Chapter Thirteen
Thirteen
Charlie
“The harmony on that last chorus was gorgeous,” Charlie said, her voice carrying across the room as Last Christmas drew to a close. “Really nice. Let’s take five. Get some water. I want everybody to remember to stay hydrated.”
“That’s what my doctor keeps telling me, too,” Harriet muttered. “Well, that and to stop sneaking éclairs in the middle of the night.”
Charlie shook her head and laughed, the vibration settling deep in her chest. She knuckled the space between her ribs, wondering if that was the key, to let the feelings out in small doses, just a little at a time.
“We don’t have long until the competition, so protect your voices.
Make sure you’re doing your warmups and cooldowns.
After the break, we’ll run the mash-up one more time. ”
The residents dispersed, gathering their water bottles.
Charlie watched Maggie and Harriet flit to Gram’s side where she was seated at the piano.
Her chest warmed, knowing Gram was slowly being enfolded into this little group, that she was finding her people and making connections that would hopefully last long after the choir competition had finished.
The door popped open, and Warren appeared. Charlie waved him over.
“Guess I just missed the performance?” he said.
“You can catch the second act after intermission,” Charlie joked. “Hey, you haven’t seen Frank yet today, have you? We’re definitely missing his baritone. And it’s not like him to skip out on rehearsal.”
“Oh.” Warren scratched at the back of his head, wincing. “Nobody told you?”
“Told me what?” Charlie said.
“Frank wasn’t feeling too great yesterday evening. We ended up having to admit him to the hospital.”
“What?” Charlie said. The words ricocheted around her head. No, that didn’t make sense. “I just saw him yesterday. He came to rehearsal and was fine.” He’d helped her out with her laptop. “We just got the official invite to the competition.”
“I know,” Warren said. “He’s seemed a little rundown for a week now, and then… Well, it can come on hard and fast when you’re older. I can’t go into details, but he’s being taken care of, and that’s the most important part.”
He was fine, Charlie thought again.
Just like Tom had been fine.
She didn’t even know what to say. The shock of the news melted through her, burning as it went.
She could feel bile inching up her throat as she glanced around the music room, looking from Gram to all the other residents she’d come to care about these past few weeks.
Suddenly, it was all too overwhelming. All she could think about was Tom and hearing those horrible words for the first time: I’m sick, Charlie.
The force of the memory almost winded her. This was why she’d locked up her feelings in the first place. She couldn’t do it again. She clutched at her throat. There was no air in the room.
She needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Somewhere she could breathe.
“Excuse me,” she gasped out, crossing the room, desperate for escape.
She stopped next to Gram, putting a shaky hand on her shoulder to interrupt her conversation with Harriet and Maggie.
“I have to step out for a minute,” she said, barely getting the words out.
“Can you get rehearsal going again in about five minutes if I’m not back? ”
“Of course,” Gram said, squeezing her hand. As she looked up at Charlie, her smile fell away. “Is everything okay?”
Charlie swallowed down the sick feeling. “Yeah, all good.”
Maggie and Harriet exchanged a nervous glance.
“Charlie,” Gram said, getting to her feet. “You’re very pale.”
“Maybe you should sit down,” Maggie suggested, gesturing to the piano bench.
“Everything’s fine,” Charlie said. Fine. Fine. Fine! Was the room starting to spin? “I just need to get some air.” She turned on her heel and darted for the door, stumbling into the hall.
She didn’t know where to go from here. It was frigidly cold outside, and she’d left her coat in the music room. The common room would likely be filled with other residents. Maybe Gram’s suite? She headed in the direction of the elevator but turned into the dining room instead.
It was dimly lit and blessedly empty between meals, and she grasped the back of a chair, sucking in a sharp breath.
She hadn’t been gripped by anxiety this strong in a while.
Not since the months immediately after Tom’s passing.
But that damn box inside her was splitting at the seams, all the unwanted emotion and memory leaking free.
“Hey, you okay?” Julian said, walking into the room. “Doris said you rushed off looking sick.”
Charlie squeezed her eyes against the uneasy thrum of her heart. “I just needed a breather.”
“Hey,” Julian said again, softer this time. He came closer. So close Charlie thought she might burst into tears when he laid his hand on her arm. “Hey? What’s going on? Did something happen? Talk to me.”
