Chapter 4
@RogerLudermore, 6:00 PM:I am honored to return to my alma mater and give the commencement address at #HeinRandC2018 this weekend. Go Falcons!
Charlotte had not purchased a ticket to the Class of 2013 Reunion Banquet because she kept a close eye on her budget. Jackie chose not to attend due to the myriad of disappointing ways Hein’s administration would spend her money.
“The school does not need another lacrosse field,” Jackie pouted as she fished out her credit card at the dining hall.
Instead of attending the banquet, they convinced most of the members of the Dead, Divorced, and Otherwise Disappointing Parents unofficial peer support group to join them at the undergraduate cafeteria, Cauldwell Hall.
This was a masterful change of plans, in Charlotte’s opinion. She made her favorite sandwich at the buffet: a BLT on rye grilled almost to a burn in a panini press. Then she loaded up her plate with fresh-baked potato chips and resolved to come back for an ice cream with Oreo crumbs. The all-you-can-eat plate was ten dollars for non-students and she intended to get her money’s worth.
There might be Tupperware containers in Jackie’s tote bag to smuggle leftovers back to the dorm. Charlotte was not at liberty to confirm this rumor.
The 3Ds took over a long table at the back of the dining hall. Charlotte dropped off her plate before doubling back for napkins and a soda. The cafeteria still used the same mud brown plastic cups designed not to break no matter how hard they were dropped—or thrown—by students. Strong nostalgia vibes.
She caught Jackie stealing one of her chips when she returned to the table. “I saw that.”
“I got these to share,” her best friend bartered, pushing forward a plate of fries.
“Is Reece joining us?” Nina asked as she stirred her spaghetti. Another rule of the 3Ds: If they were meeting over a meal, only comfort food was allowed. No kombucha or kale, period.
Jackie squirted an appalling amount of mustard onto her hamburger. “Nah, he’s hosting the class dinner. He said he’d come through for dessert.”
Amy, Jio, and Matt filled out the rest of the table, laden with plates of pizza. The six of them fell into an old pattern: Amy sat on Charlotte’s other side, with Nina across from Amy. Matt settled in next to Nina, flanked by Jio, who was in prime position to eat Jackie’s fries.
The 3Ds dated back to freshman year. The support group was born on the living room floor at Acronym after a disco when Matt, Charlotte, Nina, and Jio traded messy coming-out stories. It felt so good to talk shit and commiserate that the foursome ended most of their nights together, even after Nina and Charlotte broke up. As a teenager, Charlotte dreamed of conversations like this: honest and relatable and camp as hell. A strange sense of humor bloomed inside her as she basked in the safety of people who understood her.
Charlotte still listened more than she spoke, emotionally repressed and armed with a limited vocabulary for her feelings. But it helped just to learn that no family was a Norman Rockwell painting, no matter how perfect and peaceful it appeared on the surface. That was doubly true for queer millennials, whose boomer parents fell on a spectrum from tactless to cruel. Charlotte could hear her anger with her mother’s homophobia in Matt’s unsteady voice. She recognized her insecurity from her father’s neglect in Jio’s defensive humor.
When Jackie’s dad had a relapse near the end of freshman year, Charlotte invited her into the fold. Then in the fall, Nina brought her roommate along after her mother passed away. The group’s purview expanded to include Amy’s grief, and eventually Reece’s.
Jackie formalized the loose bitching circle into a real group after doing a psych project on peer-support therapy. The rules were simple: Don’t be embarrassed, and don’t be a dick to other members. For the most part that was all they needed. Others joined over time as word spread, but there were rarely more than six people at a meeting. They were a self-selecting bunch, most of them LGBTQIA+ and inclined to share their feelings.
The Dead, Divorced, and Otherwise Disappointing Parents support group taught Charlotte many lessons. First, it was not okay for her father to skip town when it became clear that baby Charlotte would not save her parents’ marriage. Second, Charlotte was not a show dog for her mother to groom and correct and compare with other daughters at her country club. Third, abuse took many forms, from violence to control to neglect.
The support group was the closest thing Charlotte knew to acceptance. Her friends helped her see that there was nothing weak about her grief, her resentment, or her fear.
When she started dating Ben in junior year, she hoped he would join the 3Ds too. On the night they met, they stayed up until sunrise talking about their conservative families and stifling hometowns. Charlotte had expected him to be an aloof player, but Ben asked thoughtful questions about her childhood in Maryland and listened intently to her answers. He understood the Thorne family dynamics with intuitive grace, and he didn’t need her to explain why she did everything she could to avoid going home between semesters. He kissed her bare shoulder and called her strong, and she felt that word all over her body.
Anytime she worried she had shared too much, Ben offered a parallel confession of his own. His parents were still together, but he wished they would separate for his mother’s sake. Ben inspected a paint stain on Charlotte’s palm as he mentioned his father’s temper. She curled her fingers around his thumb, hurting for this boy and the weight he carried alone.
When she joked that she usually wouldn’t hook up with someone affiliated with a fraternity, hoping to lighten the mood, Ben explained he only joined Sigma Delt because his father was a brother during his Hein days.
Even when I do whatever they tell me to do, it’s still not enough,he said around four in the morning, his head in her lap and his eyes glassy.
Charlotte marveled at the delicate, almost magical intimacy of the conversation. She was grateful for his trust even as she wondered how she had earned it so quickly.
