60. Charlie
Charlie
The pudding jiggles when I poke it with my spoon.
Disgusting. It’s tapioca, again. It’s repulsive.
I hate it. I hate the texture, the way it sticks to my mouth, it’s lumpy.
Why is it always lumpy? All I wanted was a different flavor.
Even if the butterscotch is better, these people here want me to go to hell.
It could be worse. At least I’m not stuck with that grumpy old man anymore.
The one thing I needed was to sit next right to someone having a heart attack.
I was also two seconds away from throwing up in the trash can.
But once the hospital figured out I was someone missing, they put me back into a private room “for my protection”.
I was even a bit more chipper when the doctor rolled in this morning telling me I might be able to go home today.
Mom’s coming to pick me up. I’ll need physical therapy for a while, and probably real therapy too.
I have a few memories pop up, and I was told some of them could be triggering.
I hate that word. Triggering. This damn pudding is triggering.
“You barely touched your food this morning,” the nurse huffs, crossing her arms. She’s the one treating me like a toddler. Just put me in time out already. I’ll stand in the corner all day long. I’m not eating it.
“It tastes like I’m in prison.”
“You need to eat.”
“You seriously only have tapioca pudding? Y’all got people dying up in here and you don’t have chocolate pudding! You gotta be shitting me. I don’t wanna eat slimy-ass balls. What about that don’t you get?”
She sighs, muttering something under her breath about quitting her job. Maybe I'm coming off a little too combative, but I’ve been stuck in here for weeks.
The second I throw my spoon on the tray, there are footsteps coming through the door. I glance over the nurse’s shoulder. It’s Ryder, and Payton, and Mom. I think the biggest smile I’ve ever had emerged across my face.
“You really shouldn’t be getting out of bed,” the nurse grumbles and I wanna tell her to shut her trap. I grasp the IV pole, and I lurch to my feet. My heart is slamming against my ribs as so many emotions come bubbling up all at once.
They freeze in the doorway, eyes wide and glossy. They're crying. Even mom’s mascara is smudging against her bottom eyelid. “We thought you were dead,” my mom weeps.
“No, I’m here!” I drag the pole across the floor, the wheels squeaking as I rush over, my socks causing me to slip and slide against the smooth floor. Everything blurs as everyone is saying something to me, and I’m embraced with a million hugs.
Then someone clears their throat behind them.
He’s straightening out his shirt and in his hands is a bouquet of beautiful flowers.
Tattoos coil around his arms and his dark hair is tied in a messy bun with strands of hair falling all over his face.
And that wonderful smell. What is it? Dryer sheets.
My pulse stumbles, my chest warming up like he just lit a fire inside me.
My lips part as I say his name, “Noah.”
His eyes soften, the same crooked, guarded smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes water as he sniffles and wipes his eyes.
“Hey Trouble.”
Noah lies beside me on the hospital bed, his arm draped loosely over his chest. The mattress dips under his weight. It’s the first time I felt slightly normal.
I play with the bouquet in my hands. The petals are soft under my fingers, and they smell good. They tickle my nose with each deep inhale I take. I’ve been so used to smelling strange things in the hospital and people who smell like death. So I can’t get enough of it.
“It kinda sucks not remembering everything,” I say. “I get some flashes and weird feelings.”
Noah tilts his head towards me, his dark hair falling out of his bun a little. “What do you remember? Do you remember me?”
I place the flowers down on the tray beside me and clutch onto the thin scratchy blanket. “I hurt you... I remember that.”
He flashes me a sad smile. “I think someone forced you to hurt me, and I think you were trying to protect me. Even though you didn’t need to.”
I bite my bottom lip absorbing what he says. “If I ask you some questions, would you be able to help me? I just wanna know if the memories are real.” He tilts his head to the side, and a half smile perks up on his lips.
“What do you wanna know? I'm an open book.”
I stare at the ceiling tiles and the little water stain on one of them. “Did we meet at a church?”
He laughs a bit, his tone warm. “You were drawing Jesus peeing on the bathroom stall.”
“Yeah, I like Sharpies. I have about three or four ziplock baggies somewhere in a closet. I wanted all of the colors and different shades.”
“And cinnamon gum. You smack down on that so badly.” He mimics loud smacking noises with his mouth and it gets my face feeling hot.
“That sounds like something I would do.” My fingers dig into the blanket tugging and pulling at it.
“I had the biggest crush on you the second I laid eyes on you that day we met. It was bad.” Noah pats a hand on the mattress.
“Why was it bad?” I ask.
“You were way out of my league, and nothing but trouble.”
“But we started dating right?” I ask.
The room goes still, the steady beep of my monitor starts to pick up speed. I trace the edge of my blanket as I feel his hesitation. My nerves are skyrocketing and I think my arms are about to go numb.
He licks his bottom lip as I can tell he's thinking, choosing his words carefully. “We were seeing each other. We weren’t exclusive or anything like that.”
“Why?”
“You were starting school, and I'm a bit of a mess.”
I think my smile disappeared for a second as he looks away from me. Almost as if he doesn’t feel the radiating warmth for me that I do in my chest for him.
I swallow the dry lump in my throat. My tongue feels swollen as if I can’t ask anything else, but the question is there. “Did I lose my virginity to you?”
He glances at me for a long moment, his eyes hazy, a light smile over his face as if he were envisioning it inside his head. “Yeah. You did.”
My heart stumbles and trips over itself, and I think it splattered all over the floor. “Do you love me?”
He exhales, his chest rising up as he says, “I’ve been in love with you for a while.”
My throat tightens as the feeling is deeply ingrained in my bones, it’s all over my body that he’s done something to me. Nothing bad at all, but it feels different and perfect like he’s been the only person I ever really loved myself. But there’s something else there.
“But you're leaving?”
He nods, the smile washing from his face.
“Yeah, we are scheduled to go on tour late spring, before summer hits. We have several months, but your cheerleading schedule, class work, the band needing to record an album… I didn’t want to drag you around and have both of us getting hurt in the end, but I told you I would try. I’ll do what it takes to make it work.”
I blink away the tears because it’s hitting me that this is why he didn’t make it exclusive with me in the first place. He continues steadily, “I want to make it work with you. I know you have a lot of healing to do, and I'm willing to help you in any way I can.”
“Where is your grandfather?” I ask.
Noah goes dead silent, and it's as if all the air leaves his lungs. “He passed away...” He bites his bottom lip nodding his head at me. His eyes tear up turning red. “He really liked you,” I watch his adams apple bob up and down as he swallows. “It was one of the last things he said to me.”
“No...” I feel my heart crush in, as if someone shoved their fist through my chest cavity. I place two hands over my face. “No, please...”
“I’m sorry Charlie,” Noah says as my head falls into the crease of his neck. “I’m fucking hurt over it too. But we’ll get through it. I promise.” His arms wrap around me and I melt into his warmth as I cry, and I can feel the warm tears on his cheeks too.