14. Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Chuck
Once he got off work, Chuck did his best to stay out of everyone’s way. He checked on the boys to find they’d all finished their homework, except for Ryan, who was only almost finished. Once he was sure they were good to go, he made sure the crew knew he would be in the master suite if they needed him, and then he started hauling in the boxes from the bathroom to go through them.
And then he had to spend fifteen, twenty minutes scrolling stupid shit on his phone before he finally convinced himself to dive in and open the first box. They’d been stowed in there when Andrew was still alive, after all, and Chuck had next to zero recollection of what they might have put away.
The risk of memories was almost too strong to let him open the boxes in the first place. It was only because he was trying so damn hard to stay out of the way and not come off as some useless widower locked in grief that he peeled open the first one…which, predictably, was a jumbled mess of cords, a land line phone set, manuals for kitchen appliances they’d already thrown out, and some batteries that were covered in fluffy white where they’d corroded. In essence, a box of garbage, but it made moving forward a little bit easier.
When he got to the photo albums, Chuck’s fingers hesitated on the cover of the first one. It was a simple white book with “MEMORIES” gilded in the center. He could have sworn all the physical pictures were in the bedroom closet, but there was the evidence in front of him. At least one box full of more albums.
He couldn’t open it. He couldn’t open any of them. Not then. Not if he wanted to make any progress on the rest of the stuff. And God forbid he find out that some of those photos took on water damage. Irreplaceable memories.
He’d just opened a box of books, which smelled instantly like rot, when soft tapping drew his attention to the door. He looked up to see Bunny standing in the doorway, white splatters on her hands and her face and her overalls. She smiled at him. “Busy?”
“Not as busy as you all are.” Chuck groaned as he pushed himself up off the floor and to his feet. “What’s up?”
“Evander and Eliza have a hare-brained scheme they want you to greenlight. Same old, same old.” She jabbed a thumb toward the stairs. “We’re being quiet so the boys don’t overhear until you give the go-ahead.”
“A hare-brained scheme involving my boys. Sounds like the kind of thing I should get nervous about.”
“Only if you hate shopping with other people’s money.” She patted the door jamb. “You have my word as a mom, it’s nothing that crazy.”
Chuck nodded and followed behind, heading downstairs to see the rest of the gang all gathered. Without even asking, one of the production crew hooked him up with a mic, then guided him into place. It took about a minute of further scrambling before things quieted and Vince, the director of photography, pointed to Mason.
He grinned, hands folded on the little card table they were around. “So, we have a little bit of a two birds, one stone kind of proposition. If you’re open to it.”
Chuck nodded. “Never been much of a hunter, but I can certainly try.”
Mason chuckled. “We kind of need to get into the boys’ rooms before too long, and we know that it’s a little weird to be home while someone’s poking around your personal space.”
Evander jumped in almost before Mason finished talking, leaning closer with a manic grin. “I was thinking it would be good to bring them along on a shopping spree. I have their design stuff, and between you, me, and the national audience back home, I could do an amazing job. But I figured they might like a little more direct input in their bedrooms. Paint colors, flooring, lighting fixtures.” He held up a finger in Aras’s direction. “I don’t want to hear your snark.”
Aras snorted. “I’ll let that one slide because I was going to complain. But don’t overstep your boundaries too much, paint monkey.”
“Sure thing, wire jockey.” Ev shrugged. “It would be me and the boys and Ozzy and Bunny. Hit up Steward’s Home and Garden Supply while the contractors get everything ready this weekend?”
“And get you a little bit of breathing room,” said Bunny. “I know how it is. Love my kiddo, but sometimes momma needs a little quiet and a true crime documentary.”
Chuck made himself breathe. It was ridiculous to get worried about it, yet worry he did. The boys hadn’t gone anywhere with an adult other than himself or the school bus driver or their friends’ parents since Andrew died. And he would have put a kibosh on the whole friends’ parents thing if he hadn’t known them all so long. These were basically strangers.
And my boys are old enough to be fine . Chuck couldn’t quite make himself agree, though. “I should come too, right? Don’t need to leave you watching after my kids for me.”
Evander nodded. “I’d be happy to have you along for the ride. I just think Robinson and Aras had a project or two they wanted to discuss with you.”
“Yeah.” Robinson’s voice was quiet, but it cut through. “Nothing major, but if the boys are out of the house, it’s a good time to get the water shut off one last time and go over any last plumbing stuff. Aras would turn the power off at the same time, and we could try to get as much of that done as possible before they come back.”
Bunny sighed. “You’ll want to charge your phone beforehand if you want that true crime doc.”
“Also, I have no problem killing the power with everyone home.” Aras tilted his head to the side. “Not a good way to be popular, though.”
“If you’re not comfortable with it, just say so. Seriously.” Robinson stared straight at him, blue eyes bright and sincere. “I know it’s your kids and we’re a bunch of weirdos from out of town offering to whisk them away.”
At least he gets it . Just that acknowledgment—and maybe the complete lack of judgment on Robinson’s face—assuaged a little of Chuck’s worry. Ryan, if nothing else, was mature and could keep an eye on them. Plus they’d be on camera and wearing mics the entire time. It was probably the safest they could reasonably be on an outing, all things considered. Homescapes wouldn’t be risking any reputational hit by letting something happen to the kids of one of their clients.
Chuck’s breath vibrated as he blew out. But he nodded. “I’ll let them know to be on their best behavior.” It was an in-town trip to a hardware store. They’d be fine. “And you can put me to work here wherever you think I won’t get in the way.” It was only then, after he’d already agreed and the world didn’t collapse in around him, that he put together the piece that didn’t quite add up. “Ozzy’s going? I mean, I’m not trying to say that you shouldn’t be around my kids.”
“Oh, well I shouldn’t. I’m deeply unpleasant and don’t like kids.” He shrugged. “But I want to put some stuff together for them out in the backyard, so I need to know what they’d actually use and what would just be a big fucking mess for you to clean up after I’m gone.”
“Well, aside from that charming disgust for his children, that went splendidly, my love.” Evander slapped Ozzy in the chest. “It’ll be fine. I’ll make sure that he’s on his best behavior and doesn’t say stupid shit like ‘I don’t like kids’ or something.”
Ozzy rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say his kids sucked or anything. I don’t like responsibility, and kids are a responsibility.” He turned, hands on his hips, and stared Evander straight down. “It’s why I make you use a condom. I don’t need to get pregnant.”
They kept on bantering, but Robinson tapped Chuck on the shoulder, drawing his attention and blocking out everything else. Which was good, because his voice was super low. “You sure this is good?”
Chuck was ready to lie…but it wouldn’t come off his tongue. Not while he was looking at Robinson’s, apparently. What the fuck is this guy doing to me? “I’m not sure of anything. But I can’t just keep them in bubble wrap for the rest of their lives because I got sad once.”
“It’s called grief, not getting sad once.” Robinson was unblinking as he spoke, and his voice resonated with experience. Wisdom. Knowledge. “Belittling your own grief doesn’t make it go away any faster. Had to learn that after I got back out into the world.” Robinson reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay to be screwed up.”
He walked away, but that weight of his touch and his words lingered, and Chuck couldn’t help but smile. Just a little. Not often people talk to me that way. I could get used to it.