7. Charlie
7
“ I really appreciate it, Em,” I thank my boss the next morning as I try to sound as sick as one can without overdoing it. Of course, I don’t have to try very hard to fake it. I’m on two hours of sleep and cried until about midnight before I pulled myself together and started emptying all the closets.
“Just take care of yourself and let me know if you’ll need more than just today and tomorrow to recover.”
“Oh no, no. I’ll be back on Wednesday. Although, I may need Friday afternoon off to uh…follow up with my doctor.”
Friday is my last day in the apartment, where I imagine I’ll be hauling whatever I hoped to keep out onto the street. Since Roger Harris, my landlord, refused to let me use the resident storage unit for a few weeks.
Literally, everything I own that doesn’t fit in my sedan has to go.
“You got it,” Emily reassures.
I hang up and call Mike for those packing supplies he promised. There’s no way I’m telling anyone I know about my eviction. But hell, I’ll take all the help I can get.
On Friday morning, I wake from what feels like the heaviest sleep of my entire life. My body hurts. My fingers are calloused. My hair hasn’t been washed in days.
For five days, I’ve been purging and packing like a madman. Running on instant coffee and whatever remains in my refrigerator since I need to empty it anyway.
But my body isn’t taking as big a hit as my heart. Trying to let go of so much in a forced timeframe is mentally and emotionally draining.
I laugh at myself as I pack these last few hours because o f course this had to happen. Hideaway Springs hasn’t been kind to me since my breakup with Noah. My social life, ruined. My hope for humanity, gone. My plans for continuing education in the city paused while I cared for my mother and took the only job in town that would hire me.
And that’s only because I’d spent nearly every day there and practically knew how to run it.
Today, I called out of work altogether since there’s still so much to do. No matter how much I pack, stuff keeps appearing. Staring at me like a candy wrapper I keep stepping over and never picking up.
It’s five o’clock when I finish loading my car with just enough room to fit me into my driver’s seat.
If I'm being honest, there was a lot that had to go anyway. Like the pots and pans, old clothes, the rugs. But I was hoping to have a little more time to part with some of my mother’s things.
Like her storage ottoman that held all our family albums. I kept the albums of course, but where she kept them was a big part of my childhood. The rocking chair which I had reupholstered because it was her favorite and she insisted she’d never find one just like it. The wooden bookshelf with hidden compartments where mom kept her steamy romance novels she thought I didn’t know about.
I always imagined taking those things with me when I left. And eventually, when I’d move in with a man or get married, we’d argue over my ‘old things’. He’d only tease me about it but never actually let me throw them out because he’d know how important they are to me.
But I can live without the knickknacks, like Mom's figurines and Dad’s stamp collection. I don’t have room for sentimental value wherever I’m going.
Mike helps me carry furniture and boxes onto the sidewalk, where we pile them all next to large trash bins.
"Hey, Charlie," Mike starts. "Why don't I see if I can fit these into your storage unit?"
"But—"
"My father doesn't have to know. And…you can come back for it when you're ready."
I chew on my lip. "That feels wrong."
He looks at my stuff on the street. " This feels wrong."
"If you think it'll be okay. I don't want any trouble." I rub my arms as I look at what’s left of my parents and suck in a breath.
Pepper pops into my mind because she had to do this at only the age of seventeen.
This feels just as unfair.
I’ve been avoiding my best friend all week so I can focus on packing. And so she doesn’t insist on coming over. If she had, she’d instantly know what was going on. She doesn't need the stress. No one should be burdened with caring for their homeless friend while planning their own wedding.
Something I’ll be taking off her shoulders once I get settled. Somewhere…
The idea of sleeping in my car isn’t as appealing anymore, so I’ve come up with a temporary solution.
“Should be okay. I can take all this stuff, but not sure I can fit the nine boxes upstairs,” Mike reminds me.
I groan. “Forgot about those. I’ll come back for them tonight, I promise. I just need to make some room in my car first.” I stare at the contents I pray will be safe until I find a place to live. Mom’s old guitar, dad’s record player, their pottery collection. All out on the street.
