I pause to look at him. “Nothing. I’m sorry I drooled on your shirt.”
“I don’t give a shit about the shirt. What’s going on right now?”
I close my eyes briefly. I don’t want to admit what’s wrong, not to Charlie, not even to myself. We agreed on an easy, breezy summer fling. On friendship. I went into it with eyes wide open. He made no promises. But his comment hurt. Even in the light of a new day, it hurts. Because I think in some other world, if we decided to be together, we might be better than good. We might be great.
“I need some alone time,” I say. I’m not going to dump everything that’s running through my mind on him before I’ve had a chance to figure it out for myself.
Charlie’s gone still the way he does when he’s trying to contain himself, when he’s not sure how to act on whatever ishappening in his body and mind. “You’re angry with me,” he says. “About the accident.”
I’m angry with me, I think.
“That’s not it. You just said it yourself: It was an accident.”
“But you’re angry. I can tell.”
“I’m tired,” I tell him. “I need some quiet.”
He studies me, frowning. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Just leave me to myself for a bit.”
I turn my back as Charlie gets dressed.
Then I watch him leave.
Heather arrives that morning in a cloud of perfume and dust from her speeding car.
She squeezes her daughter so hard that Bennett tells her she’s hurting her. I get a similar rib-crushing hug, followed by an interrogation about how I’m feeling. Physically, I’m fine. The stitches are barely noticeable. My headache is much better. Otherwise, I’m garbage.
“How’s Charlie?” Heather asks when we’re alone. “He sounded like he was in shock when I spoke to him yesterday.”
“I think it scared him more than it did the rest of us.”
“Because he’s in love with you.”
“He’s really not,” I say.
“Oh please. He looks at you like you’re a scoop of ice cream on the hottest day of summer.”
“Just drop it, Heather. I don’t want to talk about Charlie.”
For once, Heather drops it.
She and Bennett leave after lunch. On a different day, I’d wish my sister could stay another night, but I’m grateful for the peace.
“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Nan says as we watch Heather’s car pull away.
I shake my head, and Nan puts her arm around me.
“When you’re ready, then.”
“I think I might go back to bed.” I want a break from my mind.
Nan looks at the dark clouds that lurk in the distance. “Good day for a nap,” she says. “I might do the same.”
It’s suppertime when I wake. I have three missed texts.
Charlie:Can I cook dinner for you and Nan tonight?
