Rewired (The Progress Series) Page 11

  “No, Angie. You don’t have all the information here. Just trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  Angie shook her head. “I’m done here. Go. Piss away your future for Jesse Fucking Anders. God, what a waste.” She walked back out to the dance floor, leaving Charlie alone in the hallway.

  After turning around, Charlie noticed Jesse standing back toward the exits. He nodded nervously and she offered him a smile. Smiling back, he motioned toward the front door. She nodded and made her way to him.

  Chapter Three

  Monday morning, Charlie poured a cup of coffee for Jesse and brought it into the bedroom after her shower, only to find him fast asleep.

  What time does he have to be at work?

  Only a few minutes later, while Charlie was cleaning up his apartment, she stopped and hovered over the coffee table. She took one finger and brushed across the glass surface, staring at the chess board below it in contemplation. But before she could put any logical thoughts together, she was distracted by a muffled voice from the bedroom.

  He’s awake.

  It started as mumbles at first, and as she approached the bedroom, the voice suddenly became violent. She knocked on the frame of the door twice, announcing her presence while popping her head into the room. “Jess?” she whispered.

  Thrashing in his sheets, Jesse was having a nightmare. And as quickly as he’d begun, he stopped. He was now curled into a fetal position, whimpering.

  “Jess?” she said a little louder.

  For several seconds, she debated what she should do. Watching him recoil and tug at his sheets, she was haunted by the expression on his face. It switched from pain to sorrow, then from sorrow to anger. The anger then turned to rage. Scared of what expression would arise next, she bent down and shook his shoulders, attempting to wake him. “Jess!”

  “Fuck you fuck you fuck you. Fuck!” He snapped up and instantly took hold of Charlie’s neck, pressing his thumb into her larynx and cutting off her breath.

  Her mouth opened, trying to get words or screams to be heard, but nothing came out except a small squeak. Her arms flew forward, trying to stop him, trying to wake him. She hit his arms and tried to pry his hands from her, but her struggle was useless. And that’s when she slapped his face.

  It took him a moment to realize where he was and to notice his hand wrapped around her throat. Terror consumed both of them as Charlie flew to the other side of the room and sat on the floor with her hands around her neck. Jesse remained in bed, covering his face with his hands as they both tried to catch their breath.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice muffled from his hands.

  Her eyes searched the room. I have no idea what just happened or what I should say about it. She stood, gliding her back up against the wall. “I know.” She hesitated before leaving, “I came to wake you,” she said, and walked to the kitchen.

  A few minutes later she heard him murmur. She wasn’t sure if she should wait there for him to talk to her or if she should go back into the room. She took a few steps into the hallway, and that’s when she realized he was on the phone.

  “Yes, I need to make an appointment.” She heard him pause. “Yes, it’s an emergency.”

  She looked up to the ceiling and put her hands together, miming a prayer. Thank God.

  She ran back into the kitchen and scribbled a note to him. Setting a cup of coffee on the counter, she covered the note so that he was sure to find it under the mug. Then she hurried out the door and went back to her apartment.

  Hey,

  Don’t worry about it, I’m fine. We’ll talk about it later.

  I have some errands to run. I’ll come back tonight.

  -C

  *

  Returning to her apartment later that afternoon, she unpacked her groceries and loaded a separate bag of the things she wanted to bring to Jesse’s place. A toothbrush, an extra set of clothes, deodorant, and a crossword puzzle were all shoved into her backpack.

  After making a quick phone call to Roxanne, making sure everything was under control, Charlie watered her ficus tree and sat on her deck with a cup of coffee and her journal.

  Dear Journal,

  Half the time I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or mourn or speak or throw something back into his face. But before this morning, I never felt in danger. Before this morning I accepted this as my life. It was good that he attacked me in his sleep. It was just another way of showing him what he needs to do without it being my idea to do it.

