"Rianna," I call over my shoulder. Her eyes brighten a little when she looks at me, but when I smirk, they darken again. "Did you know that it's illegal to maliciously give someone a sexually transmitted disease?" My smile widens at the panic that fills her eyes. "Yep. Carries a misdemeanor charge. Isn't that something?"
Her shriek scrapes at my ears as I head inside, but for a moment, it almost makes me smile. That fades the second I’m hit by memories of Charlie. If Rianna keeps showing up, I’ll have to move, and this apartment is all I have left of her. Losing it would mean losing the last pieces of her I can still hold onto.
After Amelia’s words, I need this place more than ever. I’ll need its familiar comfort as I fight my way through the long road to redemption ahead.
Embracing The Petty
Charlie | The Past
Forthepasttwomonths, healing has guided my choices. I refused to be the girl sobbing in the bathtub again and committed to never letting myself fall so low.
Some days, hope feels distant. On those days, anger and pain overwhelm me, so I rely on my therapist’s advice and look for ways to release my emotions.
Normally, I pour them into my journal. My well-worn notebook is basically one big letter to Keaton. Rebecca, my therapist, says I can eventually choose to give it to him, or I can burn it and allow the wind to carry the ashes away, taking all the negative emotions with them.
When journaling fails me, Amelia whisks me off to a rage room where I can shatter things to pieces. Sometimes, as I swing the bat, I picture Keaton’s face. Other times, it’s Rianna’s. Amelia even tapes their photos to random objects, turning it into a twisted game of hide and seek, adulterous rage edition.My fiercest swings are always reserved for the ones where she’s merged their faces together.
It stings, but in a strange way, it soothes me too.
Channeling my rage like this keeps me out of jail, and let’s be real, orange would never suit me.
Work is my other lifeline. I’ve sent out applications to jobs that might actually use my business degree, but until I hear back, I’m staying put. Grinders has become my second home. Since graduation two weeks ago, the coffee shop’s been a whirlwind, leaving me no time to brood over the betrayal that’s hijacked my life.
Smiling, I pass the customer their coffee and wish them a great day before moving on to the next order.
Graduation tasted bittersweet. I was supposed to cross that stage with Amelia and Keaton by my side. We’d planned it since day one of college, dreaming of building a business together. But like everything else, those dreams shattered the moment Keaton betrayed me.
I want to hate him for what he did, but the feeling just won’t come. Not that I like him right now. Most days, I wish I could hate him, especially since that pool house memory haunted my dreams for weeks. Now, it only visits once or twice a week instead of every night.
Maybe it’s because I know Keaton’s trying to fix himself. I haven’t spoken to him since he told me about his progress, but I still know what’s happening in his world. Two weeks after his first counseling session, his letter arrived. It took days to work up the nerve to open it, but curiosity won. With a bottle of whiskey courtesy of Amelia, I locked myself in the bathroom and finally read it.
"Have a good day," I murmur to a customer, handing them their coffee and muffin before letting my mind wander to his first letter again.
Charlie,
Wow. So, this is pretty weird. I'm used to talking to you while staring at your beautiful face, and now, because of my stupidity, this is the only option I'm left with.
I told Lionel, that's my therapist, about your request that I leave you alone. He said it was reasonable and suggested that I follow it. Then he recommended writing you letters. Something about the wire between the pen and the brain and the truthful flow of words. Don't know shit about that, but figured why the hell not? What else do I have to lose? Nothing important because I already lost that.
Honestly, I wasn't sure if I was going to give this to you. I wrote it as an exercise to help get my thoughts and feelings in order.
You know what changed my mind?
I saw you.
You were laughing with Amelia in the courtyard, but she had to run and do something. I can't read lips, so I don't know what you said, but since you stayed behind, I'm assuming you told her to go on. As soon as she was gone, the laughter dropped from your face, and you stared blankly at nothing. I didn't need to be beside you to know you needed to be alone because you couldn't fake it anymore.
You didn't have to be on for someone right then, so I had to bear witness to the stark pain that covered the beautiful face I love so much. Pain I put there. Losing you was bad, butterfly, but seeing that, knowing you were trying so hard to show everyone you were okay...I don't think anything could have torn me up so completely.
I'll admit. When I first went to Lionel, I was working on shit, but I don't think I was working as hard as I should have. If I did, then I'd have to face what I did to you, and I was scared to do that. I was scared to find out what that said about me.
You know what I realized that day I watched you? That it's not about me. Don't take that the wrong way, silly girl, and I'll try to explain what I mean. It's not about me because it's about YOU. I'm not sure if I'll ever have a chance with you again, but I knew that if I wanted any shot at it happening, I was going to have to bust my ass, no matter how scared I was or what I would find out about myself. Let me tell you, Char. It's only been two weeks, and I'm already not liking what I'm learning. I'm thankful Lionel has agreed to see me twice a week because I'm going to need it. My head became completely fucked up somewhere along the way, and I need to know where and why. How the hell did you put up with my bullshit for so long? I wouldn't have blamed you if you left me after I started being friends with her again.
I'm also learning I'm extremely fucking selfish. Especially when it comes to you, because I'm glad you didn't leave. It gave me another year with you.
See? Fucking selfish.
Anyway, I don't want to overwhelm you too much with this first letter. I just wanted to let you know I'm working on it, sweet girl.
