Rewired (The Progress Series) (11 page)

Doctor Paulson shook his head, still unclear about Sam’s point.

“You don’t remember me, but we
have
met once before. I was the guy standing
behind
Charlie Johnson when she told you to go to hell.”

Aaron Paulson’s eyes went blank and his shoulders dropped. After taking off his glasses, he wiped his face with his hands and scratched his head. As Sam examined the doctor’s expression, he saw the fear in Paulson’s eyes fade to guilt and self-loathing. Paulson nodded. “And I suppose you want an explanation.”

“You bet your ass I do.”

Paulson swiveled his chair toward the window and folded his hands across his lap. “Charlie and I had a special relationship.” He paused. “After our little conversation last year, I did some thinking about her. A lot of thinking, actually.” Turning back toward Sam, he threw his hands up and slapped them down on his desk in frustration. “What can I say? I was a total dick! She was one of those people who seemed unfazed about what I’d say to her. No matter what I tried to do…” he closed his eyes briefly, “to bring her down, she never showed any emotion. She never got mean or angry. She never fought back. She was weak. And I fed off that.”

Sam glared out the window, refusing to look at him. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” Paulson sighed. “I just explained to you why. It’s a cycle of abuse, remember?”

Sam sternly nodded. “And that excuses it?” he asked, letting the anger burn through his face.

“No, Samuel. Nothing excuses it, I know that. I’m not going to tell you that I had any right to do what I did. But I was young, I was jaded, I was going through a lot of stuff at home that no one knew about. I was angry and scared.” He shrugged. “Charlie was there, she was different, and when I made fun of her my friends looked up to me. People laughed at my jokes, and those same people made me a legacy at that school. But once I got to the point where I knew it was wrong to continue, everyone else around me had already followed in my footsteps.” His shame intensified as his voice turned hoarse and he began fidgeting with a paperclip. “Charlie was blacklisted from social events. People avoided her at all costs. And then it trickled down to the younger generations, so that she had to continue dealing with the ridicule long after I graduated—from the brothers and sisters of all my friends.”

Sam shook his head and stood. “I think I’ve heard enough. If I stay any longer I’ll start to pity you.”

“Wait. Let me say this. In regards to Charlie, you might want to do some research on your own about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It might help you understand her a little better. I really don’t know anything about her and wish to God I could be more help.” Paulson stood and dropped the paperclip on his desk.

“Well you’re lucky you’re not the only one who damaged her; otherwise you wouldn’t be standing right now.”

Sam glanced at the framed wedding photo on Paulson’s desk and looked down in thought. A heavyset blonde smiled brilliantly as a small dimple formed in her right cheek.

Just as Sam was about to exit the small office, he paused without turning around. “Is that your wife in the photo?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

Sam nodded. “She’s beautiful.” He turned the knob and walked out of the office.

But she grew stronger. She survived and said she’d gotten past all of it. I don’t understand.

Friday morning, Sam lay in bed ten minutes before his alarm was set to ring, contemplating, remembering, and going through all the phases of his grief in the past two weeks. He had been angry, sad, confused, broken, and enraged. But with all of the emotions he had felt, and with all of the things that he had educated himself on in that time, he couldn’t help but consider the possibility of getting her back someday. Because he still wanted it. But he didn’t know how to get past what she had done, unless he caved. He just needed to find the elusive strength that had been buried beneath the phrase he kept repeating to himself:
“She cheated.”

Would that make me a pussy? If I forgave her and we got back together, wouldn’t she just do it again? Wouldn’t she just trample over me for the rest of our life together? And wouldn’t I hold that against her in every fight we got into about who left the basement light on or which one of us didn’t unload the dishwasher? God, I miss those days when that was the worst of our problems.

His alarm suddenly sounded and his phone rang simultaneously. He looked at the caller ID:
Ma

Wiping his eyes, he answered his phone. “What are you doing calling me at six-thirty in the morning?”

“Well, you picked up, didn’t you? I’d like you to explain to me why you’ve been avoiding my calls! It was Aunt Betty’s birthday on Wednesday and you didn’t even show up to the party!” Maxie said in annoyance.

“Shit. I’m sorry. Tell Betty I’ll call her this weekend. I’ve been…preoccupied lately.”