“Where you off to now?” he asks.
I tell him the only option left. “The Inn,” I say with a shrug like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
It’s after sunset when I park my loaded car that just barely made it up the hill to get to the Inn. I am in desperate need of a power nap. And a massage, and a cold brew, but a nap first and foremost.
“Hi, Mr. Reeves,” I chirp as high-pitched as I can muster.
“Hey, Charlie.” Aiden jerks in surprise and glances behind me from his station behind the bar. And I know he’s expecting to see Pepper. Because that’s the only reason I’ve started showing my face around here since the night I lost Noah. “It’s good to see you.” He frowns when he takes me in. “You feelin' alright? Can I get you anything?"
“Oh, no thank you.” I stride over leisurely to the check-in desk. “I was just wondering if I can get a room here.”
He pauses, watching me carefully. Then slowly moves behind the desk, opening a ledger. “Uh, sure. For how long?”
“Three weeks?” I ask.
“Three weeks?” he shouts, and I glance around nervously. “Is something wrong with your apartment?”
“Did I say three weeks? I meant…three days.” I wince.
Okay, maybe I didn’t think this through .
“Three…days,” he repeats tentatively, his suspicion growing.
I sigh. “Nothing is wrong with the apartment. I just...well I need..."
“Oh.” Aiden runs a hand through his face. “Gosh, I'm sorry, Charlie. Of course.” Another sigh, a reminiscent one. “I remember needing to get away from all things that reminded me of Marybell.”
I groan internally. Way to go, Charlie. Now you’re bringing up painful memories.
I don’t confirm nor deny his assumption. “You can most definitely stay here. Let’s make it five days. I’ve got a room. We’ll get it ready for you.”
“Thank you so much.” I immediately dig into my purse. “I looked up your rates online and can prepay now. How much is the total with taxes and fees?”
“One hundred dollars.”
I blink up at the tall man. “No, I meant for the full five days. It should be close to six hundred?”
“Nope. It's twenty a day. That includes breakfast and dinner.”
“Dinner?”
He nods casually and opens his ledger. “Optional, but yes. We’ve got a great menu.”
“Mr. Reeves—” I start to protest.
“That's my rate, Charlie,” he starts, like he’s getting the better end of the deal. “Take it or leave it.”
I swallow, knowing I have no choice but to accept his generous offer—I refrain from calling it a charity case or I’ll really start crying. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Thank you .” He takes my credit card and updates the ledger.
I chew on my lip. How do I explain all my stuff? “Oh and…ha, I uh travel heavy…so if you don’t mind, I’ll just drop off some bags and then go back for a few more things…just a couple of boxes.”
He pauses and stares at me.
Or maybe glares. I recognize it. It’s that same look that made him one intimidating boxer back in his day.
Aiden sets down his pen and exhales a slow breath. “How much time did they give you, Charlie?”
My shoulders fall and I’m too tired to pretend anymore. “I have to be out by midnight.”
Aiden stands in the small foyer of my apartment. He insisted on following me here in his truck so we could use both cars to bring back the rest of my things.
It doesn’t get more embarrassing than this.
He assesses the small space before stepping to the boxes. I expect him to lift one, but he reaches into his pocket.
“You look pretty beat, Charlie. This is the key to room four-ten at the Inn. Why don’t you go and get settled, your room should be ready. I’ll have someone unload your car and bring you up tonight's special."
“Are you sure? I can help.”
He chuckles. “It’s not like I’m letting you lift any one of these, so I’d rather you get some rest. I’ll keep it all safe for you and we can talk tomorrow.”
God his voice, like an older version of Noah’s only more soothing, reassuring. Fatherly .
I set the keys on the counter for Mike, as promised. “Thank you.” I don’t bother with a last look at the place before turning to leave.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah.”
Aiden pins me with those familiar blue eyes. “Thanks for coming to me.”