Ben laughed like he couldn’t believe his own words. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping all of this on you. I know we just met, but I feel like I can be myself with you.
I know what you mean,Charlotte said as she fell into something that seemed like love.
Her hopes were dashed during his first and only visit to Acronym. With Jackie away on study abroad, the responsibility of vetting Charlotte’s beau fell to Nina. The new couple ate dim sum with her and Eliza in the backyard, and Charlotte tried not to squirm as Nina asked Ben polite but pointed questions about his politics (leftist), his ambitions (congressman) and his intentions (I’m done with hookup culture. Aren’t you, Charlotte? I think I found what I’ve been missing all along).
Ben turned in a brilliant performance until the 3Ds came up in conversation. Eliza jokingly warned him that he should expect his girlfriend to bring their relationship issues to the group. Nina swatted her on the arm and laughed. I’m sorry that I wanted their help addressing my attachment issues!
Charlotte grinned at the girls, but Ben didn’t find the joke funny. I was raised not to air my dirty laundry, he drawled as he stood up and collected their empty paper plates.
Nina frowned at his retreating figure, waiting until he was inside the house to raise her eyebrows. What was that about?
I think he’s nervous,Charlotte said. Meeting the friends is intimidating, you know? And you’re not just a friend, you’re my ex-girlfriend!
She didn’t admit it to Nina, but the weird comment didn’t sit well with her either.
Back in his room at Sigma Delt, she asked him why he’d been so dismissive.
I just don’t understand what you need a support group for when you have me,he said as he stroked his fingers up and down her arm, making her wriggle with arousal and confusion. Besides, your mom likes me! Or she likes that I’m a boy. Problem solved. He gave her a Cheshire-cat grin, his fingernails snagging the delicate skin at her wrist.
And so Charlotte stopped going to meetings. Not immediately, but soon. There was always something Ben wanted her to do instead: Go with him to a lax game, help him revise a political theory essay, stay in bed just a little longer, C’mon, gorgeous, please? Before she knew it, she rarely spent time with her friends. It was just the two of them in a claustrophobic loop: Charlotte circled from class to the dining hall to Ben’s room at the frat house. She lost the group’s valuable outside perspective, which in retrospect was exactly what he wanted.
Thankfully, Jackie could not be shaken off that easily. When her best friend returned from study abroad, Charlotte moved her belongings from her abandoned room in Acronym to the apartment she and Jackie shared until they graduated in 2013. It took five minutes for Jackie to figure out there was a problem.
Who are you and what have you done with Charlotte Thorne?she demanded upon seeing Charlotte’s closet stocked with gifted designer threads from the Mead family. Is that J.Crew? Have you been brainwashed?
Their friendship nearly hadn’t survived the following months. Jackie thought Ben was a phony legacy kid masquerading as an activist, and he thought she was an obnoxious hipster feminist. They were not subtle about their mutual loathing. Charlotte struggled to keep the two most important people in her life away from each other, wishing they would grow up for her sake. Jackie cooled it on the criticism when Charlotte asked her to stop, but Ben made no such effort.
She’s such a snob,he said, wrinkling his nose. She thinks she’s better than me because I’m in a frat, which is so unfair.
To avoid an argument, Charlotte spent more time with Ben than with Jackie, but still less time than he thought he deserved. When the girls did hang out, he blew up her phone with text messages and questions about when she would be done.
I know you love him,Jackie said diplomatically. I know he’s…charming. But this isn’t the kind of relationship I imagined for you. Charlotte didn’t have a comeback for that. It wasn’t what she imagined either.
The situation got worse before it got better, but Jackie never wavered. She always seemed to be waiting in the apartment when Charlotte came home, and she dropped everything to help when Charlotte was ready to ask. When the end finally came, Jackie stocked the fridge with ice cream and a box of Pbr cans. She even had the grace to not say I told you so.
When Charlotte returned to the support group at the beginning of senior year, she found she had even less to contribute to conversation than she did before. She didn’t know how to be vulnerable when she had so much to hide. Her love for Ben went in its own little storage cubby, firmly bolted shut. With such a large emotional wound suppurating in her mind, she couldn’t process much of anything—not her mother’s frosty disappointment that she had left Ben, not her confusing feelings for Reece, and certainly not the voice in her head telling her she was a humiliating, pathetic disaster.
Jackie gave her the Feelings Chart for Christmas that year. Charlotte turned red enough to match the designated shade for anger, but the communication aid did help. I feel embarrassed, she said when Jackie reminded her about a 3Ds meeting that afternoon.
Good job,Jackie said. And I don’t care, you’re coming with me.
Your name is Charlotte Thorne,she told her before they entered the dining hall, or Acronym, or whatever venue they’d reserved for an hour. You are my best friend. You are safe here. Then she kept her arm securely curled around Charlotte’s shoulders just in case she lost her nerve.
Jackie squeezed her knee under the table. “You okay, Char? Still with us?”
Today, all this time later, Charlotte fought off the unexpected echoes of Ben’s manipulation. For years she had kept her memories of that traumatic relationship neatly tucked away, but coming back to campus had knocked them loose.
Grief lingered like mold in a dormitory bathroom, forever fresh.