  This man represents my own psyche in so many ways. Just when I’m feeling great, he says something that my mind was just about to think. I question. I regret. I second-guess. I loathe. But no matter how bad it gets with him, I am determined to beat him down. I’ve seen love. I’ve seen happiness. I know it’s possible. I need him to see that too. Jess isn’t a fighter. For as strong, off-putting, and dangerous as he can be, he’s fighting the wrong battle. And I have to show him that the further we run from ourselves, the stronger the war rages in the back of our minds, where we refuse to look at it. No one knows that better than I do.

  Maybe I thought things were going too well. Maybe I thought I didn’t deserve the happiness I had with Sam. Whatever the reason, I’m here now. With Jess. Mistake or not. There’s gotta be a reason besides my stubbornness and tenacity. God, I hope there is.

  And there’s not much I can do when Sam won’t talk to me. If I had any hope at all of trying to live a life with Sam, it’s gone. There’s no way he’d ever forgive me for continuing a charade with Jesse… God, a charade? Is that what I’m doing? Tricking myself into believing that I can do something for him? Tricking Jess into believing I love him?

  Of course I love Jess. I love him dearly. And I won’t leave him, I’ve promised him that. But if I had my choice, I’d still choose Sam…if I hadn’t screwed this up. If Sam could forgive me, if I could ever forgive myself. Nothing has been redeemed. I’m still not able to say all of this happened for a reason. At least, not a reason I can identify yet.

  Her phone buzzed, indicating a text message. Her heart leapt for a moment, considering who it might be.

  The text was from Jesse.

  I talked to Mom. She wants us to come over for dinner tonight. Please come. Today is not a good day.

  She texted back immediately.

  Of course I’ll come. What time?

  Within a minute she received his response.

  6:00. I’ll be home around 5:30.

  *

  At five-thirty, she knocked on his door. She heard him yell from behind it and let herself in. She entered smiling, knowing that if today hadn’t been a good day, she’d have to keep her mood as unintrusive as possible. Dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, she glanced at Jesse’s attire, wondering if this was a dressy occasion.

  He was lying on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV with nothing on but his boxers.

  “Hey,” she said, walking into the living room.

  “Hi,” he replied without looking up.

  “So I see this isn’t a dressy affair.”

  He didn’t respond, so Charlie went to his room and picked out a sweatshirt and pair of jeans.

  “Here,” she said, handing him the outfit. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

  “I don’t want to go anymore,” he mumbled.

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged, and a silence fell between them.

  “Do you want to talk about your day? In your text you said it wasn’t good.”

  “No.”

  She nodded and sat down on the floor next to the couch. “Come on, you haven’t seen your family in a year. Let’s just go. It’ll be quick and painless,” she said, tugging on his arm.

  Again, after he didn’t respond, she asked, “Did something else happen today?”

  He sighed. “I went to see Dr. Jackson,” he said with some difficulty.

  “Oh? And how did that go?”

  “It was an emotional fucking breakthrough!” he scream
ed. “Jesus, can’t you shut your mouth for two minutes? The second you walk through the door you’re fucking rambling. It’s starting to give me a goddamned headache! Just shut the fuck up.”

  Automatically on the defense, she leaned back on her hands, throwing her torso back and setting her jaw. Grinding her teeth, she bit back her words.

  After two minutes, she stood and threw his clothes on his lap. “It’s been two minutes. Put your clothes on.”

  Sneering, he threw them on the floor. “I said no. I don’t want to go.”

  “Too. Fucking. Bad. You’ve got three minutes to get these on.” She picked up the outfit and whipped it into his face. “And if you’re not ready by then, I’m inviting your whole fucking family back to this apartment for dinner.”

  With reluctance, he stretched his jeans out in front of him and put one leg in at a time. Charlie walked to the entry, grabbed his tennis shoes, and threw them into the living room.

  Mumbling, he grabbed the shoes and tied the laces.

  “What was that? What did you say?” she asked, still on the defense.

  “I said…” He slowly stood and turned toward her. “…if I’d wanted someone barking and bringing me my shoes, I would’ve bought a damn dog,” he said, trying not to smile.

