Rewired (The Progress Series) (15 page)

Charlie shook her head. “No. I mean, I had a little bit to do with the medication part of it, but this afternoon was the first time he went to visit his doctor. That I know of, anyway.”

Susie crossed her arms over her chest
and smiled. “Well, well. What do we have here?” she asked, eying Charlie.

Charlie’s brow furrowed and she looked at the grill. “Burgers.” She nudged her chin toward the utensil in Susie’s hand. “Tongs.” Softening her forehead, she smiled. “Conversation?”

Susie bellowed a laugh. “Oh no, my dear. We have much more than that. I believe our Jesse might just be in love.” She beamed.

“
Whoa
. Let’s not go picking out dresses and china patterns yet, Susie. We’re friends, first and foremost. I feel…I feel…” Charlie stumbled, not knowing how to finish her sentence. “Um, I feel a bit responsible for him.”

“Nonsense.” Susie resumed her position in front of the grill. “Responsible is what Keith and I feel for him. Maybe even Lily. But this is something totally different.”

Charlie held the plate while Susie smiled, stacking the patties. “This is special.”

Charlie contemplated that for a moment. “You’re absolutely right. This is different…and special.”

Susie winked and they headed back inside. “Soup’s on!” she called.

For the remainder of dinner, Jesse sat silent, barely touching his plate. Charlie and Susie continued to make polite conversation, and the subject of love wasn’t brought up again.

After a slice of key lime pie, Charlie thanked the Anderses for having her over as she was quickly ushered out the door by Jess. He waved, mumbled, and got into Charlie’s car.

“You didn’t need to be so rude. Is there someplace we need to be?”

“Yes, at home. On the couch. Besides, they’re used to me being rude.”

Charlie’s mouth hung open. “You mean you’re a dick to them too?” she asked, pulling out of the driveway.

“Shut up, Charlie, and drive me home.”

Her frustration with his behavior, once again, had her reeling. He was unacceptable in most situations anyway, but to treat the two people who had adopted him this way? The people who took him in and carried the burden of supplying him with medication, therapy, and love?
Fuck that.

“Do you have any idea how grateful you should be to have them?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, keeping his head toward the window.

“Here I thought the whole time that no one ever loved you! I thought that your adopted parents were rich and mean and didn’t give a shit!”

“Shut up, Charlie. I mean it.” He tried to sound threatening, but it came out as a pathetic grumble.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Kids in the foster system would die to receive the gift of a second chance—a new family, something they can call their own, a stable environment, an education in one of the best school districts—”

“Pity, Charlie!” he screamed. “Fucking pity. That’s the only reason they took me in! You think that feels good? Huh? You think that’s how I wanted someone to love me? Like a frail and used piece of shit with a fuck-ton of issues that only
their
money could afford? Well fuck that! I don’t need anyone’s pity and I don’t need anyone’s money!”

“You ungrateful piece of…”

Jesse grabbed the steering wheel and jerked the car to the shoulder of the road. Charlie instantly stepped on the brake and tried to get the vehicle to a swerving stop. They were yanked toward the dash as Charlie forced the brake to the floor.

The sound of the engine and the crickets outside the car were the only things to be heard. Charlie then realized how close she was to death—not that this small incident would have done much damage at forty miles per hour, but that she literally had put her life in Jesse’s hands. He was unpredictable. Angry. Vile. Menacing. And in a completely different world from what Charlie was used to living in.

After a moment, she turned the ignition and drove back to the apartment complex in silence.

Upon returning, Charlie lay down with Jesse until he fell asleep. She knew to stay quiet, because she didn’t want to provoke another outburst.

*

She woke to the sound of thunderstorms, and Jesse was gone. She searched the apartment but found nothing. His keys, shoes, and coat were all still in their place.

She walked toward the balcony and looked through the glass, and saw Jesse standing in the courtyard.

Running down the steps, she raced to the back door and swung it open. It crashed against the building just as another clap of thunder roared. The rain was coming down in sheets, and Charlie immediately put her hands up over her head. She ran to the edge of the grass and stood.

Jesse was standing in the middle of the storm. The rain flicked off his shoulders and hair, creating a fine mist around his body. He stood looking down, not aware of Charlie’s presence in a pair of gray sweatpants and light gray T-shirt. The water had soaked every stitch of his clothing, and his shirt clung to his torso.

“Jess?” she called.

With the rise and fall of his chest from his breathing, he moved only slightly, acknowledging her without looking up. “You shouldn’t be here, Charlie. You shouldn’t
want
to be here. I’m fucking crazy.”

“Shh.” She approached him and cradled his face in her hands. “I want to be here.”

He shook his head slowly. “Why?” he asked, his voice monotone. Steam was rising from his warm body as the cold rain collided with his shoulders. He licked his lips, catching the water that had pooled in the divot under his nose.

Charlie was now drenched. She shivered and covered her shoulders, trying to disguise her frown. “Come inside, please.”

He looked up to the sky, shaking his head. “No.” His body trembled as he reached his hands outward, inviting the lightening to strike him.

“You had it all, Charlie. The career. The guy. The future. The life.” He swallowed. “And I took it all away.”

Slicking her hair back, her hands rubbed along her face to the back of her neck. And as Jesse remained unmoved, she wrapped her arms around his waist and guided him to the ground.

“I still have all those things.”

Sitting in a puddle of mud and grass, Charlie held him in the courtyard, trying to rock him to comfort in the middle of the fierce rainstorm.

*

After convincing him to go back inside, Charlie went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Here. Take off your clothes.”