“Yeah, just thinking,” she said. Jackie’s concern was evident in her pinched brown eyes. “I’m glad I’m here.” She hoped those simple words would communicate everything that she wanted them to.
Judging by the mushy look on Jackie’s face, they did. “Me too, Char. Eat your sandwich.”
Charlotte did as she was told and listened to the 3Ds catch up. She focused on the flavor and texture of each bite to ground herself. Nina’s voice overlapped with Jackie’s as they traded relationship misfires and pop culture obsessions. Jio berated her for not watching Killing Eve. Amy warned them what grief-related books weren’t worth reading. As a group of mostly queer and underpaid rebels, they didn’t put much stock in self-help gurus or spiritual quick fixes. Tarot cards and astrology were exceptions.
Finally, once they finished their main courses and relaxed into themselves, Jackie sat up straight. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get into it. Who wants to go first?”
No one spoke up. Matt gave Jio a significant look, but Jio shook their head.
Jackie’s eyes glinted as she studied each of them in turn. “Five years of bullshit? I know someone here needs to vent. Or brag!”
The stillness broke as Nina leaned forward. She smoothed her glossy black hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears. “Fine, I’ll brag. After years of trying, I finally put thousands of miles between me and my dad.” They clapped. She fluttered her hand like a pageant queen accepting applause. “I know, I know. Thank you. It’s a miracle.”
“Is he still calling you all the time?” Jackie asked.
“He is, but reception is just so spotty in the Amazon.” Nina flashed a cutting grin.
Charlotte couldn’t blame her for being petty—Mr. Dorantes ranked in the Asshole Parent Hall of Fame. Charlotte was used to not telling her mother anything, but Nina had gone to sitcom-level lengths to hide their relationship from her overinvolved dad. At one point Charlotte crawled out the window when he dropped by Nina’s (thankfully first-floor) dorm room for a surprise visit.
“Really though, the nature, the plant samples…it’s amazing,” Nina gushed. “I don’t want to come back to the States when my grant ends. It’s not like this is the best place to live right now anyway.”
Charlotte winced while Matt nodded in understanding.
“Plus I switched to Android so Dad can’t stalk me on location-sharing anymore. We Skype on the last Sunday of the month after church, and I only answer his emails once a week.”
“Nice boundary-setting,” Jackie said. “Good for you.”
“It was a bitch and a half to get here, but worth it.” Nina cracked her knuckles. “Okay, I’m done. Who’s next?” She fixed Charlotte in her unwavering stare, raising a perfect eyebrow.
Charlotte looked down at her plate. She envied the relief Nina clearly felt after speaking, but there was no way she was sharing. She felt flooded enough already.
When the truth came out that Charlotte was not entirely straight, her mother didn’t kick her out of the house. In the eyes of Olivia Harrington Thorne, evicting her only child would be garish and uncivilized. Her status as a single mother was scandalous enough in their Maryland suburb. Better for Charlotte to stay home and keep quiet than disappear entirely and get the neighbors talking.
And so, when Olivia found Charlotte kissing her lab partner in the driveway, she simply proceeded as if nothing had ever happened. No girlfriend, no chemistry puns, no flustered conversation about sexual fluidity over the dinner table. Olivia went on a spending spree for aggressively feminine clothes and hung them in Charlotte’s closet, an unspoken demand to do a better job playing the part of straight, conservative daughter. Charlotte’s queerness could not exist in their house. Charlotte played along like she always had. She didn’t know what else to do. Surely if she got perfect grades, if she aced her AP tests, if she won an award for her watercolors, her mother would approve of her. If she stayed quiet, if she wore the stupid dresses, if she made an effort, her mother would do the same.
It didn’t work. Her mother treated her like a tenant, and then a mouse living in the walls, and then a chipped piece of furniture that sat unused for so long it became invisible. The gap between them only grew as Charlotte left for Hein and shed her preppy camouflage. She patchworked her breaks with out-of-state internships and vacations with the Slaughters. It seemed like a détente was in the cards when she started dating Ben—her mother strongly approved of Charlotte having a boyfriend, especially one with a prestigious last name—but the momentary peace crumbled after the breakup.
How could you let a good man like that get away?Olivia hissed into the phone when Charlotte broke the news. You were always such an ungrateful child.
The summer before senior year, Charlotte rented a room from some Hein grad students and worked at Terry’s Bar, saving up as much money as possible and increasingly afraid for her future. By the time Charlotte graduated college, she and her mother rarely spoke.
Booth Thorne, her deadbeat diplomat father, did not know she was bisexual. He didn’t know much about her at all. His only positive contribution was a clause of the divorce settlement that required him to pay for all four years of Charlotte’s college education. She’d seen him in person a handful of times when his second wife reminded him of his daughter’s existence and suggested that the three of them have lunch. On the bright side, he always picked up the check.
There was no point dwelling on that chapter of her past. Nothing anyone said would change the choices her parents had made. No advice could make it less infuriating and sad. She would always be estranged from her family, and she didn’t need that to change. She didn’t want it to.
Family was who shared their fries with you.
“Charlotte?” She looked up to find Jackie watching her, bossy group leader face in full effect. “Would you like to go next?”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek. In the past, her attendance had been enough to satisfy Jackie. Apparently that rule was no longer in effect.
“Nah. I’m good, thanks,” she said. Jackie frowned, and Charlotte looked away.
