20. Lex
20
After giving Charlie the weekend to cool off, I thought she’d have responded by now, but she hadn’t. I didn’t even try to count how many times I’d called her, though I limited my messages to twelve total. After that, she got the point and I was certain I’d only dug myself deeper into the hole—whatever hole that was.
My plane touched down in Tampa at three in the afternoon, on time. I’d have flown in sooner, but I had a surgery this morning that couldn’t be rescheduled. The rest of the afternoon and evening were mine, and I could cancel everything for tomorrow if I needed to. My plan was to show up wherever Charlie was and force her to talk to me. If she still wanted to cut ties with me after that, I would respect it, but I needed to know why—what I’d done.
I hopped in an Uber and headed toward her apartment hoping she was home from work already. It was early, but Mondays were short days for her usually. They were also the day her articles were printed, which meant the final installment of the exposé would be printed today. The work did little to bolster my reputation, but I knew that would be the case from the beginning. The entire reason I went along with the story idea was to humor her and help her career, which I hoped I had done.
And of course, I’d done it to be able to spend more time with her, get closer to her. Now all of that was on hold. It was obvious to me there was a major disconnect and I wasn’t happy leaving it this way. I hadn’t ever found out why other women just walked away uninterested, but I wasn’t about to let this time slide. I had to know what I had done wrong.
At Charlie’s apartment building, I knocked on her door and waited, but there was no response. The day’s edition of the Register lay on the doormat obscuring the brightly colored floral design and part of the word Welcome stenciled in bright pink lettering. The first time I saw it, I wondered how anyone would like something so gaudy but after getting to know Charlie so well, I knew it matched her bright, happy personality to a T. Now I wondered why I ever questioned the choice.
My heart was heavy. I couldn’t even knock on her door without feeling the soul-crushing weight of loss. My heart belonged to her now, and I hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell her exactly how smitten I was. The rock that had burned a hole in my pocket was now the lump in my throat that refused to budge.
With a fairly clear idea that she wasn’t home, I decided my next best bet was the paper. I’d never been in the building, but I had picked her up a few times for lunch. I was certain they’d know who I was when I walked in, especially given the story she’d been writing about me. I hated to put her on the spot at work, but sitting here at her apartment sounded like torture and I was already in my head enough about this. I had to get it over with.
So, I hired another Uber and fifteen minutes later I was on my way to the Register. The Uber driver wasn’t even shy about chatting me up either, talking the entire way despite my one-word answers and gruff tone of voice. It was like he was on a mission to make me cheer up or something, and when it wasn’t working he only dug in deeper to try harder.
When the car stopped and I climbed out, I was three shades of red and honestly in no shape to have this conversation. I knew I’d blow my lid. I was a hothead with a bad temper, and she was the eternal ray of sunshine on a cloudy day that reflected off of every silver lining. I had to remind myself of that when I even thought of how upset and hurt I was over this. Charlie had a very good reason for doing what she was doing; I just didn’t know what it was yet. She was a good, honest person, not the monster my broken heart was painting her to be.
I headed into the building and up to the third floor. I remembered hearing her talk about the view from the newsroom window on the third floor, so it was my best bet. Luckily for me, there was no one at the reception desk when I passed through; perhaps they’d gone home for the day already. So there was no one to stop me or ask me why I was here.
Wandering off the elevator, I passed a few younger people locked in a discussion about proper punctuation and wondered if they knew where Charlie was, but I didn’t stop to ask them. I didn’t want to risk being questioned as to why I was here. I charged ahead, walking right into a massive room full of cubicles. I could see right across the top of the chest-height portable wall units. The place was mostly empty, but I did see a few folks standing around. I headed toward them, determined to find Charlie and put an end to this.
As I approached the staff, one woman in particular looked up with shock scrawled across her face and mumbled something to the man she was speaking with, then rushed toward me.
“Mr. Hartman… I mean, uh, Dr. Hartman. What are you doing here?” Her curly hair dangled in her eyes and she pushed it off her face, looking flustered. She glanced around and then focused on my face.