“Yeah, I ran into Gabe at the grocery store and he said that there was some heavy stuff going on. Tell me, is it Charlie?”

He sighed, his gut reacting to the sound of her name. “Yes. But I really don’t want to talk about it now, Ma. We’re in a tough spot.”

“Did you break up? Oh my gosh, tell me it’s not true! Tell me that you’re still planning for a wedding. I
need
a wedding, Sam.”

He rolled his eyes.
I’m not getting back together with Charlie just because my mom wants Charlie to have fresh-picked flowers from her medicine wheel.

“Please, Mom. Not now. I’ve got a deadline today at
five o’clock and I need to concentrate. Plus, there are just some things you shouldn’t know about my relationship.”

“I’m your mother! You should be able to tell me anything!”

Not if I intend on getting back together with her. Imagine the horror of having Mom glare at Charlie every time she came over… God! Listen to me. As if I’ve already decided I’m going to fight for this.

“Not this. Not now. I’m sorry, Ma, I really am. We’ll get together next week and I’ll explain as much as I can, okay?”

She huffed. “Just…tell me you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

*

With only minutes to spare on Friday evening, Sam completed the CD cover and insert for Mr. Walker. After emailing the final proof, he shrugged on a clean shirt and headed out the door to meet Gabe.

Walking into the bar, Sam glanced quickly around the room until he spotted Gabe sitting up against the counter. Gabe nodded, taking his mouth away from the beer mug only briefly.

“Hey,” Gabe said.

Sam ordered his drink from the bartender, and after taking a sip he finally said, “Hey.”

Gabe laughed. “For real? Still wound up, eh? I see you ordered the heavy stuff.” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “I mean, is that
pure
orange juice? That shit’ll mess you up.”

“Funny.” Sam showed no sincerity.

“Why don’t you just go out and find a revenge fuck?”

Sam abruptly set his glass down on the bar-top and in a sharp tone replied, “Again, not funny. That worked out real well the last time, didn’t it?”

“Oh, come on now. Lighten up or I’ll beat some sense into you.”

Sam’s brow twitched upward. “Right.
I’m
the lethal weapon here, trained to know how to kill people. Shit, you’ve never even pushed someone down.”

“Well, would that make you feel better? You wanna fight?”

Sam shook his head. “No. I’m not sure what could make me feel better anymore.”

“You were ready to forgive her a few weeks ago when you showed up at that work party she had. I told you not to go, but you just wouldn’t listen to me; but that’s beside the point. What changed? I mean, why did you want to forgive her then, but won’t forgive her now?” Gabe asked.

“
Because
she
left
me
!” Sam shouted. The crowd in the bar all looked at Sam momentarily before returning to their conversations. Hushed now, Sam continued. “I don’t understand. I mean, I may have rushed into forgiving her by showing up, but she left. I mean,
poof!
—fucking gone. I went inside to get her coat, and when I came back out she’d vanished. I’m starting to put a few of the pieces together, and her motivations over the past few weeks, but I still don’t know who this guy is.”

“Why are you worried about
the guy
? I don’t understand you at all! Who gives a shit about
the guy
?”

“It’s the only way I’m going to figure out this whole mess.”

“Here, let me help you.” Gabe began sternly. “One, she cheated. Two, you forgave her. Three, she left.” His hands raised. “I’m sorry, man. But it seems like she’s not interested.”

“You forgot, four, she won’t stop texting me. Five, she was still wearing my ring a few days ago. Six, she can’t forgive herself. Seven, there’s a whole shitload of crap you don’t know about her past…”

“Okay, enough! Listen to yourself. You’re a madman! I’ve never seen you like this. You don’t even bother putting your contacts in anymore. And when was the last time you took a shower? Shit, you’re obsessed!”

“She was…
my life
. She was the only thing I needed. I could live without a job. Or a place to sleep. Hell, I probably could’ve figured out how to hunt for food with my bare hands. But without her, I never thought I could survive.”

“And yet here you are, still breathing.”

“I’m gutted, Gabe. I don’t have the will for any of it anymore.”

“Why don’t you just talk to Charlie about it instead of playing detective on the computer? You don’t think I notice, but I do. You’re not the kind of guy that researches bipolar disorder and PTSD for fun, Sam. Shit, you try to stay the hell away from that damn computer unless it’s for work. So why don’t you just call her and get it over with?”