Nina cleared her throat. “Let’s take a break,” she declared, sensing the collective need to take a beat. “We need ice cream.”
“Or cake!” Jio added.
Nina gave Charlotte a searching look across the table. She nodded a perfunctory I’m fine before following Matt and Jio into the cafeteria.
She shook her arms out, willing the anxiety from her body. Being pressed to talk about her parents always made her edgy. She didn’t want to open those boxes right now.
First she loaded up a plate with brownies and house-made Rice Krispies Treats. Then she joined Matt at the soft serve machine. They created aesthetically unappealing but delicious sundaes with vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, and cookie crumbs.
“Sugar sludge,” Charlotte chimed, toasting Matt with her bowl.
“Cheers,” Matt said, a knowing look in his eyes.
When they got back to the table, Reece had arrived. Charlotte averted her eyes, her nerves already shot from the dinner conversation. She scattered a handful of spoons on the table for anyone who wanted a bite. Jackie grabbed a Rice Krispies Treat and dipped it into the ice cream.
“REECE’S PIECES,” Jio cried.
Reece rose to hug them both. “It’s been too long.” He sat down next to Matt in Nina’s original chair, diagonal across the table from Charlotte. She nudged the dessert plate toward him, and he took a brownie, giving her a grateful wink.
“You’re right on time,” Nina said. “I was talking about my dad’s boundary issues.”
“I don’t have that problem,” Reece said around a mouthful of chocolate goo. Amy winced at his dark joke, and he patted her hand on the table.
He had a smear of melted brownie above his lip. Charlotte smiled into her ice cream as he tried to lick it off.
“How’s your mom?” Amy asked.
“She got another dog. Her pack of Pomeranians is now a small horde.”
Matt perked up. “Do you have any pictures?”
These are my people,Charlotte thought.
Reece pulled out his iPhone. “Yeah, I have a bunch! Hold on.” He swiped through his photos before handing the phone to Matt and Jio.
They immediately broke out laughing. “OH MY GOD there are so MANY,” Jio gushed. “Look at their little faces!” They passed the phone to Jackie, who turned it so that Charlotte could see too: a photo of Reece’s sister, Sarah, holding all four Pomeranians in her arms. They seemed displeased with the arrangement, one of them caught midwriggle with a furious scowl on his face.
“The difficult one is Hammer,” Reece explained.
Charlotte chewed her thumb. Sarah had Reece’s sunny grin, disproportionately large compared to the rest of her face. The siblings shared the same friendly quality, something about their thrown-back shoulders and rosy cheeks. They were comfortable in their own skin.
Jackie passed the phone to Amy and Nina. “Can your mom keep up with four dogs?”
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Reece said. “If they were bigger it would be a problem, but four Poms aren’t much more difficult than three.” He didn’t mention that he lived at home, and Charlotte didn’t bring it up.
“How’s Sarah?” she asked instead. From what Charlotte remembered, Reece’s sister must be a young adult by now. She swallowed a fresh clot of guilt and hoped her discomfort didn’t show on her face.
Reece took his phone back from Nina. “She’s good! She’s studying engineering.” Jio whistled, and Reece smiled. “Yeah, she was always smarter than me.”
“Do you want to talk about anything?” Jackie asked, sitting up straight again. Their leader believed in using body language to create a safe environment for sharing. Charlotte found it more sweet than authoritative.
“I miss my dad,” Reece said matter-of-factly. “I wish he could come to Sarah’s graduation. I wish he could tell me what to do with my life.”
Reece spoke with the calm of someone who’d been riding the grief rodeo for over a decade. Mr. Krueger passed away after a long battle with cancer while Reece was in high school. Reece spent most of college trying to find solid ground again. The hockey team gave him structure, but he spent off-seasons alternating his all-nighters between the science building and the loudest party he could find. Amy brought him to a 3Ds meeting after they met at the student counseling center as juniors.
It took another few months for Charlotte to cross his path—he joined the support group during her attendance lapse. When she arrived early for her first meeting post-Ben, Reece bounded into the room a few minutes later. He clung to a cup of coffee, fresh stubble disguising the sharp cut of his jaw.
She already knew who he was. Everyone knew Reece Krueger—Hein University was tiny, making Reece a big jock fish in a small liberal arts pond. Handsome midwestern hockey players did not go unnoticed. Especially handsome midwestern hockey players who made oat pancakes and margaritas in the morning for their one-night stands.
Besides, Charlotte doubted he remembered her, but they lived in the same dorm their freshman year. Their paths crossed occasionally in the laundry room. She remembered his next-door neighbor complaining about the thinness of their shared wall.
Other than that, they didn’t run in the same circles. She expected him to nod and take a seat across the room. Instead, Reece gave her a breezy “Hello!” and sat down next to her. With the discretion of a curious golden retriever, he peered at her iPad on the table. She’d been working on a portrait for the school paper before he interrupted. Under her stylus, an angular face returned his stare. “That’s Annika, right? Annika Gronlund?”
Charlotte glanced at her draft, with its unfinished nose and missing eyes. She’d been drawing her classmate from memory, so it wasn’t like he’d seen a reference photo. “Yeah,” Charlotte said, giving the bro beside her a second look. “I illustrate the op-eds.”
Reece nodded, satisfied. “Thought so. Her bangs are spot-on.”