“I’m here to see Charlotte.” It felt odd using her given name, like after being so close with her, we’d gone back to being strangers. It hurt me. I hated it.
“Oh God…” The woman sighed hard and grimaced at the mention of Charlie’s name and something told me I wasn’t going to see her, at least not here. “This is super awkward. I know something’s going down between you two, but she’s not here.” The leggy brunette bit her lip and shook her head. “She was fired this morning.”
“What? Why?” I scowled and looked around for that piece of work, Tucker James, the man who’d made Charlie’s life hell for months. I was ready to tear him limb from limb and unleash all this anger on him so it wasn’t on my chest when I finally did see her.
“The boss didn’t like the content she was writing or something. He blamed it on budget cuts due to lower subscription rates. I’m sorry I’m the one who had to tell you.”
I could tell this woman was probably close with Charlie. She seemed like a good person and since I didn’t see any men who looked as if they could be the boss, I had to control my temper outburst so as not to come off looking like a lunatic.
“Well…” I huffed and I scowled but held my tongue from any further comment about Charlie’s obvious wrongful termination. “I will have to look somewhere else. Thank you for your time…”
“Amy… Sorry. I wish I could help.” She said the right words, but I got the feeling even if she could help that she’d been sworn to secrecy by Charlie and wouldn’t tell me anything anyway.
Nodding my acceptance of her apology I retreated back to the elevator and for the third time today called an Uber. Thankfully, the man who pulled up driving a small electric vehicle was not the Chatty Cathy who had driven me to the paper. I was able to sit in companionable silence and watch out the window as we passed through traffic.
Back at Charlie’s apartment, I knocked again only to get the same response—no response. So I sat down on her colorful doormat and picked up the paper and decided to wait for her. I’d lean against her door and nod off if I had to, but I wasn’t moving until she got home and we hashed this out like real adults.
With nothing else to do, I opened the paper and skimmed the headlines, searching for Charlie’s personal interest story. There were a few other articles by her but not the one I was searching for. I’d read the first three installments on the website after purchasing an online subscription, and they were well-written. But this one evaded me until I turned to the second to last page of the paper.
A picture of me with my arm around Ellen Drake, shielding her from the camera-wielding maniacs thirsty for their shot. Smaller images collaged into the larger picture revealed the contents of Ellen’s bag on the ground at our feet—her sundries that were no one’s business. I didn’t even have to read the article to know what was happening. Charlie had finally been so pressured by her boss into publishing trash just for subscriptions that she had caved and done it.
I skimmed the words, getting more and more hurt by every sentence she’d written, accusations of me being a player and “woman-surfing Miami,” even bits about my childhood and upbringing. It gutted me. I was so upset I almost got up and left. Was this why she just stopped talking to me? She published this drivel and was terrified I wouldn’t respect her or care about her anymore? And could she even believe this trash?
“Hey you…” I looked up at the voice; a man, mid-twenties, stood near a door down the hallway with keys in hand. “That apartment’s vacant, buddy. Chick who lived there bailed. I got this awesome radio though. Super’s coming by tomorrow to empty the place out and clean it.”
My heart clenched. I didn’t understand what I was hearing. “What?” She moved too? That was absurd.
“Yeah, man. Came home from work this morning—you know I work the night shift, so I was just getting off work myself. Anyway, she came back about forty minutes after she left and slammed the door; woke up half the building. When I was going to the vending machine for a soda, she was comin’ out carrying bags of stuff. Told me to take anything I wanted. She’s moving back home she said.”
The man was about as chatty as the stupid Uber driver, and I wanted to jam pencils in my ears so I didn’t have to hear him. If this was true and Charlie really was moving back home, there wasn’t much more to talk about. And with this article, and the very hurtful things she’d said about me, I didn’t know if I wanted to work it out anymore anyway.
I thanked the man and walked out, heading straight to the closest bar for a drink. I didn’t even know what to think anymore. Things with Charlie were so real to me, but maybe she just used me, the way she accused me of using women. It was the only thing that made sense, but then, it made no sense at all. All I knew was a drink was essential, and I didn’t stop at one. This night called for a bottle.