Selling the Drama (18 page)

Royce joined them then, yet Charlotte did
not brace herself for another exposure. Her father would never do
that to her. He took his seat across from her with a warm smile.
"Hello there, pretty little lady."

Charlotte swallowed down the tears that were
building, blinking rapidly, focusing on the food in front of her.
Meat and three different kinds of vegetables. It could be anything
for all the notice she took of it as she shovelled it into her
mouth, ignoring the banal chat circulating around the table. She
looked up as Toby released her hand so he could stand and clear the
table. Charlotte looked over at her mother, focusing on the long
smooth column of skin that made up the surface of her neck. She
sucked in a jagged tear soaked breath and let it out again in a
rush. She wanted a neck like that again. A neck devoid of scars;
both on the surface and down below, running into her very psyche,
where a constant image of his face before hers dwelled alongside a
white hot pain of being violated so brutally.

"I want plastic surgery." There was no real
thought to the statement and the timing of it. She just wanted it
out there.

Iris and Royce both looked over at her with
alarm, Toby pausing in the clearing up.

"When it's healed from the stitches, I want
surgery to fix it. The doctor told me they could make a huge
difference to the appearance of it with plastic surgery."

Iris was the first to speak. "Well, that is
true. Plastic surgery can all but get rid of it. But we can't
afford that. I'm sorry darling, but it's beyond our means."

"Iris," Royce interjected.

"Royce," she replied, all authority. "We
don't have the health cover. I checked."

Toby put down the plates he had been
holding. "What about my money?"

They all turned to him in stunned silence.
No one talked about Toby's money. It sat there in the background,
paying an allowance to Iris and Royce for his living and education
expenses, but for the most part, just accumulating and growing.

Iris cleared her throat, casting Toby a soft
expression. "That's very generous dear, but you can't access that
for a long time yet. Unless it's for education, they won't release
any funds until you're twenty one." She brightened then, turning to
face Charlotte. "But look, if you're both still together and you
still feel the same way, you can get it done then." She smiled
happily, as though the situation was resolved, her part in the
resolution confirmed.

The insensitivity of her words was galling.
Charlotte rose from her seat angrily, her chair falling backwards
with the force of her emotion. She lifted her hair for herself this
time, pointing to her neck in distress, tears filling her eyes.
"Look at me!! I have had my neck slashed apart by a psycho! I am
not supposed to look like this!!" She dropped her hair in favour of
pointing angrily at her mother. "It is so easy for you to tell me
to wait. You have no idea what this feels like for me. To look one
way, and now another."

"Charlotte!" Iris admonished. "There are
people with far greater disfigurements than yours. For goodness
sake, your vanity astounds me."

Charlotte reached down to the table and
grabbed hold of the salt shaker, hurling it in the direction of her
mother's head, who fortunately had the foresight to see it coming,
ducking down just in time to miss the connection. She reached for
the pepper grinder next, throwing it with more force, Iris
scampering to her feet to avoid its flying blow. "Royce!" she
shrieked. "Do something!"

But Royce appeared paralysed by shock,
staring open mouthed at his daughter, who had now picked up her
glass, which seconds later went sailing through the air, landing
with a shattering spray of liquid and glass shards against the
dining room wall. Charlotte managed to hurl two more glasses before
Toby's arms came around her from behind, firmly containing her own
so she was prevented from being able to grab anything else. She
struggled against him though, rage boiling through her at a pace
unprecedented. Restricted in her movements, she made up for it by
yelling, opening her mouth and screaming in the direction of her
mother.

"I hate you! I hate all of you! You made me
do this! I would never have put in that complaint against Porter if
you hadn't all rail-roaded me into doing it! You and your feminist
crap!" She glared at her mother, struggling further against Toby
who only tightened his grip on her. "Let go of me! This is mostly
your fault! It was all a big competition for you, a way to get your
rocks off pretending to be something you aren't even close to being
yet. Let go of me!!" Shrieking now, she attempted to bite down on
his arm given that her own were so restrained.

"Toby," Royce's voice was firm. "Let go of
her."

He did, taking a step back from her.
Charlotte refused to look at him, already regretting the words she
had just spat at him. Fury now much more contained, she steadied
herself by placing her hands down flat onto the table, working to
regain her breath. She looked at her father, at once contrite at
the sight of his face.

"Charlotte, we all made sure you wanted to
proceed with the complaint before we went ahead with it. I am
sorry, so sorry for what's been done to you, but you can't back
track now to that moment and blame all of us for a decision you had
a part in. Besides, I can't help but wonder what might have
happened to you if you hadn't made the complaint. Now, I appreciate
your hurt and anger, but this," he gestured to the wall behind him,
dripping down to the glass covered floor, both salt and pepper
coating the shards and sticking to the water, a mess on a scale
unseen in this house before. "Never again. This is not
acceptable."

Charlotte lowered her eyes, contrite, yet
still angry, her mother's words cutting into her heart. Iris
understood nothing. Not one damned thing about what she was going
through. The plight of all disfigured humanity was not her problem;
and besides, what she looked like was not the point. It was so far
from the point. Eyes still fixed on the table, she asked her father
quietly, "Can I please be excused?"

"No." His voice was gentle though. "You can
clean up this mess you've made." He motioned to her mother then and
they both left the dining room. It had not escaped Charlotte's
notice though that he had not demanded she apologise to her mother.
And for that, she was grateful, and far sorrier than she would have
been if he had insisted upon it.

Slumping down into Toby's recently vacated
chair, she dropped her head into her hands, pressing her forehead
against the table. She could hear Toby beside her, picking up the
chair she had flung behind her in her temper, setting it to rights.
He sat, close by her, his hand coming to rest on her head, stroking
her hair gently, saying nothing while he waited for her to calm
down.