He sipped his coffee as she resumed her sketch, her shoulders unfolding as she relaxed. It was impossible to feel uncomfortable around him for long. They shared a cozy silence until the rest of the group arrived.
When Reece took the seat beside her at the next meeting, he brought her a cup of coffee.
Charlotte wished she’d been there for Reece’s first 3Ds meeting. If it hadn’t been for Ben, she would have met him so much earlier.
“I’m seeing a great new therapist who specializes in grief and addiction,” he continued, bringing Charlotte back to the present. “Now I have a whole bunch of healthy, boring coping mechanisms.”
“How was the anniversary this year?” Amy asked.
“Eh, weird. People kind of forgot.” Reece broke off another corner of his brownie and popped it in his mouth. He chewed it contemplatively. “I drove up to see Sarah and we got dinner. She doesn’t remember him as well as I do. Sometimes I feel guilty, like I got all the good memories.”
Charlotte envied Reece’s ability to articulate his emotions. He did so without embarrassment or fear, like he was commenting on the changing seasons. Some of it resulted from practice—she knew Reece had worked hard to build those skills in therapy. But mostly it was just who he was. The man sitting across from her seemed dialed in to himself in a way few twenty-somethings were.
“I know that’s not my fault,” Reece continued. “But you know how it is.”
“And your mom?” Jackie asked.
“She went on a cruise that week. Her book club friends planned a whole trip.”
Jio laughed. “Did she bring the dogs?”
Reece dropped his gaze to the ice cream, but Charlotte didn’t think anyone else noticed. “I watched them,” he said without elaborating.
She wanted to reach across the table and take his hand. But she fought the urge, knowing that would (a) arouse suspicion, and (b) be super weird.
Amy giggled. “I can’t imagine you walking four Pomeranians.”
“It’s not easy. I’m fencing in the backyard so they can romp around.”
Charlotte enjoyed the image of Reece wearing a tool belt as he hammered a wooden beam into the ground. His forearms featured prominently in her fantasy.
“What about y’all?” Reece asked. “Has everyone already gone?”
“Just me,” Nina said.
Matt cleared his throat. “I’ll go.” He and Jio exchanged nervous smiles. Charlotte got the impression they were psyching each other up. “For both of us, really.”
She suspected what was coming. Her hunch was confirmed when Matt took his partner’s hand. “We’re getting married. Mostly for insurance. My plan is a lot better than Jio’s.”
“Saving the polar bears doesn’t offer dental,” Jio stage-whispered.
“Congratulations!” Nina cried. She lifted her soda. “To many years of happiness and clean teeth!”
Reece raised his drink too. The whole group cheersed and clinked their plastic cups. Charlotte beamed at her friends. No one deserved happiness more than Jio and Matt. Out of any couple she knew, they worked the hardest to love each other the way they deserved to be loved.
Matt nodded in gratitude for their well-wishes, but he sobered quickly. Jio squeezed his hand. “My parents are furious,” he continued. “I didn’t expect them to be supportive, and we’re not inviting them to the wedding. But they’re not letting my brother come.”
Charlotte shifted in her seat. She couldn’t help but notice how Reece’s face twisted in confusion as he listened.
“Does Steve need their permission?” he asked.
“Kinda?” Matt frowned. “Let’s just say the church wouldn’t be thrilled about him participating in our heathen ritual.”
“And then there’s the flights,” Jio added. “He’s only seventeen, he can’t afford a trip to D.C. on his own.”
“Maybe they’ll come around?” Amy asked, not quite seeming to believe her own optimism. “Steve will find a way, he’s so clever.”
Matt shrugged, unconvinced.
“That sucks, dude, I’m sorry,” Nina said. “It really hurts when your family can’t just be happy that you’re happy.”
Unbidden, a memory returned of her mother’s grimace when Charlotte came home after her first semester at Hein, makeup-free and wearing a loose flannel and combat boots. Get upstairs and change, Olivia hissed, you look like a vagrant.
Her grip tightened on her spoon.
Reece wrapped his arm around Matt’s shoulders and gave him a sideways hug. “I love you, man. You don’t deserve this.”
Matt nodded but didn’t say more.
Jio brought the back of Matt’s hand to their lips for a small kiss. Charlotte watched affection bloom in Matt’s eyes. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked.
“Not really. We’ll figure it out. And please, no presents. We don’t have any space.”
“What about your parents, Jio?” Jackie asked. “Are they being supportive?”
Jio rolled their eyes. “My dad gave me a long speech about how marriage is a trap, and this is the worst mistake of my life. But he also offered to pay for most of it, so who’s to say, really?” They grinned, and Matt laughed despite himself. “We’re thinking of just going to the courthouse and spending his money on a vacation.”
“Where are you thinking?” Nina asked. “Might I suggest South America?” She waggled her eyebrows.
“I’ve never left the country,” Matt mused. “Anywhere that needs a passport would be an adventure.”
“You tell me if Peru starts calling your name, I’ll put you up.”
“You’re all invited, duh,” Jio promised. “We’ll try to stream it on Twitch for people who can’t make it. And I still need ideas for the wedding hashtag!”
“Let me know if you need a witness, I can drive over,” Reece offered. “St. Louis isn’t that far.”
“Only if you bring dogs!”
