All She Wanted (2) (7 page)

Charlie

“Hey keep it down in there, neighborhood
watch is gonna tag us with a noise violation,” Briggs said walking back into
the room, Kai close on his heels.

“Kai, Charlie just agreed to let me
hire her for the wedding! She’s gonna write my processional,” Tori said as Kai
bent over and gave her a kiss on the lips.

“That’s awesome, can’t wait to hear it,
Charlie,” Kai said smiling.

Briggs stared at me intently, but I
broke its hold and smiled at Kai instead.

“Oh, and Briggs, I finally confirmed
everything with Angie,” Tori said.

My ears perked up.
Who’s Angie?
Briggs nodded knowingly at her.

Kai leaned in then and whispered to me,
“His sister Angie is
a florist.”

I flushed at how easily he must have
read my face, and took a long drink of water hoping it would cool my cheeks.

“Cody’s agreed to be my ring bearer
too, although I think he might actually think he’s going to get to be a
bear
…not a bearer,” Tori said.

I laughed. Now
that
was funny. “Who’s Cody?”

“Just the coolest seven-year-old you’ll
ever meet—also known as my nephew,” Briggs said proudly.

“Ah,” I said, nodding.

“Yeah, since my niece Kailynn is only
four months-old, I’m gonna have him pull her in a wagon. My sister will just
hold her during the ceremony. There was no way around it, Stace was bound and
determined for her to wear a flower-girl dress, no matter what.”

Kai laughed, “And when Stacie sets her
mind to a fashion quest—it happens.”

I watched them relate to one another.

I had a lot of friends at school—and at
home—yet the interaction between them felt so different to me. I listened to
them talk and laugh so easily.

I could see it then, clearly. They all truly
loved each other.

I felt Briggs’ eyes land on me again as
I stood to start the clean-up process. Tori followed my lead.

Briggs

The evening had been fun—even more than
I had anticipated it would be. Kai and Tori had left some time after 1:00am.

After taking the pizza boxes out to the
recycle bin, I went back inside to grab my jacket. Charlie was shutting-off the
lights. Before I headed out the front door, I instructed her to lock it behind
me. She rolled her eyes as the corner of her mouth curled into a half-hearted
smirk.

Even with Kai’s caution fresh on my
mind, there was something I just had to say. It had been on the tip of my
tongue during the majority of the evening and I needed to get it out. I took
two steps onto the porch before turning around to face her. The door was almost
closed, but she pulled it back slightly when she saw me.

She yawned.

Holy crap
she’s beautiful
.

No—that’s
not what I was going to say...

Think.

She leaned her head on the door
sleepily.

“Did you forget something?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. Good night, Shortcake.
See ya tomorrow.”

Okay, so
I’m not always great at follow through—so shoot me.

Charlie

“How are you, sugar?”

“I’m fine,” I said honestly, “Are you
and mom having a good time?”

“Yeah, who knew cruise food could be so
good?” He laughed.

“Uh,
everybody
, Daddy. That’s why people come home to clothes that don’t
fit!”

He laughed again.

“So…you’re really doing okay? Having
Briggs at the house—it’s been alright?”

I sighed. “Yes, everything is fine
around here…you can stop worrying about me.”

“I’ll be worried about you until the
day the good Lord takes me home. You’ll always be my baby girl no matter how
old you are, Charlie,” he paused as if wanting to say more. There was a strain
in his voice, which seemed to parallel the one in my heart. “I’m sure mom will
email you some pictures in a couple days.”

“Sounds good, bye.”

Though my dad had emailed a couple
times, I was surprised he had waited over ten days to call. I wondered if he
had been keeping tabs on me through Briggs without my knowing. It was likely.

Life had fallen into a bit of a new routine
over the last week. My house-arrest didn’t seem quite so horrid anymore. Briggs
and I had been riding to work together each day in his truck and eating dinner
together in the evenings. We’d played cards a few times, visited a book store
to fulfill my fiction cravings, and tonight we were going to watch the first
Indiana Jones
movie. Briggs about spit
his coffee out when I couldn’t place some line about a holy grail he’d made reference
to.

