, I’ll never forget this.”
—
Charlotte brought some of her stuff inside and stowed it in the living room. I took her into my room for a nap and within a few minutes she was out cold. I looked at her laying there and for just a second I saw my old friend as she had been. She looked sweet and peaceful as she slept. Now that I had a chance to get a good look at her face, it was obvious. Under all the weirdness it was really her.
There was some physics homework I needed to get done and I sat down at the kitchen table. There was so much reading and so much math at this level. They assumed you were intimately familiar with calculus, which I was, but even with four years of it, I struggled. It was mostly that I couldn’t get Charlotte out of my head. I had often wondered what she was doing. We had so much to catch up on.
I got up, and took soft steps toward my room. I told myself that I was just checking on her. My door only creaked a little. My room had the slanting ceiling of the attic. There were posters on the wall. I was embarrassed for her to see Evil Dead, Final Fantasy, and Star Trek: the Next Generation, but she didn’t seem to have noticed them. She lay on her side on my double bed. Seeing her there with her eyes closed, quiet and peaceful reminded me so much of the girl I had known, and left, that I felt a lump in my throat.
It was still a little hard to believe. I had wished to see her for so many years and I had finally given up, trying to be content with just a memory.
I couldn’t concentrate on my homework, so I fired up my game console and dove into the numbness it would always bring. The pain went away a little.
Soon I heard my door creak open and soft footsteps coming close. Charlotte stood there and smiled at me. Her face looked so much more at peace. “I remember you bringing your old Atari to grandma’s house. I never could get into it.”
“And James Jacob would try to push me out so he could play with it himself. I don’t know how you lived with him all those years.”
“He mostly ignored me. You know he was jealous. We had grandma all to ourselves most of the time. You were an intruder.” She nodded to my game, “What’s that? Looks like anime.”
“It’s called Chrono Trigger.” My face turned red. Dad was always keen to mock my hobbies. “It’s pretty new. It’s a roleplaying game. Watch for a bit.”
She did. I looked back several times at her while I played. She didn’t seem to be following it much, but I was happy to have her here. “Funny coincidence.” She laughed.
“What?”
“The blond girl. She’s named Charlotte.”
I hadn’t even thought of it. But then this is what it always was. “It’s not a coincidence. They let you name the characters. In fact…” I was embarrassed to say this, but wanted her to know so bad. “I always do it if they let you. I just…” How to put it? I miss you. I think about you so often. I never realized what I had until you were gone.
She let out a single, bashful laugh. “You really put me in every game?”
“Well they don’t all let you.” I felt my ears warming. Then her hands were on my shoulders and I felt my temperature rising. There was a stirring below my waist. Was I getting hard for my cousin?
“Jesus, James. I’ve thought about you a lot too.” There were a few seconds of silence as she rubbed my shoulders. “Hey, I want to do something for you. Let me cook you dinner tonight. I’ll go down to the store and get everything I need.”
“Charlotte, you don’t owe me for this.”
“Like hell I don’t.” I paused the game and stared back at her. Now she was standing, arms akimbo. “I don’t have to tell you how much this means to me. It would be crap if I didn’t do something for you.”
“We have food. You don’t have to.” But my protests felt hollow in my own ears.
“I want to anyway. I want to show you that I’m not some damsel in distress. I can do things.” I could see that there was no stopping her.
“At least let me do something for you. I can wash your clothes.”
She made a face and looked as if she were about to protest. “I guess. I don’t have anything clean. You don’t want a whiff of what I have on.” We negotiated and we agreed that I would pay half for the food and do her laundry while she was out and then help her cook. I don’t know how I could. My cooking was abysmal.
She headed for the door and gave me one last smile. In her baggy clothes it was hard to tell, but I thought I could see a round ass in those jeans. I became more and more curious about what she looked like under those clothes. Though I hadn’t planned it, I started to feel a little excited to wash her clothes. I would see everything.
I brought in a single bag and dumped them into a basket. She had band t-shirts, sweatshirt, jeans, and undershirts. Panites and bras of course. She had agreed to let me do her clothes. It wasn’t wrong to enjoy it, right?
I picked up a pair of jeans and dropped them in the machine. There was a little bit of smell to them. She might have been embarrassed. Under the jeans was an undershirt. It had no sleeves and looked as if it fit her snugly. I had no idea how any of this worked. Would she wear a bra under this? Would she sleep in it? The pits were a little moist.
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