Reece laughed. “We’ll put Hammer in a tutu. He can be the flower pal.”
The conversation turned to wedding attire and suiting trends. Charlotte zoned out, still processing the hurt in Matt’s voice as he talked about his family. Matt’s parents wrapped themselves in their faith as they exiled their son and kept him from seeing his younger brother. Thankfully they weren’t the most tech-savvy bigots, and they didn’t know Matt and Steve talked all the time on Signal.
Was it better or worse to have a sibling? What did it feel like to have someone in your family who loved you and accepted you, but who witnessed your humiliation at the hands of your parents? Would it have been easier to survive her mother’s disgust if Charlotte had a brother or sister by her side? Or would that mean there was one more person to vanish when she didn’t fit her family’s expectations?
As Jio shared their thoughts on stitched versus glued jackets, they ran their fingertips back and forth across Matt’s open palm. Matt didn’t squirm or give any sign he noticed at all, just nodded at some point his fiancé made. He accepted Jio’s physical affection like it was second nature, his fiancé the one person allowed beyond his proper exterior.
Charlotte wished she could ask him how he did it. Matt’s parents refused to love him for who he was, and now he was marrying the love of his life.
When the 3Ds exhausted their knowledge of professional tailoring, Matt turned to Jackie. “Your turn.”
Jackie sighed dramatically. She placed both her hands flat on the table. The pose reminded Charlotte of an executive building suspense before announcing a strategy shift.
“My dad has finally agreed to go to therapy.”
Charlotte’s heart dropped. Jackie avoided looking at her, smirking at Nina instead.
“WHAT?” Jio yelled. “How?”
“He didn’t,” Amy gasped.
“Oh,” Charlotte let out.
Mr. Slaughter was a generous, exuberant man, and a doting parent. He was also an alcoholic. He regularly attended Alcoholics Anonymous, but Charlotte knew Jackie’s dad white-knuckled it at best. Periodic bouts of depression made sobriety even more of a challenge.
Mr. Slaughter was the closest thing Charlotte knew to a father figure. He helped her apply for unemployment after ChompNews laid her off, and he personally invited her to Thanksgiving dinner every fall. Jackie convincing him to start therapy was a major coup, the result of years of careful coaxing and pressure.
And Charlotte didn’t know.
“It was all Mom,” Jackie explained. “She had a tough time at work and one of her friends recommended someone. When Mom liked it, she pushed Dad to book a session with someone else in the practice. She talked him out of all that bullshit about it being self-indulgent.”
The millennials around the dinner table nodded—they’d all had to convince an older relative that therapy wasn’t just talking about yourself for two hundred dollars an hour. The 3Ds had to have an emergency Skype meeting after the dressing-down Nina received from her dad when she mentioned her therapist in front of their priest at mass.
Charlotte’s thumb rose to her lips. She chewed her nail, noxious green guilt swirling in her stomach again. How could she have not known something this huge? Why hadn’t Jackie told her?
Or had she not been listening? It’d been a while since their last FaceTime call, but they’d just spent the entire day together.
Shit.
Charlotte hadn’t asked her about family. Or about work. Or anything other than a smug joke about dating apps. She’d been too distracted by her job and boy baggage to think of anything else.
In fairness, everyone else seemed shocked too. Everyone except Reece, who had his chin propped on his hand as he took in everyone’s reactions.
Interesting. Maybe she’d missed a big change in Reece’s life too. She would have to ask him later.
“I’m helping him find someone who specializes in addiction,” Jackie continued.
Reece raised his free hand. “Text me if you need a recommendation. I know where to look.”
“Can I call you about that too?” Jio asked. “Wedding stuff is going to wreck my brain and I need to find a practice with a sliding-scale system.”
Reece nodded. “Of course, anytime.”
“I hope it works out for him,” Nina said to Jackie. “He’s a good guy. I remember when he drove up from New York with a new laptop when you spilled soda all over yours.”
“You should probably get him a dude therapist,” Reece recommended. “He’ll have a lot of masculinity stuff to unpack.”
Charlotte tried to come up with something to say, but guilt clouded her ability to think. Her best friend must have picked up on the awkward silence. Jackie gave her a small smile, code for we’ll talk about it later.
Matt checked his watch. “Sorry to bail early, but we need to go to Mass Liquors before they close.” Jio stacked their plates as Matt stood and grabbed his messenger bag. “There’s a disco tonight at Acronym if anyone wants to come.”
“We’ll be there,” Jackie said for them both. Charlotte had been looking forward to dancing at Acronym again for months, if not for several years. And goodness knew she needed to ask her best friend some actual questions tonight.
Reece groaned. “Damn, I’ll be on Atwood. The hockey seniors are throwing a party and I promised Garrett I’d help corral the boys.”
“We know where the straights will be.” Jio poked Reece’s shoulder.
Reece grinned sheepishly. “Don’t rub salt in the wound. I wanna get my Carly Rae on too.”
“It’ll go late, it always does,” Matt assured him. “Thanks for arranging this, Jackie. It was nice to hold space as a group again.” He held out his hand to her, and she gave it a hearty shake.
“My pleasure! We should resurrect the group chat, maybe do regular video hangouts if anyone needs them.”
“I’d like that a lot.” With that, Matt took their empty plates from Jio and jutted his head toward the exit. “After you, fiancé.” Jio blew the table an air-kiss before weaving through the mostly deserted tables.
