63. Noah
Noah
Ican’t believe it’s the middle of April. But it is.
I don’t even bother turning on the light when I step inside the apartment.
My whole body feels like wet concrete. Studio days always go late, but tonight felt endless.
My voice is raw, throat scraped like someone took sandpaper to it.
We ran the same verse at least thirty times, maybe more.
I know we’re close but close isn’t good enough.
Not for me anyways. I hate the fact I'm a perfectionist, and it’s worse knowing those who follow us are wanting something they can listen to on repeat.
The door clicks shut behind me and I toss my keys into the bowl on the entrance table. I dig through my pockets pulling out my wallet too. All I can think about is face planting into the bed.
Charlie’s curled up on the couch under her weighted blanket, a soft flickering light from the TV washes her in pale blue.
Some documentary plays, a narrator talking about something in a calm voice I’m too tired to catch.
I sit down next to her, sinking into the cushions and throw my arm over the back of the couch.
“Hey pretty lady,” I say, meeting her gaze that’s fixated on the television. “I tried calling earlier.”
She digs her fingers in the cushions until she finds the remote, and pauses the show. The room goes quiet except for the fridge humming and the crickets outside.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ignore you,” she says. “I promise...” Her eyes are puffy. Not just from crying – I can tell she's tired too. She doesn’t sleep well and neither do I. She pulls the blanket tighter around her. “After therapy I just fucking lost it.”
“I should've brought you down to the studio. You wouldn’t be so cooped up here. I don’t want you to be lonely.”
“I got some school work done,” she shrugs her shoulders and gives me that faint half smile that dissolves as quickly as it comes. “It’s just...” She pauses sucking in her bottom lip.
I raise a brow tilting my head and stay quiet, letting her talk.
“I keep seeing myself online,” she says, her voice trembling.
I can tell she is using everything she’s got to hold it together.
“People keep making videos about me. Picking apart everything. Saying I lied. Saying I ruined Brody’s life.
And then...” She laughs bitterly and runs a hand through her hair.
Her eyes stray away from mine blinking away what I assume to be tears.
“My therapist said I’m going to have to accept it. ”
“Charlie...”
“I can’t stomach the videos of him with women calling him hot,” she uses her fingers to quote the word, “or misunderstood.” Her mouth twists like she might be sick.
“It just keeps getting better, the comments are filled with women wanting to sit on his face. I...I... I’m...
just...What the hell, Noah? Like... how?
” She spreads her arms wide out, and I just continue to sit and listen, my eyes not straying away for a second.
“Why do women find someone like him attractive? After what he did to me, I’m told to just accept it. ”
“Babe...”
“It’s like… everyone believes him. Even the court didn’t convict him.
So I must have been lying. I must have been looking for some sort of revenge because he cheated on me with Brittni.
I totally must have been fighting Brittni at the concert and she used the crowbar as self defense because I was the one trying to kill her.
How do people come up with this sort of shit?
Brody is only going to be in prison for a year because of the hazing, and Brittni just gets a slap on the wrist too.
I’m the one with brain damage for the rest of my life.
Where is my justice, when do I get to feel normal again?
” Her voice fractures, and the tears start to tumble down her cheeks.
She uses the back of her palm to wipe them away as she sniffles.
“And I can’t stop seeing it. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t... escape it.”
I lean back, with my shoulders sinking heavy into the couch.
“I know.” I wish I had something better to stay, but the truth is setting in that what happened to her went viral.
It hit the news, influencers gobbled her story up, and yeah of course they twisted it into their own narrative.
That’s how they make their money and get their views.
If I could break every phone on the planet, take down every post about her, I would.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, reaching for her hand and taking it into mine.
“There are going to be people who are rational that believe you were hurt, and that the justice system failed you, because it fails so many women like you who are victims of violence and sexual assaults. I hate myself every fucking day seeing it too, because if I just made you stay back stage, if I just read the signs better I would've known something was wrong that night, and you would've never gone through this. People are going to talk. They’re going to twist shit. But I know the truth, Charlie. I believe you, and I’m always going to stick by your side through all of it.”