He said he couldn’t allow me to live
another week without watching it.

Whatever.

The truth was he made me laugh. I
enjoyed being with him—no matter what we were doing. His company was unrivaled
by anyone else in my life.

I finished up with yet another stack of
files and headed out of the office.

Briggs

Charlie knocked on my door a tad after eight,
and for a second, I hesitated.

Is this
really a good idea—Charlie and I alone together in my apartment?

I swallowed hard and reassured myself
that it was fine. We were
just
friends
.

Friends
watched movies together all the time, right?

“Hey, Manny.” She walked past me,
placing a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. But it wasn’t the fragrance of
popcorn that overpowered my senses. It was the smell of fresh peaches—coming
from her wet hair.

Charlie—recently showered—was clad in
flannel
pj’s
and slippers.
 
 

Get a
grip, Briggs.

Why does
she have to look so good in flannel? I mean, who looks that good in flannel?

As my inner-dialogue progressed, I
suddenly realized she was talking to me
.

“What?” I shook my head slightly.

“I asked if you wanted the recliner?”

“Uh no, go ahead. I’ll sit over here,”
I replied, not-so-smoothly.

“Okay.” She shrugged.

Just put
the movie on, Briggs.

…
although ,
I doubt even Harrison Ford could smell that good
after a shower.

She curled up on the recliner, pulling
her legs beneath her like she was some sort of carnival pretzel.

“When was this movie even made?” she
asked snottily as I made my way over to the couch.

“I don’t know—the 80’s I think?”

“Awesome.” She rolled her eyes.

I picked up a handful of popcorn and
threw it at her. She laughed.

That
laugh was my favorite. I had learned that Charlie had many
laughs—at least a dozen. Some were soft and airy, some were strong and
showy…but this one, this one was completely unabashed. When she laughed like
that, her defenses were down. Her pride was gone, and it was just her—raw and
open.

I sat on the far end of the couch—the end
farthest from the recliner. I grabbed the remote and put my feet up on the
table.

I pressed play.

“So where does your sister live?”

I pressed pause.

“About an hour north.”

I pressed play.

“Do you get to see her much?”

I pressed pause.

“About once a month, sometimes more.”

I pressed play.

“What’s your nephew like?”

I pressed pause.

“Charlie…we will be here till three in
the morning if you don’t shut it,” I said.

“Oops, sorry,” she shrugged, “I’m not a
very good movie watcher.”

“Gee, I couldn’t tell.”

She laughed.

I smiled.

**********

For the next two hours Charlie stayed
relatively quiet, except for her snarky remarks about fashion or special
effects. To which I told her to shove it. To which she would hurl more insults
my way. It went on like that till the end credits rolled.

When she stood and stretched, it was
difficult to find something equally distracting anywhere else in the room. Her
hair was a wild mess of waves as it had dried while being pressed against the
back of the recliner. Yet somehow, it still looked amazing.

I swallowed hard.

She walked over to the sink to get a
glass of water, stopping in front of the fridge.

“Cute—is this from Cody?” She asked
,
looking at the picture I had put on the freezer door.

She remembered
his name?

It was a drawing of a fireman that he
had done last year after I spoke to his class during safety week. It was one of
the few things I treasured. I had brought it over with me when I picked up the
poker paraphernalia from my apartment last week.

“Well, I can tell it’s you,” she said,
her words dipped in mockery.

“How’s that?” I asked, too curious to
let it slide.

“Toothy grin, broad shoulders—but what
really tipped me off was how he nailed your
big,
fat head
.” With that, she flashed me a smile and laughed heartily.

I made a beeline for her as she
shrieked, running to the other side of the kitchen. She realized a second too
late that she had nowhere to go. She had boxed herself into a corner. I put my
hands on either side of her, gripping the counter.

“Take it back,” I said.

“Never.”

I inhaled.
She smells so good.

I was so close—closer than I’d ever
been to her.

Her laughing eyes changed then, our
smiles fading-out at the same time.

I wanted to kiss her. No, I
needed
to kiss her.