Amy checked her phone for the time. “We should head out too. There’s a reading at the English department and I promised my boss I’d scout for talent.” She buttoned up her cardigan as Nina swept pizza crumbs from the table onto her plate.
And then there were three. Reece helped himself to a Rice Krispies Treat from the dessert plate. He pulled it apart into gooey chunks with his long fingers and devoured it bite by bite.
The girls hid their laughter as he feasted. He realized they were staring at him as he licked sugar off his palm. “What?”
“Weren’t you just at dinner?” Jackie asked.
“It was all vegan food.”
“Ah.”
Charlotte twisted in her chair, popping a kink in her shoulder.
“Please see a chiropractor,” Jackie scolded without any real malice.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom.”
Reece laughed, the rich sound enveloping Charlotte in a cherry blossom glow. She noticed his eyes dip from her face to her neck, and then a little lower to her cleavage—her shirt rode down while she stretched. She shifted her shoulders to pull the fabric back up, and Reece’s stare fixed on the tattered Rice Krispies Treat on the table in front of him.
Busted.
Jackie pushed back her chair. “Okay, time for Operation Leftovers. Anyone want a refill?” She grabbed their cups without waiting for an answer and strutted away, hip-checking chairs that blocked her path.
“She scares me sometimes,” Reece admitted. He stuck his index finger in Charlotte’s melted sundae and licked the vanilla ice cream off. It wasn’t intended to be seductive, more like a child who couldn’t help himself.
Still, Charlotte couldn’t fight off a smile. “There’s an extra spoon right here,” she said, sliding one across the table.
“It’s more fun this way.” He leaned forward to take another swipe of her ice cream, his eyes bright. “You’ve already been exposed to my diseases.”
What a goddamn pleasure it was to be teased by this man.
“I could have new diseases,” Charlotte baited. “You don’t know what I’ve been up to since graduation. Maybe I have swine flu.”
“Oh really? Which one of us spends more time with animals, Charlie?”
“That depends. Do venture capitalists count?”
Reece’s chuckle rumbled around his chest like a lion’s purr. “Probably.”
Charlotte nudged some of the Oreo crumbles to Reece’s side of the bowl, and he finally picked up the spoon to scoop them up.
She considered the flirtatious undertone of their banter. It had been there all day, as if their horny standoff in the hallway—and their bone-crushing good-night hug—had woken it from hibernation. She didn’t know how to square this playful, open Reece with the Reece who walked her home last night. If he was still interested in her, why hadn’t he kissed her?
“Last night was fun,” Reece said as if he’d read her mind. He kept his eyes on the ice cream, hunting for another cookie chunk.
Charlotte studied his face, but she couldn’t detect any hint at what he meant. The statement was a Rorschach test, open to interpretation. She didn’t know what she wanted to read in it.
No, she knew what she wanted. She just wasn’t sure if she could handle it.
“Will there be beer pong at the hockey party?” she asked.
Reece’s eyes flicked up to her face. She innocently spooned some ice cream into her mouth. He watched her lips move before looking over her shoulder out the window, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “You know it’s not an Atwood party without pong.”
“I think I need practice,” she declared. Practice with her throwing technique. Practice enjoying the company of someone so kind.
Reece spooned up another cookie chunk. “We need a team name.”
“Team Hammer,” Charlotte suggested.
Reece huffed, the laugh startled out of him. “Yes, that’s it.”
Making a good person laugh was one of the purest pleasures in life, alongside Jackie’s fresh-baked pumpkin bread and finding a movie she’d always wanted to watch streaming online for free. Charlotte wasn’t a loud person—she would never be the life of the party or the host of a hit podcast. Her sense of humor was quick and weird, and it only emerged around people she trusted.
“Thank you for earlier, by the way,” he said. “For not mentioning I moved home.”
“Oh.” Charlotte dropped her spoon in the bowl and folded her arms on the table. “Of course. That’s none of my business.”
“Still. I appreciate it. I’m not embarrassed, I just…” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing. “Everyone’s doing so well.”
“It certainly feels that way,” Charlotte admitted.
“I wish someone warned me when I volunteered to be class secretary that for the rest of my life, people would email me their accomplishments.” Reece gestured with his spoon, trying to infuse his words with humor even as his insecurity bled through. “Anytime someone sells their startup, or gets married, or publishes a book, I’m the first person to know. Meanwhile I’m broke, single, and living with my mom.”
Charlotte arched a blond eyebrow. “You mean Netflix hasn’t optioned your miniseries?”
“What an exciting binge that would be. The 2016 episode would be one long nap.”
“You could get Lexapro to sponsor it.”
Reece considered the idea as he ate the last of the ice cream. “Dachshunds and Depression: The Reece Krueger Story.”
“It could be worse. At least you still have all your hair.”
That earned another booming laugh. Reece ruffled the hair at the back of his head like he was checking that it hadn’t wandered off. “That’s true. Not everyone here can say that. Did you see Thomas Irons?”
Charlotte widened her eyes. “Yikes, right?”
“Then again, Thomas has a speedboat and I’ve barely touched my student loans. I feel so behind.” Reece sighed and dropped his spoon in the empty bowl. “It’s like we’re seeing the Instagram version of everyone’s lives in person.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Exactly.”