“I know. I’ve been kind of an asshole about it. I ran into her a few days ago at our apartment, and I didn’t realize how hard it was going to be to look at her.”

“Because you’re still in love with her?”

Sam stopped, rubbed the frost around his glass and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, think about it. If you still feel the same way in a week or two, then I think it’s clear what you need to do. That is, if
she
wants
you
back too.”

Sam’s head snapped up. “What makes you think I want her back?”

“I’ve known you since you were twelve. I can read you like a book. You keep going back and forth from wanting her to not wanting her, being mad to being sad, forgiving her to not forgiving her. You sound like a broken record.” Shrugging, he continued. “Like I said, give it a week or two. I’m sure your answer will become clearer. That, or you could ask your mom to bust out her Tarot cards.”

Sam forced a laugh and gave a curt nod.

After returning to Gabe’s place that evening, Sam sat on his bed staring at the painting of Charlie. His eyes slowly swept the room, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle.

One of Charlie’s journals lay open on the floor. There was a passage he had been thinking about since he first read it a few days earlier. Picking up the journal, he thumbed through it to find the right page.

I’m still hopeful, though. Maybe there’s a guy out in the world, right now, living through the same shit that I am. And maybe I’ll meet him someday and he’ll just know. Together we can figure out why this had to happen to us, and even better, help each other heal. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll fall in love with who I am and not for what I look like. I’m asking too much, aren’t I? Well, a girl can dream.

And maybe I’ll meet him someday and he’ll just know.

And maybe I’ll meet him someday and he’ll just know.

“Shit,” Sam sputtered.
She thinks Jesse knows what she’s been through. She thinks he understands. And that means he’s gone through the same shit she has.

How do I compete with that?

Present Day…

All of these years in the pitch black, digging a hole in the dirt with his bare hands, pushing away everything inside of him, only to have it get lost or trampled by layers of nightmares and a black reality.

Using every vice known to man in order to feel. Or not feel. He’s just a scared little boy wishing for the one person who truly loved him to come home. But she won’t. She never will. Mandy is dead.

Manic or depressed, it doesn’t matter. He’s still someone who very much deserved to be cared for, loved, and appreciated. That’s all any child deserves. How? Why? How could his parents give up their only remaining child?

At
six o’clock the next morning Charlie snuck out of the bed, careful not to disturb the exquisitely sculpted man next to her. His dark blond hair was a mess from a sound sleep and his cheek was buried in the pillow. The white sheet partially covered the torso of his tanned physique but revealed the areas of him she was most fond of. She couldn’t ever remember seeing him so peaceful.

After a quick shower, she sauntered into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice, cringing at the flavor of the citrus mixed with the aftertaste of toothpaste.

Sitting down on the floor of Jesse’s living room, she took out a piece of paper and pulled the coffee table closer for a hard surface to write on. Having vowed to remember it so she could write it down in the morning, she had been reciting the name he’d muttered the night before, just before falling asleep.

List

Research

John Sanborn.

Jesse Sanborn

Mandy Sanborn

Treatments for bipolar

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Bike

Drums

Bank

Lily

Call Karalee…

As her list lengthened, her eagerness to get started mounted. Her phone rang softly from the corner of the room where the remnants of her purse’s contents lay on the floor. Startled momentarily, her stomach flipped as she rose quickly to answer it.

Disappointed to see Roxanne’s name on her caller ID, she answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, Charlie! It’s me. I know it’s the first day of your vacation, but I wanted to call and get a few things in order. Then I promise I won’t call again unless it’s an emergency!”

Charlie giggled. “That’s fine, Roxanne. I was expecting you to call. Did you get my notes?”

“Yes! Thank you for these. I just had a question about the carpet cleaning in three-eleven…”

After clarifying a few things for Roxanne, Charlie scribbled down a note for Jesse to find when he woke, and set it on the kitchen island. She filled a glass of water, added a few salvaged daisies to it, and strolled back to her apartment.