But with some supernatural strength
unknown to me, I released her, taking several steps back. She seemed just as
dazed
  
in that moment. I cleared my
throat, turning to walk her to the door. She followed behind me, quietly.

At the bottom of the stairs, I shoved
my hands into my pockets and watched her walk toward the house. I wanted to
make sure got inside okay, but as she passed, a familiar urge crept up into my
throat again, begging to be released.

And this time, I didn’t hold the words
back.

“Charlie?”

“Yes?” She stopped, turning to stare at
me.

“He was a fool.”

“Who?” she asked.

“The idiot who left you. He didn’t know
what he had—if he did, he wouldn’t have let you go.”

Though it had been dark all around us,
the motion light came on in that instant—illuminating her in its spotlight. She
stared at me, as if contemplating my words. Finally she spoke, in a volume that
was practically soundless, “Thanks.”

She disappeared beyond the light a
second later.
 

The instant I was back inside the
apartment, I banged my head against the door.

“And I am an even bigger fool for
falling for the Chief’s daughter.”

Charlie

I couldn’t sleep.

I tried for hours, but rest never found
me. I got out of bed and walked down to my music room. I opened the doors and
turned on the single lamp that sat atop my piano. It shone onto the keys,
causing a halo effect to surround them. I sat down, closed my eyes and let my
fingers explore. My mind was open to the melody that flowed through them. The
notes were powerful, depicting images, emotions and words.

They told a story, one that came
directly from my soul. There were no two the same.

Melodies were intimate.

The room echoed triumphantly as the aggressive
swells filled the air, holding the passion inside it even as the soft, delicate
treble notes were played.

This room was made for music; this room
had been made me for me.

**********

“Charlie,
we have one more present for you, sugar,” my daddy said.

He led
me down the hallway toward my mom’s sewing room as he shielded my eyes with his
large, rough hands.

I was
ten. It was my birthday—or at least the day we celebrated as my birthday.

My mom
stood behind me, I could feel her nervous anticipation as she awaited my
reaction. I heard the doors open in front of us. My daddy moved to the side
before dropping his hands away from my eyes. And when he did, I gasped.

There,
in the middle of my mom’s old sewing room, was the most beautiful thing I’d
ever seen—a black, baby grand piano.

I
couldn’t move. I just kept looking at it in disbelief, blinking. My heart was
pounding so hard that I could hear next to nothing other than it’s strong beat inside
my ears.
 

“Go
ahead Charlie, go sit down on the bench, sweetie,” my mom coaxed.

But I
remained frozen—still.

This gift
was too big, too nice, too overwhelming for me to understand. This gift was
beyond anything I could ever repay—much less deserve. I began to cry, my chest
heaving with the heavy burden of what this must have cost them.

My daddy
knelt down in front of me, his eyes glistening with tears as he spoke.

“This is
a gift, sweetheart. It might seem overwhelming, but our love for you is even
bigger than this. You have been our gift, Charlie. Nothing would make us happier
than to help you grow in your talent…do you understand that?”

I nodded
as they each took one of my hands and led me to the piano.

The
moment I sat down and touched the keys, my life had changed yet again.

I was
never the same.

*********

This room had always been my refuge—my
safe haven.

It was the one place I could find
answers, even to questions unasked. Its solace had represented hope and peace,
no matter what memory waged war in my mind. It not only inspired me to connect
with my music, but when I sat here—when I played—it was that same connection which
seemed to transcend the confines of my soul.

I was
known
inside this room.

But something was off…

As my fingers slid off the keys, a
familiar ache filled my chest. Whatever great connection I had once felt—it seemed
a distant memory now.

I wanted to blame it on Alex—on the
heartache, on the rejection, on the deception.

Yet, I was just as much to blame as he
was. I had done the same thing to the only two people who had ever shown me
unconditional love.

I stared at the sheet music again—the piece
I just couldn’t seem to finish.

I sighed.
Tomorrow I’ll start Tori’s processional.

It was almost 4 a.m.

I turned off the light and shuffled to
the couch, not having the energy to climb the stairs.