Chapter 9
Charles
Before the fire
The corner store was bustling with high school kids stopping for a snack before boarding the city bus. It had been more than two years since I was in this neighborhood, and some things hadn’t changed at all. I watched, looking at every passerby and their faces, hoping to see her.
Evelyn.
“Tony, my man. How are you?” I called out to the balding Italian man behind the counter.
If I remember correctly, Tony liked to talk. Once you got the man going, he never shut the fuck up. I was hoping that if I asked the right questions, he would sing like a canary.
Tony counted the change in his hand before handing it to the kid in front of him. “What are you doing here?” he said, slamming the register closed before turning around to organize the cigarettes on the shelf.
A tick wound its way up my jaw as I forced a polite smile. My mother used to say I could charm the pants off a snake with this smile. She wasn’t wrong. This smile got me out of more situations than I could count.
“Oh, Tone. Don’t give me too much shit.”
He shook his head, returning to his task. He was starting to piss me off.
I had a clean slate. As far as the people in this neighborhood knew, I was cleared by the police. Evelyn was confused and spiraling from a traumatic event.
The thought made me laugh to myself. Thoughts and prayers, Ev.
Since I touched down in our old neighborhood, I’d been welcomed by every old face. No one seemed to have the information I was looking for, though.
“Charlie, is that you?” a voice called from behind me.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. My fingers twitched at my sides.
Greg. Tony’s bird-brained brother.
Turning around, I flashed him a megawatt smile. “Greg. Buddy!” I said, bringing him into a brief hug; slapping his back like we were old pals.
Immediately, I wanted to burn the starched white button-down I was wearing to a crisp. Greg still sweats like a pig. We grew up with Greg. He was a few grades below us in school. The little shit used to follow me around, hoping I’d let the other guys know he was cool. It was pathetic.
“Bro, what’s it been? A year or two? It’s good to see you.” Greg raved, giving my shoulder a shake.
I swear, if he touches me again, he’s going to lose his hands.
“You too, bro. I had some time off from work, so I thought I’d visit my old stomping ground.”
Tony came from around the counter with a few boxes. Greg took one from him and began unloading it onto a shelf.
“I was hoping to catch up with Evelyn, but I heard she moved.”
“What do you want with her?” Tony said, at the same time, Greg chimed in, “Nah, she’s still over the bridge.”
Jackpot.
“No way!” I said with a chuckle. I was so sure she would have left, but she surprised me.
When I decided to come here, I thought I’d have to do some work to find her.
If no one knew where she lived, then I would have to show up at her job.
I preferred to get her alone. I felt this burning itch beneath my skin to find her, to touch her.
The old man begged me to behave. Stay out of trouble.
But what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
“Yeah, perhaps when you see her, you can convince her to come out for some drinks,” Greg suggested.
Boy, was he dumb.
“Sounds like a blast, G.” His eyes lit up at the use of his self-proclaimed nickname. The one no one ever took to calling him. “Let me get a pack of Newports, and I’ll text you later about hanging out.”
He practically jumped behind the counter for the pack of cigarettes while Tony eyed me from the aisle he was in.
Slapping a twenty on the counter, I turn and make my way to the door, flashing Tony a wink before my feet meet the concrete.
I had a bus to catch.
The little blue house on the corner.
I stomped out my cigarette before pushing through the chain-link fence, my feet taking me towards the side entrance of the house. The streets were quiet, which worked perfectly in my favor.
Pulling the lock pick from my back pocket, I made quick work of jimmying the lock until I heard a faint click and the door pushed open.
Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, I took in a deep breath.
A smile worked its way onto my face as excitement coursed through my veins.
Everything looked the same. My body worked on autopilot as I walked in the direction of Evelyn’s room.
Stopping at the door, I turned around and looked at the opposite room down the hall.
Celeste’s room. I felt a gravitational pull to go in there, to touch her things, see if they still held her sweet citrus scent.
This was all her fault.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I brought my fist down on my forehead as I fought the rage taking over me.
I needed to focus.
It was all her fault. The only way for absolution was to make her pay.
Evelyn had to pay.
Pushing through the door, I entered the room. Typical Evelyn, all her things were neatly stacked and put away. Not a speck of dust in sight or even a sock lying around on the floor. She was a fixer. Everything had a place and a harmony.
Framed photos of the two of them lined the bookshelf in the corner of the room.
Evelyn and Celeste standing in front of the tree at Rockefeller Center, the two of them eating funnel cake at Rye Playland, Celeste’s smiling face at her beauty school graduation—all life moments that I was a part of but nowhere to be seen in these photos.
I thumbed through the pages of Evelyn’s copy of Little Women when a photo fell out onto the floor.
It’s a picture of Celeste and Evelyn holding onto each other, smiling.
I took this photo of them the first night they moved in here.
We stayed up late building furniture, drinking beers, doing more fooling around than anything.
The photo fanned the flames I worked so hard to bury.
That last Sunday, we were all together—Celeste in her bootleg jeans, her hair down the way I loved it, already pouring wine before I could even get the words out.
I told her the truth, and she looked at me like I was something to be pitied.
She'd rather break my heart a hundred times than just let herself feel what was already there.
Evelyn showed up, and I left. I always left.
That was the mistake I kept making. Leaving, when I should have stayed until she heard me.
I lost control.
But she made me do it.
I wanted to talk, but she wouldn’t listen then…I lost it.
My finger coasted along the edges of Celeste’s smile. Crumbling up the photo, I stashed it in my pocket, a plan forming in my mind.
If it wasn’t for Evelyn, I could have left—moved on—found someone.
Someone else.
I cringed at the thought. Celeste was the only one for me.
Still.
The more I stood there in her little corner of the house, the more I thought about seeing her break.
Evelyn couldn’t fix this.