*

As she opened the door, the smell of Samuel lingered in the air. For the briefest of moments she thought he was there, somewhere in the apartment. Striking the thought aside, she went to her unopened mail on the counter and found the bonus check for winning Manager of the Year. Typed in her name, the check was in the amount of two thousand dollars.

She flicked it on her chin twice and stared into the dark and lifeless living room. Shoving the check into her purse, she walked to the blinds and ripped them open. The
warm room flooded with light and small dust specks floated in the stale air around her.

Things so far have fallen into place. God, this has been hard. And that phone incident last night! I could scream! If he would’ve seen the texts I sent to Sam, the shit would’ve hit the fan.

Last night. Oh that stupid night. I knew if I was going to have to…have sex? Make love? Fuck…Jesse last night, I’d have to keep my eyes closed and get it over with. He would’ve never opened up to me and told me those things he did if I hadn’t.

I’m such an asshole. First… Sam.
She held her stomach and wrapped her hand around her mouth, trying to cast the thoughts of Sam aside and bury them deep, hiding them from herself until she could wrap her conscience around them.
And now I’m toying with Jesse. I’m trying to fix a broken man who has clearly stated he doesn’t want to be fixed. But is it so wrong? Am I really that horrible of a person to want to help him? He was the best friend I’ve ever had. I do love him. I really do. Just not the way I love…S
—

She shook her head, and
after watering her ficus tree, she sat down at the computer, determined.

After a half hour of searching, she found what she was looking for. She picked up her phone and dialed the number displayed on her computer screen.

“Yeah, Rick’s on Main here.”

“Hi, Rick. My name is Charlie. This is going to be a strange question, but I’d like to know if you have a very specific bicycle there.”

“I only have one bike here. Do you want me to take a look at what it’s called?”

“Actually, I wouldn’t know. I need you to try and remember who sold it to you. You see, I’m looking for—”

“Jesse was his name,” Rick interjected with a grumble.

Charlie sighed with relief. “Oh god, that’s great! I need it. How much is it?”

“I can sell it to you for three hundred.”

“Perfect. Here’s what I need you to do…”

After making payment arrangements and specific instructions on how to ship it across the country, Charlie hung up the phone with a satisfied grin.

She retrieved the list from the kitchen and grabbed a pen.

List

Research

John Sanborn.

Jesse Sanborn

Mandy Sanborn

Treatments for bipolar

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Bike

Drums

Bank

Lily

Call Karalee…

Charlie had three more errands to run and a few calls to make as she hoped to return before Jesse woke. After throwing on some mascara and lip gloss, she ran out the door.

Three hours later, Charlie walked into Jesse’s apartment, trying to keep the noise minimal. But the rattling of the snare nestled under her arm gave her presence away. She heard Jesse groan from beyond the hallway and hurried back out to her car to get the rest of her purchase.

Lucky for her, he was in the shower when she returned. She quickly set up his surprise along the wall in the living room. Just as she was putting the finishing touches on with a bow, he walked out into the hall in a pair of boxers, calling her name. “Charlie?” he said, urgently.

“I’m here,” she called back.

Scratching his head with a yawn, he started, “”My god, what time is it? How long was I aslee—” Stopping, he assessed the room.

Charlie looked bright, alert, and beautiful, her cheeks flushed and her lips shiny. She was grinning from ear to ear and holding out a pair of drumsticks with a white ribbon dangling from them. Behind her was a full drum set, from the bass to the cymbals.

“Happy Saturday,” she said, widening her smile.

“What’s all this?” he asked with a pinch in his brow.

Her smile fell flat and she dropped her hands to her sides. “I thought you might want to start playing again,” she said, sparking an unsteady grin.

“You…” He looked dumbfounded. “You got me a set of drums? Why? I mean, I don’t understand,” he said softly.

She laughed. “Oh don’t worry, it’s not like it’s an engagement ring,” she said.
Shit! Don’t look down, don’t look down.
As his eyes flashed toward her ring finger, she quickly continued. “And although last night meant a lot to me, you don’t need to be scared about this.” Shrugging, she added, “I’ve been really selfish for the past year, and I just wanted to make sure I was doing something for someone else for a change.”