Charlotte spoke without looking up at him,
her face still buried in her arms. "I'm sorry. That I said that
about you. It was mean."

Still running his hand over her hair, he
worked his other hand into the tangle of her arms, tugging lightly
until she had no choice but to yield to him, allow him to hold her
hand and force her to face him. "It's true. I did railroad you into
it. I won't deny that. Sometimes though, when people are in a
vulnerable place, it becomes difficult for them to judge what the
right thing to do is. They need somebody to step in, to steer them
in the right direction."

Charlotte straightened, gesturing to her
neck. "Is this the right direction?"

Toby sighed, the sort of sound that one
might make when dealing with a very small child who refused to
accept the answer you were giving. It grated at Charlotte, so much
so she pulled her hand out of his, tucking both of them firmly
underneath her thighs, out of his reach. He dropped his hand from
her hair as he looked at her dispassionately.

"Charlotte, I watched my mother get zipped
into a body bag because she wouldn't report the man who was
threatening and hurting her. Her neck was broken. Her face; it was
unrecognisable. There was nothing of her left." He stopped, staring
at her, his expression inscrutable, no emotion in play, despite his
heavy words.

All breath seemed to have left her body; she
was stunned into submission. He had never spoken about this before,
the way his mother had died. There was a sense of unreality in his
candour. What he had seen and experienced throughout his young life
eclipsed hers exponentially. There were truths to his existence
that she may never be able to comprehend.

"If you think that I will ever not railroad
you into putting a stop to someone threatening or hurting you, then
you don't know me at all. Never in this lifetime will I be okay
with you accepting something like that. I've told you that before."
He reached out then, shifting her hair to the side, his finger
trailing lightly over the wound. "We can fix this. This is nothing.
Compared to what could have been; this is nothing at all."

Tears spilled over her cheeks; Charlotte
squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her hands hard
against them. "It's not about what it looks like!" she sobbed,
leaning forward, taking it on faith that he would be there to catch
her.

His chest met her forehead as his arms
encircled her. "Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I
don't see an image of him slicing into you every time I see that
injury? Do you think I don't understand how much worse that must be
for you, since you were the one who actually endured the attack?"
Toby pressed his lips against the top of Charlotte's head, resting
them there.

She removed her hands from her eyes, curling
them into his shirt, a ragged breath escaping her. "That she could
just dismiss the way I feel as mere vanity."

"I know. I'll look into getting the money
for it sooner. I'll find a way. I promise."

"It's not up to you," Charlotte protested.
There was a deep feeling of tenderness within her; his declaration
was no small offer.

His lips left the top of her head to trail
down the side of her face, his breath intermingling with her own.
"I want to do it for you. I want to be the one who takes care of
you." His mouth found hers, pressing hard, insistent, his hand
fisting into her hair so that he could hold her more firmly against
his demanding mouth.

That he had said this was profound. Despite
the intensity of their relationship, despite how often he told her
that he loved her, neither of them had alluded to the future. They
lived in the now, savouring each moment, never contemplating with
each other what was to happen between them beyond the now. That was
not to say that Charlotte had not given the topic some thought
while on her own. Toby was ambitious; he had very clear plans that
involved a specific university along a specific timeline with the
ultimate goal of a very specific career. Yet, he had never said to
her that he wanted her to play any specific part in that future.
Charlotte herself was more flexible; in truth, she had no real clue
about what she really wanted to do with her future yet. Except for
one thing.

And that was Toby.

She wanted him. She had just neglected to
articulate this to him for fear of it not coinciding with what he
wanted himself. So, for him to allude to a future between them that
extended beyond this year; that was the profound part for
Charlotte. That was the part she wanted to seize upon, hold up and
examine, until all the details were imprinted within her.

Pulling back from his kiss, Charlotte cupped
his face. "You're going to go away. You have no choice if you want
to be a Barrister." This knowledge had begun to burn brighter
within her as the year had progressed.

"Come with me."

"To Brisbane? Mum and Dad would never let
me. They'd say it's too expensive. You can pay for yourself, but I
have to rely on them."

"Rely on me."

"No."

"Yes." He took hold of her wrists, looking
into her eyes with certainty. "The answer is yes."

Looking back at him, Charlotte almost
believed it was a genuine possibility. As if sensing her inner
turmoil, Toby pressed her a little further.

"Just us. All of it stretching out before
us." And then, the most unexpected thing he could have ever said.
"I need you."

"No. You don't need anyone." Charlotte shook
her head, dropping her gaze. If she had said that, it would be
believable, but from him? Toby did not need anyone with him. He was
the most independent and self-sufficient person Charlotte knew. He
did not need her.

"Yes. I do. I need you." He frowned at her
then, pulling back slightly. "Did you seriously think I would go
away without you?"

"You have to go to Brisbane if you want to
study law with the intent of becoming a Barrister. What were you
going to do as an alternative? Study here by correspondence just so
you could stay with me? As if. I know you better than that. You've
always intended on going. There's never been a question of it."

Toby took hold of her chin, redirecting her
gaze back towards him. "Of course there's no question of me going
to Brisbane. But I didn't think there was any question either of
you going with me. I just expected you would. Don't you want to
come with me?"

Charlotte frowned. "Of course I want to come
with you. But it's not that simple."

"Of course it's that simple. Nothing could
be simpler. You are mine and I am yours. And where I go, you go.
And after I've done what I need to do to get to where I need to be,
then I'll follow you anywhere. But I need you to follow me first,
because you're the only part of my life here that I can't leave
behind. You are the only person I have."

Overcome by a feeling of such deep emotion,
Charlotte merely nodded, unable to respond in any other way. Toby
smiled widely, sensing his victory. He kissed her again, far more
gently than he had before.