  “Oh, a joke?” she replied, shaking her head and trying to regain her poise. “Come on, jackass. We’ll stop somewhere and get you a straitjacket along the way.”

  *

  “Turn here,” he said.

  “Your parents live in this neighborhood?”

  “Yeah, up here. The third house on your left. You can park in the driveway.”

  She looked up at the four-story home. Made of mostly red brick, it was covered in ivy, with white shutters surrounding at least twenty windows. The property was huge, with a perfectly manicured lawn and blooming yellow lilies planted throughout various landscaped brick tiers. Every light was on in the house, giving Charlie a glimpse of their lavish lifestyle.

  “You grew up here?” She shook her head. “I mean, through high school?”

  “Yeah.”

  Approaching the door, she turned to him. “Wait, it’s Susie, right? Or do I call her Susan? And, what’s your dad’s name?”

  “Keith.”

  “Will anyone else be here?”

  He shrugged with heavy shoulders.

  Charlie’s eyes shifted to the door just as Susie opened it.

  “You, young man, have a lot of explaining to do.” Susan’s eyes traveled to Charlie and she smiled.

  “Hi, Susan. It’s good to see you again,” Charlie said, reaching out her hand.

  “Call me Susie, Charlie. It’s Charlie, right? I didn’t know Jess was bringing you along tonight. I would’ve made something more exciting than cheeseburgers on the grill!”

  “Those sound great to me!” said Charlie.

  “Please, come in. Don’t mind the mess.”

  Charlie looked around the room. The entire first floor was virtually spotless and completely wide open. She could see all the way to the backyard through the sliding patio doors. The floors were solid mahogany, buffed to a sparkling shine. There were pillars placed strategically—acting as invisible walls separating each room—and the furniture looked untouched. The kitchen was state-of-the-art, consisting of concrete countertops, redwood cupboards, and stainless steel appliances.

  “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Anders.”

  “I knew it!” A tall, fit man came walking down the steps, buttoning up his shirt. “You owe me ten bucks, Susie,” he said. He had short salt-and-pepper hair and a dark mustache.

  Jesse rolled his eyes and Charlie looked around, wondering how she’d missed the joke.

  “Hi, I’m Keith, Jesse’s dad.”

  “Hi Keith, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Charlie,” she said, extending her hand to shake his.

  “It happens every time. Outside of the house, it’s all Susie this and Keith that. But as soon as they see the inside of this place, it’s suddenly Mr. and Mrs. Anders.” He laughed. “Trust me,” he said, waving his hand around, gesturing to his home’s interior, “there’s no need to be so formal.”

  “Can I get you a beer, Jesse? Something to drink for you, Charlie?”

  “A water would be great, thank you,” Charlie said.

  Susie’s smile faded as she got a closer look at Jess. He was shifting his feet and his posture was slouched. He walked over to the couch and plopped down, fiddling with the remote. Susie let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Can you help me outside at the grill, Charlie? I need someone to hold the plate.”

  “Sure.” Charlie nodded. They passed Jesse on their way to the patio, and Charlie watched him the whole way, hoping he’d look up.

  Flipping up the lid of the grill, Susie took a set of tongs and began taking the burgers off one by one. “How long has he been like this?” Susie asked, keeping her focus on the grill.

  “I’m sorry? What did you say?”

  “Jesse. How long has he been down like this? A day, a week?”

  “Oh. Um…” Charlie glanced back toward the window and saw Jess sitting on the couch.

  Susie noticed Charlie’s hesitation. “I know you have loyalty to him. And to be honest, I’ve never seen the same girl with him twice, so I’m sure his feelings are mutual. But you need to understand that I am his mother. If he’s not taking his meds, and if he’s in this funk for longer than a few days, we need to get him in to see a doctor.”

  “I understand.”

  “So can you tell me?”

  Charlie nodded curtly. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping my eye on him. He just got back on his medication a week ago. I just noticed the depression last night, and he was in to see Dr. Jackson this afternoon.”