He shook his head and walked toward her. “I wasn’t scared.” He took her hand in his. Charlie’s head slanted appreciatively and she watched his lips descend to the back of her hand. “Thank you. I’m just not used to gifts,” he murmured awkwardly, letting his fingers slip between hers.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Well, get used to them. There’s more to tell you. Sit down. Can I make you some breakfast?” Her words were rushed from the impatience of her next surprise.

Inspecting his new drum set, Jesse hadn’t heard Charlie ask him a question. “Huh?” he asked, looking back at her in awe.

“Never mind,” she laughed. “When you’re done looking at your new toy, I have another surprise,” she said, grabbing a frying pan from the cupboard. “Oh, and it’s one o’clock in the afternoon, by the way. You slept almost twelve hours last night.”

He exhaled. “I guess I needed it.” Standing from his crouched position, he rose with a cymbal in his hand and studied its bronze finish.

Finding only a half carton of eggs and two pieces of American cheese in the fridge, Charlie began preparing an omelet. “Sorry if it’s not the best quality set,” she muttered, watching him assemble the stand.

His shoulders fell and the boyish grin was now gone. “Jesus, Charlie. I’m sorry, I didn’t even say thank you.”

She gawked. “Whoa. ‘Sorry’
and
‘thank you’ in one sentence? Did you hurt yourself, Jesse Anders?” she asked sarcastically. “Ha! Don’t worry about it. Your reaction was thanks enough.” She beamed. “Now come over here and eat your omelet. I want to tell you what we’re doing today.” Setting the plate down on the island, from across the room she offered him a fork.

Laughing, he jogged over to her and looked down at the plate. “I had all this in my fridge?”

“I suppose I could have gone back to my apartment and gotten some vegetables or meat to throw in, but I got lazy.” She winked.

“So what are we doing today?” he asked after swallowing a mouthful of eggs.

“First, we’re going to Chap’s Thrift Store. You need a couch, a TV, and maybe a stool or two for this island. After that, we’re going to the grocery store.”

“Charlie…” He set his fork down. “I don’t have the money for all that stuff.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t say you had to pay for it.” She flashed a quick smile, winked again, and walked toward the hallway.

“Red…” he began. But Charlie was already in the bedroom, pulling the sheets over the mattress.

He ran to her, swallowing another mouthful. “Red. I don’t feel…comfortable with all this,” he said, grabbing the pillows and fluffing them into place.

“Tough,” she said with certainty. The comforter flew up into the air and then lay flat against the bed. “Quit being so sensitive,” she added with a wink.

A devilish smile spread across his face.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Jesse asked, his knee beginning to bounce in the seat of her parents’ truck.

“Well, after we get all this furniture into your apartment, I have one last itty bitty surprise,” she said, glancing down at his leg.

He clenched his jaw, trying to disguise his grin of anticipation.

After hauling the couch, TV, and two bar stools into his apartment, they looked around in satisfaction.

“It
almost
looks like someone lives here now.” Standing behind him, Charlie wrapped her arms around his chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder, feeling him tense, then relax.

“What are you thinking?” she asked after a strange silence.

He exhaled. “I feel like for the first time, probably ever…that this is my
home
.” He gripped Charlie’s wrists and pulled her closer to him.

Charlie’s smile danced and she felt a shiver up her arms. “All right. I’m going to get ready. We have a date tonight.” She released his grip and walked toward the front door. “I’ll be back in a half hour or so, I’m just going to freshen up. Oh! And your car is in the parking lot—I had Mark tow it this morning.”

“Where are we going?” he asked eagerly.

“It’s a surprise.” She winked and closed the door.

Walking back to her apartment, Charlie felt her energy increasing. She had a confident stride as all of the plans she had been making were starting to fall into place.

It’s so easy to get caught up in his contagious moods. Things are better than I thought they’d be. It might not be so bad spending a lifetime with Jesse
. She flinched outwardly at the thought and sighed.
If this is God’s cruel fate in pairing the two of us together, then I’ll be damned if I fail him again. I just hope I’m able to pull this off. He’s still seeing what he wants to see, even though I’m not very good at this acting thing.

As she entered her apartment, her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi honey, it’s Karalee.”

“Hi! Thanks for returning my call. How are you?”

“I, ah…well, I’m a little concerned.”

“Concerned? What’s going on? Is everything all right? Is Angie okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. But I’m concerned about
you
,” Karal said.