She shudders in a breath, covering her eyes with both hands as she cries softly. “It just feels like I’m going insane, and you're going to be leaving within a few months and I dunno how I’m going to do this and live here without you.”
She has been sitting here way too long and bottling up way too many emotions.
The blinds are closed, she has dishes piling up on the coffee table.
I need to start coming home sooner, or making sure I check in more often.
I’m leaving her to wallow in her thoughts and I can see her spinning everything. “Why don’t you come with us?”
“But aren’t you going to be cooped up in cheap hotels and a van?”
“A white kidnapping van, let's get this correct.” I hold up my index finger and get a giggle out of her.
“A white...” she sniffles and can’t even say it as the smile emerges onto her pretty pink lips.
“Kidnapping van. It’s going to be fucking great. We won’t have a lot of privacy, but you won’t be alone and you can watch us backstage and see every state and city we go to. We will have a few days in between shows and traveling to hang out... I won’t force you but I want you with me.”
“I can really go?”
“It’s my fucking band, no one has a say but me.”
She pouts, her chin trembling as she scoots over to the couch and her head falls into my chest. Her arms wrap around my chest and she buries herself. “I love you...” The words are muffled.
“You know what I think will cheer you up?”
“Huh?”
“Let’s go get something to eat.”
“I’ve heard through the grape vine that women feel better after eating,” I say as the windshield wipers scrape against the windshield as rain hammers against the truck. Each drop pounds on the roof, as if they were the size of marbles.
Charlie rubs her hands together, with that innocent smile that makes me think maybe her crying fit was also because she starved herself all day. She doesn’t admit to it, but the deafening silence between her and I says it all. We sit there glancing at the streetlights that are smudges of gold.
The soft music from the stereo was barely a whisper under the downpour. Charlie unbuckles her seatbelt, leans forward and uses her finger to draw a heart on the far right of the windshield where the glass is fogging up. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to laugh at me?” she asks.
“Depends if it's funny or not.” I blink several times as she puts our initials within the heart.
“I’ve always wanted to kiss in the rain.” She leans back in the seat. “It's the ultimate couple's goals.”
I turned in my seat to look at her fully.
The orange streetlights leave a dim glow within the truck that outlines all her beautiful delicate features, even the dimples that cave in when she smiles.
“Do you want me to kiss you in the rain?” I ask with my heart doing that thing again for her where I can’t get it to calm down.
“It’s just a silly little thing on my bucket list.” She brings a shoulder up to her cheek and shakes her head. “It’s cold outside and we’d be soaked in seconds.”
“I don’t care. Let’s just do it.” I say, but her shy gaze leaves mine and drops to her lap. She plays with the fabric of her dress. “Let me kiss you in the rain.”
Before she can protest any further, I shut off the engine and kick my door open stepping out into the deluge of rain.
The frigid downpour was like a thousand icy needles piercing my shirt instantly.
I rounded the hood, my shoes splashing through a growing river in the gutter, and I pull her door open.
Water plasters my hair to my forehead and streams down my face. “Come on.”
She giggles, biting her bottom lips. “You’re going to get sick!”
“I don’t care!”
“It’s so cold out! What if you lose your voice?”
“I could use a damn week off. I can spend it all in bed with you. We can binge Netflix all day.”
She rolls her eyes, throwing her head back into the seat. She gathers her purse from the floor mat as I hold out my hand to help her out.
It's filthy, ugly, cold right now. My body trembles as I start to shiver. Charlie leaves the warmth of the truck, stepping out and grasping my hand. I slam the door behind her and the rain doesn’t let up.
It’s just an out-right downpour with the wind carrying waves of it in sheets.
Charlie’s black dress clings to every curve. Her curls get destroyed instantly.
I led her a few steps to the sidewalk away from the truck.
Suddenly my heart is overpowering the thunderous rain and my world is reduced to just this.
Her, me, the rain pounding on top of us.
I cup her cheeks, my thumbs stroking over her skin that has rain dancing across them.
Her perfectly plump lips are slick and glossy from the water as I lean in.