Even something as simple as removing his shirt looked to be difficult for him to handle alone; sluggishly tugging slowly at the sleeves, he tried prying it from his chest. Charlie walked to help him so he could retain some dignity in his struggle. She lifted his shirt over his head with his entire body limp. Never having seen him look so weak, she kept her head down so he wouldn’t see the look of worry covering her face.

Then she removed his sweatpants and boxers. Steam had accumulated in the bathroom, and she checked the water temperature quickly to make sure they wouldn’t get burned. She put her hand on his back and pulled back the shower curtain. After he stepped inside, Charlie removed her clothes and joined him.

Lathering the soap in a washcloth, Charlie then took her time removing the mud and grass from his body, watching it swirl around the drain. He continued to stand unresponsive as Charlie washed his back, stomach, and arms. She grabbed the shampoo and slowly massaged it into his hair.

“Move back,” she quietly requested.

His body eased back into the stream as the water rinsed away the lather.

“Let’s switch.”

She moved around him and quickly washed herself and shampooed her hair. After turning off the shower and peeling back the curtain, she grabbed two towels. Once she was done drying herself, she repeated the same for Jess.

“Let’s get into bed,” she said.

His eyelids were heavy and the weight of his own body made him lethargic, but he managed to make it to the mattress in the bedroom. She crawled in beside him and covered him with the sheet.

“Do you feel any better?”

His only response was a slow blink.

“Is it always this bad?” she asked.

He nodded.

“How… I mean, why?” she whispered.

“This shit doesn’t need a reason, Charlie. It just is.”

Hoisting himself up to a sitting position, he tried to formulate words. And as he began, Charlie realized that within twenty-four hours, the speed in which his thoughts traveled to his mouth had gone from fast-forward to slow-motion. “It’s like this…the dark thoughts just come,” he whispered, trying to coordinate his thoughts with his lips. “Whether my eyes are open or shut, they flood into my eyes and my ears and all I can see and hear are things that scare the shit out of me.” He paused, trying to steady his head. “Shit from my past. Shit from my future. You leaving me. You staying with me. My sister. My mother. My father. Other things.” His voice was strained, as if each word escaping through his mouth took a part of his mind with it. “They bounce in and out of my head and I have no idea how they got there, and after all these years, I still can’t figure out how to make them go away. And when my mind is consumed with all of these horrific sounds and images, nothing else is as important. Showering. Putting on underpants. Eating.” He managed a shrug. “It’s not as if these things are unnecessary, they just aren’t something I consider. And then there’s the thought of surrounding myself with other people; that’s a fucking joke. Because they see it. I stop making sense and I can barely keep up with my own thoughts. My body stops moving, but my mind continues. I can’t concentrate, I can’t focus. I try to talk myself out of it, but that only adds to the frustration of it. Then panic sets in.” His brow furrowed, appearing as though he was recalling a previous event. “Who saw me? Is Charlie going to leave once she sees this? Who did I piss off? Who did I disappoint? Did I take my meds? Why do I need to take my meds? Did I brush my teeth? When was the last time I called my mom? When was the last time I slept? Did I pay my rent this month? Is Charlie going to leave me and run back to Sam? I’m drowning in that goddamned ocean again and I can’t remember it. I can’t remember what happened from the time my head went under until the time I woke in the sand. And it’s important, right?” He turned his head toward her. “It’s
gotta be
important. How can I lose so much of what has happened to me, and so much of what I’ve done to other people? Is it stored somewhere in my head and going to surface again the next time I’m like this? Will I ever get those minutes back? I can’t hold onto it long enough. It slips right through. If crying were an option, I would. Same with laughter. But everything is stuck, and as soon as I feel like I should be expressing some kind of emotion, it slips again. Gone.” He tried to snap his fingers, but his elbow wouldn’t carry the weight of his forearm. “Then I come back to thinking, is Charlie going to leave me like the rest of them? She should. It would be better for her. And I wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of knowing what I’m putting her through. But I want to keep her. I want her to crawl inside of me and stay—”

“Shhh. Come here. Stop this.” She curled her arms around him and wedged her arms underneath his to pull him close. “I understand.”

His chest was barely moving now; succumbing to the exhaustion of the conversation, he couldn’t even lift his arms around her.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

She nodded and sniffed. “I know.”

And suddenly she was trapped. It had been building inside her since she had cheated—the guilt, the remorse, the grief, and the depression. Charlie woke the next morning with Jesse in her arms. He hadn’t moved all night. His neck was cranked to the side, resting up against the wall, and his arms were still limp at his sides. She slowly nudged him downward and tried to maneuver his body flat. Once his head was on the pillow, she lay down beside him, still exhausted.

Glancing out the window, Charlie saw the sun shining in through the blinds. Knowing well that Jesse had to work again that day, she still couldn’t bring herself to rise and find a clock.

Come on, Charlie. Get up. You can’t let this infect you. Thought you’d be so strong, didn’t you? You thought that bringing him closer would help him, somehow soaking in the strength you had for both of you. Well look at you now: busted and wasted.

He’s pulled you back a decade. You remember. You remember what it’s like. He’s right, there isn’t a choice. It’s not just in a mindset to decide you can be happy, and just be. It ebbs and flows and you have no control on the course it takes. You just have to float with it and hope you surface once the tide settles.

Maybe he’s just too much for you to handle. The good times are great
—
better than great. You get shit done, you’re motivated, you’re good. But this? This is beyond debilitating. You don’t even want to get up and make a cup of coffee. See, this is what you get for being empathetic. You’re fourteen years old again and want to pull a blade down your arm to make it go away.

She turned and looked at Jesse. His body was completely still and his face relaxed. She could almost feel the energy he was building and storing for the events of the day.
If he woke up for it.