“I…” She opened her eyes and smoothed her hair back from her face, hands trembling. “I don’t know how you do this every day.”
“Charlie, what are you talking—”
“Frank’s sick!” she said. “Warren said he was admitted to the hospital last night. He couldn’t tell me anything else.
I don’t know how serious it is. I don’t know if he’ll be back before the competition.
I… It’s so stupid. I know that.” She fought the tremor in her voice.
“But for a moment, it felt like finding out about Tom all over again.”
“Okay,” Julian said gently, rubbing slow circles into her shoulder. “That’s okay. I get it.”
“It’s not okay!” she snapped. “I don’t know how you spend so much time with the residents knowing that you’re going to lose them one day. Maybe even one day soon.”
His hand slid across her shoulder, wrapping around the back of her neck, bringing her forehead to his chest.
Charlie caved into the feeling, letting his steady breathing dull the sense of panic inside her.
“To answer your question, it was something I had to come to terms with. In this job, in any long-term care setting, illness and death walk alongside us. But I eventually realized that it was a disservice to myself and to the people I cared about not to enjoy every single minute of time I have with them.” He stroked the fine hairs at the base of her neck.
“And let me assure you that the beautiful moments make up for the sad ones. I haven’t worked a day at Glendale when I haven’t doubled over laughing or learned something amazing.
It’s those little things that make the inevitable loss bearable. ”
Charlie swallowed, the emotion jamming in her chest. That didn’t make sense. “I don’t… I don’t know how you’re okay with this.”
Julian’s eyebrows pulled together. “I guess I just try not to dwell on it.”
“And that’s what you think I’m doing? Dwelling?”
“That’s not what I said.”
She blinked up at him. “But it’s what you meant.”
“I just think… What good is worrying away the time I might have left with them? It won’t stop life from carrying on.”
And it wouldn’t stop her from being swept away, Charlie realized. It didn’t matter how hard she tried to keep her head above water, there was always a new storm, a new torrent, waiting to drown her. “This isn’t working,” she said, pressing a shaky hand to her chest.
“I think you’re blaming yourself for something that wasn’t ever in your control,” Julian told her.
“Are we talking about Frank or Tom?” she said, a slight edge to her voice.
“Can’t it be both?”
She gritted her teeth, feeling weight behind her eyes. She’d been silly to enjoy herself. She should have known it wouldn’t last. How could it?
“These things just happen, Charlie.”
“I don’t know how to be okay with that,” she said, stepping away from him. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“And that’s okay, too,” Julian said. “I get that you’re shaken. Why don’t you take the afternoon, and I’ll finish up with the choir?”
“No,” Charlie said sadly. “I don’t know if I can do this at all.” And with that, she turned and headed for the parking lot.
Charlie puttered around Gram’s house for most of the afternoon, not really sure where to focus her attention.
She’d started wrapping Christmas presents in the living room, then ditched that to sort through Gram’s mail, then tried to review some of the audition emails but ended up deleting most without reading them.
Her thoughts were still consumed by Frank’s absence and her conversation with Julian. Logically, she knew grief wasn’t linear and her reaction was valid—she’d paid for enough therapy to have learned that much. But that didn’t stop her from feeling a little silly for running out on the choir.
Then again, she was so good at running. Part of her still believed that if she ran far enough and fast enough, these feelings and the consequences of those feelings might never catch her.
Even as a flush of embarrassment washed through her, she knew ditching rehearsal had been easier than facing the reminders of her grief or enduring Gram’s looks of concern or Maggie’s uncertain whispers to Harriet.
Charlie hadn’t realized just how fond she’d become of this little retirement community, and the thought of losing any of them turned her stomach.
She tried to put those thoughts out of her head, walking down the hall, peeking into rooms. It was time to start funneling the rest of Gram’s possessions to a storage locker.
Charlie sighed, seeing a lot of boxes and packing tape in her future.
She wandered back to the living room with a sheet of Bubble Wrap.
Already the house was looking emptier, and Charlie was unnerved by it.
It felt like she was losing something all over again.
Being alone in the old Victorian often felt like too much, but perhaps this was worse.
Soon the house would be bare, and the memories, good or bad, would be gone.
Packed away to live in a cold, damp storage unit.