You came for me
Damp skin and tangled sheets
My silent storm
Bring me to my knees
“The Lost Weekend”
PAULINE’S VERSION
Salty salty cheese
Don’t get on the sheets
It’s getting warm
When you bring the storm
I’m begging for your knees—Ooh yeah
Chapter 2
Disaster.
That’s what Charlie expected when he made the reckless decision not to board his connecting flight. What was he thinking, missing a plane on purpose? The answer was that he wasn’t, beyond a low chorus ofuh-oh uh-oh uh-ohthat he managed to drown out long enough to make his way here. His parents used to talk about this place, from an anniversary trip they took when he was a kid. The illogical part of his brain hoped the sentimental memories might soften their disappointment when they realized he wasn’t coming home.
Yet.
Of course he’d have to go back. Eventually. This was more of a blip. Another in the long line of normal, expected things Charlie hadn’t quite been able to get right.
But if running away was such a bad idea, an inner voice argued, would he have found a free taxi the second he stepped outside the terminal? Or managed to book a private cottage online, no human interaction necessary? And would a beautiful whirlwind of a girl have knocked on his door tonight? Surely those were signs from the universe saying,walk this way!
Charlie pushed away from the wall he was leaning against, in case she changed her mind and came back. (A person could hope.) He was still reeling from the impact of seeing her in focus for the first time. The shining dark hair and snapping eyes. Her little rosebud of a mouth, always in motion except when she smiled at him and everything stopped. How one person could fill an entire cottage with her presence.
He shook his hands out as he wandered into the living room, nerve endings still tingling with residual Jean energy. She was his complete opposite: quick and confident, instead of clumsy and one step behind. Not to mention the prettiness. Was this what it felt like to be an echidna, sensing electric currents as they passed over your skin? The feeling was so strong he could almosthearthe buzzing.
The noise stopped for a few seconds before starting again, an insistent hum that… seemed to be coming from his phone.
Ah. Charlie had known this moment was inevitable, but he wouldn’t have minded a little more time to think about Jean before the real world came calling.
He took a deep breath before answering. “Hello, Mugsy.” There. That sounded rational and calm. Unfortunately, his even tone failed to kick things off on a positive note. There was a groan of exasperation so loud he had to hold the phone away from his face.
“Don’t you ‘Hello, Mugsy’ me! What the hell is going on? Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
Charlie could picture his oldest friend pacing around her workroom, trying to stomp out her frustration like a human Godzilla. “There was someone at the door. Well, not at the door exactly butnearit,” he started to explain, but Mugsy’s sharp intake of breath cut him off.
“You didn’t open it, did you?”
“It’s fine, Mugsy.”
“None of this is fine! I’m losing my chill.”
“Yes, I can hear that—”
“Your parents are freaking out!”
Charlie didn’t have an immediate answer for that one. He cleared his throat. “She was very nice.”