She thought of every acquaintance at the reception who flashed their engagement ring or described their new business venture. They said garbage like it’s small but it’s wonderful to have a place upstate and there’s just no innovation left in the Fortune 500. And then they feigned humility, peppering the conversation with their accomplishments before pivoting abruptly to but how about you, how have you been?
Everyone also spoke in precisely crafted Instagram captions.
#Blessed.
“Even I’m doing it,” she said. “People ask me about Front End and I say, ‘Oh, it’s so exciting, I meet such interesting people!’?” Charlotte snatched another napkin from the table and twisted it between her fingers. “You know who I meet? Rich assholes.”
Reece leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “What do you wish you could say?” he asked. “What’s the unfiltered version?”
She didn’t need to think about it. Just like last night by the vending machine, telling Reece the truth came easier than it should have. “Not a single day goes by that I don’t fantasize about lighting a fire in the supply closet.”
He whistled. “Workplace arson. A classic.”
Charlotte got caught up in the glint in his eyes. She lowered her voice to a deadly serious drawl. “I want to stab my boss in the neck with a box cutter.”
“Vivid! What’s wrong with him?”
Her face darkened. It felt like her heart was beating behind her eyes. “In HR’s opinion, nothing.”
The humor fell from Reece’s face immediately. He settled his chair back down on all fours. When he asked the inevitable follow-up, his words came quietly. “And in your opinion?”
Reece held his breath when he focused, sucking in his cheeks without realizing it. She took in his concern, wondering at it like a clever puzzle at a museum gift shop. What should she make of it?
Reece couldn’t relate to the shitty behavior of his gender, that weird Good Guy miracle of adept parenting and inner strength. Back in college he was still learning how to process his self-righteous confusion. When Jackie complained to him about so-and-so’s disrespectful text messages, Reece spouted genuine but irritating exclamations like how could he? and I don’t understand what’s wrong with these guys!
Jackie would roll her eyes and snap that the answer was always the patriarchy, Krueger.
Maybe that was partly why Charlotte never told him about Ben. She didn’t understand her ex’s behavior, and she couldn’t imagine carrying Reece’s outrage on top of her shame.
But tonight, Reece remained silent as she decided what to tell him. He didn’t press or pontificate. She knew intuitively that he wouldn’t ask her to explain.
She chose a piece of the story, just one. “Roger’s philanthropy schtick is a smoke screen. It’s branding. Behind closed doors he’s a jackass who just doesn’t want to pay taxes.”
Reece frowned but didn’t interrupt, giving Charlotte space to decide if she wanted to share more. She took it. “He loves to rant. ‘The #MeToo movement has gone too far, millennials are so sensitive, reverse racism,’ that kind of thing.”
She closed her eyes. She thought of the bright, colorful pantsuits in her closet that she no longer wore to the office. She remembered the comments about her body that Roger made in his emails to board members that she had to read because reading his email was her job.
How many afternoons had she hidden in the bathroom as she hyperventilated, her hand clasped over her mouth?
Anger tightened around her throat like a fist, just as it had during a humiliating, incomprehensible meeting with HR about Roger’s conduct. Maybe you misunderstood? Workplace norms were slow to change, after all, and Roger was an esteemed titan of industry. She should let these things go if she wanted to survive in media. Toughen up, let it roll off her shoulders. Take it as a compliment.
“What bothers me the most,” Charlotte said slowly, “is that he enjoys making me uncomfortable. He acts like I’m not in the room, but he knows I’m there.”
Reece’s face contorted as he grappled with his reaction. One of his hands gripped the edge of the table in either anger or concern, she couldn’t tell. “You need to quit, Charlotte,” he said, his voice level.
The rage in her chest subsided into that same miserable wound she lived with most days. He spoke with such clarity, like it was really that simple. But it didn’t bother her the way Jackie’s unsolicited advice did. He wasn’t using her work situation to show off his moral outrage.
And he didn’t come from money.
“I just can’t,” she said.
“That’s the definition of a toxic workplace environment. Like, I’m not going to mansplain harassment to you, but holy shit.”
His unwavering support soothed the wound a little bit. He didn’t need to see the emails or verify the dates involved. He just believed her.
“Thank you,” she said. “Seriously. But I should be moving to another team soon.”
Reece looked like he was about to say something but then thought better of it, his mouth closing into a thin line. He drummed his fingers on the table. “Okay. You know what you’re doing. But if he ever fucks with you again, I will drive up to New York and use that box cutter myself.”
In this current climate, she shouldn’t find a man threatening workplace violence on her behalf romantic. And yet she did.
“You are a catch, you know,” she said. He gave her a funny look, not buying it, but she bit her lip and barreled through her embarrassment. He deserved to know. “I mean it, Reece. You’re in a transition period right now, but you’ll figure it out.”
God help her, his eyes actually softened. A splotch of pink appeared on his cheek. “You will too,” he said. “Team Hammer, yeah?” He extended his fist for her to bump, which she did.
“Absolutely.”
Jackie wove her way back to their table, her plate stacked with brownies and fruit. Charlotte reached for the tote bag on the back of Jackie’s chair and took out a stack of Tupperware containers.
“Oh my god, you guys are evil geniuses,” Reece said.
“We know what we’re doing,” Charlotte agreed, popping off the lids one by one.