  Susie stopped flipping the burgers and gawked at Charlie. “You mean to tell me that in all of five weeks, you have successfully gotten him to get on his meds and see a doctor regularly?”

  Charlie shook her head. “No. I mean, I had a little bit to do with the medication part of it, but this afternoon was the first time he went to visit his doctor. That I know of, anyway.”

  Susie crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “Well, well. What do we have here?” she asked, eying Charlie.

  Charlie’s brow furrowed and she looked at the grill. “Burgers.” She nudged her chin toward the utensil in Susie’s hand. “Tongs.” Softening her forehead, she smiled. “Conversation?”

  Susie bellowed a laugh. “Oh no, my dear. We have much more than that. I believe our Jesse might just be in love.” She beamed.

  “Whoa. Let’s not go picking out dresses and china patterns yet, Susie. We’re friends, first and foremost. I feel…I feel…” Charlie stumbled, not knowing how to finish her sentence. “Um, I feel a bit responsible for him.”

  “Nonsense.” Susie resumed her position in front of the grill. “Responsible is what Keith and I feel for him. Maybe even Lily. But this is something totally different.”

  Charlie held the plate while Susie smiled, stacking the patties. “This is special.”

  Charlie contemplated that for a moment. “You’re absolutely right. This is different…and special.”

  Susie winked and they headed back inside. “Soup’s on!” she called.

  For the remainder of dinner, Jesse sat silent, barely touching his plate. Charlie and Susie continued to make polite conversation, and the subject of love wasn’t brought up again.

  After a slice of key lime pie, Charlie thanked the Anderses for having her over as she was quickly ushered out the door by Jess. He waved, mumbled, and got into Charlie’s car.

  “You didn’t need to be so rude. Is there someplace we need to be?”

  “Yes, at home. On the couch. Besides, they’re used to me being rude.”

  Charlie’s mouth hung open. “You mean you’re a dick to them too?” she asked, pulling out of the driveway.

  “Shut up, Charlie, and drive me home.”

  Her frustration w
ith his behavior, once again, had her reeling. He was unacceptable in most situations anyway, but to treat the two people who had adopted him this way? The people who took him in and carried the burden of supplying him with medication, therapy, and love? Fuck that.

  “Do you have any idea how grateful you should be to have them?”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes, keeping his head toward the window.

  “Here I thought the whole time that no one ever loved you! I thought that your adopted parents were rich and mean and didn’t give a shit!”

  “Shut up, Charlie. I mean it.” He tried to sound threatening, but it came out as a pathetic grumble.

  “Who the hell do you think you are? Kids in the foster system would die to receive the gift of a second chance—a new family, something they can call their own, a stable environment, an education in one of the best school districts—”

  “Pity, Charlie!” he screamed. “Fucking pity. That’s the only reason they took me in! You think that feels good? Huh? You think that’s how I wanted someone to love me? Like a frail and used piece of shit with a fuck-ton of issues that only their money could afford? Well fuck that! I don’t need anyone’s pity and I don’t need anyone’s money!”

  “You ungrateful piece of…”

  Jesse grabbed the steering wheel and jerked the car to the shoulder of the road. Charlie instantly stepped on the brake and tried to get the vehicle to a swerving stop. They were yanked toward the dash as Charlie forced the brake to the floor.

  The sound of the engine and the crickets outside the car were the only things to be heard. Charlie then realized how close she was to death—not that this small incident would have done much damage at forty miles per hour, but that she literally had put her life in Jesse’s hands. He was unpredictable. Angry. Vile. Menacing. And in a completely different world from what Charlie was used to living in.

  After a moment, she turned the ignition and drove back to the apartment complex in silence.

  Upon returning, Charlie lay down with Jesse until he fell asleep. She knew to stay quiet, because she didn’t want to provoke another outburst.

  *

  She woke to the sound of thunderstorms, and Jesse was gone. She searched the apartment but found nothing. His keys, shoes, and coat were all still in their place.