C H A R L I E
As I watched Carlie's car speed off into the encroaching darkness, Ginna surfaced beside me, clutching a half-filled bottle of Moscato. "You aren't blind now to what just happened,"
I shook my head, turning to her. "What do you mean? And better still what are you doing here?? You're lucky Freddie got out before he saw you. You'd have been toast."
She shrugged. "A woman should never fear. But that's not the case here. I saw you both Charlie. At close proximity and I would never have believed. At first, it was hard to fit the puzzle pieces but you're way too much of a creep to make him ward off like that,"
"Nah, that's just Carl," I replied quietly.
She tilted her head back in prospect. "You've got a nickname for him now? Wow, what else have you got going on?"
I eyed her closely, dispelling her assumptions. "You're crazy Ginna. I'm not like that. I don't do boys."
"Denial looks good on you, man" She patted my back. "You're so dense to see it all. He loves you Charlie, and you're making a mess of things,"
I took a step away from her, then gestured to her glass. "You seem to let alcohol get in the way of reasoning,"
She chuckled lowly then rolled her eyes at me. "Oh come off it. I'm still with my full senses. Tell me, what else have you noticed apart from his mail?"
I paused thoughtfully. "Well, he does smell like maple,"
Disdain clamored her eyes. "Anything else?"
"That's ridiculous Gin, I'm not gay. Maybe Freddie is but - "
"Afraid?" She cut me off quite nicely then latched onto my arm. "Don't spite me, Charlie, Freddie isn't gay. I know we've had our ups and downs and the chances of getting back together with him are slim but hell no, he so doesn't swing that way,"
I bit my lower lip silently, glancing anywhere else but her face. "Did you do it? We're you really a prostitute??"
It took her a few seconds to answer but when she did it was brief and nonchalant, with no hard feelings or regret. "Well, I did do it to make him jealous. You've seen how he is, we've never really communicated fully these past month" she looked away, at the performers on stage. "Other times it was for the money. I needed to survive, my bills were piling up and I was afraid to ask him for help."
"You could have told me about it. I'd assist any way I can," I proffered.
She lips curled into a half-smile. "It wasn't an option back then. I was so desperate to get back his attention that I thought that if he saw me with other men, then he'd come back to me. I was wrong, I've always been but I learned how easy things would be if you kept self respect out of the equation. I don't even feel guilty..." She trailed off, exhausted by her words. "I don't feel at all anymore. Carlie is good, maybe if you look right then you'll see what I mean"
I hesitated, walking away from her. "Goodnight Gin"
Stuffing my palms into my pockets, I walked past the stage towards the empty streets, the striking image of Carlie with his beautiful auburn locks cut low coming to mind. I found it hard to not reach out to touch it. It was so clean, short, and smelled nice, just like him. That light breezy smell that wafted off pancakes doused in pure maple syrup. It was addictive, natural. He was a natural but not the way you might be thinking.
We couldn't be anything more than friends but still, the dress, hair.....had it really been for me? Or Freddie?
Gin was right. The thought was sickening, roweling in my guts. It irked me to picture the two together. I'm not even sure Freddie's gay, he did say he liked Carlie. But what if he was just throwing the poor boy in for a loop? What if Carlie ended up heartbroken?
I can't allow that.
I increased my pace when an owl hooted from the distance. Home, it was time to go home.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
The next morning, I got up and went to the kitchen to make coffee. It had taken ages; by ages, I meant weeks to find the perfect place, one with the perfect cozy atmosphere that made it feel like home. I wanted a place close to the outskirts where I could look up the slope to see each and every person that came up.
He could be here, he had to be here. Theresa called in once from home to tell me the same old thing. "No luck Charl. Carrie still hasn't come home yet. We're still searching but it's unlikely he'd show up. He might be dead too."
And that realization stung like a petulant smack given to a stubborn kid on a cold, breezy morning. I sheltered hope, I embraced regret. There was nothing much more painful than the act of betrayal. I'd lived with that art once and it'd brought me here.
Despite both of us living under the same roof, I couldn't figure out on time what actually went wrong. Carrie and I hadn't been so close, we barely even talked and he was always crying, subdued, and extremely sensitive. Father was always ranting on how useless he'd gotten. How he couldn't play football and ski, how he could never make him proud. Meanwhile, I was a household legend. I did all father wanted. I brought home the trophies and awards and got my praises sang dairy like a hymn. It was good to be in the spotlight, it was fun to be adored. I remember harboring stiff resentment against him, then one night I called him a man-woman.
He never replied. He even laughed it off with tears. That was the last time we spoke. The next morning I awoke to a calm household. Mother was crying at a corner, Dad gazing out the glaced white window, and Theresa clutching a crumpled paper which she handed over to me.
Carrie was gone...but along with that, he made a startling revelation.
"I won't lose hope Theresa," I'd always say. "I'd failed him. I made him look like a fool. I'm not sure I'd be able to live knowing that."
I stirred the coffee; strong, black, and sugarless just like the one father drank most mornings back home in the Sierras. The coffee for real men, he'd call it then threw a look of reproach at poor Carrie.
Sometimes I felt safe here. The town had been kind and had promised to tell me if any substantial information turned up. I matted Carrie's poster on a white wall, adjacent to the square where I was sure everyone would see it. My hope that I'd still find him grew each day, to the point of utmost certainty until last week when gloom set in. My chest felt bleak and it made me feel restless.
I turned just as Freddie sauntered in, streaks of white lines strutted his eyes and face and he looked disheveled like he'd just been out of a bin. He reeked of strong vodka.
"Good morning," he cussed then slopped on the counter-top, completely worn out.
"You look tough," I remarked.
He snorted. "Tell me something I don't know. I saw her last night. She was talking to Carlie, then when I approached, she vanished. Bitch got thick skin."
I frowned. "Gin spoke to Carlie?" my chest was beating. "When? How?"
"You seem curious all of a sudden," he pulled up his head and supported his chin with an upright palm. "Gosh, my head's on fire. I wonder what she told him. I'm really bad at making fresh starts."
I fetched a painkiller pill from the topmost cabinet then passed it over to him along with a glass of water. He gulped it down in one go. "I need to make it up to him. We were supposed to hang out late last night."
"So that's saying that you both are a piece," I didn't mind asking, stirring my coffee for the umpteenth time.
He looked away. "Yeah, soon. That's if I get Gin off his tail."
"Oh, she won't do anything stupid. But She might want to get back with you."
"I don't need her," his features hardened.
"That may be true but you love her. Come on man, how long shall you pretend otherwise."
"And you love him too Charlie," he looked straight at me. "You're just not keen on admitting it. Afraid of what the neighbors would say?"
I lowered my cup. "I'm afraid of no one, and also you know me too well. I'm not gay. Carlie and I can't be anything more than just friends."